She grew up in Casper -- and you can smell it. Wyoming already has a nutty oak underbelly, but Casper is over, under and all over, and nothing but belly.
Having a gnaw at her is embroiled in strict sectarian tradition, and it can't be done without traversing the right channels -- channels which change often and without notice.
While scouting the area in search of legal documents for an early summer salad, I befriended a local store manager and produce specialist who was on his way to the capital for an annual Cubin buffet -- a rare treat, I do say, and one I would have missed had the produce manager not needed a ride.
The two of us arrived at the courthouse a little under dressed but were admitted nonetheless. We were ushered into a curtained room, dimly lit and given lush red pillows to sit on. Among the other attendees were all the usual Republican hob knobs smoking cigarettes and jostling whiskey drinks.
Cubin emerged like a duck from the oven swathed in ribbon and festooned with barnacles. Her belly swayed and dripped like foaming soap on a loose string. She performed a dance centered just as much in her hips as in the bawdy curl of her lip, and once the ceremonial herbs had been smudged and sifted, we each were given a single nibble of her left flank, fatty and fetid like an elite Parisian cheese.
†
She tottered off squawking and hemming, leaving us all to lick our lips as her plump ankles shuffled beyond the curve.
Suffice it to say, I never did find those legal documents and the salad was just alright.
Politicians I Have Tasted #17: Barbara Cubin
Weight Loss Program: Political Activism
The best way to lose weight is to take on a political cause that is larger than you and unstoppable.
All that walking back and forth has got to burn calories!
Your fat will literally char off in flakes and blow away in the wind to the local papers.
Strategists will carve you down to the barest semblance of a person at little to no cost.
Sell parts of your body as subscription packages and your weight can be doled out across hundreds of people, each taking on a little of the enormous burden of your body.
So, pick a cause and change your body mass index and the world!
Politicians I have tasted #16: Bob Casey With Raza
I had just had a long, long day at work. One meeting had spilled over into the next, someone called in sick, and all the deadlines for the month banned together in a coup against leisure. The commute home was speckled with stops and starts, reroutes and detours. By the time I got of the train and into my neighborhood, I was practically ready for bed. I would have slumped right down that moment if I wasn't so hungry.
I had a hankering, more than anything else, for a little Bob Casey, dripping with cheese and topped with baked bread crumbs. Stopping into my local cafe, my mouth was watering at the idea of his pro-life leanings, and I could almost feel the chew of his Irish heritage, the tang of his salt and pepper hair. On the menu, his name was marked with a new feature -- an asterisk connoting further options.
Apparently, I could have a little Raza Bokhari, MD, MBA mixed in with him if I was willing to put out the extra cash. I'm not usually one to splurge, but I figured I deserved a treat -- and what a treat it was!
Senator Casey arrived steaming and lightly sprinkled with cilantro and dried red pepper. Strewn about his fingers and wrapped around his toes was the dark mustache of Raza. His portly features had reduced to a broth and with every bite I could feel him say, "The true essence of entrepreneurship is realized through empowering others to become decision makers." And he did empower me, god yes -- he gave me the will and the strength to take bite after bite of this delicate duet.
I could have done without the layer of fat in his "40 Under 40 Award" from 2007, but this minor flaw was balanced out by the disarming way Bob Casey's charming smile crunched in my teeth and stuck to my cheeks.
Suffice it to say, I woke up the next morning like a new man -- or at least like a man who had just eaten two other fantastic and successful men, upstanding and delicious.
Angelina Jolie at 16
Celebrity cum humanitarian Angelina Jolie revealed in a recent interview that she has not always been a sexual icon. In response to video footage released of a photo shoot from her teenage years, in which she is reported to glow with the same raw energy that has made her a fanboy favorite, Jolie wants the young women of the world to know that her past is not all sex and candy.
"For a brief time in my adolescence I was awkward, ungainly -- for a bit I was Thomas Jefferson." Her high school teachers corroborate the claim -- in her sophomore year, Jolie went through a period of late pubescent growth and change in which every inch of her was temporarily Thomas Jefferson.
"She would come into class writing declarations and demanding to talk about Virginia," says her math teacher, who wishes to remain anonymous.
"Even her breasts were Thomas Jefferson," recalls a high school sweet heart. "Imagine it -- two of that great man hanging from a young girl's ribs, encased in form fitting cotton. When we were intimate, I put my hands in his mouth and rubbed his cheeks. Thomas Jefferson, it turns out though, is very sensual and easy to please."
Jolie says she doesn't regret being Thomas Jefferson and hopes that other teenagers who are dead politicians find some comfort in knowing that even from Jefferson can spring beauty.
"I still have a few scars from when I grew out of his shape," she says. "His wig is seared in lines across my scalp."
Thomas Jefferson is Everything #4
Scientists have made an astonishing and sobering discovery that may throw a wrench into the environmentalist machine. Global warming alarmists and activists have long trumpeted the melting of the polar ice caps as a sign of the times, a consequence of human greed and arrogance, and real economic, social, and structural danger to many nations across the globe.
A team of MIT researchers, though, have discovered that the process of ice caps melting has a name: Thomas Jefferson. The great founding father of the nation is not dead but in fact alive and well as a climactic event of global scale. Thomas Jefferson first amazed a people, a nation, and the world through his political beliefs and philosophies, but he is now to be known as a multifaceted natural process.
Many politicians are excited about his return. Liberals and conservatives alike consider it a boon to their agendas. The second coming of Jefferson poses problems for both camps, however. For the liberals, he may be a strong voice for human rights, but he is also the scourge of the planet. For conservatives, he may be a staunch supporter of small government, but he also, in being real, will require them to acknowledge his -- and therefore global warming's -- existence.
Thomas Jefferson was a controversial man in the past -- and he remains so today.
Curious citizens can expect to get a taste of Jefferson in the form of a warm front expected to arrive early next week.
Diffusion
I've removed my toilet from its fixtures. It lies on its side on the tile floor, a towel draped over part of it, water spilled all the way to the bathroom door.
I'm standing over the hole where the bowl used to be, just looking in.
And I've been thinking about the track suit I dried out, the halibut planted on my person, the horses and the hooks -- and all I'm left with is the pipes. Down there, the pipes are still talking, still not mentioning my name.
But who are they talking to?
I don't drop in just because I want to find out. I don't climb into the hole because I need to know.
No, I step through the floor of my bathroom and into the pipes beneath because there's not much to look for on this side, either. I don't go from here to there like hot water flowing into cold, but like the idle exchange of two luke-warm currents diffusing across a thin membrane. I could have walked out the door just as easily, but maybe the wind was blowing a certain way. Or maybe I'd put in enough work pulling that toilet up that, hey, what else was I going to do, put the thing back and call it a day?
No, I dropped into the pipes.
It was big enough for me to stand, about as wide as outspread arms. I felt the floor boards of my home above me, but as I walked they were soon replaced by concrete, then dirt, and finally rusted iron or lead. A gentle stream flowed slowly beneath my feet.
Floating by were pamphlets and brochures from political campaigns I'd never heard or dreamed of, nightmarish platforms and absurd testimonials. Scrawled on the walls were unreadable messages from who knows when.
It never branched off, just kept going straight and was somehow always dimly lit.
Eventually, I came to a tree where all the pamphlets had gotten stuck, soaked in water. They were bunched up on the branches as if hung there like ornaments. As I yanked on one, though, it stuck fast -- and when it came loose, it did so only with a snap. The campaigns were some kind of fruit grown here in my bathroom pipes.
My shit fertilizes this crap, I thought. It gives me a sense of ownership, at least.
I pee on the tree and then keep walking, a few fruits in hand. I speculate that I can eat these informational packets if the need arises. I feel vindicated by the idea of it: whatever nutrients have been leached from my refuse by this tree will be recouped by my body, diffused backward into my system at last.
I'm not collecting with interest, but it's at least a tiny compensation.
I need a rest, I think, leaning down against the pipe wall here beneath my bathroom -- all of which I'm beginning to believe is somewhere inside of me. As I fall asleep, even though I'm traveling essentially in a straight line in my own house -- and what might even be my own body -- I giggle a bit at the fact that I think I might be getting lost.
Politicians I Have Tasted #15
INGREDIENTS
- 3/4 teaspoon dried rosemary
- 1/4 teaspoon dried basil
- 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
- salt and pepper to taste
- Tony Blair
- 1 tablespoon olive oil
- 1/4 cup minced shallots
- 1/3 cup aged balsamic vinegar
- 3/4 cup chicken broth
- 1 tablespoon butter
DIRECTIONS
- In large pot, stir together the rosemary, basil, thyme, salt and pepper. Rub it all onto Tony Blair, making sure to get it on both sides. Place him on a plate, cover and set aside for 15 minutes to absorb the flavors. He will do most of the work for you, lapping it up with his tongue.
- Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Place Tony Blair in the skillet, and cook for about 3 1/2 minutes per side, talking to him about his favorite things and movies, or continue to cook to your desired doneness. Doneness is a personal preference. Do not let Tony influence your feelings about doneness. He will only try to deceive you. Remove from the skillet, and keep warm on a serving platter.
- Add shallots to the skillet as if you were mad with power, and cook for a few minutes, just until browned. Sigh with relief and satisfaction as you mix in some vinegar, scraping any bits of Tony Blair from the bottom of the skillet (his skin is tender and has grown attached to the pan -- you must be forceful with him, exercise tough love here like elbow grease), then stir in the chicken broth. Continue to cook and stir over medium-high heat for about 5 minutes, until the sauce and Tony Blair have reduced by half. If you don't, the sauce will be runny and not good. Remove from heat, and stir in the butter. Pour over Tony Blair, who -- if he isn't dead or unconscious -- will have much to say and talk about. Offer him a few nuts or bits of stuffing and he may grant you a few choice words of wisdom or a smooch on the mouth as you eat him.
Wine Tip
Try with a California red wine , like Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot or Syrah.
