Who watches Big Brother?

Saturday morning cartoons were one of the many perks of growing up in the 90’s and 00’s. Who could forget Doug, Rugrats, Dinosaucers, Spiderman, and the Superman series? I don’t claim to be a comic book buff, but these cartoons really expanded my understanding of the comic book world. For instance, in the world of Superman, there is a character that goes by the name of Bizzaro. He is Superman’s counterpart, having similar abilities, but being opposite in most ways. Bizarro was the inverse of Superman. If you’re a Seinfeld fan, you may have heard Jerry make a reference once or twice.

Anyways, with the growing population of search engines to navigate the web, it seems like just about anything can be found online. Being inclined to put such an assumption to the test, I googled myself. Everyone’s probably done it sometime or another, right? The most popular results revealed that I share my name with one of the contestants of season 11 of the show “Big Brother”. Here’s where the Bizarro reference comes in. What follows is the write up from Kevin Campbell’s profile (that was really weird to type).

Biography: Kevin Campbell

Kevin's proudest accomplishment comes from one of the most trying times in his life, growing up a Jehovah's Witness. He was eventually excommunicated at age 21. Cut off from his family and friends, he didn’t let it destroy him. Instead, he found happiness and thrived. He currently works as a graphic designer.

People are sometimes thrown off by his exotic look and cannot determine what nationality he is. He affectionately calls himself "blackanese" as a tribute to his African-American and Japanese heritage. He describes himself as ghetto, fabulous and inappropriate, and warns his fellow Houseguests that, although he doesn't have a temper, he can get bitchy. He knows how to find the slightest flaw in a person and magnify it for all to see.

Kevin believes the most difficult part of the game will be its duration, but he’ll overcome it by setting mini goals and pacing himself. He’s also not too proud to throw a few battles if it means winning the war. After growing up in the closet, he knows he has the tools to deceive anyone who gets in his way.

Aside from the money, he has a bigger prize in mind: it's his hope that somewhere the parents with whom he lost touch can smile knowing what their now grown-up son has accomplished.

Love your enemies

It would appear that the man identified as the shooter in the Ft. Hood massacre is receiving more than just press. Reportedly, this came in the form of flowers from Dan Ross of Lehigh Acres, Florida. In efforts to love his enemies, the hexagenarian took the biblical teaching to previously unexplored, amorous heights by sending a dozen roses to the gunman.

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On top of revealing himself to be a shining beacon of Christianity as the reincarnate St. Peter, Ross made sure to translate his affection into a more comprehensible venue for the Muslim gunman by adding a verse from the Koran. Ross's unconventional actions have sparked the interest of the FBI, who will hopefully investigate the well-being of Ross's neighbors.

Note to all Hogganbecks and McCaslins

Here's an interesting point in case you ever want to or have thought about eating bear meat:

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Hibernating animals contain substances that prevent ice crystal formation in their cells during hibernation. The flesh of these animals can protect the larvae of certain parasites (the Trichinella sp.) within their cells from being killed by freezing. Considering this, it's probably best to thoroughly cook meat from wild animals to prevent possibility of trichinellaisis.

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Thanks Parasitology! I'm still eating raw oysters, however.

hiatus revealed

With the prospect of one month passing and no new posts being posted, I offer my sincerest and most belayed apologies. This has been a rough month in terms of schooling, being the recipient rather than employer of the more colloquialized term. In the meantime, please do take a look at the newest post on the Out of the Underground blog. The subject matter is about blogging and, if you are reading this post, should give you something to think about.

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New posts to come shortly

Tops Chefs

Honestly, who doesn't like rankings? Okay, you're right. If VH1 rock countdowns and the BCS polls have taught us anything, it's that whoever or whatever dictates the superiority and inferiority of the subject matter most definitely folds in comparison to our expert knowledge of the subject. However, if we have no basis for bias, polls can be quite fun.

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The prominence of cooking shows and chefs as red-carpet personalities has been growing rapidly in recent years. As a subscriber to the Hell's Kitchen page on Hulu, I testify to this. Here is a list assembled by the NY Times of the twenty biggest chef empires. See how many of them you recognize.

New Astro Boy movie encourages stereotype of the celibate scientist

(Disclaimer—Other than a brief trailer, my only knowledge of Astro Boy comes from Freakazoid references, so much of the content of this post could be completely erroneous, but we’ll still have fun with it.)

It’s not like a big brain doesn’t attract the ladies, right? Looking at some of the modern prominent scientific personas in entertainment would suggest otherwise. From time to time the Simpsons’ Prof. Frink has his moments, but for the most part, clichéd scientists with all that neurological ammo can’t catch a break.

Catching a glimpse of a teaser trailer for the new Astro Boy movie, I was left with the impression that the man who creates Astro Boy does so in order that he may have some object, some person, NAY, some Astro Boy! to be the recipient of his affection. I have no problem with the sincerity shared between the two (artificial intelligence is another post for another time), but it seems that the scientist creates Astro Boy in order to fulfill a role in his life normally held by a wife. Why couldn’t he have a wife? Have the toils and musings of experimental endeavors introverted him to the proverbial point of no return?

Sugar, spice, and everything nice. These were the ingredients chosen to create the perfect little girls, but Prof. Utonium accidentally added an extra ingredient. No, it wasn’t an X chromosome. Prof. U was one of the many victims of my childhood that suffered from the single scientist syndrome. It’s not like he didn’t enjoy raising three wonderful little crime fighters, but all those slumber parties and pre-school dramas surely put a dent into his research (we can only assume it deal with some obscure branch of genetics).

Batman, G.I. Joe, Spiderman, and Kim Possible, among others, have provided us with the picture of the villainous, mad scientist. He has become overtaken by the desire to see the realization of his research. Much like Saruman tells Gandalf in the LOTR, the ends justifies the means by any cost. This mad pursuit could possibly be avoided by substituting the potential that the scientist seeks with something to bring his focus and satisfaction into the present. Maybe a snuggie.

Whatever the case is, speculation could offer valuable insight and prompt a reevaluation of the true nature of the “mad” scientist. Perhaps “mad” is synonymous with “lacks outlet for sensual tension”.

Killer Tofu

From the surface markers that cover the outside of cell membranes to Brad Pitt’s high cheek bones, the human body is magnificent. Depending on the input, the output of the body, like a well oiled machine, can be predicted. Let’s get personal.

My high school years were filled with afterschool baseball practice, and college has seen the start of my culinary endeavors. Throughout these times, I’ve exercised and kept a close watch on my nutritional intake. "Okay, Wendy’s was last night’s dinner. Tonight should be a salad or pasta." Similar thoughts are what run through my head concerning food. No calorie counts.

Here's the tie-in:

Tonight, as I sat down to begin studying, my stomach began to grumble and quiver in an uncharacteristic fashion. Having made the study of life and the human body my preoccupation for the last 3 ½ years, I thought it best to figure out what was going on. I had just eaten, so it wasn’t in need of more food. The menu choice had been from a Japanese restaurant, but the entrée was American. It consisted of a salad, fried pork, shrimp, and, AHA!, miso soup. Miso soup generally consists of miso paste, kelp or seaweed, and tofu—the culprit.

Tofu! One of the many bizarre novelties from the Orient, tofu is a type of bean curd made from the coagulation of soy milk. Perhaps, our inordinate and unproved disliking of the whitish cube can be traced back to Louis Pasteur in instituting the Western norm of pasteurization, a drastic and unapologetic move to maintain the superiority of French haute cuisine. In researching the origins of tofu, I came upon some subjectively interesting information. Supposedly, the production of tofu coincided with the spread of Buddhism. The bean curd provided a high source of protein and fueled the Buddhist’s strictly vegetarian diet, as both Buddhism and tofu began to move West.

Pondering the delights of eating meat and the twist at the end of Fight Club, I was stricken as the pieces began to fall into place. It all made perfect sense. Tofu was the source of all of the major world problems. Tofu was provocateur behind the Crusades when the Muslim army intercepted a mysterious letter referring to a “Holy Grail” in Palestine. Only later was the true meaning of the text attributed to the writings of an early Mongolian barbecue-er writing of tofu to his Byzantine cousin. Tofu began the Bubonic plague as Europeans, not being able to stand the curd, threw it into the streets to be battled and emerge victorious against the rodent immune system. Tofu was inside the container Amelia Earhart mistakenly grabbed in haste, thinking it to be cottage cheese, as she set out to cross the Atlantic.

Tofu was the reason my local supermarket ceased to stock Baco-cubes (like bacon bits but juicier), and now tofu’s intolerance was trying to kill me, a white, protestant male. Alas, it’s too late, tofu! Having figured out the source of my malaise through (Adam West-ian) reason, I headed back to my apartment for a glass of Merlot and wedge of parmigiano-reggiano.