America and McBone Nation Have Spoken, Sorta

We at McBone like to think we have our finger directly on the pulse of the slice of American society that can be classified as 'flaming liberal,' and our most recent poll reveals just that. When we asked McBone Nation in a month long poll who it would be voting for last week, Barack Obama collected a whopping 26 out of 37 votes cast, good for 70 percent. With John McCain garnering a miserable 7 votes, he actually finished much closer to third-place finisher, Constitution Party candidate, Chuck Baldwin (2 votes).

Knowing Obama is an avid reader (I'm a McBoner, he recently confessed) who often plumbs the McBone archive for wisdom and guidance, McBone would like to send a warm and hearty McBoneulations to the president elect, along with a mandate.

America sent a clear message on November 4th, one that says we've moved beyond our bigoted past and are ready to embrace a more compassionate, inclusive culture. That is, until Californians rained on the parade by approving the decidedly not compassionate Proposition 8, defining marriage as being between one man and one woman. McBone firmly believes that the will of the people should be reflected in the law, EXCEPT in the case of civil rights issues. On May 15th of this year, the California Supreme Court did what was right by stating that a ban on same sex marriage is unconstitutional. Last week 52% of the Californian citizenry announced that it didn't care about equal rights. Never mind that marriage is a legal union between two people and that separation of church and state is one of our country's founding principles. No, instead 5,668,960 Californians decided that a certain small segment of the populace should have fewer rights than the majority. McBone says: that's fucked up, California.*

Like anyone with a pulse, heart, sense of history or the smallest drop of humanity in their veins, I got a little emotional when I watched Obama take the stage with his family on the night of November 4th. I was proud that an inspiring young black man beat a cranky old white man like a drum. I was relieved that 8 years of horror were finally, finally coming to an end. I was hopeful that we had chosen someone wise and dynamic enough to end the war in Iraq, to right our sinking economy, to make a real commitment to the environment and to ensure affordable health care for everyone. More than anything, though, I marveled that in half a century we'd gone from separate drinking fountains to electing a black president.

Inspiring? Oh yeah. But a message of Change, unless acted upon, is, after all, only a slogan. President Obama, denying gay marriage is neither American nor constitutional (nor, if you ask me, is it particularly Christlike). You owe it to all those who paved your road to the White House to side with equality in the civil rights issue of our time. No more bans on gay marriage. No more bigotry written into law. No more backwards bible thumpers deciding what two people in love can and cannot do.

nwb

*Don't even get me started on Ohio, who chose to ban gay marriage and re-elect Bush on the same goddam day.

I said that our country would never elect a black man. Fuck me.




nwb

Poet/Recluse M. Patrick Foliglio Sighted at Obama Rally

In a rare sighting outside of his heavily fortified compound in western Ohio, famous poet/recluse M. Patrick Foliglio was recently spotted at Bowling Green State University attending a rally for presidential candidate Barack Obama. The poet, standing just to the rear of vice presidential nominee Joe Biden's right shoulder, can be seen in this short clip laughing maniacally and parading a poster that reads, 'Chan.' What or who Chan is remains a mystery. To his immediate left is Heather, one of Foliglio's seven wives. None of his 29 children appear to be present.

His appearance at a Democratic rally places in doubt Foliglio's purported affiliation with certain other, more extreme political activist groups. The author of more than 18 poems, including Fart, Fart, Fart and Ho Ho Moe (translated into more than 200 languages) had last been seen at a small religious gathering in Toledo, Ohio.

McBone, which has obtained the rights to all of Foliglio's collected works, here presents a lesser known piece in the author's canon, Box:

see those kids in a box
they look like Robots but
their not cause they
are just in a box.


nwb

Candy Corn

Obviously we at McBone spend a disproportionate amount of time railing against the evils of mayonnaise, and rightly so. Perhaps though in our rather single-minded quest we lose sight of the fact that mayonnaise is just one of the "foods" that have found their way onto our boycotted substances list.

With Halloween drawing near and Thanksgiving on the horizon, this seems an opportune time to discuss candy corn. Fortunately for research purposes, my wife annually buys a bag of candy corn, which invariably ends up in a cupboard mostly uneaten and utterly forgotten until about July, when we throw the bag away. This year she has procured a bag of Brach's, which proudly calls itself 'America's #1 Candy Corn.' Also conspicuous is a purple label featuring a beehive and a buzzing bee surrounded by the words: 'Made with Real Honey.' Real honey? That's not a bad place to start, and so perhaps it behooves us to examine the ingredients a bit closer. They read: sugar, corn syrup, salt, honey, gelatin, confectioner's glaze, dextrose, artificial flavor, titanium dioxide color, yellow 6, yellow 5, red 3, blue 1. Personally, I try never to leave titanium dioxide color out of a recipe.

OK, truth be told, I've seen longer and more horrifying lists of ingredients. This candy corn will never be mistaken for something all-natural, but mostly we're talking about loads of sweeteners. Oh, and let's not forget about the honey, which thus far is the only draw I can think of. Because, let's face it, what is the lure of something called 'candy corn?' Corn that's been candied? Yuck! And just look at the stuff. Does candy corn really look like anything to eat? It's tri-colored, yes, but how appetizing is white, orange and yellow? The colors are evocative of fall, I suppose, and pumpkins and, yes, corn, but more than anything, when I see a piece of candy corn, I think of the awful cupcakes that moms made for the Halloween party every year at King Elementary. Orange frosted cupcakes that invariably had a single candy corn rising from the center, like a candle. By the time it made it to us kids, the candy corn had leached some of its color into the cupcake, and really even thinking about it is causing my teeth to decay.

And speaking of candles, candy corn is also cone shaped and waxy to the touch, not unlike a miniature candle. While most candy corns contain carnauba wax, Brach's achieves waxiness without the need for the carnauba palm derivitive. Of course wax and candles, even tri-colored ones, don't exactly make my stomach growl. But I enjoy many foods that may not look too appealing, so I'll move to the next phase.

I stick my nose in the bag, half-expecting to be enticed by the smell of honey. Instead, an artificial, sort of sickening, prefabricated sweetness parks itself in my nasal cavity. I gag but am undaunted. I pour a small amount onto the table and hear the little corns click-clacking like a pile of Legos. Again I inhale. Lurking beneath all that sugar is something plastic, as if the candy has absorbed the scent of its packaging and the machines that made it. This stuff is so manufactured that any semblance to real food has been processed into oblivion. I recognize other unfoodlike aromas too. Silly putty. Polyurethane. Legos.

The last thing I want is to put one of these things in my mouth, but as a service to you, dear McBoners, I will. At first I taste nothing. The sensation truly is like having something plastic in my mouth. Then, I chew. As my teeth and saliva work hard, too hard, to break down the sugars, an unmistakable candy-corn flavor is released. My first reaction is: where's the honey? And if there is any real honey, I wonder why they bother, because I sure don't taste it. Corn syrup, among the cheapest of all sweeteners, is closer to the mark, and why not? It is candy corn, after all. During this assault on my erstwhile cavity-free molars, I find little to recommend it. To be fair, though, I will attempt to discern with some attention to detail a few of candy corn's characteristics. Plastic is certainly the predominant flavor. Also present are staleness (18-24 months), wax, artificiality, and processed (is 'processed' a flavor?). What about the texture? Again, plastic and wax, these followed by grit--grittiness being one of the truly unpleasant mouthfeels I can think of. Against every impulse, every survival instinct, I swallow. Let my stomach acid try and deal with this stuff now.

After a mere three pieces I feel a strong urge to brush my teeth for an hour. The ordeal should be over, but lingering on my tongue is something truly unnatural, almost unholy--kind of like the aftertaste of a diet cola. My mouth is not happy, and may not be for weeks; it demands fluoride and floss.

In conclusion, I want to make one thing clear: candy corn is not mayonnaise. While undeniably and almost ineffably awful, candy corn has few of the truly menacing qualities that have made mayonnaise McBone enemy #1. Still, McBone strongly urges you to avoid candy corn this holiday season, whether Brach's or any other brand of this sham of a candy. If you're desperate for something sweet, I think you'll find a spoonful of actual honey much more satisfactory.

nwb

McBone Chooses the Black Guy!

Today Alex and I voted at our local polling place (Kroger) and, after absolutely no deliberating whatsoever, chose the black guy. Now, we may not be the most informed voters in the world, but neither are we ignorant fools. We don't vote for a candidate based on one issue, and we like to think ourselves above voting for skin color. But let's face it: Obama's candidacy is important because of his skin color, and his victory will be important because of his skin color. Why? Because the fact that an African-American candidate for president can be leading in the polls so late in the game tells us that we have come so very far since these degenerates held political sway:


Obama's rise is important because it means these guys didn't die for nothing:


Obama's imminent victory is important because it means there is hope for this couple, and maybe not just in Massachusetts, California and Connecticut:


And it's important because civil rights are about gender too. Let us not forget that black men had the right to vote in this country before white women did, and let's never forget that this year's Democratic primary was truly unprecedented, boiling down to Obama versus:


In terms of politics, I'm ambivalent about Barack Obama. I believe what the world needs more than anything is for the United States to take a hard tack to the left. I also understand the need for moderation and mass appeal during election season. I hope he's a little more liberal than advertised, but I'm not getting my hopes up.

In one respect Obama is fortunate; his presidency abuts directly that of George W. Bush. Whoever is elected is bound to look pretty good next to eight years of unmitigated failure. Ultimately, though, the shortcomings of one administration cannot be a measuring stick for future ones. History will decide. Obama's presidency will be judged by how much he did to combat global warming and poverty, on how well he repaired the situation in the Middle East, on whether health care became accessible to everyone, and on how he handled an economy that is hanging on by a thread. Times are tough. People compare Obama to Kennedy. I want FDR.

Yes, policy is paramount, and I can't imagine myself voting Republican, no matter if the candidate is black, brown, yellow, red, white, or green with antennae and tentacles. I'm just saying: Obama's racial makeup is important. In light of that fact, we must remember that we cannot accurately call Barack Obama black. His mother, after all, is white. Obama is something of a hybrid, and for that reason he may just be the symbol of our time. Will Obama be one of those rare galvanizing symbols that are common in fiction but sorely lacking in reality? Hard to say, especially in an age when reality has become so sensationalized. I'm hoping that the word he has uttered over and over again from the start, the word he has made the centerpiece of his campaign, is not as empty as most campaign slogans (anyone remember "compassionate conservative?"). Change is needed. Barack knows it. Can he deliver it? In a way he already has. I just hope he doesn't lose because of his skin color.

nwb

PS: Is this post a little corny? I hope not.

Pictured above: Alex votes for president for the first time ever.

The Carter-Cash/ Alex Photo Gallery

Being the preeminent Venezuelan-born scholar on the Carter-Cash family, my darling wife, Alex, has had ample opportunity to brush elbows with members of the legendary musical family. McBone invites you take a few moments to browse the Carter-Cash/Alex photo gallery.

Here's Joanne Cash, Johnny Cash's sister. We met her in Akron, Ohio, not far from McBone HQ. She gave a great concert, which was followed by a sermon by her husband. As I recall, he denounced evolution, but we won't hold that against him.












Joanne Cash and Alex, Dec. 2007


This next photo is of Alex and Carlene Carter, June Carter's oldest daughter from her first marriage to Carl Smith. We met Carlene last night at a concert at the Little Nashville Opry in Nashville, Indiana. Carlene gave a great concert which was not followed by a sermon, which was Ok by me.












Carlene Carter and Alex, Oct. 2008


Finally we have Alex and Unit One, Johnny and June's tour bus. Here Alex is basking in the warm glow that June left behind in her personal quarters. While Unit One may not in fact be a living breathing member of the Carter-Cash family, it's pretty close. Incidentally, we stumbled upon Unit One outside the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame earlier this year in the month of June.












Unit One and Alex, June 2008

nwb

The McBone Beer Journal: Harp

Sometimes in life you have to read the fine print. Harp Lager, the label boasts, comes "from the brewers of Guinness." Maybe so, but the bottle in my hand did not come from the St. James Gate Brewery in Dublin, nor even the Great Northern Brewery, Dundalk, where Harp was born. Nay, this lager was not crafted in Ireland, as illumined by the inconspicuous lettering on the side of the bottle: "Brewed and bottled by Guinness Brewing Company, Saint John, New Brunswick, Canada. Product of Canada." Also, both Guinness and Harp are controlled by the parent company Diageo, a multinational firm that owned at one time--God help us--Burger King.

Should this bother me? I don't know. Is drinking a Harp the equivalent of scarfing a Whopper? I have an increasing love for local beers crafted in small batches. On the other hand, Guinness is a world-class stout with a worldwide demand. That demand is met by building breweries overseas. I would rather have Canadian-made, Diageo-owned Guinness than no Guinness at all and really I don't think I would even be having these issues if Harp weren't such a humdrum beer.

The problems begin almost right away. Nothing wrong with the bottle, of course, and the label is elegant and pleasing to the eye. Not so pleasing is the pale color of the lager itself, reminiscent of a certain American counterpart that begins with the letter "B." The pour produces a thin head and there is no nose to speak of, and from first sip to last this beer is stubbornly bland. What flavors are to be found, and boy was I searching, are so inconspicuous as to be irrelevant. Maybe a malty tone here, a half of a hop there. Bitter? Only very, very slightly.

It's not that Harp doesn't know what it wants to do, it's that it doesn't seem to want to do anything. Really though I'm sloshing the stuff around my mouth and mostly detecting certain tell-tale unpleasantries: that sort of imported macro-brew staleness that indicates maybe the bottle has been sitting around too long, has maybe traveled too far, perhaps underwent a temperature change or two and basically was made and handled without any love whatsoever. While there is slightly more flavor to be found here than in a typical American lager, the whole experience really smacks of the lamer "imports" of the world, like Heineken. One could argue that Harp is great with Guinness in a black and tan, but I say: codswallop! Don't ruin a good stout with a weak lager. Use Bass Ale instead.

Look, Harp is a somewhat serviceable beer and not too expensive. But really, why bother? The promise of the Guinness name is made early, and quickly proves hollow.

McBone Rating: 1.5 McBones.

nwb

Forty Ounces of Lard!

$4.54 won't get you much in today's economy. Fortunately, we can always count on the low, low cost of rendered pig fat. Slap down five dollars at Kroger and you can walk away with a 40 ounce tub of lard and some change. Oh, the fun I am going to have with my very own bucket. Won't you join me?



Ah, lard. Lard has so many, many uses. Baking. Frying. Manufacturing soap. Me, I like to find a nice comfy spot on the sofa, pop in a movie and go to work with a spoon. I'm not above using my finger to find those last little gobs at the bottom. I also like to sneak up on old ladies in the park in the afternoon and smear lard on their faces. My wife absolutely hates it when I do that, and she would certainly prefer that I got a job, but I just ignore her threats to divorce me and go to bed each night clutching tight my favorite 40 ounce tub of goodness.

nwb