Retro Relapse: Full English Breakfast: The Fuel of An Empire

RETRO RELAPSE is a series of older articles from various places where I used to write before Talking Pulp.

*Written in 2010.

It should be no surprise, at this point, how much I love waffles or breakfast food for that matter. So one particular breakfast item that I’d like to talk about and pay homage to, as my homie Greg calls it, is a “proper” full English breakfast. The Red Coats definitely created one of the greatest feats in the history of mankind when they assembled this culinary miracle.

The “proper” full English breakfast is comprised of many fine treats and can be presented with several different options. Generally, it is served with two eggs (I like 3-4 myself), “proper” English bacon (which is different than American bacon), fried tomatoes, fried mushrooms, toast, “proper” English sausage (which is much larger than American sausage) and black pudding. Some versions come with baked beans in tomato sauce, some variation of potato and other vegetables. The breakfast is usually accompanied by “proper” British tea (hopefully free of tariffs).

After discovering this awesome monster of a breakfast meal, I now realize why the Red Coats were so hard to defeat during the American Revolution. I wouldn’t want to fight anyone with a full breakfast in their stomach. It is no wonder why the British were able to nearly take over the entire world. That’s why I am glad that they are now our ally and we have the luxury of sharing our breakfast food with each other. Between full breakfasts in the UK and Waffle Houses in the US, there is nothing our two peoples cannot accomplish.

I’m sure the British swashbucklers used to eat these everyday, no matter what side of the law they were on. Full English breakfasts have been known to quicken swordplay, increase jumping height, enhance acrobatics as well as making someone literally impervious to musket balls. Merlin actually existed and was powered by full English breakfasts and the blood of trolls, whose blood was used to make black pudding before they became extinct. Now they just make black pudding with the blood of pigs and cows; I guess dragons and orcs are hard to find. King Arthur, the greatest warrior king ever, used to bathe in full English breakfasts for hours. Excalibur was forged in the same fires where the first full English breakfast was cooked.

If only the British could properly harness the power of the “proper” full English breakfast, as they did before troll extinction, they might have the power to destroy all evil in the world! If the whole world ate “proper” full English breakfasts, than we’d all be liberated and powerful yet peaceful due to the spiritual balance that the meal brings at the start of the day.

Sorry, I’ve been writing this while drunk on a “proper” full English breakfast. But it could also be the bottle of Scotch I just used to rinse out my liver.

Retro Relapse: Chick-Fil-A: A Swashbucklingly Good Breakfast

RETRO RELAPSE is a series of older articles from various places where I used to write before Talking Pulp.

*Written in 2010.

Chick-Fil-A is pretty tits all around. Their nuggets are pretty awesome, their sandwiches are on point and they may have the greatest cole slaw next to KFC’s (it’s a toss up).

However, where they truly excel at is breakfast. Ignoring the fact that they don’t offer waffles, Chick-Fil-A is the greatest establishment for breakfast via a drive-thru window. Everything that they have for breakfast is pretty damn choice. I’ve yet to have an item that was just… meh.

My favorite thing is definitely the sausage, egg and cheese biscuit. This is the best breakfast sandwich available that I’ve ever had access to. The biscuits are perfect, the egg is just the right amount, the cheese is well… cheese and the sausage patty is damn near perfect. Being thicker than most patties on fast food breakfast sandwiches, the sausage is just the right size and just the right flavor. It’s not overpowering like sausage from Burger King or McDonald’s. It also compliments the mixture of egg, biscuit and cheese perfectly. This sandwich literally melts in your mouth and is unrivaled in the fast food industry, as far as I am concerned.

My next favorite item is the hashbrowns. The only complaint I have of these, is that I wish you got more (which is why I always order two). The Chick-Fil-A hasbrowns are usually always fried just right and are extra crunchy. The oil they use gives them a better flavor and they almost taste cleaner and less greasy than the competition’s sorry excuse for hashbrowns. The only thing that may throw off the non-hashie connoisseur is the fact that the hashbrowns are like Burger King’s in shape: kind of like tater tots or crowns. I like this shape of hashbrown, however, and Chick-Fil-A does them the best.

Other notable items are the chicken biscuit and the bacon, egg and cheese biscuit. Both of these I have had and have thoroughly enjoyed. The chicken biscuit is better than the cheap knockoffs that BK and Mickey D’s tried to come out with a few years back. In fact, any other fast food chain with a chicken biscuit should be slapped with a lawsuit. The bacon, egg and cheese biscuit is nearly as good as its counterpart: the sausage, egg and cheese biscuit. But again, I am a bigger fan of the sausage one.

When it comes down to it, most swashbucklers prefer Chick-Fil-A. They are friendly to our kind and most of them have sweet ball pits. Although, most swashbucklers are too big for the ball pit according to their lame sign. In any event, Chick-Fil-A is still pretty awesome, especially for breakfast.

The only downside is that I only seem to crave Chick-Fil-A on Sundays. Well, they are closed on Sunday because Jesus doesn’t like to eat after church or something like that. I think they should be open and that they are losing a lot of business by not being open. Hell, what do I know. I’ve never owned a business unless you count that time that I was selling Japanese wrestling tapes out of my grandmum’s garage. I was banking some sweet cash back then!

Retro Relapse: Sub Making Is A Dying Art

RETRO RELAPSE is a series of older articles from various places where I used to write before Talking Pulp.

*Written in 2014.

When I’m not eating glorious amounts of red meat and bacon, I am usually eating a monstrous and awesome submarine sandwich. Unlike most people, I don’t have just one spot that I go to. I look at sandwiches as art and when it comes to subs, every place makes them in their own special way. I regularly go to Publix, Jersey Mike’s, Jimmy John’s, Sweetbay, Winn-Dixie, Firehouse, Quiznos, several mom and pop joints and pretty much anywhere else that you can get a sub. Although I do occasionally hit up Subway, I typically avoid it at all costs and if I do give in, I am quickly reminded as to why I stay away from the damned place.

Considering that I do frequent many places in the submarine sandwich world, I have more insight into what is going on in the industry. In a time where the world has been moving towards more automation and machine made goods, handcrafted skills have been slowly replaced. The art of sub making however, is something that should never die. I don’t think I’ve ever had a machine made sub but it wouldn’t surprise me if such a thing existed.

Being that subs are a hand-made delicacy, they are given extra special care and should be made with an undying passion for a necessary craft that should never die. I say “should” because I’ve had too many instances lately, of people making really shitty subs. I don’t know how such a thing as a shitty sub is even possible but the people I find working in a lot of these places now, apparently have no clue how to make a fucking sub or they just don’t give a shit.

My most recent bad experience is the freshest in my mind, so let me talk about that.

To start, I ordered an Italian, my preferred sandwich on most days. This woman didn’t know what meat went on the sub and actually put some turkey on it. Being the good sport I am, I didn’t correct her because I thought, “Hey, that’s something new, I’ll try it.” She then asked what cheese I wanted. I said, “provolone.” She then asked what veggies I wanted before putting the cheese on. I told her what I wanted and instructed that I would also like sub dressing. So what does she do? Well, she splashes the meat with sub dressing before putting the vegetables on it. Uh.. what the fuck? She then puts the vegetables on in giant fistfuls. She didn’t even strain the juice dripping from the vegetables. I got about 4 oz. of olive juice on my sub because she just grabbed them and dumped them on without care. She then covered the mountain of veggies with cheese slices that wouldn’t stay on top of the veggie mountain because that is not where one puts the damn cheese!

I took it home and tried to eat it. The sub dressing immediately shot down my arm, as it wasn’t soaked up in the shredded lettuce, as it should be. The bread was also soggy as fuck. Did I mention that there was too much mayonnaise and mustard? Thus, white and yellow goop kept spooging out between my fingers. The cheese was just an appetizer as it wouldn’t stay on the sub so I ate the slices by themselves. The sandwich was a sloppy mess.

Either this woman has never made a submarine sandwich or she is mentally handicapped. Now this isn’t a rare occurrence, as I’ve had similar issues at other places over the last few months. Granted, different people make your sub each time but that is what’s cool about it, as everyone has a slightly different way of doing it. When I walk into my favorite sandwich joints, I usually know which guy or gal to go to, if I have a choice. Some people make great subs, others make good subs. Until recently, I hadn’t come across many people that make truly awful subs.

I blame the managers or the trainers in these places. You need to have strict protocols and hire people who aren’t completely insane or stupid. Make these people make you a sandwich, you eat it and then ask yourself, “Does this person have the artistry to make sandwiches in my awesome shop?” Then you follow that up by making them make you nine more sandwiches. After 10 total subs, you should have a good grasp as to whether or not they can cut it.

You see, sub making is important; it is an art form and should always be treated as such. When you’ve had a tough morning at work and just want a tasty sandwich to solve the day’s problems, getting stuck with some soggy gooey giant blob that is impossible to eat and just sloppily gross, is a giant fucking bummer.

Sub making isn’t hard, it should be common sense. I mean, at this point, hasn’t everyone in the free world ordered a sub multiple times and seen how they should be made? The order of the ingredients is key. It’s not a goddamned puzzle! Additionally, giant fistfuls of every ingredient is asinine. If you can’t fold and cut the sub, you’re a moron who needs to scale it back a bit.

Maybe I just have certain standards that others don’t. Maybe I care about doing things right and making the best effort possible. Maybe I worship food too much. Whatever the case, I don’t really care. The point is, Leonardo da Vinci didn’t paint the Mona Lisa with piss.

Retro Relapse: Everyone’s A Fucking Guru

RETRO RELAPSE is a series of older articles from various places where I used to write before Talking Pulp.

*Written in 2016.

Every morning while sitting on the toilet, I open up my Facebook to peruse my news feed. I used to enjoy finding good articles and interesting pictures that kept me entertained enough over the course of my morning pooh. Those days are long gone. So then I open up Instagram. Sure, there are some cool pictures but they are lightly sprinkled in amongst the sea of bullshit. The same sea of bullshit that has taken over my Facebook news feed. Twitter? Fuck Twitter. Snapchat? Sounds like a sexually transmitted disease.

So what is this sea of bullshit?

Well, it is the overabundance of motivational nonsense that I can’t avoid. It’s the fucking memes, the fucking quotes, the fucking song lyrics, the fucking poetry and the cute fucking pictures of cute fucking shit that is supposed to help me close the deal, get a raise, buy a mansion, piss out a yacht, bitch slap the gym, grow kale from my face, drink plant piss, hug a hobo, high-five a cancer patient, wrestle a sloth off of a stop sign and be satisfied with my dick size (I am, mostly… but c’mon, what guy doesn’t want a bigger dick?).

I’m sure this piece here will have some of these perfect peaches on my friends list delete me. Good, please just fucking do it. I actually might not even remember a lot of you, as I’ve hidden a bunch of chronic offenders from my news feed and frankly, I’m too lazy to find the page where I can hit “delete” on your face.

But seriously, when did the Internet get so fucking lame? When did every Tom, Dick and Joan decide that they were some sort of life guru for the world? I’m sorry, but I don’t think any of you are Richard Branson. If Richard Branson was dropping advice on me daily, I’d probably actually mull it over and not yell from my toilet seat, “Jesus fuck! Not more of this goddamned shit!”

And to be fair, it isn’t just this garbage that pisses me off. Mix in the stream of social gurus with the pseudoscience retardation, identity politics whiners and crazed Trump supporters and that’s enough to make a sane man go banana sandwich on some simple motherfuckers.

But it’s the guru shit that seems to irk me the most just because there is so much of it and the ratio of guru bullshit versus everything else is pretty monstrous. And it keeps spreading and getting bigger. Everyone on social media thinks it’s their daily fucking duty to plaster every possible data stream with generic mundane lazy Hallmark fuckery.

Are you perfect?

No, no one is fucking perfect. So, I’ll give you a pass there.

But do you have your shit completely together and actually exist in a place where you know some next level shit and can pick up your friends and give them true intellectual enlightenment? No?

Just because you’ve made it to the gym for the third day in a row or because you broke up with Russell for the eighth time doesn’t give you any special powers or insight. It doesn’t entitle you to plaster my feed with your cookie cutter third grade insight to achieve personal nirvana. And yes, I can kick you off my feed and I have but this nonsense has gotten completely unavoidable. Everyone is guilty of it to some degree. I’m sure I’ve posted some garbage in a drunken emotional state of weakness.

The problem, and the reason I call it “nonsense” is because 90 percent of the shit I see and read is fucking nonsense. It’s awful nonsense. It’s the kind of nonsense that doesn’t make any sense when you actually think about what it is saying. And most of the time, this shit is taken and represented out of its original context. And the problem, is that human beings just see this shit and repost it like it’s fucking gospel. People no longer think for themselves, social media has made it so that we can share some bullshit thought by some bullshit artist and then feel some sense of accomplishment because we’re doing our daily duty of saving the world – one fucktastic nonsensical woo woo meme and quote at a time.

But now it is my turn! Now I will be your guru! I mean, if you can be my guru, why can’t I be yours? That’s only fair, right?

So here we go!

-Step 1: Get off your fucking high horse, Deepak Chopra Jr.

-Step 2: Stop sharing bullshit.

-Step 3: Understand what you’re actually expressing or if it’s just bullshit. It is probably just bullshit.

-Step 4: Use you time better.

-Step 5: Actually handle your business and once you do something worthwhile that actually makes a difference in the world, then maybe share something.

I get it though. There is something about the “power of positivity”. The “Law of Attraction” a.k.a. “The Secret” is a big ball of horse shit but positive thinking and application does actually achieve some positive results. Well, not all the time but a positive mindset is more productive than a negative one. But that’s common sense, right?

If you want to help people, then help people. You daily meme pushers aren’t any better than the slacktivists out there that think that just because they share a Kony 2012 video that they helped save Africa. You’re fucking lazy; the Internet has made laziness too easy. I’m guilty of it too.

But c’mon, you can’t save the world and have a meaningful positive impact on multiple people just by clicking “share”. Well, at least not as much as you could have if you got off of your ass and did something. If you do care and you want to spread a positive message, make the effort.

Do I have all my shit together? No, absolutely not. But I understand that. I also understand that it is damned hard to find someone who has all their shit together. Life is a work in progress and it will be that way until we die. But should we encourage each other? Of course. But do that shit in person with your real world friends. All this positive clutter is just clutter. It all loses any impact it could have when there is a constant stream of it.

Our social lives are ruled by the need to find validation through “likes” and “shares”, mostly by strangers. And that seems to be strange and not really a positive thing, which makes this whole bullshit pretty counterproductive.

The truth is, I am probably just going to leave social media altogether, except for Instagram, as I don’t have to interact with anyone or at least feel obligated to. I know who my real friends are and I spend time with them in the physical world. I don’t need to talk to them online, we see each other in person. And we positively support each other in person.

But maybe people have just forgotten how to have organic relationships with human beings in the flesh. In the real world, it isn’t as easy to create and hide behind your ideal persona. But with real people, you can talk about your shit and not project your insecurities and issues through memes, Marilyn Monroe quotes and Taylor Swift lyrics.

I know I can be an asshole. I also know that I am a good person and that I have a truly positive impact on those I love and care about. I don’t need a bunch of strangers to validate my half-assed attempts at trying to be a beacon of light and hope lost in a sea full of other beacons competing for endless and meaningless mouse clicks.

Retro Relapse: Corned Beef Hash: A Swashbuckler’s Protein Shake

RETRO RELAPSE is a series of older articles from various places where I used to write before Talking Pulp.

*Written in 2010.

Corned beef hash is pretty fucking awesome! Apart from waffles it is the swashbuckler’s breakfast of choice. I’d put country fried steak and eggs with a side of biscuits and gravy right up there with it too but corned beef hash is more beneficial simply because it is easier to prepare and more convenient to the swashbuckler on the go.

The best feature that corned beef hash has, is that you can get it in a can. Pop that bitch open with your blade and dig in! There is no need to cook it, although warm corned beef hash is quite superior to cold straight-from-the-can corned beef hash. The amazing thing about cans is that you can easily bring them with you. Corned beef hash in cans is like pirate rations or MREs for swashbucklers.

It is also a much better source of protein than waffles, simply because corned beef is meat. Waffles are not meat so they barely have any protein. If you didn’t know, protein is pretty fucking awesome! So who needs a fancy protein shake or an effeminate protein smoothie when you can guzzle a man sized can of corned beef hash and be on with your day?

Another benefit of canned corned beef hash is that it lasts forever! You can buy a can, leave it on a shelf for a few decades, pop it open and it is still fresh! Now that’s convenience! One time I nearly had my arm taken off by a Kraken but all the monster got was the unopened can of corned beef hash I was ready to devour. Well, a few years later, I hunted down and slayed the mighty Kraken and my can of corned beef hash was still inside it’s gut! I ripped that squidish fucker open with my dagger and reclaimed my can of gloriousness. It tasted just as good as it would’ve the day I originally planned to eat it. This shit has to be made of magic.

Now there are several styles of hash out there but there is only one corned beef hash. Okay, well it can be prepared many different ways but the best kind is the one that has the consistency of dog food. That may be a gross comparison to some but if you’re turned off by it that just means that you’re a pussy and you should go eat a fruit cocktail for breakfast and leave the manly food for the men.

I like mine slightly warm with a bit of crunchiness to it.

So if you want a breakfast of champions, kick your Wheaties in the ass and go grab a can of this awesome meat and potato filled treat.

Now here are a few variations I like when I have time.

The first is to dump some corned beef hash over some biscuits and then top it with sausage gravy. I call this the Bantamweight Champion.

The second is to dump some corned beef hash over some biscuits over a country fried steak and then top it with sausage gravy, 2 eggs and cheese. I call this one the Middleweight Champion.

The final version is to dump some corned beef hash over some biscuits over a country fried steak and then top that with 2 eggs, cheese, bacon, sausage patties, sausage links, grits and then sausage gravy. I call this the Super Heavyweight Champion.

And those are my three half assed recipes. Now go grab a can of hash and pillage something!

Retro Relapse: Girls & Marilyn Monroe Quotes

RETRO RELAPSE is a series of older articles from various places where I used to write before Talking Pulp.

*Written in 2014.

One thing about social media, is that some person will post some asinine bullshit and then just about everyone else will repost and share that shit without really thinking about it. Something I’ve seen floating around the Internet a lot is this Marilyn Monroe quote:

..if you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best.

Bitch, please.

If you are a dude crushing on a chick that posts this to her Facebook wall or her Twitter feed, you better move on. At its core it basically says, “Yeah, I’m going to be a total unreasonable bitch and if you don’t put up with my selfish crap, no pussy for you!”

How would these same chicks respond if some guy posted to his Facebook wall, “I’m a complete alpha bastard, selfish asshole and pretty much a man whore, if you can’t deal with it, find some weak punk bitch to knock you up.”

I’m sorry, honey. If you’re going to have that philosophy throughout your life, you’re going to be a lonely bitch. Sure, if you look good, you may attract a few potential suitors but ultimately, they’ll go away after being exposed to your bullshit and drama. You may also get a full-time lapdog but once the boy toy novelty wears off, what then?

I get it though, Marilyn Monroe was glamorous and legendary. By trying to live vicariously through her ridiculous words you are imagining yourself to be glamorous and legendary but the fact of the matter is, you aren’t. I’d hate to be the bearer of bad news but you’re simply typical. With every other girl out there posting this shit to their walls and feeds, it is neither unique, edgy or cool. It goes back to what I wrote about in The Princess Syndrome, if you are all doing the exact same thing, who is the princess? Which one of you is the unique flower in a field of grass? The short answer: none of you.

Also, posting this type of shit is a deterrent to men, at least ones with a brain in their head.

Here’s the thing, as I stated, Marilyn Monroe was glamorous and legendary. She was also a drug-addicted booze hound that fucked a married man, the president of the United States. She also wasn’t a stupendous actress. So really, why do women idolize this mess so much?

The answer to that has to do with the fact that beauty, glamour and fame are apparently more important than the content of someone’s character.

Marilyn Monroe was also a hypocrite with just about everything she said.

She would parade herself around as an independent woman that didn’t need a man. She bragged about making a life of her own, on her own, yet she was unfaithfully married several times. Her first marriage, was due to the fact that her foster parents could no longer support her. She also forced one of her husbands to impregnate her before he was shipped off to war. Additionally, she had an affair with actor Tony Curtis, who she starred with in Some Like It Hot. She got pregnant by him and had a miscarriage.

I’m not even going to cover her long string of adulterous behavior but if the Internet and personal video cameras existed in her day, I’m sure there would’ve been a leaked sex tape or several.

As far as body image, girls are always posting Marilyn quotes about being proud to be curvy and all that jazz. Marilyn Monroe was full of shit. At her absolute heaviest, Marilyn Monroe was 130 lbs. She was a small petite woman being 5′ 5″ and having a 22 inch waist. For her size, she had nice hips (I prefer bigger, actually) but by today’s unit of measurement, she would have been a size 0.

This brings me to something else, a quote that is credited to Marilyn Monroe but is complete bullshit:

To all the girls who think you’re ugly because you’re not a size 0, you’re the beautiful one. It’s society that’s ugly.

Yes, this is a positive quote but it is bullshit because Marilyn Monroe died in 1962. A size 0 wasn’t even a thing until 1966 when it was used to describe the hot new supermodel Twiggy. So how exactly did Marilyn say this when ghosts aren’t real and time machines don’t exist?

Girls who aren’t a size 0 constantly refer to Marilyn as a hero because she wasn’t a “rail” and had a “healthy” body unlike the supermodels of today. The truth is, Marilyn Monroe’s measurements were 35-22-35. The average model of today is 34-22-34. Yeah, Marilyn was totally a fuller woman. Have any of these girls who worship Marilyn on body image issues ever seen a picture of her? She was skinny as a rail, despite their belief.

The point to all this is, know who your heroes are. Don’t just mindlessly repost crap because it sounds empowering. Marilyn’s words aren’t empowering when you see them within the context of who she actually was and most of the time, her words were those of a self-obsessed maniac. Parading around like an egotistical bitch is a sure way to not have a happy and meaningful life. Besides that, Marilyn wasn’t a hero. She was a substance abusing mess that used her vagina as a tool for selfish pursuits and a source of continued fame. Yes, she was attractive but she was also a manipulator and a pretty immoral person with shit for character. She was her era’s Kim Kardashian but worse.

Shit, that just gave me a horrible thought. Are girls 50-60 years from now going to be filling up their social media profiles with Kim Kardashian or Paris Hilton quotes? The horror.

Please, stop deifying assholes.

Retro Relapse: The Story of Texas Toast

RETRO RELAPSE is a series of older articles from various places where I used to write before Talking Pulp.

*Written in 2010.

Texas Toast is the greatest version of toast that mankind has ever invented. It was created by invading swashbucklers in the Texas territory who only had giant loaves of bread, butter and garlic at their disposal. These swashbucklers spent a lot of time munching on Texas Toast while fighting off Aztecs, Predators and American lawmen. It was their only form of sustenance in that region at that time. After swashbucklers virtually became extinct due to the industrial revolution and chronic allergies to oil, the Texans took credit and named the swashbucklers’ unnamed delicacy, Texas Toast.

Texas Toast is what helped the minimal Texan forces fight off the Aztecs at the Alamo. In fact, Texas Toast is the real reason behind the Battle of the Alamo. It is also what gave Texans big hairy balls and the gumption to wear massive hats and wrestle horses. Without Texas Toast, Texas may have been more like Oklahoma. Nobody wants more Oklahoma. Texas also got it’s massive size from the sole power of Texas Toast forcing the lines on the map to expand from it’s awesome force. This power has also been known to expel demons and poltergeists from Texas. Texan priests often use it to fight evil and it is given as the flesh of Christ in Texas churches.

Now Texas Toast is not just a local Texan treat. It can be enjoyed by people all over the world. Pepperidge Farm even makes a version that anyone can buy in a store for a pretty cheap price. Although quite fantastic, the Pepperidge Farm version isn’t anywhere near the iconic level of true Texas Toast.

Now Texas Toast is often served with dinner or even lunch, most of the time in BBQ restaurants. That’s great and all but I think that it also goes great with breakfast. Texas Toast dipped in the embryonic fluid of chickens, commonly referred to as egg yolk, is delicious! It goes awesomely with corned beef hash or as the bottom layer of eggs benedict. I love it with country fried steak too. Can you even imagine French Toast made with Texas Toast?! It’s awesome for breakfast sandwiches or any sandwiches for that matter. I wish subs were made with sub roll shaped pieces of Texas Toast. I may have to invent that but I encourage anyone reading this to beat me to it, as I have horrible follow through with fantastic ideas and inventions. Just make me one and we’ll call it even.

I don’t think I really need to keep selling you on the greatest form of toast in the world. If you haven’t had it, you have wasted your entire life up until now. You owe it to yourself to express your freedom and your awesomeness with a piece or twelve of Texas Toast, daily!