When you're in charge of New York City and your priority is to organize a boycott of a fast food joint because it has Christian ownership ... you might be a ridiculous progressive clown.
Spelling, that is. Although I do have a large package of chicken thighs in the freezer. I could fix those too.
I've never been to Chick-Fil-A. I have no concept of their wonders. They're one of those things with spots all over the periphery with nothing in the center.
Nothing!
I just now searched "fried chicken, denver" and got a whole list of mouth-watering descriptions, like
* Locally raised chicken is brined in coconut milk, doused in gluten free flour, and pressure fried.
* Eight pieced all natural chicken is buttermilk brined for 24 hours and then tossed in seasoned flour and fried at a low temperature to crisp the skin and cook the chicken through but keep it juicy.
* The fried chicken, served at dinner, is buttermilk brined, potato flour dredged with classic spices, and fried in peanut oil. It comes served with a succotash made with vegetables from Bean's farm and a buttermilk foam.
* Eight piece chicken is dry rubbed and left to rest for 12 hours. Then it is tempura battered and fried at a low temp to crisp the skin and not dry out the chicken.
And so on. Lawdy, who even knew there are so many good chicken places nearby?
I also tried the "dining" checkmark on Google Earth. Boy, it that thing ever out of date. Zocolo's changed to Old Santa Fe, and Arby's changed to Torchy's, and Tony's moved out and isn't replaced, and two places on 10th aren't even listed. GAWL! Incidentally, one of those places on 10th has fantastic chicken. It's the one place around here where I had some in the 10 years that I lived here.
Here and there, every few years, I buy a dozen or so kitchen towels from Williams-Sonoma. It's kind of funny how well they hold up until they don't. They all start falling apart at once. A hole develops in one and next washing it's a tear going the full length of the towel so there I am with two good half pieces of towels. Then ALL the towels do that at once.
So I placed another order for replacement. Standard order. Same thing over and over.
knockknockknock
I'm deep into a high action dream, the knocking sound intrudes incongruently. I know that sound. That's a signal from another reality. The hard, heavy, thick and slow life. I must hasten away. I've been called. I lift and rise as a group of bubbles and burst through, omg, I can't move, now I'm here and I can't lift myself up. It takes immense effort to rise off the cushions, my body does not cooperate, it resists every command, I must balance, I must move. I force my body to move, I force my consciousness to awareness, I force my body to balance and force it to move in the direction of the door, COMING! Each step is resisted by gravity and the thick gravy of atmosphere. It takes an aching long time .I get to the door. Nobody there. Packages on the floor against the door when it's closed. It's the towels.
And they're chicken shit little piss ass half size towels. The size of the old torn towels they're meant to replace.
Goddamnit.
They're like fucking little doll house towels.
What a rip off! The old switcheroo. A whole page on Williams-Sanoma, the exact same page, the same array of photographs, but the dimensions removed.
I'll keep em.
What the heck.
They're the sort of thing used to check the oil in your truck.
(I've never checked the oil in my truck. Mechanics do that. But I'm making a point over here, okay? They can use them to check the oil in my truck.)
They're that kind of rag.
So I got right on Amazon and bought the right size and thickness.
It's the second time this week I was woken by the same three sharp raps at the door and compelled to wake up and answer. The same rising up to thickness, with the same will to move as with an emergency. With the same exiting one reality and entering another realty effect to it. It's the weirdest thing. Like existence in two entirely different but overlapping realms. The whole dropping into the light realm then rising up to the heavy realm is extremely weird. You'd think it'd be opposite.
Never been a fan of Chick-Fil-A. Fortunately, none of my family likes them, so it was one less option when deciding where to stop when travelling. When my son learned to read, he asked us why we never stopped at Hooters.
Agree, Ed. One more thing. Yes, Latinos are more lax in their morals, than traditionally, as far as out-of-wedlock births, but man, do they have a work ethic.
20 comments:
Saw a piece where this is the fave eat of da yoots.
There may be hope.
It's like the reverse of the Fall of Rome: Christian Chik-fil-A invades Barbarian NYC.
Love their food!
Most of the people coming from South of the Border are Catholic, so they're the Lefties' worst nightmare.
As for the Moslems, nobody really likes them and a fight between Christianity and Islam will eventually go to the Christians.
(Islam is for people who can't (or are afraid to) do their own thinking)
The war against Chik-fil-A was mostly gaystapo tactics. Losing strategy. So the writer of The New Yorker piece is probably gay.
Ed - its my understanding the Latino immigrant ain't very religious anymore and they don't become Repubs and so they vote for the Dems.
I misspelled chicken. Sorry about that.
I’ll fix it when I get home.
When you're in charge of New York City and your priority is to organize a boycott of a fast food joint because it has Christian ownership ... you might be a ridiculous progressive clown.
Lem, I fixed your chicken.
Spelling, that is. Although I do have a large package of chicken thighs in the freezer. I could fix those too.
I've never been to Chick-Fil-A. I have no concept of their wonders. They're one of those things with spots all over the periphery with nothing in the center.
Nothing!
I just now searched "fried chicken, denver" and got a whole list of mouth-watering descriptions, like
* Locally raised chicken is brined in coconut milk, doused in gluten free flour, and pressure fried.
* Eight pieced all natural chicken is buttermilk brined for 24 hours and then tossed in seasoned flour and fried at a low temperature to crisp the skin and cook the chicken through but keep it juicy.
* The fried chicken, served at dinner, is buttermilk brined, potato flour dredged with classic spices, and fried in peanut oil. It comes served with a succotash made with vegetables from Bean's farm and a buttermilk foam.
* Eight piece chicken is dry rubbed and left to rest for 12 hours. Then it is tempura battered and fried at a low temp to crisp the skin and not dry out the chicken.
And so on. Lawdy, who even knew there are so many good chicken places nearby?
I also tried the "dining" checkmark on Google Earth. Boy, it that thing ever out of date. Zocolo's changed to Old Santa Fe, and Arby's changed to Torchy's, and Tony's moved out and isn't replaced, and two places on 10th aren't even listed. GAWL! Incidentally, one of those places on 10th has fantastic chicken. It's the one place around here where I had some in the 10 years that I lived here.
Hey!
Do you want to hear something stew-pud?
Here and there, every few years, I buy a dozen or so kitchen towels from Williams-Sonoma. It's kind of funny how well they hold up until they don't. They all start falling apart at once. A hole develops in one and next washing it's a tear going the full length of the towel so there I am with two good half pieces of towels. Then ALL the towels do that at once.
So I placed another order for replacement. Standard order. Same thing over and over.
knockknockknock
I'm deep into a high action dream, the knocking sound intrudes incongruently. I know that sound. That's a signal from another reality. The hard, heavy, thick and slow life. I must hasten away. I've been called. I lift and rise as a group of bubbles and burst through, omg, I can't move, now I'm here and I can't lift myself up. It takes immense effort to rise off the cushions, my body does not cooperate, it resists every command, I must balance, I must move. I force my body to move, I force my consciousness to awareness, I force my body to balance and force it to move in the direction of the door, COMING! Each step is resisted by gravity and the thick gravy of atmosphere. It takes an aching long time .I get to the door. Nobody there. Packages on the floor against the door when it's closed. It's the towels.
And they're chicken shit little piss ass half size towels. The size of the old torn towels they're meant to replace.
Goddamnit.
They're like fucking little doll house towels.
What a rip off! The old switcheroo. A whole page on Williams-Sanoma, the exact same page, the same array of photographs, but the dimensions removed.
I'll keep em.
What the heck.
They're the sort of thing used to check the oil in your truck.
(I've never checked the oil in my truck. Mechanics do that. But I'm making a point over here, okay? They can use them to check the oil in my truck.)
They're that kind of rag.
So I got right on Amazon and bought the right size and thickness.
It's the second time this week I was woken by the same three sharp raps at the door and compelled to wake up and answer. The same rising up to thickness, with the same will to move as with an emergency. With the same exiting one reality and entering another realty effect to it. It's the weirdest thing. Like existence in two entirely different but overlapping realms. The whole dropping into the light realm then rising up to the heavy realm is extremely weird. You'd think it'd be opposite.
Ed, AJ, I understand that a pretty large segments of Latino Catholics are switching to Evangelical.
thanks Chip.
@iowahawkblog said in response to the New Yorker tweet...
"Maybe you should build a wall to keep out those icky foreigners"
I hate bigotry. I enjoy Chick-fil-a.
Icky Christians. We love leftwing false god fascist cults instead.
I prefer Chick-fil-a over Culver’s
Never been a fan of Chick-Fil-A. Fortunately, none of my family likes them, so it was one less option when deciding where to stop when travelling. When my son learned to read, he asked us why we never stopped at Hooters.
deborah said...
Ed, AJ, I understand that a pretty large segments of Latino Catholics are switching to Evangelical.
May be a difference to you, may be a difference to me, but it will still drive the Lefties up the wall.
Agree, Ed. One more thing. Yes, Latinos are more lax in their morals, than traditionally, as far as out-of-wedlock births, but man, do they have a work ethic.
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