Me love you oolong time

Kid’s don’t know much about tea. Unless it’s iced, sugared and marketed as ‘brisk’. It takes maturity to appreciate the delicateness of tea. Its meditative qualities. The beauty in an unadulterated, grassy, vegetal matcha. The subtle apple sweetness of calming chamomile. The pungent spiciness of freshly brewed ginger tea that continues to warm your chest even after the temperature has diminished.

But my first experience with tea, real tea, was at a Chinese restaurant, where the waiter would unceremoniously deliver a large metal teapot, flip over the miniature, handleless, white porcelain mugs in front of us, pour the tea, then take our order. As a kid, if everyone else is having something, you want it, too. Even if it’s indelectable, like Gefilte fish. So I wanted the tea. And because it was there and available for quick self-refilling, I would drink a lot it.

It was different than the tea that we kept in our house, typically Lipton’s Black tea, with it’s overpoweringly astringent after-taste and mass-produced mediocrity. This, however, was mellow, smooth and slightly sweet without having to add any sugar packets (and, honestly, probably just as mass-produced, but let me continue with my rose-colored memories, thanks). We asked the waiter what type of tea it was. He said, ‘Oolong.’ Oooohhhhh. Back then, something as commonplace as oolong tea is now was exotic, and impossible to find outside of a specialty Chinese purveyor buried in a Chinatown basement. The seller might as well have been sharing space next to Santa’s workshop in a North Pole strip mall.

Now, oolong tea is as easy to procure as it is to walk/drive to your local supermarket and stroll to the tea aisle. And I cherish that evolution. Oolong is the Goldilocks of tea. Not too bitter (green), not too bland (white), not too harsh (black). It’s the tea sweet spot. Oolong. I love you.

p.s. Yes, I’ll make a ‘Me love you oolong time’ t-shirt and market it for sale and retire a billionaire.

The Cods Are Alright

When I was a young lad, I hated fish. Even breaded fishsticks dipped in ketchup, while edible, were nothing more than a consolation dinner.

As a teenager I took to the meatier, fattier variety of fish – grilled salmon and swordfish. Also fried fish n’ chips. Also, I slept 15 hours a day.

I’m older now, late 30s, more sophisticated. I enjoy mild, flaky whitefish with just a hint of lemon and olive oil. I like cod, but I’ve also been known to dabble with halibut, trout, flounder. Whenever I eat fish nowadays, I don my white colonial wig, listen to Brahms, and engage in lengthy monologues on the lives of Giovanni Bellini and Sandro Botticelli, for example. How far I’ve come from those insipid, buffoonish days of fishsticks! Lo! Friends, life is a journey, and I have arrived.


Daddy MacTubes

Duane Reade v. Dwyane Wade

Dwyane Wade: 12 x NBA all-star

Duane Reade: Coconut water on sale

Advantage: Dwyane Wade

Duane Reade: Offers seven types of tweezers

Dwyane Wade: Averaged 35 ppg and 8 rebs in 2006 NBA finals

Advantage: Dwyane Wade

Dwyane Wade: Had love child out of wedlock

Duane Reade: Sells condoms

Advantage: Duane Reade

Dwyane Wade: Famously teamed up with LeBron

Duane Reade: Famously teamed up with Walgreens

Advantage: Draw

Duane Reade: Glass storefronts

Dwyane Wade: Glass ego

Advantage: Duane Reade

Dwyane Wade: Spells name wrong

Duane Reade: Spells name wrong

Advantage: Dryawe

Mergers & Acquisitions

Today, Verizon announced that it will acquire Yahoo!, a company best known for not having any value and being your grandparent’s equivalent of BuzzFeed. That’s like Toys ‘r Us buying KB Toys. Or McDonald’s buying All American Burger. Or Dick’s buying Sports Authority. Or Lumber Liquidators buying National Lumber. Or Barnes & Noble buying Borders. Or Amazon buying Barnes & Noble. Or Netflix buying Blockbuster. Or Taco Bell buying Etsy. Or Home Depot buying Auntie Anne’s. Or Warner Brother’s Studio Store buying a single Granny Smith Apple. Or a baby penguin buying a hotel on Ventnor Avenue. Or a group of housewives sucked into an Avon Ponzi scheme buying nail polish from a beauty supply shop that is not affiliated with Avon. Or a jelly donut buying a bushel of grapes and a pound of sugar and glassware for canning and preserving its own jelly.

Bach’s Lunch

I have an idea. For a lunch place. Called Bach’s Lunch. Where you grab fruits and vegetables and half-sandwiches, a bag of chips, a beverage and put it in a box and go. It’s relatively healthy, moderately affordable and occasionally friendly. A real classical joint (that’s the slogan). We’ll franchise it, and such. The music pumped through the speakers is all Brahms.

Stream of Conscious-piss

First things first, in the morning, stand up, Achilles pain, should stretch my calf while I graze grass and suck at the power teat of my milk-producing moo mom, my moomy,  Mumm-Ra was the bad guy on Thundercats which surprisingly hasn’t been made into a movie, they’re remaking The Mummy, the Brendan Fraser one, now with Tom Cruise, but no Thundercats, no Voltron, no by the power of grayskull I have the gray matter remember that from Breaking Bad, Walter White and the other guy’s last name was Black, combined it was gray, which reminds me of Clear & Present Danger, not black or white, right or wrong, and I told about equality and it’s true either you’re wrong or you’re right, Bob Barker spinning the big wheel, sexually harassing chicks, but he’s old and white and privileged, what do you expect, I like the spinning tea cup ride at Disney or maybe I don’t, maybe it’s too spinny, from parade pinwheels to kids doing cartwheels, fart-meals fart-meals fart-meals, breathe in the sulfurous eggs, my soul-Fast-and-Furious, along with my tinkles in the toilet like a porcelain piccolo staccato Chicken Piccata topped with the Great Muppet capers and some Lemony Snicket, that’s another book/movie I don’t care about like oxygen and air and breathing and flush it all down, flush away the toxins, flush away the memories, flush away the flesh, the weak flesh soft and pliant and compliant and giant too many giants, Andre, the Iron, the BFG, that James Dean movie from the 50s, he’s dead, I haven’t seen it, anyone want a peanut?

Fiction v. Truth – You Be The Judge Judy

Truth is strange – oh man let me tell you MacTuber has seen some crazy stuff (on TV) in his day – but it’s got nothing on fiction. I can’t think of an example right now (or ever) but trust me. In fiction you can say literally anything. Just imagine it, write it down and boom, look ma, fiction. Blahaobgotna! OK, that’s technically not a word, so maybe that’s not fiction. Fiction probably should still be words. On the other side we have truth, which is true. For example, a big potato (if it were real).

The ferocious and epic battle between truth and fiction has raged on like a nuclear wild fire for millions of years throughout the entire universe. It’s also a lifestyle choice. I sometimes like when truth seems like fiction, like the alligator on TV that liked to dance to rap music. Other times I like when fiction seems totally true but for the fact that no one can prove it happened, like Lord of the Rings (especially The Two Towers).

Newspaper Sport Headline Puns

I’m no sportswriter. I’m no newspaperman (what’s a newspaper?). What I am is a pun-enthusiast – a punthusiast, if I may. So punch me. Here is a list of pre-approved, ready-to-print headlines for a litany of inevitable sports stories:

“A CRICKET IN THE NECK” – For when your country’s star Cricketer misses a key game due to neck pain.

“HE COULDN’T HANDLE THE RUTH” – For when your favorite baseball player tries to mimic the Babe’s famous ‘calling of his shot’ and fails miserably (also works for any sports star who chokes to death on a Baby Ruth during game play).

“ONE IF BY LAND, TWO IF BY TREE” – For when a famous golfer bogies a key hole by hitting into a tree trunk.

“TWO TREE OR NOT TWO TREE” – For when Revolutionary War puns are too obscure and you realize your golf audience skews more Shakespearean.

“TO PEE OR NOT TO PEE” – For when an athlete pisses himself.

“HIT ME WITH YOUR BEST POT” – For when the local star gets busted for smoking weed.

“WHAT WOULD JESUS SCREW?” – For when a star player, by necessity named Jesus, gets caught in a Tiger Woods-esque sex scandal.

“HASTA LA VISTA, BRADY” – For when Tom Brady unsuccessfully appeals his 4-game suspension, retires from the NFL or is cast to star in the next Terminator film.

“THE CHECK IS IN THE HAIL” – For when the team’s quarterback throws a game-winning hail mary.

“THE CZECH IS IN THE MALE” – For when a notable athlete from the Czech Republic completes a female to male gender reassignment.

“THE DRECK IS IN THE FAIL” – For when a random blogger keeps writing epically poor sports headline puns.

Just another message in a broken bottle…

Dear Non-Reader,

It has come to our attention that your complete abstention from our rehashed pretension has created tension, mild apprehension, and dissension (see e.g., this recent invention from another dimension) among a particular faction of R#P bloggers, all of whom, it goes without mention, work without pension or, frankly, comprehension.


R#P Executive Board

Filthy Rap Lyrics

You wanted flirty

But it ain’t me, babe, I’m straight up dirty

Chocolate squirty, herpes, and a case of the scurvy

I live in squalor, holler, [inaudible] dollar


My lyrics are real, disarmingly genteel, a touch puerile, like a resplendent stiletto heel slipping on a rotting banana peel

I like my strippers freshly showered

Even though I never bathe (save when it rains) 

So I live with the stains and

Abdominal pains

From the tape worm that trains from my gut 

To my butt 

Also, full disclosure: head lice

The size of basmati rice

I’m not being lewd, just really precise.

Some other rappers are filthy, figuratively

But not me, comparatively, I speak of filth much more literally.


[gently places mic on floor]

Welcome to the Tom Cruise Cruise!

On the Top Gun deck, guests get to sit in the cockpit of a fighter jet and listen to “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling” on repeat. The only way to leave is to eject. Make sure to watch out for the canopy!

On the Days of Thunder deck, guests get to ride go carts painted like Nascar racers and listen to Robert Duvall say, “Well now, I’m telling you different. If you go to the outside, you can hold it,” through their headphones.

On the The Firm deck, guests get to take the Tennessee Bar Exam without any preparation while they are repeatedly told, “No lawyer in the history of the firm has ever failed the bar exam.”

On the Mission Impossible deck, guests get to wear suffocating plastic masks made to look like Jon Voight (you must sign a waiver to play with the exploding gum).

Guests eager for a nap should adjourn to the Lions For Lambs deck.

On the Eyes Wide Shut deck, guests get to watch a documentary about how Stanley Kubrick faked the Apollo moon landing, while wearing carnival masks and listening to the soothing sounds of a demon-pagan sex orgy.

And if you’d like a relaxing beverage, meet us on the Cocktail deck where guests get to juggle VHS copies of FX2 starring Bryan Brown.

And more!

Join us on the next Tom Cruise Cruise as we sail Far and Away to the ‘Danger Zone’!

A spoonful of sugar

“Pass the piss stash,” he said.

“The what?” She asked, while he laughed at his own immaturity. His laughter annoyed her, it was too late for such a high-pitched squeal.

“The pistachio gelato.” She looked at him with reproach. “Pleaseeeee.”

She opened the freezer and pulled out a clear plastic container made mint-green from the dessert inside. The label on the container read Sicilian Pistachio. She passed it to him.

Holding the container in one hand, he turned and grabbed a teaspoon from the drawer with the other. He leaned against the counter and twisted the cap off.

“I wonder if the pistachios are from Sicily or if Sicilian refers to the style of the preparation,” he said.

She left the kitchen without comment.

Mashed Potatoes, Vol. 1

I watched the first half of Pitch Perfect 2 starring Anna Kendrick. It was available on HBO Now, and Game of Thrones‘ season was over, so sue me. In the film, Anna Kendrick’s character is known for her musical mash-ups (taking two disparate songs and finding the perfect blend between them). There’s a scene where she discusses her demo with a top-flight music producer played by Keegan-Michael Key, and he’s disappointed, it’s all mash-ups, nothing original, nothing that’s truly her. Since I have another half of film to watch, my assumption is she’ll seek and ultimately find her personal voice and the success she’s craving. Or maybe she’ll stick with the mash-ups. Who knows? This film can go in thousand different directions.

That being said, mash-ups can be great. The right mash-up at the right time can save the world. I think John Linen, my tailor, told me that.

And I have some mash-ups that I would like to see mashed. For years I’ve been holding on to the thought of them. But they remained locked away in my heart. If I had the talent, technical know-how and tenacity, I would’ve mashed them up myself. But let’s be realistic, that’s not the part I was meant to play. Instead, I’m stuffing these mash-ups in a bottle and tossing it into the great body of internet water (the next best non-water water), forever hoping that someday some stranger will stumble upon it on a sandy shore, open it, receive its contents and discover beauty. Here we go.

Mash-up #1: “I Get Around” by The Beach Boys with “I Get Around” by Tupac

Mash-up #2: “Don’t Bring Me Down” by Electric Light Orchestra with “Bitch, Don’t Kill My Vibe” by Kendrick Lamar

Mash-up #3: “Rich Girl” by Hall & Oates with “Gold Digger” by Kanye West

Note: Yes, all mash-ups must include a rap song.