Shaving Away with Time: Manorexia Attacks

Junk Thief is somewhat pleased to say that he is within an inch (we won't say which one) of the 1967 ideal male figure. Then look at the 2010 "manorexic" ideal. I'm sure some women will take some delight in seeing this as poetic justice.

Dimensions of Rootstein’s Male Mannequins:
THE CLASSIC: 1967, 42” chest, 33” waist
THE MUSCLEMAN: 1983, 41” chest, 31” waist
THE SWIMMER: 1994, 38” chest, 28” waist
THE ANDROGYNE (a.k.a. “Homme Nouveau”): 2010, 35” chest, 27” waist

The full article can be found here.

Between Heaven & Girth

I am about to head out from the reportedly fattest city in the U.S. without once enduring what is considered the official state meal of cornbread, sausage and gravy, chicken fried steak and pecan pie (gag!). Actually I'd say that less than 5% of the people I encountered on the trip fit that profile, which either says a lot of the voracity of such rankings or the circles I whirled around in for a few days.

Among the three to four books I've been reading this trip was Michael Pollan's latest, In Defense of Food. While the first half or more felt like a rehash of Omnivore's Dilemma, his treatise for breaking from the "western diet" at the end is fairly solid albeit a tad obvious and simplistic.

I'm not sure how he'd feel about the above mentioned official state meal. Like Bryce Digdug, Mr. Pollan is not very fond of corn. I guess neither of those two are Mayan. When Hello Kitty and I were kicking around Mel Gibson in the manger, we noticed a corncob lodged in a the most curious of places, but we refrained from sharing too many details. Pollan did not seem to be interested in weighing in (sorry about that one) on the Four Pork Products of the Apocalypse, but Mel was gnawing on pork rinds when we found him.

The Disney You Don't See

When I first launched JunkThief TV nine months ago, I promised that it would feature "the unseen America". While I have been able to slip in some elements of that, I've not been able to take it on as fully as I'd hoped, wanting eventually to show some of the darker sides of American life that get swept under the carpet. With the second anniversary of Katrina nearing -- the event that really ripped open the unseen America -- I wanted to plug another great website of "Gavin Elster"'s. I recently mentioned his massive Sequoia Sempervirens, but also wanted to note his Majestic Butterhorn, which gives you a view of Disneyland that doesn't make the postcards. It's hilarious, tragic and thought-provoking all at the same time. You'll definitely pass on that Ben & Jerry's Cookie Dough Ice cream after glancing at it.

I wrote a short story this week set in Missouri that featured a character that lived on Butterhorn Lane and was obsessed with cockfighting. Afterwards, I kept wondering how the term Butterhorn got lodged in my creative conscience. Then it hit me. Thanks, Gavin.