Why is this? I asked Google “Why do I like bangus now?” and after filtering through all the porn links this is what the mf told me: your taste buds change as you get older. Ok that’s nothing ground breaking. Is it as simple as that? Searching further, the mf basically said “when you’re a lil dun you got taste buds all over your mouth including the roof and your lungs. Then as you age it gets limited to the tongue and lungs.” Ok lungs, didn’t know that but thanks. Still though, that answers the “what” but what about the why?

Yup that's the face

Since that lazy mf Google is always horrible at answering the why questions, I’ll just pull an answer out my ass. My guess is kids are accustomed to just eating sweet tiddy milk, and tastes that fall outside of that taste of milk (e.g. bitter, spicy, very salty, etc) will get the funny lookin sad kid face.  I also postulate that bitter/spicy flavor is more likely to kill you and since you’re a dumb lil mf that can’t tell the difference between cottage cheese and spoiled milk, that bitter flavor is something you’re going to spit out otherwise you’ll either die or become infertile. Again this is all theory and if someone knows the answer then please feel free to post in comments.

Going back to the eats, what’s really interesting to me is that I’m all into bitter and fermented shit now. In fact, the bitter the better for me. I like dark stout beer, grapefruit juice, and double shots of espresso. Since my brain is mad nice at discerning that which can kill me from that which makes my stomach happier, I can swallow bacalao while drinking pure unfiltrated crab juice with ease. A lil mf like justin bieber couldn’t do this.

Also while doing research on taste buds I came across the tongue map (that diagram that displayed the tongue with the regions picked out for various tastes (e.g. sweet in front, bitter in the back)). Guess what kids those pseudo-biology teachers wasted your Tuesday nap session with that lesson. That map is complete bullshit. Your taste buds are distributed all over your tongue (doy thats why you can taste flavor everywhere). Some buds may have a preference towards one taste, but no spot on your tongue is dedicated.

ALSO! There are now FIVE qualities associated with your taste buds as the first four are now considered played out by the taste bud community. You got the old ones: salty, sour, bitter, sweet, and the brand new MSG flavor one. Thanks to Ramen noodles, scientists were able to discover this MSG one. This is real talk. The japanese found this one and dubbed it “umami.” Scientists say this one helps you determine if something has a good source of protein.

So fuck that tongue map let’s get real and creative. Since tastes change over time let’s put a map of the foods we enjoy over time instead of a layout of our taste buds. In honor of my new found love of bitter fermented flavors and my new found home in the northwest, I’m putting together what I call my Tastebud Totem. At the very bottom you’ll see the eatsI loved as kid up to the ish that I love eating in my quarter life crisis. Keep following it up and you’ll see what I’ll be eating when I hit mid life crisis and all the way up to you see what I’ll eat on my death bed.

What’s your tastebud totem look like and what level are you currently on?

Age	Eats	Sips
Dead Mf
Old Nagz
Midlife Crisis
Sophisticated Nagz
Quarterlife Crisis
Know it All
Teen Spirit
Young Blaid
Lil Dun

Here we go:

1. These days, everything causes the cancer. Staring at Tom Selleck for too long can cause the cancer.  But fear not caffeinators, our lab-coated brethren have found that caffeinated-beverage drinkers are at a lesser risk of catching the cancer known as Glioma (it’s the kind that doodoos on your brain) than non-caffeine drinkers (aka boring people.) In the study conducted by some guy named Giovannucci and his friends, consumption of five or more cups of coffee or tea daily was associated with a decrease risk of Glioma. So, it’s kind of like a cure, right?

2. Having the choice of drinking coffee or energy drinks for your caffeine intake is like having a liquid mullet hairstyle. You can party like a rock star with a Rockstar or take it black for the grown-man/woman act.

3. When your heart starts jumping like a jitterbugging swinger after sipping on your morning sizzurp, that’s only because you’re realizing how much of a fool you are for paying $5 for a cup of joe at StarFu&ks. You’re not having heart murmurs… OR maybe you are, I don’t know. I’m not a doctor. But research does show that individuals drinking four or more cups of coffee a day have 18% less risk of hospitalization due to heart rhythm disturbances. [disclaimer: while it is unlikely that moderate caffeine intake increases arrhythmia risks, people around you don't really appreciate the reek of your 5 cups of coffee breath. I'm just sayin']

4. Guys, listen up! High caffeine consumption through coffee and/or tea does not affect sperm count. High soda/cola consumption, on the other hand, does. Read it here if you feel like throwing your Dr. Pepper at the monitor.

5. Soon we can all whiff it and whiff it good my friends! No more annoying barristas with their cool sleeve tattoos and emo hair to contend with in order to pass through the gates of caffeine heaven. Thanks to Harvard professor David Edwards, we can now add to our fake cigarette collection a non-spilling, pocket-warmed, no-whipped-cream-mustache-giving, and customizable (OMG, the pink one is totally awesome) caffeine inhaler. Aaah, the smell of kicking coffee beans in the morning!

* Shout out to Energyfiend.com for showing me the light.

In the book Made to Stick (that I highly recommend to anyone that wants to get their message across and have people talking about it the next day) the authors come up with 6 different elements that they routinely see in SUCCESsful marketing.  Did you think I emphasized one letter too few when I bolded SUCCESsful? Well, no I didn’t. For some reason, the authors were too lazy to come up with an extra S in their acronym.  Their acronym is SUCCES with the last S left out.  Each letter stands for the following:

• S -- Simple.  People have a hard time dealing with abstract ideas in short messages. Make sure the message is easy to understand.
• U -- Unexpected.  Play with the audience’s primal insticts and surprise them.  It’s very important not to use a cliché in this category. Think man on horse for the Old Spice commercial and how well that did.
• C -- Concrete. This is sort of a subcategory of simple. Make sure the audience can relate to the message.
• C -- Credibility. Make sure the audience can envision themselves in that situation.
• E -- Emotion. Make sure the audience knows why they should care about your message.
• S -- Stories. Narrative. Narrative. Narrative. Humans are wired to remember stories and connect with them.

Think about how well Aesop’s fables have done. They’ve stuck around because they’re great narratives with simple messages.  Every human can relate to them and picture themselves as the tortoise, the ant or the fox.  The unexpected may happen in some of his fables, like a hare losing to a tortoise in a race. Yeah, it sounds silly to be unexpected, but you gotta think of the time period. Back then people didn’t know what whales looked like, so they drew them with a fish body and pig head (I’m not making this up). It was easy to surprise them.

So let’s take a look at a few of Carl’s latest ads and evaluate how well they do against the SUCCES criteria:

Boring. Unfortunately, the cliched joke on snuggies is going to last for a long time. Probably as long as that Dick Cheney shooting someone joke. The message of comfort food and the snuggie was subtle and not concrete. In terms of the unexpected, I really wanted Jack in the Box to come out of nowhere, rip the snuggie off of him and strangle the mf with it.

The punchline didn’t work for two reasons. First hardly anyone orders a grilled cheese when they go to a diner or fast food restaurant so no one can relate to the main character’s predicament. Therefore it fails the two C’s. Two, the grilled cheese sangwhich (new yorker for sandwich) isn’t a grilled cheese sangwhich, it’s a fuckin burger so no one can relate to the joke.  At least it has somewhat of a narrative.

This one is a bit better. We have the unexpected burgers talking to each other. It’s simple: Carl’s gives more meat, less bread, and better value as a burger. It plays to my emotions as it’s a goddamn juicy burger. However, there’s nothing really sticky about it other than that. I’ll forget about Carl’s Jr once I see steaks advertised for $3.50/lb. in the Henry’s newspaper ad.

Plays to my emotions well and Kim Kardashian sticks in my mind for the next three minutes. After the testosterone spike subsides, I ask myself, what was the commercial for again? Salads. Girls like salads, guys hate salads. Guys like Kim Kardashian, girls hate Kim Kardashian. None of the SUCCES criteria is met with this advertisement. It’s playing to male sex emotion, but selling the sex and not the product.  This is not going to bring women running into Carl’s wanting a taste of the salad, it’s going to send boys to Google Images searching under they keywords “Kim Kardashian Playboy.” Whoever was in charge of producing this commercial would be fired the next day if I were running Carl’s. This is just more evidence that Carl’s continues to target their base instead of reaching out for newer markets (people who actually eat salad and care if they have a gut).

Western Bacon cheeseburger and Padma Lakshmi? What’s the connection. How do I relate to this other than the obvious sexual cliches (seriously how many times are they going to show a burger jizzing all over girls?).  The message is way too complex. Why am I going to eat a burger that jizzes on me for? Carl’s Jr is fast food, there’s no culinary experience needed to determine if the burger is good or not.  The story was good I guess, but it’s hard for me to believe that a culinary expert that slept with THIS GUY in a long term relationship is a total freak.  Credibility fail. To me a perfect target for this burger would’ve been old people. They love things that are gourmet, bacon and Texas (or Nebraska).  Look how well Omaha steaks have done thanks to old people loving Nebraska so much.  Stop focusing everything on horny college kids Carl’s, they have no money.

Carl’s needs to take a lesson from the way Jack in the box has rebranded itself.  Its advertisement campaigns have been extremely solid in terms of SUCCES.  The menu coincides with the quirkiness and memorable moments of its ads.  Bowl haircuts, teriyaki bowls. Mini cattle, mini cowboys, mini sirloin burgers.  Just look at how fucking catchy this fucking commercial is:

This is one of my favorite Jack commercials. Simple/Concrete -- We have a new product that offers a different and tastier cut of the cow than the competitor. Credible -- It was so believable that Carl’s Jr ended up suing Jack for making people think angus came from the anus of a cow. Don’t believe me? Here’s the link to prove. Unexpected -- we’re led to believe that angus comes from the anus of a cow. Emotion is lacking but they do mention that ’sirloin needs to be tasted to be believed.’ The narrative is that there’s a new burger that’s never been made before. I still remember this commercial after 4 years because it did so well at taking a shot at Carl’s, Burger Tang (*wink* to my hippy ice cream eating niece) and WacDonald’s angus burgers. I ate sirloin burgers literally for 3 months straight. The message still sticks with me today.

WHAT’S GOOD BURGER KING?! Simple/Concrete -- BK says have it your way but you can’t if its not on their menu all day every day. Credible -- Jack specifies that HIS menu is available all day every day so he’s the only one that let’s you have it your way. Unexpected -- Homeboy rips his arms off and you’re expecting some chicken arms to be behind that corporate facade. NOPE! Jack breaks out arms big enough to compete with Hogan’s twin pythons and says bring it BK. Also, that subtle airquote for “competitor” while he’s walking is da illest. BK sucks and Jack knows it. Emotional -- Fear I guess? I wouldn’t fuck with Jack. Story -- He’s just taking a casual stroll down the block and talking shit about BK, something I can totally relate to. Stuck.

THAT’s how you target to an extensive demographic. While the target is obviously the spanish speaking world, this shit hits all the sticky criteria for anglos alike. Simple -- I know the product because it’s in the jingle. Unexpected -- there’s midgets everywhere, hugging black people, and dancing with the spanish speaking game show hosts. Concrete -- Midgets are mini, like the sangwich. Hell they even call it a sangwich for a new yorker to relate. Credibility -- the midget plays the tuba. Emotion -- the whole commercial is fun and makes me want to dance at the next quincinera while eating these things. Story -- the story is weaved into the music and the dance. Even though 70% of anglo people have no idea what the lyrics translate to, let alone like mariachi music, they understand the story is about a mini buffalo ranch chix sangwich. How sticky is this fucking commercial? I bet you’ve already replayed it several times by now. Women, kids, whites, blacks, horny college students can all eat el mini buffahlow ranch ahora.

Clear winner: Jack in the box. Their commercials are far stickier and reach out to a broader audience. Reaching out to a broader audience means bigger market, bigger market means bigger growth and a better performing company over the long term.

Jack is in the lead 2-0 over Carl’s in terms of investment criteria. There’s only one more left and really the be all end all when it comes to investing in anything. Financials.

Frankly, Carl’s has focused way too much on their burger product line and has alienated their demographic to people like me (young males) that enjoy hamburgers. This is an ok strategy, but if its your M.O. to focus on burgers and ignore the rest of the fast food offerings, then focus on a small number of types of burgers and then make the selection of toppings the discriminator. In-n-out does this well by having a very limited menu and then having the customers feel special by putting together their own creations with off menu items like the a triple triple and animal style. Cold stone creamery (a/k/a white people’s ice cream) also does this well by offering their mediocre ice cream and then letting the customer choose from a set of prototypes or attempt to make the most disgusting thing possible (one again making the customer feel special). This allows them to mark up their ice cream at like 200%. In terms of selection of burgers, I counted 28 different kinds of burgers to choose off of carl’s menu. 28. This seems silly to me. Is there really a difference between the Big Hamburger and the Famous Star? All that is changing from burger to burger are the toppings and they’ve preselected those toppings for you. Jack has a total of 10. Jack use’s different kinds of meat and breads and cheeses and sizes in each one of these burger. In other words, they change more than just the sauce.

"By all means eat the left hand side one... ya stewpid" - Stylish Bay

Every few months Carl’s introduces a new burger, takes a tally of how it does, then determines to keep it as a long term menu item.  These pathfinders are pointless and wasteful because the burger is the exact same thing as everything else on the menu and people know what burgers taste like and what toppings taste like.  If they think for themselves they’ll say something like “Hmm, jalapenos? Hmm, cheese? Hmm, burger? That shit must taste bomb.  I’m going to order it.”  On the other hand if they see an advertisement for a topping of prime rib on the burger, they’ll immediately gag and say fuck that I’m not ordering that.  This poor sap actually ordered the burger, but at least the kid gives an excellent review on just how shitty the Prime Rib burger was and warned us to stay away. I should bookmark him based on pity.

Anyway, as long as Carl’s continues to try to just be “the best burger” and not offer up the gay factor (i.e. selection of your own toppings) they’ll fail to capture the kid, female and elderly market. Kid’s like sugar and toys. Give them the option to put sugary syrup on their shit. Females love pretty looking sandwhiches. Give them the option to select their own wrapper with some sparkly, shiney shit on it. Elderly like a lot for a little. Give them the option to sign up for senior citizen coupons mailed to their homes. These little things go a LONG way and no other fast food place is doing it. My girlfriend doesn’t like burgers, but doesn’t mind the teriyaki burger at Carl’s. Small facts like this should be capitalized on. Women want to eat your burgers Carls, you’re just a mysognist by ignoring their hunger for the sake of mine. Niche companies that can easily expand to new markets make bad investments.

In terms of breakfast, Carl’s and Jack’s selection is nearly identical. One difference is the Jack’s breakfast bowl. This bowl is almost like what a normal breakfast looks like. I see scrambled egg somewhere in there. The main difference between the two breakfast menus is that Jack has a 24/7 breakfast and carl’s stops at 11:30. Stylish bay thinks this is stewpid. Why the fuck are you going to stop serving breakfast @ 11 am when most male college students wake up at that time and aren’t in the mood for a burger yet. This a sign of Carl’s not being in touch with their customers. Lazy companies make bad investments.

Before I invest in Carl’s I want to see them targetting the female market. One way is by focusing more on their fish and chicken menu. Their sandwhiches taste great, but everything is charbroiled (most women I know don’t like this flavor -- again it’s anti-shiney/glittery), and once again nothing interesting to choose from. The only sub-interesting item on the chix/fish menu is the chicken stars, but I’ve never once heard of anyone ordering them. Jack has the chicken teriyaki bowl, chicken fajita pita (which is effing gross by the way), mini buffalo ranch chix. Three very interesting and different items that girls I eat with here usually want me to order for them.

Both will put you back $3, yet only one includes jello shots.

Finally the sides menu is a major discriminator between the menus. When I go to Carl’s it usually works like this:

TRI: Two big carls.
Carl’s Jr. Cashier: K, will that be all?
*TRI scans the sides menu and done after a 3 item scan*
TRI: Yes.
Carl’s Jr. Cashier: Ok, that’s a total $5.00.
TRI: Can you make that one big carl?
Carl’s Jr. Cashier: Ok, that’s a total $2.50.

When I step into a Jack things work out a bit different:

TRI: One Jumbo Jack and two tacos.
Jack-in-the-box Cashier: K, will that be all?
*TRI scans the sides menu*
TRI: Large curly fries.
Jack-in-the-box Cashier: K, anything to drink?
TRI: Nah.
Jack-in-the-box Cashier: Total of $4.50.
TRI: Can you throw in another two tacos?
Jack-in-the-box Cashier: Alright, that’s a total of $5.50.

Carl’s sides are non existent. Their fries are good, but boring. The criss cut fries are never enough and leave me wanting more but I won’t since it’s ~$2.50 and their fried zucchini is overpriced. Nearly all Jack’s sides are interesting and of good value. Stuffed jalapenos (bomb), egg rolls (bomb), tacos (bomb), curly fries (bomb), bacon/cheddar potato wedges (never had because I don’t eat pork, but if its a puerto rican pig they use then bomb). I usually don’t mind paying $5+ dollars just for me because I feel like I’m getting so many different things. Companies with sub-par products (weak sides in this case) make bad investments.

Winner in Menu selection: Jack’s by a long shot. More extensive menu, better values and I didn’t mention it because I’m a goddamned objectivist, but I still like their sirloin burger better than all of Carl’s 28 burgers. Carl’s menu doesn’t appeal to kids, women and the elderly with exception to a few items.

Next part of the Carl’s Jr. series will be on advertisements where I’ll expose how unbelievably crap Carl’s ad campaigns are in comparison to Jack’s.

My childhood memories eating at Wendy’s live with me, but they are somewhat forgotten. Why? Because their burgers plain suck now. Soggy, flavorless, and the burger patty size of a DVD.  When I bite into these burgers I should be brought back to my childhood.  The same way the food critic in Ratatouille was reacted when he tasted the rat’s ratatouille dish, I should react when biting into a Wendy’s burger today. Instead my reaction is one of guilt and regret. One that says I should have spent my money at Jack in the box.

Since Wendy’s has no idea how to fix itself and continues to sit like a bunch of trapped dolphin being massacred in Tajiti Japan, its going to attempt to buy Carl’s Jr.’s parent company to escape this red ocean.  Coincidentally, the day they announced interest is the same day the lady that said she found a finger in her chili admitted she actually cooked the finger before she dropped it into the chili.  Despite what Wendy’s and many of you might think, Carl’s is actually a poorly managed business.  Their burgers are the best in business, but their fast food, marketing and management are not.  Right now, it seems the only fast food companies managing their changes strategically and that are worth considering any kind of investment are McDonald’s and Jack in the box.

Like Wendy’s, Carl’s is slowly becoming a dead franchise.  Their target demographic is much too focused.  No targets for kids (i.e. a mascot like ronald or even partnerships to bring toys into the restaurant), no targets for women (i.e. parfaits, pita alternatives), no targets for the morning person (i.e. coffee to compete with starbucks like mcdonalds did), no targets for the health conscious (they introduced salads wow, great idea (back in 1990)), no targets for dessert lovers (the most interesting dessert on their menu is the oreo cookie shake). They never offer anything new in terms of products unless they’re in burger or chicken sandwich form.  They introduced the energy drinks and vitamin water, but once again this only targets the young male demographic.

Wendy’s is out of their minds to buy Carl’s Jr. Not only because Wendy’s itself is mismanaged, but because Carl’s is not a good value right now, is not a growth business and does not have a management that has the interests of the shareholders in mind.  Since McDonald’s is in a league of its own let’s compare an investment in Carl’s with an investment in Jack in the box. I think Jack in the box is a much more rational buy for an investor. To prove this point, over the next three posts, I’ll look at both restaurant’s menu selections, their ad campaigns, and their financials.

I woke up hungry. Maybe it was the drinking binge I had the night before, or maybe it was the purging that followed. Regardless of why, I knew one thing. Lomo Saltado. I had to have it. That sautéed beef served with my two favorite starches: rice and French fries, covered with this savory meat juice which marinated the red onion and tomato that flavored the dish. It’s a dish that was made for me by some dirty wizard psychic years ago, who had divined my favorite foods from a bloodied chicken and spat out words then foreign to me: lomo saltado. It was the first dish that threw me into the delightfully diverse world of Peruvian cuisine. I picked up my phone and called Mario’s, who deliver. Turns out their delivery driver got carjacked by some crazy “Chinaman” as he so plainly put it. He had struck from behind with some blunt instrument, then got in the car and drove off. That’s too bad, I said. About what? The Chinaman, I reminded him. Oh, don’t worry we got a good look at him. Eyes rolled. Lemme guess, narrow eyes, black hair, toothy grin, kinda short, grabbing a math book? Yeah, how’d you know? He must have heard a dial tone. Let’s go to the non-racist place today. So I grabbed my backpack and headed off to Los Balcones, located a stone’s throw from the Hollywood area.

I figure, hey I’ll take the subway, it’ll be quicker. So I walk into Union Station and notice, hey, it smells a little less uriney today, it’s a good sign. They must be using a new cleaner. I wait for the train by a guy talking to his invisible dog. It must have been a bad dog because he kept yelling at him, telling him to fucking sit, or I’ll take you back to the fucking pound, you mutt. The 3 feet between us became 6 feet. Fuck where’s the train? I look at my watch which isn’t there. His name is Loki, the man was smiling a single digit grin. Oh, heh, Loki, Trickster God of Norse mythology, nice. Look at your watch, look at it! God where is the train. No, that’s Lo-ki. His name is Low-Key. Like a single 5K HMI on a scene. He’s very dramatic. Double take. What did you say? He was rambling again, saying something about Xenu and midichlorians. Train is here, finally.

I sat impatiently, dreaming of my lovely lomo saltado, my mouth salivating in anticipation. Pavlov’s dogs had a bell, I had the loud rustle and shaking of a subway car. The vagrant was in the car, thankfully on the other side, kicking the side of the car with his boots singing an offtune rendition of Manfred Mann. Doowah ditty ditty dummm ditty do…apparently his dog was singing too, he petted him. This guy is completely psychotic, I thought. I spotted where each exit was. Vrrrr…the brakes jolted the car, as it eased into my station. One step out of the car I realized that new cleaner wasn’t being used here. I ran up the steps, leaving crazy homeless guy to play Frisbee with his dog. I don’t think the dog ever brought back the Frisbee.

It was cold outside, but it didn’t matter, soon I would have good food in my stomach, and a smile on my face. Maybe the Arclight after..what was playing? Busted out the phone. Valentine’s Day? No, I wanted to keep the food in, thank you. I heard a twig snap. I turned around, fucking terrified out of my mind. Gunshots, sirens, girl screaming rape in the alley, that’s fucking normal. There are no trees in LA. A twig snapping is fucking out of place. No one there. But then…off in the distance…was that crazy homeless guy? Yes. Ah, better pick up the pace, I don’t want a confrontation. Just get the food, just get the food. I walked briskly, at the pace you would go when you need to take a shit but you don’t want anyone to know. He’s still following me isn’t he. Yep, he’s even closer now…though he did stop to fix his dog’s collar. Alright make a break for it. So I start jogging. I look back, and the crazy homeless guy is running, full on at me! I fucking take off like a mule coming out of a stable (I’m out of shape) and started hoofing it as fast as I can. I think he sent his invisible dog after me, he was shouting orders at it. Kill, Lowkey, Kill! The restaurant is so close! I can see it! BAM, Something knocks me down, I eat pavement. I scream for help! FIRE! FUCKING FIRE! I heard somewhere you call for fire when you need help, please be right. He started stomping me with his untied dirty white Nike Vandals. These are the things I notice when I’m getting assaulted. Stomp, my chest was getting crushed! I should have fucken wasted that homeless motherfucker when I had the chance, then I’d be stomping on his chest.

I ready my feet for some ball kicking action when I see my assailant: A short asian guy, black hair, holding a big fat fucking book in his hand. Are you kidding me dawg, seriously? A book? The stomping stops. I see my savior—crazy homeless guy! He’s fucking unleashing on this mother fucker, kicking the shit out of him. It’s wild  ‘cause he doesn’t even punch the fool, he just kicks like a motherfucking Rockette. The asian goes down and I get up and help the homeless guy stomp the fool. It’s Payback time, bitch! The crazy mofo was just stomping on the guy’s nuts like it was Christmas. After the Asian guy stopped moving (maybe 5 minutes later), we take a breather. I thank crazy homeless guy profusely. He stole my dog’s bone, I had to get it back. Right, still psychotic, but a hero nonetheless. I look up and the homeless guy is stomping the asian again. This dude’s got issues, man. A big fat fire engine pulls up, and I explain the situation to some very confused firemen, who call in the proper authorities. Apparently the assailant, a Kwot-san Ming, was responsible for a series of muggings in the area recently, they had been looking for him for weeks.

He was still unconscious as they drove him away in the squad car, leaving just me, crazy homeless guy, and Low-Key sitting on the sidewalk. I thank the guy once again, but he seems preoccupied with his dog. For some reason I remember a film I had seen recently and mutter “…Have you ever heard the expression Let sleeping dogs lie? Sometimes your better not knowing..” Ah, one of my favorite movies.

Jack Nicholson. The homeless guy muttered. Excuse me? I replied. That was Jack Nicholson. We had to do that take eighteen times because of his damn method. I was perplexed. Did you work on Chinatown? I asked. Yes indeed, I worked as assistant gaffer on that film, working that damn 5k all fucking day. Oh well, that’s where I found low-key here. We’ve never parted since. I smiled. You want to get some Peruvian food?

It was the best lomo saltado I’ve ever had.

Mmm, Fried chicken/Fly vixen/Give me heart disease/But need you in my kitchen
- Nasir Jones, Poet of the Streets

Yes the black people fried chicken stereotype. Is it offensive? If I was Black I’d be Ed Reed and say HELL NAW! The rice and beans stereotype has been around since Puerto Rico itself and I’m goddamn proud of it. Too bad White people aren’t smart on PR culture to know that we actually dickride Mofongo more. Is the classification really that simple though? Can I laugh any time a Black person is eating Fried Chicken since it can be a positive stereotype the same way Puerto Ricans eating rice and beans is?

I’ve searched the Google web space far and wide and to answer the All-American question: Where does the black people fried chicken stereotype come from? No one really covers the origins. The best I could find is this excerpt from a wikimedia cookbook:

Fried chicken has a dual origin in the rural American South. The Scots had a tradition of deep frying chicken in fat, unlike their English counterparts who baked or boiled chicken. Later, as African slaves were introduced to households as cooks, seasonings and spices were added that are absent in traditional Scottish cuisine, improving the flavor. Since slaves were often allowed to keep only chickens, frying chicken as a special occasion spread through the African American community. After slavery, poor rural southern blacks continued the tradition since chickens were often the only animals they could afford to raise. Since fried chicken could keep for several days, it travelled well, and also gained favor during segregation when blacks normally could not find places to eat and had to carry their own food. Southern whites also continued the tradition of frying chicken. While not limited like blacks socially, poor whites were no better off economically. Therefore, fried chicken continued to dominate as “Sunday dinner” or on other special occasions.
Source: Wikibooks

So basically that rich Scottish prick Carnegie thought his chicken tasted good, a Black person tried it, became Ed Reed said HELL NAW, added flavor and made it taste good. After the Civil War the freed slaves remained poor (doy) and the cheapest protein they could live off of was chix. Fair enough, so the stereotype is not offensive and can remain since it has some meaning in history right?

Wrong. While the cookbook does a good job explaining the fried chix origin in the African American community. It completely ignores this shit:

These were all postcards/ads/other media used during the early and mid 1900s. Southern whites connected the fried chicken stereotype to Blacks to dehumanize them and portray them as a bunch of chicken chasing watermelon eating buffoons.

So Australian shit like:

and Korean shit like:

and American shitty news like:

should all be considered as hurtful and dehumanizing to the same degree that classy word whites had for black people is. It’s not the same as calling a Puerto Rican a Beaner or an Asian a Math Whiz or a White a Cracker. There’s a long hateful history associated with it. I’m done laughing at the stereotype now that I understand its history.

So next time you walk by a Colonel Sanders looking mf from the South make sure you let them mf know “Thanks a lot mf now I can’t laugh at the Blacks and Fried Chicken stereotype.” Make sure you look him directly in the eye when you say that, then continue walking past him and towards the nearest KFC since you allowed imagery of Fried Chicken into your thoughts.

Verse I: The Homegrown

It’s a mild October night, I’m starving. It’s around half past eight. I’ve just been let out from a Master Gardener class and our lesson over the past month or so had been ‘how to cultivate your own homegrown.’  Friday is our show-n-tell night. The majority of the class chose to grow for medicinal and spiritual purposes (many growers are part of the Kapnobatai clan). It’s no surprise here in Southern California where it is the number one cash crop. In fact, this class wouldn’t be around if it wasn’t for Mary Jane. Although I fully support the federal legalization of qannabos, food is my only drug, and I chose to cultivate watercress. Why? Well that MF grows fast as fuck and is mad nutritious, and while cannabinoids do add one helluva kick to brownies, they don’t really add to the flavor. Watercress got mad flavor. Also, the ancient Greeks believed that “Eating cress makes one witty” and I’ve been fairly dry and dull ever since I moved to Southern California. Self-deprecation? Self-deprecation.

So back to the class, my show-n-tell went as I expected. Only the fat soccer moms admired my fleshy, shiny, heart-shaped leaves. All the unkempt kids in the class didn’t have shit for growth on their psychoactive bullshit plants. Not even a THC bud yet. I was the winner and Shakesperean cultivation champion, but I was hungry.

I left the class and made haste in my black M3. Mazda3 that is. My stomach was thinking outside the bun and laced in MSG. Vietnamese (or Vietnese as some of the Caucasian folks say) sounded about right.

My Idea of What the Aysya Fridge Looks Like

There’s this Viet/French/Thai spot down the block from me that I haven’t been to ever since I saw the Ratatouille rat enter it by escaping from the KFC across the street. It’s called Aysya and this night is Bikini night. How delightful. Just what I need after a night of hanging out with characterless Swedish housewives and frat boys talking about plants. So I arrive at Aysya and its popping. The music is bumping loud enough to make a gang of guidos start their fist pumps to bang the beat. There were mad herds of white boys ogling the scenery, tipping big and satisfying their yellow fever for the night. Mad Vietnamese MFs hanging out at the bar fully furnished in Armani Exchange suits financed by their parents. For the most part,  it is a sausage fest and the only girls there are the ones wearing about 4 inches of fabric hiding only the body parts, which if revealed would require a bouncer at the door. I take a seat right by the dance floor.

Verse II: The Order

One of the half-nekkid legal hookers asks if I want a drink. I tell her I’m going all out tonight and want a glass of milk. She smiles at me awkwardly and thinks I’m trying to be cute. She must have thought I was giving her a line she’s heard a million times, given that her pale mammaries are pasted directly in my line of sight. I tell her, “Nah, I’m being serious.” And through the music that is now banging loudly, I say, “milk please.”

Aysya Waitress Résumé Photo

The stereo speaker is directly to the left of me and my table is starting to thump every time the bass kicks in. The legal harlot comes back with my drink and asks if I’m ready to order. With my watercress garden class trophy for Best Growth glimmering in my mind, I tell her I want a Banh Mi swich with watercress in it.

“Can you guys hook me up with it something special? I have an itch for it.”

She says, “For real? How many do you want?”

“Enough for two so you can join me (my lame attempt at flirting).”

“Alright meet me at the bar when I call you over.”

The EPIC FAIL flirt attempt turn out to be an be EPIC NGUYEN! I’m surprised the girl could hear me clearly with all the fucking guido music playing. Basking in my glory of being watercress champion of the evening and using it to pick up girls, I decide to sit back in my chair and enjoy my glass of “bovinic rum” and keep my eye on the bar. Within a few minutes, the legal tramp calls me over and there’s a plate with a Banh Mi sandwich sitting on it.

” Where’s the second one?” I ask her.

“Check under the plate,” she says. I look under the plate and see a baggy with 2 pills chillin’ inside. She looks at me as if I’m suppose to do something. “What is that?” I ask her. She says it’s mitsu. “Huh?”

“Mitsubishi x,” she responds.

It takes me about 10 seconds of a stupid dazed look at the baggy to realize what’s going on. I leave a green paper photo of Lincoln for the milk and am Audi 5000, leaving the (now) illegal Jezebel and her drugs back at the bar. I never get around to asking why she offered me the drugs, my guess is I said some kind of keyword: ‘watercress’ maybe?

Verse III: The Sandwich Millionaire

My Recollection of Slumdog Millionaire.

So it was a fun night despite the drug deal that I almost got involved in. I’m still hungry as fuck, so I head back home. Fuck man what can I make? All I got is this half grown watercress and whatever’s in the fridge. What’s in the fridge and how can I make a recipe out of it all? Let’s do this shit Slumdog Millionaire style. Question: What’s da illest sandwich you can put together using watercress?

*WARP BACK IN TIME TO THE YEAR 1987*

Context: I’m sitting in front of a fly I recently disected with a Silverhawks toy.

Me: Tio Loulou, your mustard sandwiches are great can you make me one.
Tio Loulou: Ok, Mr. cool.

*WARP BACK TO PRESENT*.

A couple of key scenes happen with me trying to find something complementing the mustard while a cop punches me, and I fall into a pile of shit.

*WARP BACK IN TIME TO THE YEAR 1997*

Context: Walking around the ghettos of Paris, France with a McDonald’s meal in my hand.

French Ghetto Kid: So which part of New York you from? Brookyln, Bronx?
Me: Bronx. You guys seriously eat mayonnaise with your McDonald’s fries?
French Ghetto Kid: Yes my American friend, we put crushed garlic in it.
Me: This shit tastes dope.
French Ghetto Kid: Yes, very fly.

*WARP BACK TO PRESENT*

Sandwich ingredients still a bit too dry for my tastes. So, I look for another wet item to throw in there and this rich fat guy named Javed tries to eat my sandwich and ends up spitting it out.

*WARP BACK IN TIME TO THE YEAR 2004*

Context: At an Italian-American household with Italian-American friend who just announced he was marrying an African-American woman to his Italian-American mega-conservative grandparents (don’t ask me why I wrote this memory with so much political correctness).

Italian-American Friend: Na, Pa, yea so this is my girl we’re gonna get married her name’s Lakeisha.
Grandparents stare at each other uncomfortably.
Me: Mr. Vanzetti this pasta sauce is incredible, what’d you put in it?
Mr. Vanzetti: Nothing just tomati e olio. ‘Tony you’re out of your mind. Is she even Catholic?

*WARP BACK TO PRESENT*

Hmm, need a protein. Egg? Nah. What else we got? I try to eat my sandwich at a train station but my childhood friend and his thugs stomachblock me.

*WARP BACK IN TIME TO YESTERDAY*

Context: I open refrigerator. My gilfriend is sewing next to me.

Me: What the fuck kinda bread is this? Has mad mold.
IndoSage: It’s not mold it’s flax seed and onion. It’s Flax-seed Onion Bread.
Me: What’s your beef with wheat?
IndoSage: Shutup, eff outta here.
Me: Da fuck is this!
IndoSage: Oil browned turkey.
Me: Why you gotta buy everything brown? You mad racist.

*WARP BACK TO PRESENT*

I spread the mayo and mustard on the toasted onion bread with the the turkey placed on the bread first. Outside, my childhood friend shoots himself in a tub of money, gangsta styles.

*WARP BACK IN TIME TO THE YEAR 1990*

Context: Sitting at my aunt’s coffee table eating a ham and cheese sandwich.

Me: This cheese is EWWWWWW.
Aunt: Et teeeeeh ["and ummm" to the English speaking world] it’s not called ewww, it’s… como se dice….. et teeeeeehhh.
Aunt #2: It’s called Heidi Ann…
Aunt: Heidi Ann Swiss Cheese. I’m on a diet.
Me: I like the monster cheese not this one.
Aunt: It’s called…. et tehhhhhh, muenster cheese not monster. When you get to be my age you’ll understand good cheese is not based on its name.

*WARP BACK TO PRESENT*

I throw the swiss cheese on the turkey, add the tomatoes and close it off with the FRESH watercress that I grew over the past few weeks. I end up with THE phat sandwich that I should’ve made at home in the first place. Every bite of it is an ode to my bitter, sweet, delicious memories.

Verse IV: The Recipe

1 handfull of fresh watercress
2 slices of flax-laced onion bread lightly toasted
2 slices Heidi Ann swiss cheese
1/4 thinly sliced romano tomato drizzled in olive oil
2 slices oil-browned turkey breast
5 pickle slices
pepper to taste
mayonnaise with roasted crushed garlic
yellow mustard

No Mitsubishi X required.

Verse V: The Pics to Prove

Verse VI: The Resolution

Watercress sandwich is a Nguyen for me. Mitsubishi X is FAIL for girl and vietnamese restaurant. My girlfriend ends up kicking me out for flirting with bikini waitress. I hope some of those Swedish mom’s from my class are single cuz I can tell they already like to eat.

Chad Ochocinco has McDonald’s. Mark Sanchez has Burger King. Brett Favre has In-N-Out. Catch the trend? If you didn’t, the trick is to look at what race each of those players is then match that race to the restaurant. Now that you understand the clientele that In-N-Out caters to, what to say about their burgers? I have a rule when it comes to the size of the meat in my burger: If you can fit the burger patty into a DVD case, it’s not a burger, it’s a DVD. And that’s what In-n-out burgers are. You end up having to order a double double DVD or 3x3 DVD just to taste the meat in your burger. The only two items you can order other than a DVD are shredded paper (what they call fries) and tri-color printer ink (chocolate/strawberry/vanilla). The secret menu is a joke. Just make it the normal menu. Stop trying to be cool. Especially with the little Jesus quotes hidden on all your sub-par office products. They don’t do it for me in terms of life and spiritual guidance. I prefer Ezekiel 23:20 or Proverbs 1:26. Those are dope verses. Your restaurant on the other hand is not that dope. A burger that isn’t a DVD.

Lee’s Sandwiches

If Brett Favre has In-n-out then Scott Fujita or Heins Ward’s lighter half has Lee’s Sandwiches. Ever wanted to roll a dull razor blade inside your mouth? Well I have by attempting to shove one of these MFs into mine. I seriously think Lee’s Press-on nails had a failed line of razors that they refined and made into their baguettes. It’s not so much the strings of skin that are left dangling on the roof of my mouth that piss me off, but more so the fact that I just dropped $4 for a cilantro sandwich. Stop trying to act like you’re still dope Lee. Your Banh Mi is weak. The only thing dope about you Lee is that you’re owned by the viet cong and are thus hated by all the southern Vietnamese that live out here. Other than that, you’re not that dope. Make your own Banh Mi and save the roof of your mouth

Roscoe’s Chicken n’ Waffles

Eggo Buttermilk Waffles Pack of 10 $3.50. KFC’s Extra Crispy Chicken 12 pieces ~$12 . Roscoe’s ‘Scoe’s’ 2 pieces 2 waffles $10.20. (Thought I was going to pull a master card ad joke?) The KFC+Eggo can feed 5 @ $3/person. The Roscoe’s alternative can feed 5 @ $10/person. We’re talking fried chicken and waffles, not King Fish Salmon (which I’ve happily paid $35/person for in the past). Dependent on the breed of rats running around a particular KFC, you will sometimes have the rat from Ratatouille in the KFC serving up the chicken FRESHNESS. If rat infested KFC doesn’t do it for you and you prefer Kosher or Halal, then Jewish-owned Popeye’s and formerly Muslim owned Church’s Chicken, respectively, are far superior in terms of taste and flavor than Roscoes. You’re only dope cuz Snoop eats at your spot Roscoe. On other occasions I can watch an entire restaurant get held up while waiting in your parking lot on any given weekend night. For all other reasons, you’re not that dope.

Frosted Cupcakery

If you recall South Park’s Prius episode, a storm of smug created by George Clooney’s Oscar speech strikes South Park. All of San Francisco and South Park are destroyed. In reality a storm of callow has hit southern California in the last three years. At least those MFs in south park got a warning. We had no effin meteorologist warning us. And there are plenty of hot plastic 304 meteorologists out there that could’ve done it too. Are you people serious? Cupcakes? CUPCAKES? The in-class birthday celebration birthday cake? Are you serious? This whole cupcake fad has got to go. What the eff is a velvet cupcake where the hell did it come from? Anyway there’s a crapcuke place out in Long Beach that charges dolts (usually of the Brett Favre persuasion) $3 a pop. I recently walked by it and noticed it had closed down. While I smiled cheerfully at the empty glass window, I moved towards the door and noticed a BIG ASS sign saying ‘we’ve moved!’ To my disillusionment they moved to a bigger, more trafficky spot. Meaning their cash flow is solid and will continue to grow. EFF! The storm of callow has not left. It has left socal in a state of attrition. I’m hoping to create a storm of ‘not that dope’ with this post that will hit the southern California area and make the dolts of socal realize that corny ass places like crapcukery are not that dope. Make your own 20 cupcakes for $6: Mix Frosting Liner

Frozen Yogurt Places, specifically Pinkberry

I’ll let the video speak for itself. It’ll be 45 degrees out and you’ll still see a grip of Asian cliques chillin’ hard out in front of these places. Asian cliques + frozen yogurt + Big Gay Al jingle song in video = not that dope. With exception to overpriced, mediocre Cold Stone, ice cream still shining ($4 @ Albertson’s).

Honorable Mention: Kogi Taco

I’ve never eaten here, but yes people actually throw Korean food into a tortilla and make a profit. Think about what you’re doing. You’re throwing quality tasting food into an inexpensive food container. Any seasoned eater would laugh at this. Any one in the mood for Lox on a hot dog bun? How about a fillet mignon between two rice cakes sandwich? Yeah didn’t think so, that sounds not that dope doesn’t it? Go to Korean all you can BBQ instead $14 and you can bring your own bag of tortillas (less than a $1) if the rice doesn’t do it for you. And the nicest part of it is you don’t have to deal with a 1 hour wait time in a sea of asian cliques twittering about where they’re at.