Jai Alai

Jai Alai

While Miami bustles with brahs and Barbi castoffs slipping past velvet ropes to enter dub-step soaked clubs,

I’m off to the Jai Alai courts.

Free entrance to a cavernous, air-conditioned stadium where a few dozen other people assemble, placing bets on each of the twelve rounds, shout obscenities in their native Spanish (baaassssuuuuuuuuuura!), enter raffles, buy $1 dollar pretzels (50 cents extra if you want that melted cheese), drink $1 beers ($4 if you want Cigar City’s Jai Alai IPA – one of the nations finest IPAs and stark contrast to South Beach Coors sold at 14 bucks a pop), and soak in the sport of (retired) kings.

Life is tough.

Cool Jai-Alai article here:


Clearly, the question begged by the picture involves airport security. Can a person smuggle a steak (Miami’s finest Bistice de Boliche) through airport security in his pocket.

the answer?


And didn’t even get my blood stains on my linen pants.

Zoo Snack

Zoo Snack

This is the food they feed to the birds in the Miami Zoo’s “Wings of Asia” aviary. As you can see, its a blend of fresh grapes, grains and seeds. While the keeper wasn’t looking (had her distracted telling the story of the man who kept a pet hyena in his South Beach apartment. ) I swiped a handful. It tastes about like you’d expect. Would have been better with milk. Or melted ice-cream (aka the glutton’s milk).

A Tragedy of Sorts

In response to the nation’s dire economic situation, the monarch has demanded that state banquets no longer serve baby carrots alongside the spread of dips, but rather full sized carrots that guests can whittle down to infant size with their silverware if they so choose.


I went to an Oktoberfest. One might assume Miami is an absurd place to attempt a traditional Oktoberfest. One would be correct. The beer garden needed to be weeded of palm trees. After forty minutes, the lederhosen-clad band abandoned polka and played radiohead covers.

Archive of Past Blogs

July 14, 2012


Ingredients listed on a bag of baby carrots: carrots

July 10, 2012

It’s Probably 5pm on Tristan Da Cunha

Tristan Da Cunha is the world’s most remote, inhabited island. It sits in the middle of the Atlantic 2,816 km from South Africa and 3360 km from South America. Tristan Da Cunha

Its interesting history (it was an important port for whaling expeditions before eventually becoming British property, its capital is the city, “Edinburgh of the Seven Seas” and it once served as official penguin washing station for the marine birds that were all oil’d up by a nearby tanker spill) and peculiarities (it only has two TV channels, and all 264 of its citizens are descendants of a common set of 15 ancestors, and thus share 8 surnames) are not of primary concern.

Rather, I bring you this island, so you can use it in the phrase “It’s probably 5pm on Tristan Da Cunha” when you are drinking early in the day.

but if anyone can locate a copy of the out-of-print cookbook “Recipes from Tristan Da Cunha: Simple foods for all to enjoy” hook me up!

June 10, 2012
Poor Man’s Mint Julep:

Poor Man’s Mint Julep = a bottle of bourbon and a pack of gum.

a bottle of bourbon and a pack of gum.

May 7, 2012
“If I was eloquent with you”

Those blessed with success are obligated to assist the less fortunate. From the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation to Doctors without Borders, countless charities have been founded on this principal. One day I hope to have the financial success to do the same. I have already decided on my cause. “Teach a Thug a New Word”. Aimed with improving the vocabularies of brutes, gang-bangers and scumbags, my charity would prove you don’t have to speak with the diction you were born into.

And Mike Tyson wouldn’t only be a spokesman, he would be a tenured professor.

March 4, 2012
Smuggling Yolks in a Bread-Basket

Eggs in a basket, Alabama eggs, bird’s nest, bull’s eye eggs, cowboy eggs, egg-in-the hole, egg in toast, egg in a frame, eggs in a blanket, elephant egg bagel (when made using a bagel rather than bread), frog in a hole, toad in a hole, gas house eggs, Guy Kibbee eggs, one-eyed-monsters, one-eyed jacks, moon eggs, Rocky Mountain toast, top hat, portholes.

So many names for such a simple treat.

So what’s not a few more monikers?

I propose: bread-locked yolk, Humpty-Dumpty’s tomb, Cyclopse bread, Eggs sentenced to time in the bread housed, Jaundice hearts, A chicken deferred on toast, wasps in whole wheat hive,

February 26, 2012

Paint Chips and Dip

I like beluga whales. I fear that we are squandering an opportunity to use their name in referring to colors as strikingly white as their solar-eclipse-rim like skin. Their English name, after all is derived from the Russian word for white. So Sherwinn WIlliams, take a hint, and make this dream a reality:

Hey I really like the color you used for the walls of your new pool hall.

-Thanks, its Beluga.

January 11, 2012
Poems and Piss

Nobody reads poems. Perhaps the average American has a misunderstanding of what a poem is (“i don’t get it”) and finds the whole genre a pretentious threat. Perhaps they find no need for the antiquated art form (We’ve got twitter and television and video games and mp3s, what do we want stanzas for?).

More likely though, I fear a lot of people are simply not exposed to enough poetry. And certainly not accessible poetry. As a poetry enthusiast, I consider it my duty to change this. But until I get the millions of dollars needed to hire a squadron of airplanes to write haikus in the sky every morning or can convince Bells brewery to print free verse on every bottle of Two Hearted, it’s gonna have to be a small and stealthy operation.

Thus, Poems and piss. I have been placing sticker-backed poems above urinals in public bathrooms. I’ve selected morsels of wit and joy the perfect length to read while one takes a leak. Hopefully the anonymous pisser will find some pleasure in the tiny bursts of art. Maybe even develop a new appreciation for poetry.