the Ramones.

I love lamp?

I thought you loved Winger, Jack?

Hey, Winger rawks!

Jakester wrote:I thought you loved Winger, Jack?

I think you have me confused with Stewart.

Jack's Sorrow wrote:I love lamp?

?

Jack?

Escher.

Escher's overrated. Anyone can take a picture of themselves in a shiny, metal sphere.



*duck*

Priceless.

I'm serious.

Now, if he could draw something that, oh, I don't know, plays with perspective and optical illusions, then I'd be impressed.

But, only then.







Okay, I'll stop now.

The James Gang.

"I know where you're going!"

It's a shame Walsh has spent so much time wasting his talents in the Eagles.

I was once naïve enough to enjoy the Eagles.

Steak Tartare
Recipe Courtesy of Emeril Lagasse

2 anchovy fillets
2 cloves of crushed garlic, peeled
1 teaspoon capers
1 egg
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1/4 cup olive oil
1 pound freshly ground beef tenderloin
1/4 cup minced shallots
4 tablespoons chopped egg whites
4 tablespoons chopped egg yolks
4 tablespoons brunoise red onions
4 tablespoons finely chopped fresh parsley leaves
8 slices of white bread, crust removed, tossed in olive oil, seasoned with salt and pepper and toasted

In a small wooden mixing bowl, combine the anchovy, capers and garlic. Using the back of a fork, crush the two and form a paste. Add the egg and mustard. Whisk well. Season with salt, pepper and Worcestershire sauce. Whisk in the oil, to form an emulsion. In a cold mixing bowl, combine the tenderloin and shallots. Season with salt and pepper. Add the emulsion and mix well. Form the tartare into 4 ounce rounds, about 1-inch thick. Place in the center of four cold plates. Garnish each with traditional garnishes. Serve with toast points.

I'm waiting for the punchline to all this... is it that you love twins?

Remember that commerical? Anybody?

The Stone Roses.

And you damned well should!

(The Stone Roses, like Magazine before them and Radiohead after them, borrowed quite a bit from Can. Incidentally, I like all four bands quite a bit.)

The Emperor of Ice-Cream

Call the roller of big cigars,
The muscular one, and bid him whip
In kitchen cups concupiscent curds.
Let the wenches dawdle in such dress
As they are used to wear, and let the boys
Bring flowers in last month's newspapers.
Let be be finale of seem.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.

Take from the dresser of deal.
Lacking the three glass knobs, that sheet
On which she embroidered fantails once
And spread it so as to cover her face.
If her horny feet protrude, they come
To show how cold she is, and dumb.
Let the lamp affix its beam.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.

Wallace Stevens

Lourdes Garcia-Navarro



Smokin'.

The cooked shoulder flesh of the bull cow.

I'm partial to it muhself.

And I...

...love...



...TWINS!


(here's to love songs!)






...


What? Someone had to do it.

Nice.