Batman hooks it right to his underwear for the mother of all wedgies. But his friend there is the real daredevil. He isn't even using a bungee cord, instead he just has Batman hold his nipples and goes for it. That's just awesome... and a tad creepy.
-UW
So, you want some bagels and you want to make them yourself? Well, here is your chance! I came down with a craving for some today and set out to make them. Usually I find some random recipe on the web. This time I took one and messed it up a bit making some rather tasty treats. Are you ready to make some? Here we go!
First get some stuff. Namely this stuff:
4 1/4 Cups of Flour
2 Tablespoons Yeast
3 Tablespoons Sugar
3/4 Tablespoon Salt
1 1/2 Cups Warm Water
Ok, so you have that stuff handy? No? Well go get it. I'll wait...
Ready... OK! Time to mix stuff!
First, mix all the dry stuff together. For those of you who are word challenged, that means mix together everything that isn't water. When you're done with that, it's time to bring out the big guns. And by that I mean the Kitchen Aid.
Don't have one? Then buy one. They are good at mixing stuff. For our exercise here you will need to use the Captain Hook attachment.
Captain Hook: Pirate and Mixer Visionary
The Kitchen Aid people made this wonderful attachment that takes the kneading part of making bagels out of your hands... and puts it in a machine. Just add the dry stuff to the bowl and turn the mixer on. Slowly add the warm water and watch as your powdery mess magically turns into dough. Let it run on low for about eight minutes. Then take a step back and admire your work. Yep, that's dough. Good job!
Next, we have to take the dough out. But before we do that, put some flour on a cutting board and on your (clean) hands. That way it doesn't stick to everything. Put the dough on the board and fold it a couple of times like a sheet fresh from the dryer.
Now tear off some chunks and make it into balls about 2 inches in diameter and space them out, about 2 inches apart on some wax paper. When all the dough balls are made, lay a light towel on them and leave them to rise for about twenty minutes. As they rise, fill a large sauté pan and set it to boil. Then preheat the oven to 375°F. Take a baking sheet and put some corn meal down so the bagels don't stick after they are cooked.
When your twenty minutes are up roll your balls into snakes and make them bite their tails.
If your dough looks like this, you're making them too thin.
Put your snakes into the boiling water, for approximately three minutes. Then flip them over and boil them for another three minutes. Place the boiled bagels on the baking sheet and then place them into the oven, for a whopping 30 minutes. While they are baking, do some dishes, I don't want to see the kitchen a mess when you are done.
Ding! Thirty minutes have passed and behold you have some yummy bagels. Enjoy!
Yeah, they are that good.
-Uncle Walter
Popeyes, masters of chicken for when you aren't in the mood for KFC, has decided to appease the little Jeffrey Dahmer in all of us. That's right, Popeyes new Rip'n Chick'n is a chicken breast, sliced partially through, and then fried. And it looks like a human hand. Now you can indulge your man-eating desires without the taboo of human flesh! Don't belive it is supposed to look like battered and fried human digits? Then why do you think they call the parts you rip off "fingers"?
The concept and execution are bad enough. But then they take this mangled hand-breast and serve it with fries (OK), biscuit (OK)... and ranch dressing... WTF??? Why does everything on the face of the earth have to come with ranch dressing? I mean, it looks like peppered "man-juice" and tastes like... Well, you don't want to know.
Seriously, I can go just about anywhere and they are like, "would you like ranch with that," and I'm like "Hell no, you bastard, don't deface my food with your speckled dressing!" Why would I want that??? Blue cheese, honey mustard, even ketchup, and I'm good. But ranch? That stuff is awful.
Now all I can think about is ranch. What was I talking about? Oh well. Never mind.
-UW
Move over Samantha, Wicked Witch of the West, and Hermione. Here's a witch with some real power. Today she showed up in the mail with a free sample for The Wife.
The Always witch appears magically, via the postman, to spread absorbent glee. Not sure what to make of her, but I am always wary of anyone that cheerful about feminine products, especially when brandishing a wand.
A wand whose power seems to be limited to levitating a "maxi" pad above white hats. I am unclear as to whether this power extends to other objects as well. Although I cannot imagine what other objects you would want to levitate a pad over.
-Uncle Walter
Last year I purchased a Task Force 5-Ton Electric Log Splitter from Lowes. It worked well and has been a mainstay of my firewood collection activities. Much to my surprise, a letter arrived this week from Sunrise Tools, the maker of my splitter. It informed me that two bystanders have been injured while it was in use. Sunrise, being the honorable company that they are, acted immediately to protect their customers. How will they protect us? With the distribution of stickers, of course.
Yes, three identical stickers must be placed within two inches of each other on the handle to protect those who are "special" enough not to realize that a log splitter has the ability to hurt someone.
Good thing Sunrise issued these. Otherwise my poor fingers would have been doomed to lacerations. Because I never would have thought a log splitter would have the ability to split something other than a log.
-Uncle Walter
Patient: "Hey Doc, my knee hurts."
Doc: "Hmm, perhaps hitting it with a hammer will help."
Patient: "Oh, Ok, wait, what????"
THOCK
Doc: "Yep, bad knee they shouldn't make that sound."
Patient: "You had to hit me with a hammer to tell that my knee is bad??? Wait, what sound should my knee make?"
Doc: "Well, I was expecting more of a BLAMMO, then you would have been fine but a THOCK means you have manic depression brought on by bad shoes. Take two Dr. Scholl's® Orthotics and a Prozac and call me in the morning."
Here we have another Uncle Walter walk into the past with "Sewing for Men and Boys," circa 1973 from Simplicity Pattern Co., New York. While I am sure this is an excellent guide, exploring the techniques of sewing and clothing fabrication, I feel that I must focus on the styles held within. They present us with the forefront of seventies clothing culture, which we will spend the next thirty years trying to forget. Collars that reach down to nipples, plaid in places plaid should never be, and the gratuitous bow tie. Here we have three models, Token Black, Wyatt Earp, and Token White. They will lead us through our journey (with a little help from their friends).
No yearbook of fashion would be complete without a class photo. Earp is sporting the "Tailored Traditionalist" look, otherwise known as the "Cheesy Banker." Next we have Ted Bundy in "Active Casual." I am assuming that his rust-colored suit jacket is "active" in the sense that it adequately hides blood stains. The book informs us that this outfit contains sins of the seventies such as corduroy, brushed denim, and suede -- which, when combined, create an outfit of pure evil, the likes of which the world had never seen before. Token Black chimes in with "Plaid Explosion." Worn over a tan vest, this outfit is nicely rounded off with the ever fashionable bow tie, an accessory that compliments any outfit, especially when over sized and yellow. Token White decided that formal wear was too... well... formal. He has opted for a tablecloth fashioned "Sound of Music" style into a suit with a massive lapel. What other treasures do they have in store for us? Let's turn the page and see...
Our next display is fairly neutral. Sure the lapels are large, but a basic red tie is always a winner. The super-sized collar on the shirt was standard for the era. No, nothing bad h... Oh. My. God. Would you look at those pants?! They look like those awful little tiles that used to be in bathrooms. And they are in some alien color pattern that no human would every willingly choose. Were the male models really so brainless that they would wear anything?
As I recall, the movie Zoolander mentioned something about them... "They're in peak physical condition. They can gain entry to the most secure places in the world. And most important of all, models don't think for themselves. They do as they're told." Must wear horrible pants.
...MUST KILL THE PRIME MINISTER OF MALAYSIA!!
Wait, where was I? Oh, yes. It's time for some garage work.
This concerned gentleman is clearly a garage owner, as you can see from his overalls. What is that you say? These aren't overalls? They are, instead, a synthetic suede suit? Well then. Maybe he thinks he is an airplane. With collars like this, with enough speed he could take off and that propeller neckerchief should keep him aloft. At least the striped shirt adds some flair to such a monochrome outfit. Turns it into an anaglyphic masterpiece.
Token Black has fallen victim to the vomitous "Plaid Beast." Very little has escaped its fearsome attack. The bow tie was all that protected him from being decapitated by the polyester shrapnel. After that near miss, he decided to play it safe, switching to a tamer red turtleneck with grey woolen pants. He kept the plaid jacket for camouflage. Should The Beast return to spread its multi-colored lines of doom, he'll appear to have already been marked. Unfortunately he still retains a single scar; but no one should wear a white belt. Ever. Especially after Labor Day.
Oh my, it looks as if the "Plaid Beast" has struck again. This time "Shaggy" has been caught in the criss-cross crossfire. Is no one safe??? Even saddle shoes cannot protect you!
Moving on to the Nambla sponsored section of our book: Nothing says "Hey there, I'm a pedophile. Let me put my arm around your velveteen-tunic wearing plaid-adorned boy" like a pink leisure suit. Modeled here for us by "Bundy" who was good enough to step outside his comfort zone to pose with a boy.
Just in time for summer, our star presenters return for the made-for-tv special "What happens on Fire Island Stays on Fire Island." Those are probably penises on Token Black's mini-kirtle. Phallic fashion has never been so hot!
While the boys are away, the women will play. The men may be "experimenting" in the surf, but don't think that the wives are left at home pining. Not when they have tennis instructors like this. Granted he kind of looks like he'd rather be on the Island, too, but one has to pay the bills somehow, mustn't one? He's explained away his leg-shaving tendencies, not by disclosing his Saturday night turn as "Priscilla, Queen of the Court," but as a necessity for the game -- wind resistance and all that. Women are pretty gullible sometimes.
Finishing up in winter, Earp and his rainbow scarfed tennis lady friend reclaims the child from Bundy. Sure, she's had some fun on the court and the kid's spent some time... with Bundy, but they always come back to Earp. No one can resist a 'stash of such power, majesty and magnitude, especially when mated with such an impressive butt-chin. In their quilted jackets, they are prepared to push forward. And perhaps, one day, escape to the eighties.
Now it's time to say goodbye to all the fashion pains we have witnessed today. Remember them. For those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it. Please, God, let's not repeat it!
-Uncle Walter
Because, as you are about to see, Danny is hooked. Uncle Walter Presents "Danny and the Pancakes"
As we can see, Danny is a fan of pancakes. Yet the tell tale signs of addiction are clear. The squinty eyes, the red cheeks, the fact he is holding an iron pan without noticing the burning in his hand. Yes, Danny loves pancakes and they love him right back.
Here we learn of the factors that led Danny down the road of pancake addiction: The Dealer, Mrs. "Mary Jane" Green; Mr. Green "The Boss;" the gateway foods such as cake and pie; the car that delivered his vice; and numbers, because drug addled brains think about numbers... a lot.
Our tale begins innocently enough, as Mrs. Green brings in a fresh batch of highly addictive "cakes." Dan (Danny) can't be late. The icy hooks of addiction are deep within him and withdrawal would surely kill him. He is at the mercy of Mrs. Green.
Danny revels in his addiction, shunning traditional "foods" in favor of his "cakes." "I could eat a hundred pancakes," Danny boasts. Even his dealer doubts he is foolish enough to consume such a high quantity. But Mr. Green senses Danny may be just junkie enough to pull it off and decides to let Danny craft his own. In the drug lab provided he consumes what he makes.
Danny leaps at the chance once the others wander off aimlessly on another pancake high.
The moment they are out of sight, Danny races to the lab and begins his plan to get so high he couldn't get any higher... off pancakes. 100 should do it, he thinks.
He quickly dons the outfit of a baker (slang for drug maker) and locates the secret formula for the "cakes."
Working carefully, in measured quantities, he mixes and stirs until his concoction is ready.
His carelessness begins to show as his cravings increase. The dog gets a taste of some of the special white powder and is instantly turned into a bloodthirsty addict.
Heating to the appropriate temperature, his mixture is turned into a highly addictive product.
Already the cravings are driving young Danny mad. He gives in and prepares to OD on 100 "cakes."
His poor dog, hooked on the stuff, begs. But Danny won't share. He is determined to down the entire batch. Yet as his craving is fulfilled he begins to panic.
He finds cannot finish the batch. If Mr. & Mrs. Green see the left over "product" they will surely beat (and possibly kill) him. He thinks of the dog, now addicted to the stuff, and tries to force him to eat it all.
The dog took a few, then the jitters of the high kicked in and he ran off, leaving Danny with a batch of 80 "cakes" remaining. There had to be something he could do.
Finally it hit him! He could sell the surplus and pocket the cash! But where would he find junkies? Simple: make them. He started handing out tastes for free... then the price got steep.
Dealer Dan, as he is now known, is wanted in 15 states for illegal possession of "cakes" with intent to distribute. Do not approach. If you spot him contact the authorities immediately.
-Uncle Walter
Professor Walter's old recipe blog came up with a neat treat the other day. Better Homes & Gardens Holiday Cook Book from 1959. This gem has some glorious things, like cocktail wieners with bacon wrapped olives and bowls of plastic fruit.
The front is only the beginning of the fun you could have at a party in 1959. Check out the back, paying special attention to the oh-so glamorous birthday party clown. No party is complete without one.
So, how can we have this special party for ourselves in 2011? Well first of all you need an anorexic wife with an enormous rear to decorate your overly crowded table with your equally thin daughter. Short haircuts are a must. Be certain to make the centerpiece a large hourglass.
So, now for the real meat of the challenge. To party like it's 1959, you have to plan for it. This handy guide will help you with hints like putting pillows on the floor for people to sit on, because after all, chairs are so informal.
Finally, for the party you must plan activities, lest your guests become bored and, god forbid, leave. For a proper holiday party it is best to bring a nurse, linebacker, policeman, mariachi lady, and skeevy guy recording everything for blackmail purposes later. Don't forget, buffet traffic must flow smoothly or chaos will reign supreme.
And on that buffet table, what should you serve? How about creepy Pinocchios with random foods shoved on their noses? Nothing says tasty like little wooden boy snot. Since this is a 1959 party, the tray below should serve ten people.
For the main dish we must go with an Italian classic: spaghetti with meatballs, with some little freaky guy watching you. He serves no other purpose than to watch you, much like a cannibal waiting for his dinner to be fattened. At night, I imagine this guy sneaks in and attacks the elderly to make more meatballs.
And that is how you party in 1959, any questions? Good. Now go celebrate!
-Uncle Walter
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