Archive for August, 2015

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Big Words I Know By Heart Episode XI: ‘Mulligan’

August 28, 2015
Big Words Video XI Publicity Still by Producer Richard Wicka.

Big Words Video XI Publicity Still by Producer Richard Wicka.

Buffalo’s a small city, and when you’re an artistic type, you tend to bump into the same people over and over as the years shuffle onward.  Public Editor-In-Chief Geoff Kelly and I have been friends for going on fifteen years now, and I’m glad we keep seeing each other.  He was a solid guest, he’s a great journalist and this episode was one year and two shoots into the making.  We originally shot the show in June only to find out that we lost it because of a sound problem.  Geoff was good enough to circle back yesterday for another attempt.  Producer Richard Wicka implemented a new lighting system to his Home Of The Future that gives the show a very crisp look rolling into the second season, Mike P. brought a dry sensibility in the Co Host Hot Seat, and of course, there’s the moustache.  Thanks are in order to Geoff, Richard, Mike and also Brian Platter for recording a new rendition of Jay Desiderio’s original theme music for the show.  Please be kind enough to Like, Share, Subscribe, Favorite, Retweet, +1 or whatever the hell else it is that the kids are doing on their social medias these days!  I’ll see you next week with a brand new rant right here!

Tom

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Big Words Video 11.5: ‘Subversive’

August 28, 2015

This was a clip I spent an entire day grappling with.  Geoff and I had the idea to turn the camera around and aim a few questions at the wise-cracking host who relentlessly roasts all of his guests.  The results were less than flattering, but in the interest of fairness, I ran with it.  See for yourself.  And while you’re at it, please SUBSCRIBE to the Big Words I Know By Heart Channel on Youtube for new shows, updates and other miscellany as it develops.  The show’s got a really strong roster this year.  I hope you’ll join me on the journey.

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‘Genetically Mortified’ from the upcoming book Travesty

August 3, 2015

I have lost the will to cook.

Now that I’m single again, I don’t have the initiative to prepare, cook and serve full meals. It doesn’t really make sense to me. I used to watch cooking shows morning, noon and night, research recipes and conjure up my own concoctions. There’s no point now. It’s very tough to cook for just one person, so I don’t. When I have my son, I somehow summon the willpower to make one of the four foods that he’s willing to eat (he’s difficult to please, which he subsequently gets from his mother), but the rest of the time my dinner could either be starch and grease out of a bag or a handful of potato chips and half of a flat diet soda.
I’m not sure if I was ever a ‘Foodie’ because I don’t know what that term means, aside from being a pleasant euphemism for ‘Morbidly Obese People Who Can Afford Rich & Exotic Foodstuffs’. ‘Foodie’ is a popular identifier for many, and I think it implies that someone is well-traveled when it comes to cuisine, or that they take extra care and caution to select only the finest ingredients for their palate. Everyone I know who identifies with the term Foodie is 347 pounds, with the singular exception of Food Network Host Giada Delaurentis, who looks like either a lit Jack-O-Lantern or a grinning jackal depending on the quality of the lighting.

I can identify more with being a glutton, which is an extrapolation of being a middle child. I grew up during dinner time with the knowledge that if I didn’t eat quickly, the food might be gone. As a result of this, I usually eat as if there’s a timed countdown and/or a gun to my head. Sometimes I chew. I remember reading a biography about John Lennon and learning that he went through a phase of chewing everything 37 or 38 times before swallowing in an effort to metabolize and fully taste the food while he was eating. I don’t have time for that nonsense.

These days my diet (like most of my life) has been oversimplified. I eat supermarket muffins every morning because that’s one less choice to make when I get up in the morning. For lunch, I consume two pounds of cold cuts making man-sized sandwiches with half a bottle of mustard per sandwich and a slice of cheese for each side of white bread. The guys at work make fun of me for preparing sandwiches of Dagwood proportions, but this is what I feel sandwiches should be. Dinner is my wild card. A great majority of the time I buy bagged rice meals (which contain 3000% of my weekly sodium intake, which is a relief because the salt licks I was relying on have really skyrocketed in recent years due to salt lick speculation in the stock market). The bagged rice meals are often on sale 10 for $10. So that’s about a dollar a week for dinner and a dollar per breakfast by my calculations (carrying the one squared and cubed).

Once a week (minimum), I eat 20 chicken wings for dinner. I’ve been doing that since I was 17. Every week. Depending on what part of the country you live in, they’re known as either ‘Buffalo Wings’ (which isn’t even a thing that exists in reality), ‘Party Wings’ (not sure how that term originated) or ‘Hot Wings’ (which at least makes sense). I typically order wings that are termed ‘Suicide’, ‘Death’, ‘Extra Extra Extra Hot’, or wings accompanied by an asterisked disclaimer advising you to stock toilet paper in your freezer for later that day as well as a silver bullet, Do Not Resuscitate paperwork and a crucifix over the toilet. I’m very fortunate in that I have a digestive system akin to a Billy goat, meaning that I can gnaw on tin cans for fun and profit in my spare time. Actually, it just means that I’ve been grazing on ‘Hot Wings’ for over twenty years now and I still don’t know what heartburn feels like. Trust me when I say that that’s the one positive gene trait I inherited.

I’m at the point with fast food and genetically modified foods where I don’t want to know more than I already do. If I read one more thing about pink goo being injected into reconstituted chicken tenders or wheat that’s sprayed with cancer in a test tube, I feel like I’ll reach a tipping point where I’ll be forced to make a major lifestyle change, and I’m entirely too lazy for that. After stumbling onto a few articles about the organic food movement and about how many non-food stuffs go into a to-go bag, I really don’t want to learn any more. Perhaps my hamburger is hosed off with aborted fetuses before sitting under a heat lamp for a month and then being passed through the drive-through window by a teenager who rinsed his hands in the slop bucket where E. Coli was born and originated from, but ignorance is bliss as far as I’m concerned. And from what I’ve learned about diet sodas, I could be dead before I finish writing this essay.

My diet is deplorable, but that’s an upgrade from downright godawful. I suppose I’m old enough to accept that moderation is not even moderately anywhere near or on my dinner table and that I tried the whole meat vs. carbs Battle For The Belt and I like them too much to root for just one. At my current rate of progress, I should be growing my own bean sprouts and filtering my drinking water through an old gym sock in approximately 128 more years. Fortunately, I practice a habanero hot sauce cleanse once a week. Rectally.

You’re welcome for the visual,
Tom Waters

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The Real Greg Sterlace Show #86

August 2, 2015
Publicity still by producer Richard Wicka.

Publicity still by producer Richard Wicka.

Since Greg and I haven’t had a heated verbal quarry in quite some time (last August, to be precise) and since Greg is coming out with a book about Beatles books (Having Read The Book), it seemed like a good excuse to circle back and spend some time with my pal.  While Big Words Video is more of an exercise in controlled comedy, Greg’s show culture is decidedly more…chaotic.  Every episode feels like there’s a party going on and you’ve got a bird’s eye view of the crucial cocktail scene where someone makes a pivotal faux pas.  I was chewing on a really horrible topical joke that I was going to save for my own show later this month and decided to just drop the bomb on Greg’s lap.  Watch the show for yourself and you can decide which joke that might be:

I’ve been chasing my own deadline all week writing a new rant for this Monday (tomorrow) and making my rounds around town, so it was a hectic few days.  Thanks to Greg for never disappointing, producer Richard Wicka for enabling and supporting the both of us and the rest of the supporting cast of characters (old and new) who round out the party.  I’m sure you’ll see the both of us pair up again real soon…

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