Do You Feel Lucky?

(and feel free to comment! My older posts are certainly no less relevant to the burning concerns of the day.)

Friday, August 31, 2007

Rock Of Love: Bret Against Mediocrisy

Ok. I'm not watching this, but from the other room I just heard Bret Michaels tell Laci - TWICE - that he's not interested in "mediocrisy."

"Being a creative artist, I despise mediocrisy."

Once again, I find myself in agreement with Bret Michaels. Well, maybe "despise" is a tad strong.

My Labels

I always keep 'em sorted alphabetically, but it's kind of interesting to see the distribution when you sort them the other way:

31 instances: fiction
27: blogging
20: work
17: love
16: rock, thoughts
14: songs
13: controversy, critiques
12: artistic integrity, food, language
11: God, media, sex
10: holidays, movies
9: nostalgia, violence
8: afterlife, me, poetry, proposals, science, truth
7: fight, loss, safety, wrongness
6: cars, concerts, death, humor, medicine, propaganda, sayings, the law, traffic
5: NFL, activism, apology, huh, profanity, recipes, sexuality, sports, tips
4: Catholicism, Satan, bicycling, common courtesy, existentialism, global warming, hate, hegemony, history, lunch, paranoia, philosophy, prayer, youth
3: Christmas, Coke, McDonalds, New Jersey, OKGO, Silversun Pickups, Snow Patrol, Valentine, alcohol, beauty, computers, contests, ecology, espionage, funerals, illness, interview, nudity, originality, patriotism, politics, previews, race, rapping, restaurants, secrets, spam, war

Kind of surprising to see nostalgia tied with violence way up at #9! And why so many posts about blogging? That must have been my whole "New Direction" phase. Ah well. If it'd panned out, it could have worked. I suspect that the high number of work posts stems from that same phase. It won't last. love will o'ertake it in the standings, as befits the truth of who I really am.

The labels with 2 posts or 1 post to their name are too many to list, but there are some surprising ones in there that I'd have thought would have ranked higher. My Toyota Tercel for instance. I'm sure I've mentioned that bad boy more than twice. That's my sweet ride! Or Christianity. Two posts. Catholicism gets four and Christianity gets only two? People could be getting the wrong idea about me.

Writing only gets two? Coca-Cola gets one?! I know that can't be right. It's the pause that refreshes, for gosh sakes.

Some of these, it's just a case of missing a trick or two labelling the post's content accurately. Because, I know that there's more posts about Coke than that. Wait a minute..."Coke"! Ah yes. There are more posts, but they're labelled Coke instead of Coca-Cola! Well, I'll need to fix that, and a couple other instances where the label's true value is under-represented. But there are also a number of 1's on topics of great importance and strong personal interest to me. I'm going to have to make an effort to single out some of these topics and write some more in-depth posts, giving the subject the treatment it deserves. For heavens sake, there's only one post on relationships and one on marriage, yet a combined 16 posts on sex and sexuality!

Again, people might get the wrong idea.

Oh great. Now this has to go down as another post about blogging.

You Know, When People Say "That's a Turn-On"?

That's a turn-off.

I almost died, like, twice!

But you know what, it all worked out in the end. I'll have to write a review of the shows.

Right now, though, I'm at the end of a 12-day week, looking at a 3-day weekend. Now that's pretty nice.

Good thing I didn't die.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Carousel Music

There are times in my life I count myself lucky. And I am lucky. I should be very grateful for the life I have. Most people consider me a nice person, a together guy, someone cheerful, someone fun to be around. And I should be thankful for that. I am thankful.

But I'm left with these nagging doubts. I wonder if I'll ever love anyone again, the way I love those last six ex-girlfriends. Why I broke up with some of those, I have no idea. Beautiful, beautiful people. None of them deserved that. None of them deserved to end up with me. With me crying, with her crying. And there were so many cool things, there should be so many great memories! And there are; there are some great memories...but the great memories aren't the ones that come. The ones that come are the ones that blindside me out of nowhere. That still cause me to flinch, involuntarily. Why did I treat her that way? Why her? No, not her. The other one. Her. Yeah: why? I have no idea.

She didn't deserve it.

I think at the time, the overwhelming sense came over me that I was no good for her, that I was doing her a disservice in some way, with my very self. I was doing her a general disservice just by being there. Taking up her life.

Pretty cowardly stuff. Pretty sad excuse. And was true, wasn't it? I did end up no good for her. And she's happier now. She is. She really is! That should console, shouldn't it? Some things turn out for the good in this world! So I was right, wasn't I? I did the right thing by her! She's happy. She would not have been. Not with me.

The way I said that above: "I wonder if I'll ever love anyone again the way I...?" The way I said that, it makes it sound like I don't love my sweetie who I am with now, whom I love. The way I said it makes it sound like I don't love her, or I love her in some other way, I love her in some way less. That isn't true. I love her. I love her that same way. Is there more than one way to be in love with someone?

I say that when you really love someone, their happiness is more important to you than your own. I believe that! No. It isn't a matter of belief: it's simply true. When I love someone, her happiness is more important to me than my own.

But I have nagging doubts. Sometimes I wonder if I love the wrong way.

How do you love?

Monday, August 27, 2007

I Am Indisposed.

Whatever happened to telling people that you're "indisposed"? Seems like people used to pull that one all the time, and it always worked. You could get out of anything with that! A person would come to the door, the other person opens the door - "Can I see Karen, please?" "Sorry, she's indisposed." "Okay, I'll call again another time."

No questions asked!

That's going to be my new favorite excuse. Somebody at the door selling magazines? I can't see you right now. I'm indisposed. Or an annoying phone call from a bill collector. "Is this Joe Viaiai?" Yes, it is, but I'm sorry I can't talk to you right now.

I'm indisposed.

Sunday, August 26, 2007

I Lost a Very Creative Day

I lost a very creative day, yesterday. I could have easily written three songs. I even know which three songs I could have easily written, and they would have been awesome! And now? Now, who knows when I will be able to recapture that vibe. I could force it, I guess. But if I force it, will not the end result suffer? Suffice it to say that maybe it would. Hard to tell. I mean, I do a good job regardless. But creativity is one of those ephermal forces...timing is so important. It comes and goes, and shapes one's muse in mysterious ways. Who can say what its capriciousness ultimately betokens, in terms of whether a song written one day might shine versus when written another day, it might turn out more poorly? I like to strike while the iron is hot, myself. But alas, sometimes that luxury is not mine to choose.

So what happened, why did I "lose" my creative day?


I had to go in to work, on a Saturday. And the work I had to do was by no means creative. It was a ton of detail-intensive proofing of documents and stuff. I looked ahead to the coming week, and saw I wasn't going to make it unless I came in and laid some groundwork, cleared the tracks, pre-soaked the grits a spell so to speak. So I came in, and I got it done. And I don't begrudge that! I love my job. I'm proud of the job I do. I do a damn JOB of it. Nobody's irreplaceable as they say, but probably I am. Moreso than most, at least. In any event, most days I love my job.

Yesterday I didn't love my job. I wish I'd found some way to make better use of my time.

Saturday, August 25, 2007

Hey, Sucka Tenors!

How come boasting, touting one's skills, and denigrating the skills of others works so well in rap music but is hardly (if ever) employed as a song topic in other styles? I can't think of a single Phil Collins song where the chief subject is Phil's mad singing or drumming abilities. Or where Mr. Collins "calls out" another pop practictioner as a "sucka."

In particular, I'd think that opera would be ideal for this sort of treatment. So much of the right attitude is already right there, in terms of subtext, at the top tier of the game. The rivalries ("beefs" if you will), the focus on one's mad outlandish vocal abilities (albeit pipes more than rhymes). The focus on ego, and on being superior. It would take only a slight shift to take all of that attitude and subtext and make it explicit, make it the subject instead of the subtext. I mean, we already know that people go to see these tenors show off! Think how much excitement it would bring, to let it get a little more directly competitive. A shift like that could really jump up the whole opera game to a new level of cultural notoriety.

Just picture the top tenors going at it back and forth with "answer" records and ever-more-ludicrous attempts to "top" each other! "Hey, sucka tenor, you can't hold a note like thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiss!!!"

Picture how great that'd sound in Italian.

Friday, August 24, 2007

Tonight's Appetizer #4: Brie Baked in Puff Pastry with Rose Petal Jam

Tonight's Appetizer was Brie Baked in Puff Pastry with Rose Petal Jam from Papa O's in Capitola Village, CA.

This huge THING arrived on an outsize triangular platter, kissed with a pale glaze of flowery ooze, topped with scattered walnuts and surrounded by toasted crostini* and round, thin apple slices. I lost my bearings while looking at it, dizzied by the warmth and fragrance rising from this beautiful dish.

Then - I came to my senses and realized what had to be done. I cut a wedge of pastry, fat with hot brie and cooled by a gauzy drizzle of rose petal jam. I spread it over a crunchy toasted oval and topped the concoction with a section of sweet-scented white apple.

Lord. This dish is what snobs eat in heaven. The savory pungence of good, strong brie...the almost (but not quite!) cloying floral sweetness of rose petal jam - like swooning in a labyrinth of rose bushes, trapped in a beautiful perfumed reverie (except that this reverie was more taste than fragrance). The delicate puff of pastry, melting into air and water in the mouth. The crunch of the crostini and the crisp snap of apple. Every bite was like a clash of powerful armies of opposing flavors, who upon meeting in the middle of the battlefield do not fight! - but are instead violently swept up in a riot of sudden lovemaking and debauchery.

I love this appetizer so much that at one point I was gripped by a wave of paranoia that it might be secretly planning to break up with me.

The chef (Papa O himself) is a swashbuckling culinary mastermind. I know this post is about the appetizer, but wait 'til you try his meatloaf. I've never seen such meatloaf. Such richness of flavor, and the consistency of it...! So's more like...pâté, or something! And the GRAVY!!

I have to stop now. I must stop now. I'm about to go eat my own leftovers.

*"toasted" crostini redundant? Perhaps. But taste the dish first, then be the judge.

Worst Use of Ellipsis (Today)

From an article on this whole Michael Vick dog-fight gambling ring fiasco:

Goodell said "even if you did not place bets, as you contend, your actions in funding the betting and your association with illegal gambling both violate the terms of your NFL Player Contract and expose you to corrupting influences... one of the most fundamental responsibilities of an NFL player."

The impression we get from this quote is that exposing one's self to corrupting influences (or perhaps, violating the terms of one's NFL Player Contract) is one of the most fundamental responsibilities of an NFL player.

The article is titled "Vick caught in game of semantics."


Ho, ho, ho...

It would be supercool if they made a movie about the Jolly Green Giant, where the Green Giant goes mad due to GMO tampering - and rampages through the valley destroying people's cottages and villages! Then it's a race to figure out how to cure the Giant, make him Jolly again.

Either that...or destroy him.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

My Loyal Readers (and 1-Time Only Contest!)

I'm a real dick sometimes. Many folks* have been generous with their comments on this blog, and some of them have even been kind enough to link to my blog from theirs, yet what have I done for them?

Very little. Very little indeed.

It therefore incumbs upon me to use today's post to provide a list of everyone who has ever commented on this blog, with a link back to that person's blog. I will then create a thing to the right, with a link to this post, so that it's always "front-page news" as it should be! It goes without saying that without you, the readers, what I write here on this blog would not be being read by you, the readers - and the implications of that statement are obvious to anyone.

NOTE: in the process of compiling the aforementioned list, it has come to my keen attention that some of these folks don't have any blog. Perhaps they let it lapse. I will only link to those who actually have a blog.

ANTI-NOTE: actually, I'll just link to profiles instead of blogs. If they don't have a blog, why should that be MY problem?! Serious!

Note also that a few commenters were clearly spam entities. I'm going to leave those out - entirely at my own discretion. My rulings on this matter are FINAL, spam entities! I hope you rot in a digital hell of your own devising!! Wait - except, that you would have devised it thinking that your enemies would go there, not you! Then imagine your surprise! Ha, ha, ha.

Okay. Enough preambulating. The official list of my loyal readers, to be occasionally updated as future needs require, perhaps:

Sean Scully
Burning Daylight
wee lad

***1-Time Only Contest!***: Astute readers will notice that there's a certain underlying logic, or order - to the way those names are listed. First person to post a comment explaining what the organizing principle is gets their name put right to the top of the list!

FINAL NOTE: if you wish your name to be excised out from amongst this vaunted glory roll of honorable mentionables, please go to the "profile" or...whatever they call it...the "who am I" link and e-mail me via the "Contact" button, which works. I'll do it when I get to it, and very sorry for the inconvenience, whatever your damn problem is that you wouldn't want to be included in a list like that.

I make no judgments. You have reasons of your own, perhaps. Include racy photos of yourself in the removal request, for promptest response.

*Some may object that eleven is not "many." I should clarify that I mean "many" the way that statisticians use it. In this sense, "many" means "many, considered in terms of the proportion of readers who have commented on this blog who have left comments." In fact, "many" is probably an understatement in that case.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Hurricane Dean Update

Hurricane Dean made landfall today on Mexico's Caribbean coast, and began weakening quickly as it moved inland. However, the worst may not be over just yet. It seems that Hurricane Dean may be on the cusp of reinvigorating itself, and taking a northerly turn. A spokesperson for the Advance Warning Advisory System/Hurricane Division (AWASHD) made the following statement:

"Not only is Dean going to New Hampshire, it's going to South Carolina and Oklahoma and Arizona and North Dakota and New Mexico, and it's going to California and Texas and New York, and it's going to South Dakota and Oregon and Washington and Michigan, and then it's going to Washington D.C. to take back the White House! Byaaah!!!"

Informed observers aren't sure how much credence to give this new information at this date, since past predictions of a strikingly similar nature have failed to pan out as advertised.

Concerning the Recent Events

Those of you who are aware of what I'm talking about will know that I am in no way denigrating the importance or the secrecy of these events when I say: I had absolutely no prior knowledge of them, and in fact, no desire to have any current knowledge of them whatsoever. However, having been brought into it, I must strike a bold and decisive pose.

And I am. Of that, you may be assured.

Monday, August 20, 2007

A Closer Examination of Medical Issues Pt. 3

Why is it "cerebral" hemorrhage, but it's only "brain" cancer?

Is gushing blood smarter than cancer?

Chuck D Shook My Hand.

Santa Cruz, August 19th, 2007 - the Catalyst

I was standing outside the Catalyst, in line to go in for the show, when a group of dudes on the other side of the street called across to the line: "Hey! You waiting to see Flavor-Flav?! He's at Taco Bell!"

Sure enough, ten minutes later there's Flav riding by on his bicycle! Waving and grinning his patented gold-toothed grin, with a huge dude in an XXXL Public Enemy t-shirt biking along behind him.

Everybody started laughing. You couldn't help but laugh! There was Flavor-Flav, just riding his bike down Pacific Ave after enjoying a nice Taco Bell. It seemed like an absurd turn of events.

Public Enemy playing Santa Cruz. Wow. Who'd have thunk that. Final night of their 59th tour, their 20th Anniversary tour. Just the night before, they played in San Francisco in front of dozens of thousands of fans as part of the "Rock the Bells" tour. Or festival. Or loosely-connected series of festivals - or whatever it is. Then the next night, they're playing in an intimate venue like the Catalyst in front of a small but mostly rabid audience. As Chuck D observed, remarking on that very topic: "WE LOVE THESE INTIMATE VENUES. WE'RE GONNA MAKE THIS PLACE OUR LIVING ROOM BY THE END OF THE NIGHT, IT'S ALL ONE FAMILY IN HERE!"

In case you've never heard him speak, everything Chuck D says is capitalized. I don't know how to truly characterize that voice of his, the sheer volume and clarity with which he just flat-out declares shit. It's like a reverse speech-impediment or something.

He shook my hand.

He shook my hand. And it made me feel all conflicted - I felt like an idiot, a poser, a wannabe, a fan, like he was humoring me in contrast to the others who were clearly more maybe the target crowd. I don't look like it. But this man is just such an inspiration I don't regret it anyway. I think he saw through me, but whatever. He may not have realized.

Before the show, he shook my hand. I'm not normally star-struck or anything, but damn. Chuck D shook my hand. He was shaking everybody's hand!

Posing with people for cell phone pictures, just hanging out and speaking with people before the show. There are people I've met who I rate higher purely as musicians, maybe. But there's no musician who I've been gladder to meet. He's just such a positive and articulate spokesman for unity and humanity. Chuck D is like Bono, only...wait, that's a mutually-insulting comparison on several levels. But he's in that range, as far as I'm concerned - just in terms of integrity and influence.

And then the show itself - well, okay. There were a couple points where it lagged. But like the man said! Tonight was a more casual vibe. Living-room. They took the time to introduce us to family members, for a little clowning around, for some amiable give-and-take with the audience. It was more relaxed than I expected it, but that wasn't a bad vibe at all to relax a bit between numbers. Because, as they rocked the many high points of the set - there was NOTHING relaxed about that attack!

PE came out ripping and running sans Flav, with Professor Griff backing Chuck D up on the first two numbers. (Griff was visibly not enjoying the trademark Santa Cruz cloud of pot smoke billowing in his direction. Poor guy! Later in the show he chided the woman primarily responsible, in the most stern and amusing fashion. It was a high point!) And then just when you were wondering, "hey, where's Flav?" - Bam! In your face!, he comes cavorting out from the sidelines and the whole experiment just ignites into phosphorous! I about lost my mind to see Chuck D and Flav shoulder to shoulder, Chuck funneling lyrics into the mic while Flav starts jerking with that crazy arm dance of his. It was awesome. Chuck just kept barreling around the stage, grabbing peoples' hands in the front row, booming into the mic; Griff and the S1Ws going into their synchronized military drill/dance routines; Flav was just lampin', no, more than just lampin' - he was col' lampin'. But you knew that. I never thought I'd see these guys live in my life. Never. I thought my chance was past. It was awesome. The energy these guys had, and I'm two rows back, I got the schpilkes because I'm standing right there...!

It's a mitzvah what they did, and they kept it up for two solid hours - with some quiet comfortable interludes, like I said before - but the songs were all business: "Night of the Living Baseheads", "Don't Believe the Hype", "Bring The Noise", "911 is a Joke", "Rebel Without a Pause", "Can't Truss It", "Welcome to the Terrordome", "Black Steel in the Hour of Chaos", "Shut 'Em Down", "Fight The Power" - aw, man. On and on. They had some new songs too, which went down WELL - particularly the topical "Son of a Bush" which was like catnip to this crowd! But I really dug current single "Harder Than You Think" as well. Soul music indeed.

Well I'm sold. I'm going to go pick up their album. I already got two t-shirts (a men's and a ladies') and a ball cap at the show. Least I could do!

You have to support the artists who you love. Especially when they come way out of their way to hit your po-dunk little home town, and then to put on a show like THAT.

I'm so happy about it. Thanks, guys.

Sunday, August 19, 2007

Pretzel Dough Drum Solo

I was standing in line for a lemonade and an almond pretzel at Auntie Anne's, ever notice, they ALWAYS have a line? Anyway, I'm not really paying attention to it but I'm grooving to this crazy percussion music they're playing. It's a little tinny, I'm guessing it's just somebody's little boom-box rather than any sort of in-store speaker system - but it's wild! It's like an extended drum solo, an indefinite drum solo with no overarching unifying rhythm or purpose, but with a pretty steady tempo. And I do mean an uptempo. It's like, boombittaBOPitta snare-kick-snare-cymbal, constantly shifting rhythmic textures but with a certain unity to the way the beats tumble and crash against each other, and with certain patterns occasionally repeating themselves. Finally I said to my girlfriend, "this drum solo is insane! I want a tape of this!"

She listened for a minute, looked around for a minute, and replied, "I think it's the pretzel dough mixer over there. See the tall metal bowl turning, with those automatic arms agitating?"

Sure enough, it was. Another frightening instance of mankind being outdone by cold unthinking machine.

Sunday, August 12, 2007

Is Lindsay Lohan's Career "In The Shitter"?

It could well possibly be. In the shitter. Lindsay Lohan's career, that is.

A lot of articles in major publications are being written right now, by a lot of writers who have taken that exact thesis as their premise, and arguably, with some basis. But of these writers, most are being paid for what they write, which raises an interesting question: what's my excuse?

Call it a troubling symptom of the times.

We're praying for you, Lindsay.

Saturday, August 11, 2007

Let's Talk Relationships.

So many relationships these days are undermined by a failure to reach an open and mutual understanding of what a relationship is. If there isn't agreement on that point, then the relationship has no foundation. Two people who have a different understanding of what a relationship is - they're not in "a relationship." They are in separate relationships.

Relationships come in many kinds, yet everyone seems to think their idea of a relationship is the universal standard for all decent people. Most people don't even bother to talk about the most basic issues. The topic doesn't come up until the realization dawns (ugly and sudden) that the other person's definition is different. By then, it's looked at as a sacred betrayal of trust. "How could you think THAT's okay, when this whole time I've thought only THIS was okay?"

Let's face it. Many different types of relationships can be successful. There isn't "only one kind" that works. It's fine to have an extremely possessive relationship - if that's what both parties want, and it is applied equitably in both directions. It's fine to have one of those relationships where people say "there's no question you can't ask me, and there's nothing I won't tell you" - but that's got to be something both people are comfortable with. It's fine to have rules about who can and can't do what, and what the expectations are - as long as both people know what they are.

Sometimes people don't want possessiveness - they want a little liberty, a little trust. Sometimes people don't want "no secrets" - they may want sane boundaries, with some room left for privacy.

The worst fights (apart from those about money) stem from one person assuming that "If you're in a relationship, then that automatically means this, this, this and this! That's just the definition of a relationship!" Uh, no. That's just one person's definition.

What's the other person's?


I've been very lucky in my life. I have never taken crap from anyone, and no one has every successfully given me crap. Many have attempted to give me crap. They will stand there, arm extended, crap in hand, waiting for me to take it. I'm like, "hey, sorry, that's your crap. You can keep it." Sometimes they huff disgustedly and let it drop right in the street. Sometimes they just put it back in their pocket and wander off.

But if they throw it - I dodge!

Friday, August 10, 2007

The Tough Topics #2: Pedophilia

So she said to me that there is no hope for pedophiles, no cure for pedophilia. That's where she's wrong. I'm living proof of it.

I've never told ANYONE about this.

When I was in 1st grade, I was a raging pedophile. I never acted on it, because she was just so pretty and I was so shy, and by the time we both reached high school I'd finally put some perspective on it and decided she wasn't my type.

By then, I'd moved on. I was into 14-year-olds. You know.

Older women.

Thursday, August 09, 2007

Jersey Corn, Ladies and Gentlemen - None Finer!

Yes, that's right ladies and gentlemen - everyone has known the truth of it for generations, but just in case you've been living under a rock, you heard it here first! Jersey corn and tomatoes are the finest in the land! Those other states have corn, too - and plenty of it! But one bite of that sweet white Jersey Silver Queen Corn and you'll agree: by comparison with THIS treasure of agriculture, this monarch of maize, this beaming beacon of pure sweet light, beckoning all true corn-lovers to the promised land (of corn enjoyment) - compared to this, that other corn isn't fit to slop hogs.

TOUCH the bumpy smoothness of the unbitten cob, kernels hot and firm with pride, yet tender and steamy with anticipation! SEE the sheen of the surface as the rich creamery butter you apply melts into instant glistening liquidity! SALT that cob! Yes! More! More! TURN IT! Work it around the plate! Get that salt and butter in every tight cranny. Oh, your cob is ready for you now. Yes, it is slippery and hot, sassy with salt and lubricated with hot, meltingly dairy-fresh flavor.

Go ahead. Take a bite.

TASTE that hot, buttered, well-salted, sun-ripened goodness!! That buttery salty sweet flavor bursting juicily into your chomping mouth as your teeth cut a wide swath through bulbous rows of fat, helpless little kernels! Sweet! Oh, so sweet. HEAR and FEEL those kernels crunch and explode into splendor, as their tiny corny little lives are snuffed out by the implacable reaper of your greedy incisors, then smashed into a pulpy mash of deliciousness by your viciously grinding molars! SMELL that steam, filling your nostrils with an aroma that accents each divine bite as you gorge your insatiable maw on ear after ear of sweet corn!

And then, when each ear's been run once through your eager gob, don't stop there! No way. When the corn's this good, one pass is not enough! Sop that cob right in your plate's pool of salty butter! Really roll it around, soak those kernel remnants good with butter and salt, then have another go at it - gnawing and sucking that salty, buttery cob 'til you've wrung from it every last bit of enjoyment that it can yield! MAN!!

THAT'S the FULL-ON JERSEY CORN SENSORY EXPERIENCE!!! Never to be compared with.

In the summertime, those who love good corn know that they can go to where they want to go so they can get it. They know that there's only one place that really fits the bill, for the kind of corn that makes a woman holler and a man incline his head with a telling wink and a knowing grin. A real corn that they can love, a corn that returns their love - on every bite! That place is the Garden State, and that corn is Jersey Sweet Silver Queen Corn.

None other. None finer.