The Pleasure Beholden to Cayenne Pepper

9 03 2010

For many years as I learned to cook seasoning and spice held no real power in what I prepared. Most specifically, this spice only made home in black beans as I heated them or spice rubs for tender meats. That spice is dry ground Cayenne pepper.

Capsicum annuum

My relationship with this red friend has been flirtatiously innocent for most of my life. December we found love. In a fine attempt to surprise my friends and kin on Christmas I brewed up a batch of Cashew brittle.

It was quirky and interesting with a simple switch of a nut, but it was missing something. At the behest of the all-mighty wizard Alton Brown I thought to add in a whisper of Cayenne pepper. At the first experimental bite my pupils dilated in a hot happy surprise. The buttery chewy concoction left a massaging tingle on the tongue and I was hungry for more curiosity. My family howled and gasped at the lusty punches that caught them off guard from inside the cute candy boxes.

My torrid escapades with Cayenne pepper raced. I thought back to old social studies class about the alien idea of chili pepper in hot chocolate. So of course darling Cayenne made an appearance in several hot ganaches that winter. I also received many questions from friends concerning my curiously delicious whipped cream. Cayenne even danced with that!

My secret chocolate-chip-cookie recipe contains an eighth of a teaspoon of Cayenne pepper. Shh. Don’t tell. I bake regularly and enjoy sprinkling the hotness into my angel food cake batter before grating in fine Callebaut chocolate.

Guacamole loves it. Grilled steaks crave it. I am going to have to start buying it in bulk on ebay before you know it. Cayenne pepper perpetuates the proverbial Pagan alter that is my spice cupboard. It gives me a sultry wink whenever I think of something new to concoct. Somehow, someway it will find a path into all of our waiting mouths.

I love you, Cayenne pepper. Never leave me for a younger prettier cook.





Nobody else is Hitler and Stalin Killed people.

4 03 2010

A while back on Sproul Plaza at Cal I had an encounter with some Larouche Underlings and a couple members of the defunct Communist party. Somehow they both managed to horrify me to my deepest core.

The Larouches sported posters of Obama with a Hitler ‘stache and attempted to explain to me that because of his supposed “imperialism” in expanding the war (don’t mistake me for a warhawk, I’m not) Obama is Hitler. Somehow this president who has been accused of socialist anti-Americanism with his stimulus package and attempts (maybe hopeless) at healthcare reform is JUST LIKE OMG Adolph Motherfucking Hitler.

This is not a new tactic. But I would like to say Obama is not like Hitler. Obama is not an insane sadistic genocidal maniac. It is offensive and horrifying to compare any little old politician to one of the worst people to have ever lived; whether it be Obama, Bush, or anybody else of any party affiliation.

In conjunction with this encounter some young woman from the communist party with the face of a leather sack approached us and began to explain to me how the Larouches were right. Ok…So the commies are on board with that one. When they commented that it’s okay to draw historical comparisons between figures I agreed. I said that, indeed, when you have an incredibly mean personality and force such as Hitler it’s only intellectual to draw comparisons with equally (or maybe worse) people like Stalin, but that Obama really hadn’t done enough or been around long enough to warrant such a comparison.

That’s when the borscht hit the fan. Miss Leathercommie asserted that Stalin should not be compared to Hitler. Say what? She asserted that the claims of the mass murders across the USSR were indeed fabrications.

Holy Shit

I was standing in front of an honest-to-Trotsky Stalinist in 2009.  I asked her if she’d like to take a trip into the history books at the Library or if I should bust out my computer to find some sources to the contrary. She then asserted that all the sources are lies. So she believes in Stalin’s innocence despite all evidence to the contrary.

Sound like a Holocaust denier?

Basically, to me, if a person believes that any modern politician (or Obama) is just like Hitler or that Stalin didn’t kill anybody they either need to hit the books or be hit with a brick. Preferably the latter by me.

In reaction to this I had a conversation with my father. Out of that I made this film:





I can has level up?

4 03 2010

I am not good at video games. This is something I feel very ashamed of as I watch my guy, here, playing Arkham Asylum on the PS3. I sure love me some Batman, and I derive a lot of pleasure in helping Batman solve Riddler’s riddles.

But I have been afraid to pick up the controller myself. As a kid I had a Sega Genesis and meticulously played The trio of Sonic The Hedgehog games that I had.  On weekends I would visit my friend Jennifer and we’d take turns playing Super Mario. In the end, however, I become a video-game spectator more than a player. I find myself in awe of the graphics and of the thumb agility required to swim through the water levels, or kick some ass in Soul Caliber.

Ok, I did get kind of addicted to Shadow of the Colossus at one point, but I always felt insecure about it after a lot absence from ol’ Sonic.  I would play Shadow late into the night while everyone was asleep; similar to my patterns of unsuccessfully playing Myst. Fuck that game.

Further, I feel insecure in this l33t/newb culture that has developed over headsets on mmorpg’s.

I don’t know the best approach to getting back into video games. Diving right in seems like the logical choice, but my lack of skill gives me performance anxiety especially at the level of multi-player games. I think for now I will stick to flash, and query the internet about video-game-anxiety support groups.





The Literary Possibility of Comic Books: Hollywood’s Role

4 03 2010

It seems an ironic thesis to suggest that somehow blockbuster films and ad campaigns by Hollywood could contribute to the literary merit of comic books. I would argue, however, that the work of people like Christopher Nolan, Jon Favreau, and Zack Snyder have presented comic-book heroes and villains as more than one-dimensional characters in the funnies. Rather, these directors with screenwriters like David Goyer have been able to construct complex cinematic experiences where the suit of Iron Man isn’t necessarily more interesting than Tony Stark’s dick-headed persona and his drinking problem.

I am slightly biased among these films toward the Batman Franchise and Watchmen. Though Moore himself was obviously against the notion of his novel being adapted for film, I would argue that by bringing his work to the screen more people had access to the shift of comic-book possibility in history. In 1986/87 Watchmen broke onto the scene and with Miller’s Dark Knight Returns began to challenge intellectual readers about their prejudices against comics. This was a difficult task in the face of several decades of cheese-ball funny books. And perhaps without these works comics themselves would have never made it out of the toy shop.

To understand the heroism of Moore, Miller and later on the filmmakers I have noted, we must understand the villain of the story. American Psychiatrist Frederick Wertham wrote Seduction of the Innocent in 1954. This particularly ridiculous text argued that popular literature –like comic books– contributed to the delinquency of children; the book reveals that Wertham’s idea of “delinquency” seemed to be most directly related to sexuality. Indeed, Batman and Robin were really gay lovers, and scantily-clad women were “damaging to the eye.” We can chuckle at Wertham’s plebeian conservatism and Freudian neurosis, but this publication was directly responsible for the establishment of Comics Code Authority and thus the censorship of an entire genre of literature.

Comics became low-brow, cheesy, and had Batman solving crimes in Scotland in a kilt. And it would be decades before the tarred-and-feathered medium would the opportunity to be seriously analyzed.

This is where Watchmen and Dark Knight Returns could become our heroes, and indeed they did. The gritty interrogation of crime, corruption, war, politics, and even the investigation of existential identity through Dr. Manhattans segregation from humanity via his own superiority, would prove to skeptics and snobs that comic books could be respected as literature — graphic novels. Readers found the funnies weren’t always so funny and that their writers and artists could be as intellectual and complex as the writers of text-only novels or painters of paintings.

So, how does this make the case for comic-book blockbusters contributing to the merit of the comic medium? I would argue that like Miller and Moore working in the face of Batman in a kilt, people like Nolan and Favreau were working in the face of shit like Batman and Robin. They were willing to put their skills as serious filmmakers to treat the stories as mythos. Batman and Iron Man can have as much merit as the voyages of Odysseus.

Film has a distinct ability to cross social barriers and communicate ideas and emotions to an incredible wealth of people. When a comic-book film is treated with respect and passion, it’s value is poured into the audience. Some of these audiences are spurred to explore the base medium itself. My local comic shop had a huge stock of Watchmen on hand with the premier of the movie. And I still see normal dudes in ties, or cute girls with nice hair coming in now and again to pick up a copy. This is promising to me rather than disheartening. I don’t see these films as bringing rubes to my thing. Rather, I see these films as helping rubes smarten up as they find literary and intellectual nourishment in my thing.








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