Somewhere in the vaporous mists of my mind, I have an essay about how Bush's endless enthusiasm for his mess of an amnesty bill confirms Norman Podhoretz's theory that some time before the third week in January 2009, we'll drop something nice and juicy on our friends straddling Iraq and Afghanistan, demonstrating as it does his comprehensive disregard for considering, in the bowels of Christ, that he might be mistaken.
That essay will have to wait. Instead, I would like to propose a name for the sensation that we the Chosen have upon encountering another member of the Chosen, akin to "Gaydar," through which Friends of Dorothy apparently recognize furtive Idahoan senators without speaking a word (widening a stance?). Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you...
Oy veydar.
Use it well.
- Moishe Potemkin
For the past few weeks, I've had this idea of chopping a couple of onions, mincing a garlic clove, browning 'em up in some olive oil, browning (CJ prefers the more chromatically accurate term "whitening") a couple of pounds of ground turkey, stirring in a couple of cans of cranberry sauce (another ingredient in the Ortho-pantheon of non-food foods, alongside non-dairy creamer, onion soup mix, and hot dogs), percolating the glop for about half an hour to squeeze the salmonella out of it, and serving it on a crusty roll. (Okay, Seven schmile schmarket Italian bread, which, as Madame Potemkin pointed out, is, amazingly enough, less pricey than the prepackaged mass-marketed perfectly square pillow-filler located opposite the meat counter, despite having a passable crust and enough dough conditioner to coiff a horse.)
Sort of a Sloppy Joe, with turkey. Thus, the Sloppy Jerk was born. Or whelped. And it was far better than it looked. 'A course, sewage probably tastes better than this stuff looked. But it passed the "make it again on purpose" test, in a way that the cranberry meringue pie of years past did not.
(Disclaimer: The comment above should in no way be seen as suggesting blogging with any frequency whatsoever. The children remain safe.)
As you were.
- Moishe Potemkin