LACarlos

Hi Jamie,

I recently read your article and after a little bit of thought, figured I’d write you a response. FULL ARTICLE HERE

First off. Full disclosure, I, like most people in LA am not a native Los Angelino. I was born abroad and grew up in Boston. So there is no pride involved here in my response to your journalistic hissy fit.

Second. Everything you listed can indeed be fodder for the snarky types, and your tone and demeanor only goes to show that you probably belong here more than you think. I recommend my neighborhood, Silverlake, which was named, much to the chagrin (or non noticable chagrin) of Williamsburg as the best hipster neighborhood in America. Here you can complain and judge all you want, while also enjoying some of the most beautiful weather and sights you’ll ever see.

Third. I’m sure you’ve heard of the phrase first world problems. You spent some quality time taking fantastic pictures, searching youtube, and complaining that the transit system in Los Angeles doesn’t allow you to get shit-faced enough AND get home safely on any given day. I don’t even think I have to point out that everything on your list isn’t something you are forced to do and if you showed the sense that most of us out here have developed, after some time, you’d know what to avoid, and realize that you dont HAVE to grab that yoga flyer, or you don’t HAVE to go into the Pet Psychic Healing Center. We see these things, so many and instantly decide if it’s something we want to do, and if not, we  move on and find things that stimulate us. It seems that getting drunk is high on your list, so i suggest maybe finding a studio near a bar. 

Fourth. Danger? Lets go ahead inform you that LA has the lowest crime rate of any major cities in the US this year . I don’t know about the UK, but that’s a pretty good statistic, especially considering the fact that NYC just had a mini celebration on monday for it being the first day in years that neither a slaying, stabbing, shooting of knifing occurred. Seriously  Tsunami’s? Call me when you suffer from one out here, I’ll be the first to notify your parents. Mountain lions and forest fires? To me this sounds like someone who has never really experienced nature, unless kensington gardens counts.

Fifth. Extreme Sports? I don’t even have to justify the fact that people here have beautiful year round weather, free time and lots of beaches, parks and ideas. You should really just get over it. We’ve been trying to understand soccer for 100 years over here, but we don’t fault you for it.

Sixth. Broken Dreams. Ahh yes. people moving somewhere to chase a dream. People moving somewhere to follow their chosen path. I guess I’m one of those people Jamie, so I’m truly sorry that I’ve help make this city the “worst place ever”. But next time you see one of us, rushing to an audition, before our shift at the restaurant, or finishing a design job, before we have to be a P.A on set at 5am, or working on a 4th draft of that script before the Starbucks shift, maybe you could cut us a little slack? Maybe you could turn the other cheek and work on your next blog entry instead? Maybe you could take a stroll, a hike, go shopping, catch a movie (we make most of them here). Maybe, just maybe you can realize that we’re not forcing you to do the grind day in and day out. Maybe you can realize that with every day spent balancing our dream job with our day job we see it not as an exercise in futility, but as a lesson in perseverance  I was taught to not judge lest ye be judged (I saw that in a book, not a script) so I don’t want you to think I don’t value your naive, misinformed, unoriginal view on L.A. I value it tremendously. It’s what sports people call bulletin board material. It’s more motivation. 

Seventh. David Spade has a Hollywood Star. And you have a blog. Let’s call that one even.

Eighth. Pretentious Restaurants. Well as you’ve shown, you seem like the type of guy that just wants to walk to the local and have some bangers n mash, with a pint. no frills, and lots of soccer scarves surrounding you. And you know what mate? That’s totally fine with me. But we, like our residents, love variety. I love that I can go to a place called Cowboys and Turbans and have American/Indian Fusion (try the masala cheeseburger…it’s amazing), or I can have the best fish tacos ever, or incredible sushi, thai, bbq and bourbon or..well anything. The food is amazing. I’m sorry about the words used to describe them, we can have a chat about marketing and advertising one day, but what matters is the food and if it tastes amazing, I’ll deal with a silly menu, an unctuous server or even a valet charge, it’s really not enough to ruin my day and run and write about it.

Ninth. Yes, improv is silly. Yes most of my friends are in improv, teach improv, and one even artistic director of The Upright Citizens Brigade (I’ll send him your article, I’m sure it will be great material for a show) It goes back to the beginning of this letter. You. don’t. have. to. go to any of this. ever. It’s one of the biggest cities in the world, you can find something your standards will agree with.

Tenth. A Solution.

I know the perfect remedy to solve all of your problems with LA, and how it can instantly become a slightly better place and not as bad as you deem it to be.

Leave. 

Anyone that wants to send this to Jamie, he can be found on twitter @JLCT

Jamie, if you’re still here and want to find me, I’m @LACarlos (sorry about having LA in my handle)

I pride myself on being optimistic as much as I can possibly handle. Sometimes to a fault. I was taught the valuable lesson of ultimate perspective when I lost my dad this year. Losing something so irreplaceable makes you appreciate even the smallest of things.

That being said, today was a shitty day. First off, when its torrentially down pouring in Los Angeles, you know something is up. Second, today is the day I get to go back to my day job after a 9 day hiatus in which I visited my girlfriend who lives 3000 miles away and we galavanted to Miami for an extraordinary celebration as my niece got married. So the last week…was fantastic.

But today just sucked. LA drivers treat even the smallest amount of rain as a hurricane of epic proportion, so when it started raining hard, New England spring hard, the driving became a nightmare. My usual 25-30 minute commute became 90 minutes. My lovely lady who works more than anyone I know was swamped 3000 miles away, my car, desperately in need of a multi thousand dollar make over creaked and squealed with every turn and brake. And through all of this, thoughts of my dwindling bank account, my creative goals, so close, yes so much work left to put in in order to become reality, the long distance, not just from the girl, but from my incredible family…well it just put me in foul mood and the last thing I wanted to do was go to work. I just wanted to get under the covers and read my latest Wodehouse.

Perspective.

I sloshed through the bumper to bumper LA highways, and finally made it to the Starbucks next to work. I dejectedly put the car in park and got in line, hoping a little caffeine jolt would help.

The lady behind the counter asked me what I wanted, and I ordered what I always ordered, an ice coffee with a touch of sweetener.

She looked at me.

“Honey, you look like you’re having a terrible day”

I’ve been told I wear everything on my sleeve, so I smiled a bit embarrassed and replied “oh it’s just the weather”

She, seeing right through it replied “sure it is, well tell you what, your coffee is on me today and I hope it gets better”

Shocked and taken aback by this small yet humongous act I smiled (for real this time) and thanked her.

And here we are. I can’t stress enough how important the little things in life are, and how if you make the effort to focus on the positives…by jove (never thought I’d actually write that) you’ll be much much happier.

So, I won’t apologize for my 4 hour foray into woeismeville, but ill continue to avoid that exit, regardless of the weather.

Because
I’m a lucky guy. (With a free coffee)

I wrote an email last night with the subject “this is going to be amazing”

I’m in the market for a…

Don’t do it.

Don’t click.

But we do click.

But it’s impossible.

Any-thing is possiiiiiiible.

But you’re setting yourself up to fail.

But you could be setting yourself up to smile.

You have to face the fact that there’s a big obstacle in the way

I have to face the fact that I like her face.

But this is stupid, you barely know anything.

I want to learn everything.

But what if it doesn’t work out.

But what if it does.

Be careful what you wish for.

Never.

You should really think this through.

Never.

You should weigh the pros and cons.

I’ll weigh the prose and withs, but I’ll never treat this a business opportunity.

But if you want to talk about supply and demand.

I demand that I supply myself with the opportunity to be happier.

But there are so many things you should think about.

But when I think of her, I don’t think of…as much.

Did I mention this is stupid?

Yes.

Did I mention this is silly?

Mhmm.

So what are you going to do?

Click.

I knew you would.

Yes. Yes you did.

I wish I could stop.

I wish I could say It’ll never happen to you.

I wish I could understand how it happened.

I thought I was stronger.

I’ll probably try to hide it with other vices and other stupid decisions.

I’ll probably play it off like “no big deal” as if I was anything near as strong enough to just walk away.

So many times before I’ve been in the same position and EVERY time I’ve ended up face down in the mud barely able to get up.

But I’m probably just overreacting.

I’m probably alone in this.

There’s no way it could be mutual.

I mean it’s impossible right?

It’s not something that I should even be contemplating.

And I’ve never been a fan of the whole idea of “it only takes a second”

I’ve never been a fan of showing weakness.

I’ve also never been a fan of being alone for being alones sake.

Alone has been good to me over the last 3 years. But alone tends to disappear when I need her the most. Alone usually shows up when you don’t want her, and stays until you decide that it’s the best option for you. But then she leaves. She just up and leaves with no notice and lets want in. She lets desire in. She lets lust in. She lets open eyes in and takes some breath with her on the way out. And she doesn’t ask your permission. In fact she waits until you are so completely happy with her and resolved to the fact that you’ll be lifelong mates…and leaves.

And you find yourself cornered. Staring at you are want, desire, lust, open eyes. And you find yourself suffocating. Suffocating in this overmatched, no chance in hell of surviving experience. And they begin on you. And one by one, break you down, knocking you to you knees, taking over your thoughts, your dreams, that you thought you wouldn’t have again. Even taking away some of the painful memories you’ve recently developed.

But you still resist as much as you can, because things like this aren’t supposed to happen to you. Things like you’ve read don’t really exist. And if they do, they most certainly don’t to you. You’re terrified because you don’t want to look like a desperate fool. Like someone who can actually be vulnerable. This is not who you’ve become. Damn. It. All.

First Published, Fathers Day 2012 via The Good Men Project

First Published via The Good Men Project

First Published via The Good Men Project

“Do Not underestimate the determination of a quiet man” – Iain Duncan Smith

“I’d rather not comment on that” – Bill Belichick

It’s hard sometimes. 

We have grown so accustomed to greatness. 

Plain and simple: We have paid our dues and are enjoying the tail end of one of the greatest periods of sports domination by any single city in the history of modern sports. 

 I won’t rehash the stats and the titles won, since most of America is sick of hearing about it. 

What is interesting, is how much the rest of the country likes to see us fail. It’s as if we’ve become a big, bad evil Voltron and everyone else is trying to dismantle us piece by piece.

One of my work acquaintances said this to me the other day: “I was so happy to see you lose to the Giants again.”

Me - “Why?”

Him - “Because you are all so good and so snobby about it.”

Me - “The Pats?”

Him - “Boston fans in general. It’s like you expect a championship every season.”

Me - “Wait, is that a bad thing?”

Him - “I mean, no. But since you usually win something, it sucks for everyone else.”

Me - “So what you’re saying is that all sports titles should be distributed evenly?”

Him - “No…”

Me - “That it’s somehow unfair that our teams excel at a team-first mentality (2011 Red Sox notwithstanding) and that we show sports fans that a “we” not “me” mentality can still succeed in an era of overpaid, pretentious, me-first athletes?” (Ok, I paraphrased that. What I actually said was, “so everyone else sucks at winning and it’s our fault?”

Him - “Dude, I’m from Detroit.”

Me - ” Oh. My bad. Go Tigers.”

 It is this inherently vile ill will towards Boston that has developed over the last decade that leads people to crap on us whenever they can. It is the foolhardy acts from a select few (see: Lucchino/Werner/Henry) that make us out to be true idiots. But what is lost is the fact that, due to our successes, we have become a group of fans that expect so much more from our teams than any other city in America.

 I watched the tail end of the Pats v Giants game last weekend and was devastated. (As much as I can actually be “devastated” watching a game on television. It’s not like I broke my leg, lost a friend, etc…perspective is key here, folks.) I was devastated at the fact that the dominance I have come to expect from the New England Patriots since I was 20 years old seemed to be disappearing, because we have been programmed to expect dominance on a regular basis. Not just with championships, but with records.

We are so accustomed to stats. Stats, stats, stats, stats! It seems like every game we hear, “this is Tom Brady’s 67th consecutive game with his shoes tied with a double knot,” or, “this is the 35th time in the modern era that Tom Brady has been perfect, as a player, and as a human being.” Here’s a quick tip: Statistics mean nothing. Mr. Brady will be the absolute first one to agree with this. What does matter is the ring at the end of the year. I know that we have rarely ever lost back-to-back regular season games. I know that Brady’s Sunday loss was the first regular season home loss since I was in my mid-20s. I know that we’re averaging 10 points less per contest in the last few games than we have for the last year and half. I know. I know, I know, I know.

 And I don’t care.

 I don’t care because there is something more important than accolades and personal stats: Winning.

 The New England Patriots are currently 5-3 and in a 3-way tie for 1st place. 

This is a fact.

The New England Patriots are playing some of the worst football that I have seen during the entirety of the “Tom Brady Era.”

This is a fact.

 And, lo and behold, they are in 1st place. Only 6 teams have fewer losses!

 They could play the same way for the rest of the year and end up 10-6, which is damn fine for any other team. Of course, this would be considered a failure by the Pats and their fans, since we are accustomed to 12 or 13 wins per season.

 We want stats and wins. And when neither of those happen we go into panic mode. It’s the Boston way.

 I like the fact that we are slowly dropping back to an under-the-radar status. No more Brady MVP talk. No more undefeated monkey on our backs (let Green Bay handle that). No more, “Brady is going to throw for ten thousand yards,” or, “Welker is going to catch two hundred passes.” No more. I like the fact that we are not in anyone’s top 10 list. It’s how things used to be around here. We spent 20 years in sports limbo and then we exploded onto the national scene like no other city before, or since.

 And, newsflash: No one in Foxboro cares what anyone not on Bob Kraft’s payroll thinks. 

The best thing you can put in front of Tom Brady’s name is not two-time MVP or three-time Super Bowl Champion or multiple NFL record-holder or best QB ever. 

 It’s underdog. Underdog Tom Brady and the New England Patriots. I remember the sound of that, and I also remember what happened when people used that term.

 Keep us out of your top 10. Ignore us. Focus on the flavors of the month, and we’ll see you in the month that matters: February.

 Go Pats.

(And, as always, many thanks to Laura for being the best copy editor ever. My grammar is truly awful. You can find her @LBkinson)

The folks over at The Altruist asked me to contribute. Here ya go!! Check it and them out.

Recently “writer” Big Daddy Drew posted a “piece” in response to ESPN the Magazine releasing a Boston themed cover. here is the link to his drivel, JEALOUSY.

Below you’ll find the image that set him off. (it’s a beautiful thing)

Hey. Guy.

Simmer down for a minute and read something that isn’t your own writing.

 First off, you make swearing boring.

 Learn how to express yourself between your TPS reports at your accounting firm job in a way that is actually not just shock journalism.

 Oh wait,  I said journalism…and you’re a blogger.

My bad. Didn’t mean to confuse the two. I’ll back off on the notion that I should hold you in the same regard as someone who can actually write.

 But what I won’t back off is the following.

 Get off Boston’s sack.

 You’re from D.C! You root for the Vikings. I’m sorry if Fran Tarkenton is 97 years old and has a girl’s name. I’m sorry that you have the same winning percentage as the Buffalo Bills when it comes to the Super Bowl (0-4) and that it’s been 35 years since you’ve been to The Big Game. I love Kirby Puckett, but even he could see better than you when it comes to the futility of Minnesota and sports.

 I’ll get to D.C in a minute.

 But first I’ll remind you that you’re named Big Daddy, and unless your last name is Kane or you’re the D.H for the Red Sox, then you’re a day late and a dollar short.

D.C. huh? The greatest athlete to play for you in the last 20 years was a 40 year old Michael Jordan. Or was it Gilbert Arenas?

 Let’s show off some of your prose in case people haven’t read it.

Regarding ESPN:  “THEY ARE FUCKS AND I HOPE THEY BURN IN GODDAMN HELL. ALL OF THEM.”

Really? Is this the good writing people want? Is this what’s popular? You honestly can’t write something better than this? You wish eternal damnation on something that no one is forcing you to purchase?

 And what is this piece of “filth” that has set you off so much?

 A magazine cover. A magazine cover has caused you to rupture your spleen and spew hatred and intro level writing all over the internet.

You realize getting angry over a magazine cover is like complaining about your dial-up connection or moaning about a VCR malfunction.

 How old are you? Because you write like an improperly raised 9-year-old.

 You sound like a temper tantrum. Seriously. You are literally crying during your latest “article.” Hold on, I’ll cue your response: “NOW GO FUCKING DIE.”

 Really? You actually want someone to die because they published something you don’t like? I can see how you’d prefer a Minnesota themed cover…but newsflash…you’ve only won 2 championships…EVER. And not even in football. In baseball. So I can see how a fist with just 2 rings (period.) might look a little bland. (Do the math, buddy.) (Yes, the Lakers did win 4 championships in the 1950’s…but that doesn’t count.)

 I can understand your disdain for the city of Boston. It’s not for everyone. You have to have a thick skin to live there. I did for 28 years. You hear that Big Daddy? I lived there for 28 years, and had season tickets to the Pats since the late 80’s. Do you know what happened to the Patriots from 86-96? Exactly. Also, do you know what happened to the Celtics from 88-08? Exactly. Also…do I even have to mention the Sox and Bruins here?

 The thing you will NEVER ever understand Drew, is that we are not fair-weather fans. We don’t live in D.C and root for the Vikings because they were cool in 1992. We root for Boston teams because it’s who we are. And when they lose, we’ll make sure you hear about it, and when they win…a lot…we’ll make sure you know.

 You don’t like ESPN…well buddy, switch over to SI.com, or the magazine. And enjoy Fox Sports, or “Vikings Weekly” on whatever public access channel it’s on.

 You are completely entitled to your opinion, Doctor, but when you degrade yourself by degrading others, you end up losing any kind of credibility that you and your occasionally funny site have going for it. It’s not funny. It’s borderline criminal. And I’m sure your jokes about 9/11 have gone over well timing-wise.

 Let me continue to break it down by pointing out that the only swears I’ve used so far have been your own quotes. See Drew, was that so hard? 

Do you want your children to look back and read this when they finally have someone else teach them what actual literacy is? 

Is it so hard to argue a point without being such a shock seeker?

 You, like many others, rag on Bill Simmons, which is the cool thing to do nowadays.But, do you honestly think for just one second that if it weren’t for him you would have an audience of more than 0? 

Do that math buddy. 

And while you’re at it, take a deep look in the mirror, if you have one, and if you can bare to look at yourself. And ask yourself this:

“Why am I such a fucking moron?”

Stay outta Boston, shit head. You’ll never deserve that kind of privilege.

Oh and…Yankees Suck.

Today is the first day of the NFL Regular season. Granted it was a bit touch and go for a hot second these last few months, but here we are.

 Finally. It’s official. We are on as planned. We are all excited.

But do me a favor…Roger Goodell, Owners, Players, NFLPA, etc…

STOP TELLING ME “IT’S GOOD TO BE BACK”!

I am sick of your heart strings-pulling ad campaign reminding us that there was almost not a football season.

Stop using us to your marketing advantage. It’s childish.

You technically never left our television sets. 

In fact you swamped it more than usual with your petty negotiations about who deserved this billion dollars here or that other billion dollars there. 

There were more lead stories on television about lockout negotiations than there were about deaths in Iraq.

All of you came dangerously close to ruining the goodwill you had established over the last decade with your faithful followers. 

And you knew this. Every step of the way,  but you pandered to the lowest common denominator with finger pointing and a woe is me mentality. 

Newsflash, you are not allowed to cry about anything when wearing a two thousand dollar suit or fifty thousand dollar diamond earrings. Or if you have multi-million dollar endorsement deals, are married to a super model, or just got out of jail.

You absolutely owed it to America to get your shit together and figure out your decimal point difference. 

You absolutely owed it to this country; one that is caught up in multiple wars, a double recession, has to deal with Conan O’Brien not being funny anymore and Katt Williams forgetting what his ancestors went through.

We deserve this distraction. 

Because all you are, NFL, is a distraction. A distraction from what’s outside to every common American. One day (or 4, nowadays, you ratings-hungry whore) a week to relax, forget, and enjoy. One day a week to put on your team colors and pretend like you actually give a shit about what city you are from. One day a week to block out the pile of bills on the counter, the late alimony check, the ignored medical problems, the homework due last week, the Tea Party and the natural disaster dujour. 

For one day, all we want is to watch you earn your FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS PER GAME ($770,000.00 is the average salary in the NFL, 16 games per year) by scheming, hitting, running, passing, jumping and catching.

FYI, NFL players, you make in one day what the average American makes in one year, so pardon me if I didn’t really give a crap when you complained of unfair treatment.

But I digress.

Don’t make this a feel-good comeback story. You are not the 2004 Red Sox, the ’84 Terps, the ’95 Pacers, or even fucking Lasse Virén. 

You are a bunch of wealthy athletes and owners that tried calling each others’ bluffs with America as the bait. 

You pushed each other to the brink and tried to blame each other, until you realized that we always saw through all of it, and would blame the lot of you if kickoff didn’t happen at 8:30PM EST today. 

And this is why we are on schedule as promised.

It’s not “Back to Football” and it sure as hell isn’t “It’s Good to be Back.”

It’s “Thanks for stepping up to the fucking plate and manning up, sort of.” (that’s a patriot fan pun for you)

It’s “Sorry we acted like foolish, out of touch assholes for 4 months while unemployment rose and thousands of people died due to disaster, disease and war.”

It’s “Our bad! We’ll do our damndest to not betray you again.”

It’s business as usual. Now kick the damn ball from the end zone and hit somebody! (Below the helmet and not hard of course.) (And when you do, don’t celebrate too much, or else you’ll be fined your whole day’s pay.)

Play like a wealthy, pension-assured, concussion-free, sponsored champion today, NFL. We’ll obviously be watching…for now.

Hi,

My name is Anthony Bourdain, and I am an insensitive prick, with a penchant for being a hypocrite when it gets me attention. I am the cooking world’s Charlie Sheen. I am clearly an alcoholic with no regard for anyone else. The other day I went on a tirade against  the Food Network…again. (I hope no one remembers when I got my TV start on the Food Network with “No Reservations.” I mean “A Cook’s Tour.”) I like to pick fights with chefs—or even people who have worked hard/been lucky enough to be on  the Food Network—for no apparent reason other than my personal demons and inadequacies in all walks of life.

Did I mention I’m a raging alcoholic with no regard for anyone but myself?

One of the reasons I hate  the Food Network is that it’s not classy enough for my holier-than-thou, pompous ass pedigree. Don’t mention that my current show on  the Travel Channel is sandwiched between “Truck Stop Missouri,” a show about…truck stops in Missouri. And “Man v. Food”...a show about a man who is about to explode from eating so much.

But, I’m the man. 

Between me and Uncle Fester trying out bizarre foods around the world, the lineup on my channel is far superior to those “hacks” Flay, Dean, Ray and Fieri.

Why? Because they just don’t keep it classy! So what if I talked about bowel movements for a better part of one of my retrospective shows this year? So what if I trash everyone around me in an effort to come across like an educated food maestro.  So what if I look like a washed up Vegas lounge singer? I’m Tony FUCKING Bourdain. And whatever I say is the TRUTH.  Hold on, I need another scotch.

Ok, I’m back.

On Rachel Ray, I’d like to not apologize for my comment about you being mediocre. In unrelated news, my latest episode had 740,000 viewers and a 0.3 rating. But I’m Tony  FUCKING Bourdain! So what if Guy Fieri more than doubled that. As did “The Best Thing I Ever Ate.” Hell, even “Millionaire Matchmaker” kicked my ass. Mediocrity my ass.  I have best selling books! You can buy my latest bitch fest for 7 bucks used on Amazon. Please do so.

On Sandra Lee, I’d like to not apologize for saying she’s “Pure evil. This frightening hell spawn of Kathie Lee and Betty Crocker seems on a mission to kill her fans, one meal at a time. She must be stopped,” Because it’s true! In unrelated notes, I have showcased foods that can cause an instant coronary, full of bacon, ham, lard, beans and carbs. Many many times. Did I mention I have books? Buy Them! I need another drink.

I don’t mean to get on a high horse every time I lambaste someone in public in order to start a public spat that will hopefully raise my ratings from non-nonexistent to nonexistent in a ploy to give some more longevity to my floundering career. Actually, yes I do. Why? Because I’m Tony FUCKING Bourdain. Can I even cook? Have you seen me cook at all lately? It doesn’t matter! All I have to do is bitch about people, travel to places on my wildly successful Travel Channel show and eat food. Because that’ what a true chef should be doing. Not any of this mundane stuff they are “forcing” Mario Batali to do. Like actually cook on camera. What a stupid idea!

Here’s a better idea. For my latest show, I’m just going to sit in a chaise lounge, poolside, clearly obliterated from the night before, and talk shit about everyone that worked for me that season, with clips of me berating my producers, talking about the kinds of shit they take. That, my idiot viewer friends, is a true cooking show on a channel about travel.  Oh! I’ll put some burgers on the grill at some point, so it actually qualifies as a cooking show. See if Emeril can do that! I need a drink.

Hey America, I’m sorry.

It’s been a rough couple of years. This fame has made me into a monster. I think that I am holier than thou and sometimes I start talking and this putrid shit comes flowing out of my mouth. Blame it on the alcohol or the fact that I am really alone when it comes to people who actually care for me. I’ve put up this massive front and need to show people what being a tough guy, who happens to cook, is all about. I can’t let people into the real me. I’m a real teddy bear when the camera is off. I mean the show is called “No Reservations,” so I have to play on that double entendre and not only show up without calling ahead, but actually be sensationalist! Otherwise would you really watch a show about a dude just eating food in different places? Oh wait, Guy Fieri does that, he’s kinda nice, and he rapes me ratings wise. Oh wait, I don’t like his hairstyle so I need to say things like, “I look at Guy and think Jesus, I’m glad that’s not me.” I mean right? I’m glad I don’t have 2 or 3 times the fan base I currently have. I’m glad I’m not helping American restaurants survive by featuring them on national TV shows. That would just be rude and patriotic. I prefer spotlighting a fucking hut in Zimbabwe that sells great grass sandwiches.

Listen. I guess I’m kind of sorry for all of this.

Kind of sorry that you all don’t realize I’m Tony FUCKING Bourdain and that no one is better than me. I mean honestly. Look at my gray superman hair…it’s perfect.

So in closing I’d like to remind you to watch my mediocre show on a mediocre channel dealing with mediocre food in mediocre places you’ll probably never go to.  

I’d like to remind you that as long as I turn out a book every 2 years I don’t really care about the kind of programming I bring you, because all 7 of you will tune in anyway. I’d also like to reiterate that the Food Network sucks, because c’mon, who wants to watch shows that are actually about cooking on a network about food?

Did I mention that I hate Rachel Ray, Emeril, Batali, Paula Dean, Sandra Lee and Guy Fieri, not because they are all consistently more successful than me, but because they…aren’t as awesome as Tony FUCKING Bourdain. More Scotch!

Recently my friend Tom posted “Ok I’m finally going to say it Dunkin Donuts Sucks”

Well, the faux backlash was immediate. It was a modern day social
media excommunication. Responses ranged from “you’re wrong” to “
WARNING everyone: do not indulge this heathen child” to “go fuck
yourself” etc…

One of our mutual friends messaged me and told me to never talk to him again.

Now of course most of this is in jest, but as with all snarky humor
there is of course an underlying sliver of true feelings.

Today I got involved “Ima go on the record here and back up Tom”. Boy did I get immediately lambasted.

Let’s start from the beginning…sort of.

I used to be as much of a supporter of Dunkin Donuts as the next guy
on the T. I also used to weigh 300+ lbs. I also used to shovel my
driveway for hours after the weekly snowstorms in Boston.

Things change. Palates develop and people discover options that
better suit their needs.

This is not to say that Dunkin Donuts doesn’t deserve the praise
heaped onto it by former New England residents now living on the left
coast.

But let’s not mistake culinary superiority with homesickness.

Dunkin Donuts is synonymous with Boston for myself and most of my friends.

The Red Sox, Emerson, The Green Line, Pats, C’s, The Public Garden, 4th of
July and Dunks, are some of the images that flash in my mind when I
think of my 12 years in Boston,

Now that doesn’t necessarily mean that it makes Dunkin Donuts the best
coffee shop ever.

My realization happened about a month ago when I was in Philadelphia for
one of my best friend’s wedding. As SOON as I got off the plane I was
greeted by a a Dunkin Donuts in the terminal. I was elated. It had
been months since I had had a real cup of Dunks at a Dunks. I got in
line. And my mouth began to water.

Wait, time for a Memento Flashback

8 months ago; the last time I had had Dunks was in Las
Vegas with my brother. I was in the middle of the beginning of my
recent weight loss (55 lbs thus far) I approached the counter and
ordered what I always have ordered, since I was 17. a medium regular
iced French Vanilla. I anxiously waited. It arrived. I took a sip.

And almost spit it out. It was a milkshake. It was 8 ounces of “cream” (their “half and half” is not actually “half and half” it’s more like “one and a half and half”) 8 ounces of coffee and about 2 ounces of sugar. It was thick and so sweet my newly developed sensitive taste buds just could not handle it.

Let me be clear: I am not saying that anyone who still enjoys DD has bad taste. I am saying that I have forgone the sweet for the savory when it comes to coffee. I enjoy the actual taste of coffee, with just a touch of 2% milk and little to no sweetener.

Back to Vegas: I was a little distraught at my taste buds revolting against my brain and the sweet memories associated with the pink and orange cups I had grown to adore. I didn’t know what to do, so I “toughed” it out and nursed the drink on my way home (I am notorious for taking 4 hours to drink an iced coffee, sometimes only finishing half of it).

Back to Philadelphia: So here I am in line at the airport, and I realize that since then I drink barely sweetened coffee with very little milk

Boston, 2008-2010, My 2 roommates and I would walk to Dunks down the street from our house in a suburb of Boston to get our daily fix of Dunks. I would order my aforementioned “Regulah French Vaniller”, Walker who can’t do dairy would order his black with sugar, and Steve would order his with skim milk and splenda. The funny thing was that we ridiculed Steve for not ordering his coffee like a man. We even created a faux Twitter handle for him because of it. (Yes, it was @gaycoffeeman…please glaad don’t kill me)

Back to Philadelphia: I approached the cashier and ordered a medium iced French Vanilla, 2% and 1 sugar. I anxiously waited. It arrived. I took a sip.

And almost spit it out. It was so bland. Actually tasted like dirty water. It had no flavor and wasn’t strong at all. My mind screamed at the thought of something I held on such a high pedestal crashing down and shattering into a million pieces.

It was true. Dunkin Donuts coffee just didn’t have enough flavor for me and was certainly not strong enough. 

In the last 16 months since moving to Los Angeles I had developed a routine of ordering an iced coffee with a splash of sweetener and a bit of 2% milk. Partly because that meant my drink of choice was only 70 calories (instead of 250-300 for the Dunks Version) and partly because I really like the taste of strong coffee. 

Now, naysayers have said that Starbucks coffee is too strong and tastes burnt…and I absolutely respect that opinion. My father swore off “American” coffee and always made his own in one of those old (American’s call it espresso) stovetop kettles. When I was a kid, it tasted like sludge. Things change. Palates develop and people discover options that better suit their needs. Now it’s delicious.

It’s all about what you like balanced with where you are from.

Boston, 2003 In college my friend Landon would absolutely RAVE about this burger joint, The Apple Pan, to anyone that would listen. And Landon, who was not short winded, would go on and on and on and on about how this was the best burger ever.

I found myself in LA with him in 2005 and one of the first things we did was go to the Apple Pan. Los Angeles pride and joy burger joint. (This was before burgers became the new sushi out here and tripled in cost) We sat down. I ordered. I anxiously waited. It arrived. I took a bite. 

It was ok. 

I tried as hard as I could to not disappoint Landon, but he saw right through it. (I’ve since disappointed him many times. I blame this as the launching point) 

Point is, he grew up with The Apple Pan and he had an allegiance that would never break. That is how many Transplants out here feel about Dunks. It’s safe and an instant reminder of Home.

Back to Today: The backlash continues against Tom and Myself for posting these thoughts. Here are some gems thus far

“I’m appalled. Didn’t think you’d turn into a west coast sell-out.”

“I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed” 

“Consider yourself crucified by Bolivian law! They have your picture now… if you ever set foot on Bolivian soil you shall be flogged with impunity for this blasphemy” - this one is funny because the friend is actually Bulgarian

These are all clearly funny. But a few jab a bit too much. Someone called me a “Hollywood Sellout” and also added the wonderful “Go Fuck Yourself” at the end.

That’s where I draw the line.

It’s not like you see me in Laker urine and purple, or rooting for LA’s football team.

It just means that I prefer my coffee from Seattle, while wearing my Boston Jersey in Los Angeles. It just means that I have an affinity for a stronger roast than most of the people back home. It just means that I still bleed Boston in everything I do out here. I just don’t bleed sugary creamy water in a cup.

America doesn’t run on Dunkin Donuts.

A large portion east of the Mississippi does. 

Would it be different if DD was out here? I don’t know. I had to find an alternative and that alternative worked out pretty well. So well ,in fact, that when I went back to DD, it just didn’t satisfy me the way that it used to. Long distance relationships never…ever work out. Sorry Dunks, She has more flavor. She’s stronger. She’s here.

Maybe you should have come out here with me. 

inothernews:

Mad Men

So the VMA’s happened tonight.

I didn’t watch a single second. I actually haven’t sat down and watched the VMA’s in years. With the advent of twitter and facebook it’s hard to not see people’s thoughts, comments and suggestions.

I can’t help but notice the common thread with people in or around my age bracket. The posts, comments or tweets usually center on the following.

“MTV doesn’t play Music Videos anymore” or “What’s the point of a Video Music Award, if no one watches Music Videos anymore?” 

I won’t sit here and say that I have never felt the same way at one time or another, but I will tell you that objectively speaking, these productions are still fantastic and accomplish everything they set out too.

Flash back: 1984 (I was 5)

Madonna does her thing with the wedding dress and the humping and causes mass hysteria with the conservatives while almost singlehandedly catapulting MTV’s meteoric rise.

Over the next 20 years, there have been countless of memorable pop performances from all walks of music, and just as many celebrity moments to go along with the music.

I tried to pinpoint when I stopped caring about MTV and the VMA’s and I think it was about 5 years ago. I was still somewhat involved in the music business (on a very very provincial level) but the appeal just left me. I used the above quotes and got on my soapbox with 1000’s of other 26 year olds and proclaimed that MTV was dead because it no longer played Music Videos! It wasn’t until i saw the tweets/statusupdates etc tonight that I realized why we all feel this way.

We. Are. Old.

Face it.

MTV is no longer for you. MTV doesn’t care about my demographic, and I don’t blame them. We feel like we are owed something for being the first true generation to grow up with MTV. We are the same age as MTV.

MTV has moved out and is banging the 18 year old hottie and that pisses us off.

I couldn’t begin to name you a Justin Beiber song. I only know about Rebecca Black because I like cruel jokes. If you ask me to name the top 10 artist on pop radio, I’d probably get 5 of them only because they were top 10 artists 5-10 years ago. (Jay-Z, Beyonce, Eminem, Kanye…ok only 4)

We think that because artists like Jay-Z and Beyonce have managed to stay relevant and consistently deliver hits, we should stay relevant as well.

newsflash: that’s not how it works.

We (28-32 year olds) have more in common with people who listen to Madonna than we do with people who listen to Taylor Swift, and last time I checked the latter is the one who has a gajillion #1 hits…this decade (or in the last 18 months)

Nobody cares about Madonna anymore. She has become a relic, a caricature of herself and her legend. “MUSIC” was a great album…11 years ago.

but i digress.

To all of you knocking MTV and the VMA’s….let me put it into today’s terms. They are like a FB friend or verified Twitter account. If you don’t like it, you can just click unfollow or defriend. Don’t waste your time sounding like your grandparents and talk about how you climbed barefoot uphill both ways when you were a kid on order to watch some good old fashioned music videos.

Kids don’t get their newest and latest music from a television anymore. They have Itunes, spotify, googlemusic, pandora for all of that. They are constantly plugged in and have no need to watch TRL. They have 100’s of songs in their pockets, 1000’s of youtube music videos on their iphones and millions of music “blogs” advertising the newest and coolest hiphop/hipster/rock/emo/indie/alt this and alt that track of the day. Fuck, you walk into starbucks and you get free music crammed down your throat with yout latte.

MTV did not sell out. MTV evolved. They know where the ratings are. Snookie will point you in the right direction. 

Video killed the Radio Star, and Internet could have killed Music Television…if Music Television still played Music Television.

Well done MTV. I can say I knew you when. Continue to grow and best of luck, and to the rest of you old people…pick up a kindle and read a book.

Beautiful.

You’ll never belong in the same class.

Sauce.