Hey everyone, I’ll be blogging on Tumblr from now on (or until everyone else moves to something different). Soon this site will forward there so take in this beautiful design for the last time. Streeter.Tumblr.com

Here’s my latest from LaughLines. I think I’ll repost them here so my blog doesn’t just become a long list of links. Also, I’ll probably move this blog over to Tumblr soon as I’m almost 100% sure all of my friends who have switched in the past have completely stopped reading this. As soon as I can find a template I like I’ll try to convince my smarter friends to make the switch for me. Anyway, enjoy.

I’ll Take My Blue Plate Not-So-Special

As much as I enjoy watching “Top Chef” and effortlessly rattling off choice entries in the foodie vernacular - ceviche, amuse bouche, molecular gastronomy - I’m not what you would call an adventurous eater. I convulse at the mere scent of banana and nothing embodies hell on earth for me quite like the texture of rice pudding. For better or worse, I was raised in a home where chicken was the norm and exotic dishes were discreetly fed to the dog as quickly as they were placed on the table. (I’m remembering one instance in particular involving a rice-and-beef-stuffed pumpkin so vile even Sparky wouldn’t eat it.) As far as I can tell, I am the typical, boring American eater; I like cheesy, crispy, fatty, salty or sweet food made with ingredients I can pronounce. I crave preservatives and chemically enhanced juices; I crave red-white-and-blue-dyed snack cakes filled with liquefied marshmallow substitute. High fructose corn syrup figuratively – and probably literally – courses through my veins. So you can imagine my growing distress at America’s growing palette.

It’s been a subtle, incremental process thus far — this inexorable forced march to diversity, choice and mass connoisseurship. As of now, it usually involves one exotic addition to an otherwise normal dish. Whenever I eat out, which happens whenever I run out of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese, I immediately scan the menu for something recognizable. “Ah, chicken fajitas!” I’ll proclaim. (I eat at very, very haute restaurants.) “Marinated chicken” — check. “Grilled peppers, shredded pepper jack cheese, warm tortillas” — check, check, check. “Habanero-infused chimichurri sauce.” Huh? Why, Applebees?! Why must you taunt me so?!

I’m not alone. My long-suffering girlfriend, a notorious hater of cilantro, feels my pain. I’ve seen her brought to the verge of tears when the green flakes appear unexpectedly on something she’s ordered. She rails against the Mexican food industry for its seemingly unanimous decision to include the potent herb in all dishes, salsa and sauces. Perhaps we led sheltered lives as children, but I too remember a time when tacos, burritos and nachos were all served sans cilantro as the norm. Taco Bell is the only Mexican place where she can still eat in relative comfort - and, as we all know, Taco Bell is about as authentically Mexican as it is a healthy dining option.

Sure, you expect the unexpected at gourmet restaurants – pâté on steak, or salmon roe on crackers, or whatever it is great chefs do – but I’m not talking about those places. I eat at dumpy delis and diners where one would expect a solid, dull American meal. I didn’t sign up for wasabi mayonnaise when I ordered that turkey club. I didn’t ask for a sugar beet puree with my pork chop, and I most certainly am not interested in olive paste on anything. Even my favorite vegetable — trusty, watery, bland iceberg lettuce — is increasingly being pushed aside for the bitter, acidic, purple mess of mesculun greens. What have we become, people? A nation of gourmands? No, I refuse to believe it! This is the country that made a cheeseburger better by putting another cheeseburger on top of it, not by adding banana peppers, shaved celery root and a curry-based demi-glaze!

Go ahead and argue that attitudes like mine help explain the obesity epidemic gripping the nation. I actually tend to agree. Fast food restaurants are the only ones that have largely staved off the onslaught of exoticism — the chicken nugget still consists only of chicken slurry and nugget crust, whatever that is made of. Maybe the parsnip-custarding of America has driven diners from healthier establishments into the greasy, welcoming arms of fast food. If I had the choice between a chicken sandwich topped with something pretentious or a chicken sandwich topped with whatever I tell the kid at Wendy’s to put on it, I’d be telling that kid “mayo and lettuce” quicker than you can Google “anchovy remoulade.”

Perhaps someday I’ll find peace with the evolving American menu. After all, I’m sure the first time Joe America saw pineapple on his plate he kindly asked that the mealy yellow fruit be removed from his ham. In the meantime, though, I’ll continue to hold close to my heart restaurants not afraid to serve the humdrum classics. Let the innovative chefs soak up the praise for creating new flavor profiles (I told you I liked rattling off foodie terms) but I’m down with the sweaty frycook who makes my western omelet without goose eggs or truffle oil. And keep your plum reduction out of my chicken parmigiana, O.K.?

Why? Because we get to shoot MTV pilots during the day.

And then we get to post videos I wrote. Enjoy this (maybe) last video in the Internet Commenter series. And if you guys want to Digg it, I won’t be mad atcha.

I received this amazing piece of hate mail as a result of this article I wrote about bass players.

Let me tell you something, Streeter “Seidell”. You think your little b*tch ass article about bass guitar was funny? Let’s see you try and put so much time and effort into playing a beautiful instrument such as that! You’ve never known the hardships of playing in a band. How about you just stick to writing gay-ass articles on this site, “Seidell”, and quit raggin’ on people who play bass guitar. I happen to live near NYC, so if you want a piece of me, wanna talk trash about an istrument that MANY PEOPLE LOVE, then you name a time and place. I want a PUBLIC apology on this website, saying that you are sorry about dissing bass guitarists. You crossed the line, cum boy.

Now, I get a bunch of hate mail, but this one really stood out for a myriad of reasons. Let’s take a look.

• 1. Quotations around my last name, implying that I made it up. Amazing. Of my first and my last names, which one most sounds made up? Probably Streeter, right? Not to this dude.
• 2. The “i” in “bitch” being replaced by an “*.” Now, we do that with curses on the front page of CollegeHumor because advertisers need a clean area, but this was a private email. He has no problem with the word “ass” either, which directly followed it.
• 3. Declaring “You’ve never known the hardships of playing in a band.” Oh, really? I suppose I imagined the numerous bands I’ve played in over the years as a drummer. Where would I - why would I, come to that - have garnered the knowledge to rag on bass players if I hadn’t played in bands?
• 4. Threatening to fight me is always funny, doing it over an article about bass guitar is even funnier.
• 5. The all caps emphasis on “MANY PEOPLE LOVE.” I don’t feel I need to expound on what makes this funny, except to say that I keep picturing a scene in which I’m shocked to find out people like the bass. “What?!” I scream as I read the latest Bass and the American Public Opinion poll results. “Since when do people like the bass?!”
• 6. Declaring the line crossed. Even if he didn’t like them, he was OK will all my previous making-fun-of-bass-player articles. Not this one, though; this one is so offensive, so insulting to bass players that my right to the free speech should be revoked at once.
• 7. Calling me “cum boy.” Only a great literary mind such as his could end an eloquent, melodic tirade with such a poignant, pointed barb. What steely blade of an insult will he next unsheathe, “fag ass”? “douche nozzle”?
• 8. Never saying he plays bass. For all I know, this guy has never picked up a bass in his life. He could just be a rabid fan of bass players and fearless defender of their merit and worth. That would make my year.

If this is real it is an amazing piece of hate mail. If it’s fake and written as a joke, it’s almost as funny. Either way it made my morning and I hope you’ve enjoyed it.

UPDATE: Some genius sent me this fake hate mail in response to this article.

Dear Sir,

Let me tell you something , Mr. Streeter “Seidell”. You think your foolish horse trollop of an article about the great Penny Farthing, one of the greatest inventions of this era, was quite chuckle worthy? Let’s see you try and put so much time and effort into riding such a delightful and graceful vehicle of transportation such as that! You’ve never known the hardships of riding such a vehicle through the countryside, it does not come with ease. I believe your time would be better spent on pursuits such as mending fences or tending to your farm side. “Seidell”, and quit publishing this ragged despicable deplorable trash in my electronic post on the great gentlemen who ride the penny farthing. I happen to reside near you and I don’t mean to hash any unpleasant cogitations, but if you are so inclined and would like to settle this like gentlemen in a gentlemens fisticuffs, if you would like to spread your slanderous trash about a mode of transport that MANY FINE GENTLEMEN TAKE GREAT JOY IN, then you name a time and place and I shall give your backside quite a thrashing. I want a gentlemens apology on this electronic website of demonry, saying that you are sorry about insulting such a fine invention. You crossed the line, you flat footed fellow one more and you’ll regret see, cum boy.

Regards,
Charles Merryweather
March 10th, 1864

I really like history. I also really like writing funny stuff. But best of all I like when these two passions collide. One of my favorite ways to write is to think of a strange human tradition or invention and then imagine how it came to be. One of my favorite CollegeHumor articles dealt with the invention of the penny farthing, the old timey bike with the huge front wheel and tiny back wheel. Granted, hindsight is 20/20 but there are still some things that are just so insane I can’t imagine a normal person thinking of them.

All of this is a round about way to tell you to go read my latest in LaughLines, The First Circumcision.

Jake just moved his blog over to Tumblr and, although I disdain the hyperblogging it inspires, it really is a nice platform. I run WhiteWhine off of it and it’s amazingly simple to use. I’ve considered moving this blog over to tumblr too, but I think I want to wait for a few things. Namely…

1. A native comment system. Disqus is a nice fix but it doesn’t look as natural as I’d like.

2. A template with a sidebar. I like my little links over there and I’m not really into the straight, narrow style of most tumblrs (Ricky’s is a pleasant exception)

3. Sub-pages. Wordpress has a lot of shortcomings but one thing it does well is allow you to make pages, not just posts. That’s where I keep my online resume and I dig it a lot.

So there you have it, Tumblr. If you want me and the 11 readers I will bring with me, those are the three things I’d like to have.

Man, Lost is awesome this season. It gets even better when you read this time loop theory. Each episode has been better than the last and there hasn’t been one clunker (previously known as a Sun/Jin episode). I’m going to go out on a massive limb here and say that this season of Lost is thus far better than this season of The Wire. Anyone care to argue with me?

Pat and I have been doing this bit at work for a few weeks. Last week we decided to film it.

Over the Summer I had what I thought was a very funny idea. I went over to one of our interns at the time, Chris ‘the Falcon’ Han, and asked him to help make my idea a reality. The idea was for Chris to make a mashup of all Canadian songs. I asked him specifically because A) I knew he made mashups for fun and B) I had seen him musical talents first hand when he produced another idea of mine. He thought the idea was fun, too, but then nothing happened. His internship ended, he went back to school and it seemed the world would never get a taste of the Canadian megamix. But Lo! The Falcon had been working on it for months, on and off, and has finally finished it. It’s unbelievable! So much farther reaching than I had ever imagined it. This kid is truly very, very talented. Enjoy the genius of The Falcon.

I have a little hometown proud article over at MentalFloss.com about things that were invented in my home state of Connecticut. And before you leave a comment here or there pointing out all I’ve missed, let me say that this is not meant to be a definitive list of everything ever invented in CT as some MF commenters seem to have assumed. I obviously know the hamburger was invented in CT, it’s just that I’ve already written about that for Mental Floss.

UPDATE: From my Mom.

While in Hartford at SNET (Southern New England Telephone, where my Mom worked pre-me), this would be probably 1974, I got a call from a guy who wanted to meet with me to talk about phone service for a new business he was starting in New Britain. I met with Bill Rasmussen, took his phone order for his new company, and came back and told everyone in the office - all guys - about this guy’s new TV idea of all sports, all the time. “Never going to make it” was the universal response. I think my boss even made me get a big upfront payment from him before we would install the service.