Teenage Mutant Ninja Taoists

THIS, YET AGAIN, is not today's lunch. I am, in fact, having the same thing today, but only on the grounds that I ought to finish up the braunschweiger before it had a chance to go over. (And when braunschweiger goes over to The Dark Side, well, let's just say it ain't Luke's father.) But this snap, from last Tuesday's lunch, is just too damned cute. And also, the only reason I am blogging today is that I looked up last Tuesday and realized I haven't done an entry here in well over a month. Which is to say, I am now blogging for the same reason almost every other blogger in the world blogs: because a day without blog is a day without blog. For no goddamned good reason at all, except to in some way mark the passing moments of my existence, as I trudge ever so slowly each day towards death.

 

But on the other hand, how cute are those?! I decided to start calling these Braunschweiger Taoists a short time back, based on the fact that about every third time I try to write "toast" it comes out "Taost." (And about every fifth time I try to write "Taoist"-- including that one-- it comes out "toasit," which sounds like a dumb name some half-assed fantasy-fic writer might give to the knee-high denizens of some enchanted forest. (It might seem like I am in a bad mood, but trust me, I am in no worse a mood than usual.) And the way the bacon studs landed on these, well, they just look like Teenage Mutant Ninja Taoists. Which is as good a reason to blog as any. Three days later.

 

This is most definitely not the movie of the day. We watched it Tuesday night, coincidentally enough, although "watch" is a strong word. I was going to make a connection between the characters in this flick and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, but, frankly, the poster image I found says it all. I imagine that, going by the script, while acting in front of a green screen and some elaborate set pieces, this might have seemed like a good enough idea to Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, but I also imagine that, having gone through the whole process, and even having seen a modicum of what emerged from the cutting room, the most he would have felt like contributing would have been a half-assed grimace-pose they could cut out and paste next to the face of a giant lizard. I mean, there were some clever enough bits-- "Why lizards?! Why couldn't it have been snakes!?!"-- Every five minutes, the goings got ratcheted up into such a high level of common denominator bullshit that scene after scene collapsed in on itself, only for the next scene to start building, usually on a brand new slate of freshly minted bullshit, only to proceed to build up and collapse on itself. We vowed, again and again, that this was getting turned off, but then the Wifey was distracted by something on her Kindle or i-phone, and then I was in the process of making a rather elaborate salad, and before we knew it the whole thing was over, and Michal "Never Turn Down Work" Caine was riding off into the distance on a the promise of a trip to a CGI-d moon. (And, to quote Groucho Marx, if THAT's not an insult, I don't know what is.

This also isn't the omelet I meant to include, but what the hell. The one I wanted had a pair of splotches of ketchup, approximating eyes, leading me to call it the Flying Spaghetti Omelet (approximating the Flying Spaghetti Monster), but I have been informed there are many out there in the world who might be offended by the suggestion that I was Touched by His Potatoey Appendage, amongst them, one supposes, Dan Qyaule and Tipper Gore. Well, fucj 'em.