Never Darken The Doors Of North Ferriby With Your Dour Puritanism Again

OK, what with my schedule being eaten by wolves, and my weekend consumed by the Wolverines (Mrs. Cutesome was a tad grumpy about the Buckeyes' triumph) I have become hideously behind with what I like to call my core mission statement bullet points:

1) Reviewing mid-level Park Slope eateries
2) Hating on Marty Markowitz

With respect to number 1) first, I'll note that Picasso Asian Fusion, Apropos Cafe, and some weird food-flogging pub called Alchemy, not to mention a gratingly cheerful-looking West Indian joint are truly in my sarcastic sniper scope.

With regard to the second, I'll just note that some Brooklyn businesses are resorting to some truly desperate tactics to keep Marty out of their press releases. Whole Foods, for instance, stressed to the press (in this instance the NY Observer) that their new store in Gowanus would carry Egg Creams and Gelato. At least I prefer this explanation. The reality, that the waving around of such lazy faux-nostalgic signifiers has become de rigeur for getting by in Brooklyn, is too depressing to contemplate.

Oy vey, I'll try to muster some enthusiasm for the posting after the holiday, and wish you and yours the best of the holiday. It would for instance, be truly churlish of me to mention that the flight of the Pilgrim Fathers emptied Lincolnshire of some of its worst sort of religious deviants. No, really, you're welcome, since we have found that emptying Europe of such wackos has at the same time rid the continent of creationism and wide-shouldered suits, and those are really the only yardsticks of human happiness you need.

I would also entertain you with tales of The Stuffing Wars, whereby I try and bring a little bit of Delia to Thanksgiving, and Mrs. Cutesome decides that our kitchen needs but one goddess. It's all about the bread, apparently.

But that would be wrong. What Mrs. Cutesome needs right now is Rate My Kitten, not some hideous screed that exposes my meager culinary education to the interwebs' scrutiny.

Here's something for later in the week. You might have heard of Brian Atene. He is famous for two things - being the most recent post at Miguel's place, and making an ass of himself in an audition tape sent to Stanley Kubrick 20 years ago. He's young, and seemingly arrogant, and no-one quite knew what became of him.

Well, he's back. He's in his 40s, and age has not mellowed him, it's only made him more bats. And he's got Youtube to play with, and what he suspects is a readymade audience. To be frank, the latest vid to surface lacks the pacing and coherence of the original. He also thinks that he can use the power of the internet and overacting to launch Christopher Reeve's charity into the stratosphere.

Better than jogging for money, I dare say.