I think there was more garlic than I thought in the dinner ...
Little Italian Man
The Holy Grail
Just remember that to raise the temperature, press the Temperature rising key, and to lower the temperature simply press the Minus tempe rature.
Airplane Safety
Scientific Journal Of Science
The October issue of The Scientific Journal Of Science has arrived!
A brand new article is posted below!
Scientific Journal Of Science
October 2015
Original Article
The Angry Sandwich Man
Me: I’ll have tuna, in a wrap, with lettuce, tomato, oil and vinegar, to go, with no chips or pretzels.
Angry sandwich man: Tuna in a wrap, that’s it?
Me: With lettuce, tomato, oil and vinegar, to go, with no chips or pretzels.
Angry sandwich man: (Adds lettuce and tomato) That’s all you want?
Me: Oil and vinegar, to go, with no chips or pretzels.
Angry sandwich man: (Adds oil and vinegar) Chips or pretzels?
Me: Neither. To go.
Angry sandwich man: You want this for here, right?
Me: Yes. Thank you.
Another Boring Saturday
Just a typical boring Saturday for me: cleaning the bathroom, a trip to the car wash, and, as usual, two women in evening gowns, standing on opposing ends of a bar counter, furiously playing Led Zeppelin’s Kashmir on hot pink electric violins. I’m thinking of hiring them to accompany me and herald my arrival every time I walk into a bar.
Sponsor
Todays entries are sponsored by this paving company. There is nothing funny about the services they provide. Nothing at all.
So please give them your patronage, and get ready for the most satisfying hot rubber crack filling that your driveway ramp is willing to endure.
The Palisades
On the west side of the lower Hudson River lies a line of steep cliffs called the Palisades. They form the scenic backdrop for every trip taken across the George Washington Bridge into New Jersey. I’ve thought about walking their trails for a long time. This Saturday I finally did. I hope you enjoy this photoessay of my walk through the Palisades Interstate Park.
This is a cup of iced coffee at the start of the trip. My instructions were simple: “Put whatever you want in it, as long as it looks like the clouds of Jupiter.”
The trail began in Fort Lee, New Jersey. There’s a lot of nature in Fort Lee, as you can see by the location of the trailblazes.
On the pedestrian overpass, toward the more scenic part of the trail.
The first full view of the George Washington Bridge.
Things got more rustic at this point. You better get used to pictures of leaves, ‘cause I got a whole boat-load of ‘em.
Not far from the start of the trail, we stopped at the home of Bilbo Baggins.
You want leaf pics? I got em right here.
And mushroom pics.
And a picture of this pole that someone named Nancy.
Here’s a gate. If anyone knows its name let me know.
What’s that, you say? More leaf pictures? All you had to do was ask.
The nicest part of the whole experience was how far removed we felt from the rest of civilization.
Did somebody say leaves? I got your leaf pics right here!
This was a broken window pane from a park bathroom. A bit of beauty in urban decay.*
This was a feminine hygiene dispenser in the same bathroom. It was last used by Martha Washington.*
A view of the bridge on the return trail.
Graffiti on a park bench.
The bridge near a pylon.
As we got ready to leave, we wished the bridge good luck on its upcoming audition for the role of Dinobot in the next Transformers movie. *
In case you missed them the first time around - leaves.
I hope you enjoyed the scenery.
*Photo courtesy of @pathologicalartist.
Keep Pressing
In case you’re wondering, I did not keep pressing. Taking this photograph was as close as I was willing to get to it.
Scientific Journal Of Science
September 2015
Original Article
A Lumbersexual Awakening.
A lumbersexual is a metrosexual who has adopted a rugged fashion style, with elements often borrowed from a lumberjack such as a well-groomed beard, flannel shirt and outdoor accessories. I didn’t coin this term, but I sure wish I did.
At first, when I told my friend at work I thought he was a lumbersexual, he was in denial. But he quickly came around. In fact, now he’s intensely proud of his lumbersexuality. In the days which followed his awakening, his girlfriend captured the essence of his being in a series of photographs, all of which I will now make fun of:
In this photo he reveals a stoic determination, despite his functional alcoholism. Alternatively, looks a lot like a liquor ad from the back of a SkyMall Magazine.
Remind me again why you need an axe? You live in northern New Jersey. Last I checked there were 43 trees left in the entire state. In all likelihood the background was photoshopped from a 1983 Sears studio portrait. By the way, do you even have a fireplace?
Oh, there he goes, brooding all over the place.
You know the trees are behind you, right?
A big thanks to my lumbersexual friend and his girlfriend, two great people who are very good sports.
I’ll see you at the next beard-sculpting, with a glass of bourbon in my hand.
Killer B’s
The other day, this was a lunch item in the cafeteria:
Naturally, I assumed that the caterers got a kickback every time they use a word that starts with B. This would most neatly explain the dessert item it was paired with:
I ordered it, of course. It sounded so tasty. Not bad, a little dry perhaps. But frankly, I didn’t understand the need for all that violence. Did you know you’re that not allowed to bring food into the trauma bay? Life’s little lessons.
B well.
Little Italian Man's
Guide to the Tomato Life
How to make good old-fashioned peanut paste with the consistency of ointment, just like great-great-great-great-great-great-grandma used to.
According to Wikipedia, Marcellus Gilmore Edson was the first to patent peanut butter, in 1884. His cooled product had “a consistency like that of butter, lard, or ointment" according to his patent application. He included the mixing of sugar into the paste so as to harden its consistency. He developed the idea of peanut paste as a nutritious staple for people who could hardly chew on solid food.
Are your mouths watering yet? Then let's begin.
Making homemade peanut-butter is extremely quick and simple. Below are the only four ingredients you'll need: a jar of dry roasted peanuts, peanut oil, salt and honey.
As in my previous entry, you’ll want to keep the number of a good cat psychologist handy after you start the food processor. Below, on the left, you can see the aftermath of one of my cats leaping off the chair at the start of the processing. This time around, though, not all my cats were affected equally. On the right is one of my less nervous cats, who was only mildly annoyed by the event.
After it’s done processing, it’s ready to eat. And remember, the longer you process it, the more pasty and smooth it will be on your toothless gums.
Now go and enjoy your delicious homemade peanut butter. I leave you with the inscription from the grave of the great George Washington Carver:
He could have added fortune to fame, but caring for neither, he found happiness and honor in being helpful to the world.
Scientific Journal Of Science
September 2015
Original Article
In this study the author overturns a decades-old idiom through the power of science.
Somebody Oughta Tell The Guy At This QuickCheck He Needs A More Clever Hiding Place For His Coke
For the record:
A) It was actually in front of a Panera’s but I thought QuickCheck sounded better.
B) I had a whole elaborate story set for this picture which had little or nothing to do with poorly hidden drugs, but at the end of the day I was tired, and coke won.
C) Yes, I know it doesn’t look exactly like coke, but hiding rock salt just wasn’t as funny. I could be wrong, though.
… all I knew was, the toilet paper roll was dead, and anyone could’ve done it.
The morning started off like so many others before it - the sun harassing me through dirty half-open venetian blinds, an empty bottle of cheap hooch on the nightstand; the kinda morning that makes you wish you could just skip to the next night.
I was just about to roll out of bed to face the day when I spotted it on the carpet in front of the doorway - cut up like the roof of your mouth after eating Captain Crunch cereal. I didn’t know how long it had been there. All I knew was, the toilet paper roll was dead and anyone could’ve done it:
Who did this? And why? Would they be back? Every question only made three more. It was time to start looking for clues.
A day’s worth of investigating led to an important break. Apparently, it started with a kidnapping:
After two more sleepless nights, I finally found the scene of the murder - in the hallway right around the corner. It was more grizzly than the steak sandwich I ordered at Appleby’s for dinner that night:
But I was still no closer to finding my killer, and I was getting desperate. I wanted answers and I wanted them now. I shook down the plant in the hallway, but the only dirt he spilled was potting soil:
Two days of grueling field-work, a few more empty bottles of booze, a mutilated roll of Sharman toilet paper and a traumatized houseplant. I had no killer and I had lost hope of ever finding him. It was enough to make a grown man cry.
Maybe I’m out of my mind, but sometimes I could swear he was watching me, waiting for me to make my next move. Like I said, maybe I’m out of mind.
But at the end of the day, at least I had my trustworthy cat by my side.
Updates
I’d like to take this opportunity to update you on a few of my favorite website entries over the past month:
From ‘One Man’s Junk Is Another Man’s Art’
Who can forget that charming owl sculpture which helped launch my website so many moons ago. You’ll be excited to learn that the artist’s friend, also in elementary school, was non too keen on being left out of the spotlight. Here is her original drawing, of either a person holding up two turkey legs over a little christmas tree, or the tanned, unshaven legs of an insane person, whose anus dangles precariously over a writhing, malformed artichoke. You decide which. I already have.
A revisit to the car wash has taught me that nothing lasts forever. The M&M machine is gone and in its place is this…ungodly creation. Note how some of the tongue orbs are nauseated by their own cheapness. Incidentally, I’ve never paid a dime to tug anyone’s tongue before, and I don’t intend to start now.
The real-life Gary Gobble is far less iconic than the one I made up.
It wasn’t a theme party.
If you liked Pooding, you’re really going to love Weeding. I know I do. Technically, one begets the other.
Yesterday the headless dinosaur cake escaped its confines and ran out of the house to freedom, leaving behind part of its fluorescent reptile skin in the process.
Scientific Journal Of Science
The September issue of The Scientific Journal Of Science has arrived!
Two new articles are already posted below!
Scientific Journal Of Science
September 2015
Original Article
Scientific Journal Of Science
September 2015
Original Article
I’m not discussing this anymore!
Gentle Encouragment
I would like to thank last month’s rotating students for leaving a bag of bagels for us on the last day of their rotation, as a token of appreciation. They were delicious. In the future, however, might I recommend using a different phrase to encourage us to help ourselves?
Dinosaur Cake
In honor of my recent birthday, one my relatives, who will remain nameless, baked me a cake. Recalling my love for dinosaurs as a child, she decided to bake it in the shape of a dinosaur. It was a truly delicious cake. Mind you, a better one than I could ever bake. The cake design was based on one available from bettycrocker.com, as seen in this image from their website:
I decided that the only humane thing to do was a quick euthanasia. But after I cut into it, a magical transformation happened:
I kept the head for myself, lovingly placed it in a jar of formaldehyde and mailed it to the Mutter Museum in Philadelphia.
Scientific Journal Of Science
August 2015
Original Article
This landmark study finally resolves the millennia-old philosophic, religious and scientific debate on whether or not God exists.
Pooding
It was a warm and relaxing Friday evening when, ice cream cone in hand, I left the safety of my favorite local ice cream shop, and glanced upon the display window of the adjacent delicatessen:
But after a moment, something else caught my eye:
Read on:
Scientific Journal of Science
August 2015
Original Article
This prospective study analyzes the effects of revealing the ending to movie-goers before the movie even begins. The results might surprise you.
Hobby Craft
| My Favorite Pastime | John Denver’s Favorite Pastime |
| 1. Easy to start. | 1. Requires extensive training. |
| 2. Each coin has been on a unique journey through time. | 2. Even with extensive training, some accidents are unavoidable. |
| 3. Collecting old coins is a unique way to learn history. | 3. If the engine stops you crash and die. |
| 4. You can often find interesting coins in general circulation. It’s as easy as looking through your pocket change. | 4. The plane is traveling so fast that when you crash your body will fragment into multiple pieces. |
| 5. Proof sets and commemorative coins make for great gifts for many occasions. | 5. Even if you survive the crash, you will wish you hadn’t. Your crippled and broken body will be bedridden and you will eventually die anyway. |
| 6. Coins come in all shapes and sizes. Some even have holes in the center! | 6. Has been associated with decapitation. |
| 7. Almost never associated with decapitation. | 7. If your head is removed, it may not be found. |
| 8. Coins made of rare metals often increase in value over time. | 8. His head! They couldn’t find his fucking head!! |
Scientific Journal Of Science
August 2015
Original Article
A Santa For Thanksgiving
It is with immense pride that I present to you the brand new, legendary, storied and soon-to-be iconic figure of Thanksgiving day: Gary Gobble.
Perhaps the best way to get to know the legend of Gary Gobble is by directly comparing him to the most well-known holiday figure of all, Santa Claus, the beloved patriarch of Christmas:
As Santa’s red sleigh approaches, sleigh bells jingle. When Gary Gobble’s dull grey 1990 Chrysler Imperial approaches your driveway, one hears and sees the exhaust belching through the large rust hole in its muffler.
Santa Claus is jolly, with a long silver beard and a big fat belly. Similarly, Gary Gobble is also unshaven and dangerously unfit, but…in a different sort of way.
Santa Claus lives at the north pole. Gary Gobble showers at the Y ever since the trailer infestation.
Santa Claus is benevolent and achieves his goals through positive reinforcement. Gary Gobble is vindictive and prefers correction through pain aversion.
Santa Claus slides down the chimney and asks if the children were naughty or nice. Gary Gobble pulls up to your curb at the end of your meal and raps his hairy knuckles on the front door.
Santa Claus bellows Ho-Ho-Ho in a jolly voice. Gary Gobble’s blank lifeless demeanor belies the true extent of his brokenness. A half-spent cigarette dangles from his ashen face, precluding a verbal greeting.
Santa Claus rewards the good children with presents which he scatters around the Christmas tree, then looks for cookies and milk. Gary Gobble pushes into the doorway and spot-checks all the dinner plates to ensure that no leftovers remain (Gary Gobble is angered by wasted food). If he discovers said uneaten food on anyone’s plate, he pulls a long string and the following noise is heard: GOBBLE, GOBBLE, GOBBLE, GOBBLE, GOBBLE!!!! This noise originates not from Gary Gobble but from a dangerously energetic, cross-eyed wild turkey affectionately named Goofy Pete, who’s just been sprung from a cage in the backseat of Gary Gobble’s car.
Sometimes Santa catches the spying eyes of an excited child, as he sips his glass of milk by the fireplace. The soft voices of carolers might be heard in the distance. Gary Gobble scans around the house with a mild prideful smirk, savoring the irony of the moment, as the wall-eyed turkey embarks on a violent, indiscriminate rampage, darting from room to room like a pinball rolled in crack,. From the cassette player in the Imperial, Led Zeppelin’s ‘Whole Lotta Love’ blares over the grumbling of the idling engine and the cries of the wounded dinner guests.
When Santa is finished with his milk and cookies, he calls to Rudolf and the other reindeer, hops back onto his sleigh and wishes all a Merry Christmas and a good night. After five minutes, just as a blood-spattered Goofy Pete is about to pluck the second eye out of grandpa’s head, Gary Gobble draws a shotgun and blows the turkey’s head off (Don’t worry, everyone, there plenty of extra Goofy Petes to fill his place back in Gobble-Land). Amidst the moans of the wounded, and the smoke rising from his shotgun, Gary Gobble flicks his cigarette onto the carpet, and with a look of stoic self-disgust, mumbles his classic catch-phrase, “That shit’ll kill ya”.
Here’s where you can help. I need to spread this concept to as many people as will listen. For that matter, feel free to create your own version of this Thanksgiving legend (hopefully more venerable and less disgusting than mine), send it to me and we’ll discuss. Whichever version we choose, I’d like to start a White-House petition to make Gary Gobble the national folkloric figure of Thanksgiving. Apparently, it takes 100,000 signatures for it to reach the president’s desk. Put another way, if this works, the President of the Untied States of America is required by law to review a petition to make a broken sociopath named Gary Gobble the national folk-hero of Thanksgiving. That my friends, is democracy. Now get moving, Thanksgiving is right around the corner.
Happy Thanksgiving to all, and to all a good gobble.
Hersheypark
Recently, while visiting Hersheypark, this happened:
At first I was quite taken aback by this conflicting message. But after reviewing my photos from earlier in the day, it became clear to me that I had missed some obvious warning signs:
Welcome
Welcome to my website, the Little Italian Man. As it takes root and grows, it will encompass an eclectic mixture of comedic forms ranging from dry and cynical to silly and sophomoric.
There are three experiences:
The first, my main blog, accesses random thoughts from my inner aspiring stand-up comic.
The second, The Scientific Journal of Science, transports the reader to an alternate universe of scientific research which is heavy on the bizarre and light on the facts.
The third, The Tomato Life, takes things down a notch with a gentle stroll through life’s simpler humors mostly as they relate to preparing fresh foods.
I hope this is as fun to read as it has been to write.
Feel free to follow me on my social media links above.
Last but not least, I am eternally thankful for the help of a few talented and inspiring individuals without which this website would not exist. They know who they are and how grateful I am.
