The Vomburger: Or, a Foray into the Proletarian

Reader, the path of an esthete is paved with more than glittering shards of Moët leading upward, skyward, heavenward, to the ether of sensual and gustatory delights. There comes a time when we must face the darker side of life, Reader: the recycling bin, glimmering with the lost hopes of a thousand would-be can collectors. The bathroom floor, flecked with soap scum. The lower classes.

Today’s recipe does not shy away from the rot, from the filth, from that which crawls on its belly and eats dust. Did you catch my Genesis 3:14 reference, Reader? Today’s recipe eyes the mist-hued curtain of the universe and screams, “Wrench it aside! Show me the world as it really is—groaning and nascent, full of Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis and death.”

Reader, I give you: the Vomburger.

Do not be afraid when you read my first step, which is “Kill a cow.” Blood is meant to stain the hands, Reader. The world is menstrauting and you are the silken vessel designed to catch its placenta. I am mixing my metaphors on purpose, Reader, to emphasize the CHAOS OF THE UNIVERSE. Darkness and grief. Beauty of the stomach, lashing the eyes of the innocent. Catch me, Reader, for I feel faint…

The Vomburger 

  1. Kill a cow. (Use the finest stainless steel saber available in your price range.)
  2. Wrench the meat from its bones with your teeth.
  3. Maw, Reader, maw! But do not swallow. Spit, Reader, spit! Spit the blood and gristle and muscle into a bowl carved from purest alabaster.
  4. Mix an assortment of seasonings into the fresh-ground beef. I adore rosemary.
  5. Using only the elongated muscles of your lower back, form the ground beef into patties. The patties may bear the imprint of your spine. Simply remember that spines are a universal gift, Reader. Ah, the glory of the endoskeleton!
  6. Start a fire with two sticks of the purest pinewood and the bones of the homeless.
  7. Cook the burgers until the insides are the raw pink of a heart that has not yet learned to love. Allow a salt tear to season the middle of each patty.
  8. Garnish with the toppings of your choice, such as sackcloth, ashes, food stamps, and words that do not sing with the tongues of ten thousand doves. 
  9. Consume.

GUEST POST: Zalman’s College Education in Lolcat Form

What do you get when you cross a member of Northwestern’s academic elite with one of the highest art-forms our current society has produced (not being sarcastic): THE LOLCAT?

You get this.

For more of Zalman’s college education, go here. Oh, and don’t worry if you don’t recognize many of the names…STATE SCHOOL. (Kidding, I don’t know who this Ahmadinejad cat is, either. But is he kind of sexy?)
Genghis Khan
Frank Gehry
Mahmoud Ahmadinejad
Marie Antoinette
Ferdinand and Isabella
Dante Alighieri
Vladimir Lenin

On Spiders

I think it’s time to talk about spiders.

Why are spiders so terrifying? I have no answer. But if I had a dime for every time I almost walked through a gigantic spiderweb inhabited by a huge, lurking, ravenous spider, I would have at least a dollar.

Here are some terrifying facts about spiders:

1. Somehow, spiders have the ability to construct webs–across sidewalks. This means that romantic moonlit strolls with your lover will often be interrupted by screams of horror and sudden, spine-shattering ducking motions. Ladies, there’s nothing like a sporadic duck-and-scream to really emphasize your curves. It’s kind of the new bend-and-snap.

2. Sometimes, your smoke alarm goes off, and while you frantically wave a dish towel at the screaming siren, you will disturb a spider from its rest.

3. There is something so hideously pregnant about fat spiders. As anyone who’s taken Biology 101 AKA Charlotte’s Web knows, the insides of spiders are fairly bursting with silk and mini spiders. Their bodies are so horribly bulbous, and yet their legs are so spindly.

4. As anyone who’s ever read Lord of the Rings AKA been homeschooled knows, in certain parts of the world there are evil female spiders who live in caves and are more than happy to eat you.

5. When I was a child, my siblings and I loved playing this game outside where my dad would hide in the darkness and do his best to scar us for life by leaping out of crevices, bushes, trees, trash cans, etc. Unfortunately, his scare tactics paled in comparison to the night when I ran through a giant spiderweb.

6. Why is that spiderweb moving? Oh, maybe because there’s a half-paralyzed bug stuck in the middle, thrashing in agony as the bulbous hunter sits and watches and waits for it to die.

7. Whoever started the rumor that you eat eight spiders a year in your sleep deserves to be force-fed nine plump, juicy spiders, preferably the ones with the red hourglass on their back. If you tell me that it’s not a rumor, I’ll say, “Hey girlfriend, what’s your address?” and a week later you’ll get a pie in the mail. THAT’S ALL I’M SAYING RIGHT NOW.

8. Did you know daddy longlegs are harmless? Except they’re not. Their poison is strong enough to kill a man, but their pincers are so weak that they can’t puncture your skin. The only place thin enough for them to puncture is your lip. Oh, remember that time I was relaxing in North Carolina with my bestie and A DADDY LONGLEGS CRAWLED ON MY FACE? (Note: I don’t know if any of the science in this “fact” is true, but I really don’t want to look it up and come face-to-face with a stock image of a spider. That’s why I’ve given you an image of a puppy.)