Tuesday, October 7, 2008


What can I say? But a captivating graphic
novel from "God of Manga" Osamu Tezuka.
(creator of Astro boy and the like) Starting off,
Tezuka's style is much more reminiscent of older
American counterparts, such as Tex Avery and the
Warner brother's lot. Not to diminish this, you can
clearly see where current anime takes it's
templates from the master, with the exaggerated
eyes, and breathtaking landscape and details. His
work though isn't so uniform, so to speak.
I really enjoyed his work on the Phoenix anthology series.

The character designs evoke more of a
Disney-ish feel, of clearly lined, very simple
makeup. I, myself, enjoy comics, or graphic
novels that have very simple cartoonish
characters, yet the story is the complete
opposite taking on serious themes.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not stuck in
that mindset, but, I do have an affinity
towards dueling opposites even in storytelling
in the visual medium. This is a prime example
of that type of drastic interplaying.

This story focuses primarily on two
protagonists as well as other major
players. It's not so much as there is
a main character so to speak,
even though, the book is clearly titled
BUDDHA, he's merely shown as a child
in vignettes that don't particularly play
a role in the main story. Yet, I leave that
mention with an asterisk, because while
the main narrative is playing out, his story is
directly affected by the plot.
Yet it doesn't work in vice versa.

Tatta above, Chapra below

Coming to the main protagonists of this
tale, there is the sweet natured, Chapra,
and the ne'erdowell street urchin Tatta.
Both are living extremely difficult lives, due
to the caste system which is highly pervasive
in the Indian culture. Suffice to say these two
lives intersect, then intertwine with
disastrous results. Not necessarally of their
own doing so to speak, but of the unfortunate
stigma attached to them for not being birthed
in the "right" bloodline.

Now I don't mean to belittle the importance
of other characters, such as Chapra's
mother, and the Brahmin priest Naradatta,
are integral to the plot. There are protagonist
and antagonists all over the place, without the
overall structure being muddled. A highly
skilled storyteller like Tezuka is able to craft
with seemingly ease. The overall structure of
the piece is highly political, spiritual, saddening,
yet peppered with humor to alleviate some of the shocking
moments which occur in the book.

It chronicles the rise of Chapra from skilled
marksman on the lowest rung of the caste
system to the adopted son of a warrior general.
As well as, the tough little scamp Tatta who
has godly magical powers, seeking vengeance
for various reasons. Both playing an integral
role, I believe, to a larger story. The idea of warring
nations and the public that suffers beneath them
is something we can all relate to. Since this Graphic
novel is the first in a series of books. I will say it is
defenitley worth it to take a look at this book, it
marries the ideals of Buddhism without feeling
preachy, I am not a practitioner of said religion,
But I like to see what else is going on in this world.
(though this probably is the least correct way to do it!)

Anyways, the book, though it's the beginning,
certainly has a thrilling ending that I was certainly
not prepared for, but has a seed planted for the future
editions. Plus Chip Kidd (my favorite cover artist)
designed all the book jackets. So just for wonderful
art alone take a look at this book.

Chip Kidd's spines for the book jackets

Available at all stores and the New York public library.


Monday, October 6, 2008

Almond chicken with honey lime disaster

So after weeks of putting it off, I decided to
go through with a recipe that caught my eye
a couple weeks ago. It's temptingly called
"Almond chicken with Honey lime sauce".
The recipe can be found at Cdkitchen.com
or RIGHT HERE. Well anyways, suffice to say
it came out a bit, er. bland. The fact that

2 whole boneless, skinless chicken breasts, halved
2 tablespoons flour
1 egg
2 teaspoons soy sauce
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
3/4 cup finely ground almonds
3/4 cup corn flake crumbs, crushed
1 tablespoon Vegetable oil
1/2 cup apple juice
1 lime, juiced
2 teaspoons cornstarch
1/4 cup honey

is all you really need to work with is, fine...
yet, i didn't have corn flakes.
(did you know, the creator of corn flakes
advocated women getting a heinous
procedure done to prevent them
from *ahem* having fun alone?

yeah. when you read up on that dude,
you won't want to support him, no wait,
he's probably dead, right? yeah.
I'm sure of it. Don't support his ghost
I assume.

(Protip: as a child, I was such a fatso,
that i didn't have frosted flakes, I'd have
corn flakes and dump copious amounts
of sugar on them. It tasted like hell.)

I also snorted a pile of salt after watching
"Scarface" on television.

Anyways, I didn't have any cornflakes,
so Guerilla-style, I used strawberry flavored
Special-K (not the cat tranquilizer drug)
and sifted out all the freeze dried disgusting berries.
anyways, grinded the almonds like so, and I got to
say once it came to the point of breading the chicken
with the mixture of almonds and fake cornflakes
The breasts looked quite enticing. (mind out of gutter, plz.)

Sadly though, the almond chicken went the way of
another experiment, which i forgot. Yet, my
experimentation with the Corn muffins went swimmingly.
It was bland tasting, even with the lovely almond coating.
there was nothing, I'm sure it was of my failure of some sort,
since it got 5 star reviews (thought the collected internet's
sense of taste is highly questionable, due to the existence of
furry pornography.)

Anyway give the recipe your own crack see how it comes out
for you, and if it's delicious. UP YOURS and dave me a slice.

also, next on the agenda is Onion soup with shiitake mushrooms,
and for my tongue to reach the zenith of pleasure

Saturday, October 4, 2008

The Fruity Wink

So, once again, braving the cavernous labyrinths of the
New York City subway system, I once again stumble
across the creepiness of people in general.
But that's towards the end of the story . . .
Alas there will be no moral with this tale,
only a fierce, finger-wagging warning to you youths
out there who aren't plagued by A.D.D.
(ironically, like yours truly.) to make it through
two paragraphs on this blog.

The day started as any other boring day at "the corporation",
yet I won't discuss what happens there, because as always,
it's moot. Not the boyishly clean cut 4chan founder mind you.
(evil things lurk there, stay away) Nothing of importance
occurs there, so let's just skip that black hole of an existence.
There is, funny enough, a coworker who I've learned called
me a "Douche bag" (with-a-capital-D) behind my back.
I was infuriated about this news (relayed to me by a friend)
Because, said offender has that look of, oh say, a rather
degenerate person who should be sitting across
from Chris Hansen, then fleeing and getting tased
by police. That's what that guy looks like.

This I can with confidence since
I've been compared to Brad Pitt...

no wait, Carlos Mencia. . .

Ah, and I've never forgiven the girl for saying it.

Anyway, I digress, see how
you've made me a chatty cathy?

So odd moment of the day today was making
my way to the mecca of pizzerias (and religious people,
I'm not equating a calling to a slice, so forgive me, I
can't find a better comparison)
(photo not by me)

14th street (between 1st and 2nd)

Ah yes, Artichokes. The greatest pizzeria in the city
(well to me at least.) the slices are hearty, and chock
full of mozzarella, and artichoke and whatever the
hell else is in pizza... ah yes dough. At four dollars
a slice, it's forgivable, because the slice is three times
the size of a normal NYC slice. (Which now cost upwards
to 2.75, due to I think milk taxes going up)

And also it's run by Italians? I mean what? Who's seen
that in a while? Putting my inherently unfunny racist
humor aside. The pizza is good. The Artichoke slice is
breathtakingly, mouthwateringly, great-adjectively
excellent. I mean yes. I've sworn off all other "regular"
pizza because of it. A whole pie is twenty six dollars,
and I assume it would be the size of an umbrella with
about 6 slices in it. Who knows though.
When I'm at the perfect anorexic weight, I'll find out.

So yes, this has become about pizza, and no.... there's
nothing odd about that. I'll do a whole blog about artichoke,
later, not today. Well anyways, So I make my way over there,
and of course a little line is set up (or the queue at the
Europeans say, like they say toilet or loo, awwwww!)
I'm like "No I want my pizza now!" in my head...
anyways, right before I make the end of the line.

I see this

or well it was a person dressed in this suit,
It was the little woman image from the
female bathroom. (Not that I go into women's bathrooms,
well only once, but a trick was played on me, and I'm not
getting into it.) I see this thing/person stand right
behind one of the patrons and I make a quick beeline to
just outside the line, because I didn't want to become part
of some performance art.

I've been dryhumped against my will before and
I didn't want to receive such attention, let alone,
in public, again! So i quickly scanned the area like
the periscope of a sub. Left and right, right and left.
I was seeing if someone was at least taking a photo for
some guerilla art piece. So no, all I saw were dirty
hippies and clean hippies (skinny jeans people) So this
made my realization much more frightening.
The thing stood there posing, for a second,
I just kept looking around. Finally the thing
sauntered off, and I stepped right behind the
guy the thing was accosting. He said nothing,
I said nothing. All was good, though a gentleman
behind me with a camera also waited in line
for pizza stood behind me. He had a camera and
I was tempted to tell him there was some sort of
creature lumbering around uptown waiting for
him to capture it in all its' glory.

Ah well.

Bought two slices, One for now and one to heat up over
the weekend. Unfortunately the first slice was tiny so I
ended up eating both like a grotesque beast... but by all gods it
was delicious.

So anyways, I recover from the explosion of taste
(and brain nerve killing from my Aspartame fueled Diet Pepsi)
and started down to the subways. The trains were all
in a tizzy due to construction. So i had to make a couple
of connections here and there. And I sat across from an alluring,
attractive girl who stared at me for a full second before
her boyfriend started making out with her. So i couldn't
tell if I was going to get a look
of disgust, disturbed, or that haunting wink.

Ah well.

So I'm wiping my glasses down (only for cosmetic purpose
mind you, I'm no nerd, just a dweeb) and I look over to my
left and see an older man, in what i can say is like a fishing
cap. Carrying a large pink duffel bag, it had some sort of
cartoons on it, but it didn't register,
because when my glance slowly slid over his face he looked
me straight in the eyes
and winked.

Like a come hither wink. This disturbed me to such lengths,
that i basically plastered my face to the opposing window...
I mentally began taking baths. Also he got off the same
stop as I, and I really tried to leave last off the train,
since he got off first. By some strange happenstance
he was behind me as the crows was headed down the
stairs at our stop, I noticed this and as smoothly as possible,
ran busting through the crowd. I feared my poor sweet
derriere was to be pinched. THAT SCOUNDREL!

I'm not homphobic, mind you, I fight for gay rights.
The more gay men, the more frustrated, beautiful women!

Anyways, the moral to the story is, ah yes, there was no moral.

Go eat some Artichoke, and tell them Alex sent you.
that will mean Jack squat.


What I listened to while writing this . . .


The album is amazing! I can't explain it...
it's just TOUGH!! (not tough to explain,
it's just TOUGH, son!)