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Red meat cigarettes, and a tall pint of guinness

by adam | October, 1997

I was accosted last night at my local pub by a vegan. As I understand it, vegan’s have dedicated themselves to making the world a better place by not consuming any foods, or wearing any clothes which are derived from animals. Now, while I applaud these beliefs in principle, I must admit that I have a few problems with them in practice – primarily because I’ve met very few vegan’s who are content to make theirs a silent pursuit. Not only are they steadfast in their beliefs, but they are often militant about condemning those who do not share their views.

Last night, this woman taught me that my pristine pint of Guinness was not as innocent as I might have thought. Amongst its numerous ingredients, there are allegedly several gelatin products derived from animals. HOLY SHIT! As you might expect, I immediately spit out the mouthful I had just imbibed, and asked Chris the bartender never to serve this bile to me again. Oh, wait, I guess that’s just what this woman expected me to do. Perhaps I should have, but I guess I’m just a little insensitive. Instead, I told her that there was, indeed, something wrong with my Guinness and that was that I was missing a burning cigarette and a bloody steak. My bad. I’m gonna have to be a little clearer next time when I paint a “tell me something I give a shit about” sign on my back.

There’s no real moral to all of this. There’s no real point I’m dying to make except that I wish people could just be content with doing what they believe to be the right thing. Everyone’s a righteous bastard, so the only result you’re likely to gain from lighting a fire under peoples asses, is fierce indignance. For my part, I enjoy the indignance and cherish the ensuing melee of email warfare, but you’ll notice I keep most of this to the forum I’ve created here. More than that, when I say this stuff it’s because I’m right.

Anyway, the end of the story is more humorous than anything else that happened yesterday. It seems that it wasn’t so much that this woman cared so deeply about my choice of beverage, or that she was trying to help animals who can’t help themselves, but more that this was her pick up line. Forgive me, because I ignored the question that begged asking: “does this approach work often?” Well, it didn’t work, you can’t insult Guinness and expect to keep my attention. On top of that, after a few minutes of lambasting from me, she had almost entirely backed off her vegan beliefs, copped to wearing leather shoes, and buckled to her love for a good steak (although she doesn’t indulge). In short, by crumbling under all the pressure, she had abandoned the only strength that could have possibly made her attractive to me in the first place. Moreover, she identified herself as an extremely unhappy person who can’t even indulge in pursuits that bring her joy.

As traumatic as this whole ordeal was, somehow I’ve found the strength to go on. An hour ago, I took a drag off my cigarette and sat down in front of a nice bloody steak. When I’d consumed every last bit, I washed it all down with a cold pint of Guinness, and I’ve never felt better in all my life.

Before I go, I would like to address what was intended to be the subject of this months monologue. For those of you who regularly visit this site — and might I say, you are a cherished few — you might have noticed that I did not follow through with my promise of a lengthy exposition on the deaths of Princess Di and Mother Theresa. While my feelings have not wavered one iota — yes, I still don’t really care about Di, and I’m still disgusted that a nice pair of tits can sway public attention away from the death of someone who truly helped people throughout her life and most often when there were NOT cameras present — I simply feel that everything has been said. I would like to thank Chris Rock for concisely expressing my feelings on the subject. This months rant was going to be entitled “Princess Di had a nice rack,” and so far, that is the only truth I’ve managed to walk away with since the media feeding frenzy following the funeral died down.

On a final note, I would just like to mention how proud I am of our correspondent in New York City. Just a month and a half ago, Cari moved everything she had to the big city with the best of intentions, and very little money. This short time later, the love for which she left the west coast is dead and gone. But despite the tribulations, Cari is unfazed. Forget any rumors you may have heard, she’s gonna stick it out in NYC and if we’re lucky, we’ll reap some of the rewards at pain killer, inc. I haven’t asked her to surmise any moral to this story, but if you were to ask me, I’d say the moral is: Be careful not to get involved with an immature, 23-year-old imbecile with no job, no money, and a receding hairline. But again, that’s just me, and she is my sister.

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Abridged Guide to New York Lingo

by cari | October, 1997

Highway Robbery: The cost of living in New York City. Happiness not included.

usage: (self-explanatory)

California: That perpetually sunny and warm state where everyone surfs and/or walks around in a bathing suit. Los Angeles and San Francisco are considered “sleepy towns”.

usage: “Oh, you from California? Have ya ever seen one of these? It’s called an umbrella….”

Never & Rarely Ever: The nicknames for subway lines N and R, to/from Queens/Manhattan.

usage: “What took you so long?” “I had to take the N.” “Oh.” (said with knowing nod).

The Voice: The Village Voice, a weekly publication. Serves as bible to the hip/hep/artsy/subculture crowd. Liberal slants/rants/raves. Resource for almost any event/service or items for sale. Manhattan oriented.

usage: “So’s, you wanna buy a pink latex scrotum harness for yah pet squid? Look in the Voice.”

Fergeddaboudit: Forget About It.

usage: see Pacino/Depp vehicle “Donnie Brasco”.

To Do a Solid: To do a favor for someone.

usage: “Canya do me a solid and pick up a Voice on your way home?”

Black: Ubiquitous color choice for clothing.

usage: “When you wake up in the morning, how do you decide which color black to wear.” (Shallow Grave)

Souvlaki: All meat shish kabob replete with a hunk of bread on the end. Sold from street carts.

usage: Best “stumbling-home-drunk-at-4am” food ever invented. bonus: Left with sharp wooden stick to ward off/stab muggers with.

Winter: It’s fucking cold.

usage: (self-explanatory)

Summer: It’s fucking hot.

usage: (self-explanatory)

Fall/Spring: The only two good seasons out of the four. Also known as “that time when it isn’t too hot or too cold, it’s just right.” Average duration is one month.

usage: (self-explanatory)

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