Give it a ponder.

Every once in a while advertising is pretty awesome. I'm not talking about some talking gecko, or a stack of cash with googley eyes either. Prime example? This campaign for LG entitled Give it a Ponder.

Spots created by Young & Rubicam. Props to Tall Andrew for alerting me to these gems.

Best. Sandwich. Ever.

The best sandwich I've ever had made a close encounter with my mouth this weekend. Introducing the Cuban Roast from Paseo in Seattle.

I don't take this sandwich thing lightly, in fact, I consider myself somewhat of a connoisseur. That's why this is a high honor for a sandwich that isn't a bahn mi from the Jasmine Deli, or a reuban from Cecil's.

The sandwich features slow roasted pork shoulder swimming in marinade, on a bagguette slathered with aioli, fresh cilantro, pickled jalapenos, crisp romaine lettuce, and topped with big, fat delicious caramelized onions. The end result is a sloppy masterpiece.

Highly recommended.

Stolen Pic by Mike Goldstein. I forgot my camera. Never again.

Freak Out!!!

Japanese hard rock outfit Flower Travellin' Band has been frying the epidermis off of my face lately. I stumbled across this rare 8 mm footage on the YouTubes.

Check out the album Satori for maximum mind fucks.

Music for making out by a fire on a bear skin rug.

Great red-blooded american heart jams. Produced by Rick Rubin. Help yourself to a free download here: http://www.sendspace.com/file/u6j7yi

The Land of Bedazzled Asses.

Welcome to Shakopee, Minnesota. The land of the not-so-rare Bedazzled Ass.

I've been tracking bejeweled behinds for the better part of my adult life. Every year these gleaming keisters grow more and more brilliant, like lighthouse beacons promising promiscuity. In all of my travels, the shiny heiny sustains a corn-fed existence, coddled by the Embroidered Dragon Shirt Dude and Mich Golden Boy, the male species.

The only thing brighter than their back-ends, is the winning personality shared by all who bedazzle their asses. No matter where you roam south of the river, the sideways 1000 watt smile greets passers-by from bar to bar. Whether rhinestone encrusted or donning karats and gold baubles, there's a friendly face attached to the gaudiest of derriere, and the fanciest of fanny.

Special thanks to my research team: Mike, Tammy, Jake, and Timmy.

Carl Sagan Up in Here.

What's better than super genius Carl Sagan dropping some science about interstellar space, busting time continuums and the vastness of the fucking universe over a hot beat and an auto tune filter? Nothing.

Tuck in your pocket protector, put your headphones on and prepare for liftoff. This is some real nerd/gangster shit.

Stephen Hawking makes a cameo appearance. He's drooling.

Courtesy of the folks at Symphony of Science.

Products and Services Vol.2: Nutella : Satan's Spread

There is a guilty pleasure that comes from eating store bought frosting out of the container. It is an American processed indulgence, much like buying a box of porn, or a 12” hot dog in Vegas. Eating frosting sans cake is so dark, and so wrong, it veers as close as any food can to sexual deviancy. Some Betty Crocker chocolate frosting, a plastic spoon, and a few hours of Guiding Light has long been an American remedy for cheating husbands, drug addled children, and bi-polar manias. A coworker once confided in me that his wife actually lives on a diet of store bought frosting, Crystal Light drink mix, and American Idol re-runs. If frosting as food product is so quintessentially American, why did it take Europe to invent the socially acceptable, yet deviant food product known as Nutella?

The devilish, Italian company, Ferraro, first thrust Nutella onto the shelves in 1949. There is no doubt that Satan must have had a job in R and D at Ferraro when these Italian scamps decided to market a peanut butter like spread made of 70% sugar and vegetable oils. Nutella also has skim milk, hazelnuts, and cocoa in its recipe, but these pointless ingredients only account for 28% of the product’s make up. Today, Nutella is produced world wide, and is often marketed as a substitute for the nutritionally superior, albeit boorish peanut butter. Nutella is no peanut butter. Nutella is frosting, if frosting were laced with crack and sprinkled with the tears of virgins. Describing a Nutella experience is like trying to describe a near death experience, or the first time you watched your friend’s mom take a shower through the hole you drilled in her bathroom wall. It’s evil, as evil as hazelnuts can be.

Last weekend I found myself horizontal on the floor of my sister’s kitchen dipping Teddy Grahams into a small glass jar of Nutella. Time ceased to exist, I didn’t know if I was gay or straight, and my world became singular, delicious and frightening. That night, I lost any semblance of self control, and as I blindly consumed the entire jar of this Italian satanic spread, I felt as American as apple pie.