Did you like it?..how did it taste?..you should have left a little more evidence of it on the plate..maybe some feathers or a beak...a wing bone..you know.
At any rate..you did a good job.
I also had some sort of semi gelled cow blood mixed with raw chicken meat that day...some sort of weird Asian soup thing. I've eaten some very strange things. This was a photo I took a while back after my wife had just eaten a balut. I just liked the veins in the shell and the way the light was hitting it.
Oh you mean like on that one episode of the Brady bunch where they were eating in the weird red and green colored kitchen with some sort of pukey daisy patterned table cloth?
There was one show where he was in south east asia and he couldn't eat this one fruit... I forget the name... but it smells like rotting flesh. I know because I watched my wife eat it before. (gag)
By the way, if you know anyone who is having trouble with their Harley Davidson Ironhead Sportster 4 speed transmission, I can fix it for them. But they'll have to pay me.
Damn it! If only we had a bicycle pump and one rubber glove we could think of some plan to get out of this jam! I know! We'll put on a play and save old man Tinkerton's farm!
One still night among the silent hills,
I learned a secret that I will share with you.
In the hush, I heard the whippor wills reveal
The Secret of the Silent Hills.
Up and down the old homestead
The naked rider gallops
through his head
And although the moon isn't full
He still feels the pull.
Out on the floor
where the cowboys dance
Approaching slowly at a glance
Here comes the shadow of his stance
The reins are fallin'
from his hands.
Why do you ride that crazy horse?
Inquires the shadow
with little remorse
Just then a priest
comes down the stairs
With a sack of dreams
and old nightmares.
Who are you, the rider says
You dress in black
but you talk like a Fed
You spout ideas
from books that you read
Don't you care about
this guy's head?
Just then the sound
of hoofbeats was heard
And the sky was darkened
by a prehistoric bird
Who flew between
the unfulfilled moon
And the naked rider,
to a telephone booth.
We'll call the moon
and see what's up
I've got some change
in this little tin cup
We'll say that
the shadow is growin' dim
And we need some light
to get back to him
Just one call should do it all
I'll carve this number on the wall
With my beak.
Flying feathers were all around
The air was filled
with a ringing sound.
Two more birds,
the second and the third
Came down from the sky
to deliver the word.
Where have you been,
they said to the first
Get back to the clouds,
we're dying of thirst
There's not enough time
to make that call
Let's ditch this rider,
shadow and all.
The sky was filled
with the beautiful birds
Still on the ground
some crying was heard
With his dime in his hand
and his hand on the dial
His ears were sweating
as he forced a smile.
Hoofbeats beating across the range
He rode through the night
with his cup of change
Tired and beaten
he fell into slumber
But up in the sky
they still had his number.
Up and down the old homestead
The naked rider gallops
through his head
And although the moon isn't full
He still feels the pull,
Still feels the pull.
The forests were long gone now,
replaced by the monotonous flat prairie country:
Endless, desolate fields gone to timothy and low shrubs..
Eerie, deserted estates guarded by brooding, shadowed mansions where demons undeniably walked..
Leering , empty shanties where the people had moved on or had been moved along...
An occasional dwellers hovel, givenaway by a single flickering point of light in the dark, or by sullen , inbred clanfams toiling in the fields by day..
Corn was the main crop, but there were beans and also some pokeberries.
An ocasional scrawny cow stared at him lumpishly from from between peeled alder poles...
Coaches had passed him four times, twice coming and twice going..
Nearly empty as they came up on him from behind and bypassed him and his mule, fuller as they headed back towards the forests of the North...
Now and then a farmer passed with his feet up on the splashboard of his bucka..
Careful not to look at the man with the guns.
I've got a few old spoons like this, it seems these days things are made for practicality rather than the beauty.And things used to be built to last, i've got some old tools from my grandad and their over a hundred years old.
"I also had some sort of semi gelled cow blood mixed with raw chicken meat that day...some sort of weird Asian soup thing." Damn right, that stuff is mad delicious. imo. haha. Never had balut, though.
uh,I cannot eat raw meat or fish,I'm afraid of bacteria or more likely,stuff that is killed off in cooking.Maybe these restaurant people are very careful with their meat and blood products,and theyre safe.I got my limits;not going to eat real French version of coq auvant(spelling)chicken in red wine.They use real chicken blood to cook it in,and that's past my limits.You ever eat insects?There's a whole school of cooking,of insects.Worst thing was,the band leader of Johnny Carson said on t.v,that he had eatten a live shrimp,swallowed it whole,and it wiggled on the way down.YUCK. You're a lot more adventurous than I am,about global foods,palate. I would never be able to eat "grubs"either,like those native tribes do.Guess it's just society-conditioning,on what makes us decide just what FOOD IS,and what it is not.
I have eaten Balut, cause its popular in the Philippines. xD But I didn't eat the whole thing.
And I remember durain, We have that tree next to our house. It stinks really bad. But people still eat those. :p
drawn in 1 hour 10 min
Thank you.
Thank you.
and yes.
At any rate..you did a good job.
I learned a secret that I will share with you.
In the hush, I heard the whippor wills reveal
The Secret of the Silent Hills.
The naked rider gallops
through his head
And although the moon isn't full
He still feels the pull.
Out on the floor
where the cowboys dance
Approaching slowly at a glance
Here comes the shadow of his stance
The reins are fallin'
from his hands.
Why do you ride that crazy horse?
Inquires the shadow
with little remorse
Just then a priest
comes down the stairs
With a sack of dreams
and old nightmares.
Who are you, the rider says
You dress in black
but you talk like a Fed
You spout ideas
from books that you read
Don't you care about
this guy's head?
Just then the sound
of hoofbeats was heard
And the sky was darkened
by a prehistoric bird
Who flew between
the unfulfilled moon
And the naked rider,
to a telephone booth.
We'll call the moon
and see what's up
I've got some change
in this little tin cup
We'll say that
the shadow is growin' dim
And we need some light
to get back to him
Just one call should do it all
I'll carve this number on the wall
With my beak.
Flying feathers were all around
The air was filled
with a ringing sound.
Two more birds,
the second and the third
Came down from the sky
to deliver the word.
Where have you been,
they said to the first
Get back to the clouds,
we're dying of thirst
There's not enough time
to make that call
Let's ditch this rider,
shadow and all.
The sky was filled
with the beautiful birds
Still on the ground
some crying was heard
With his dime in his hand
and his hand on the dial
His ears were sweating
as he forced a smile.
Hoofbeats beating across the range
He rode through the night
with his cup of change
Tired and beaten
he fell into slumber
But up in the sky
they still had his number.
Up and down the old homestead
The naked rider gallops
through his head
And although the moon isn't full
He still feels the pull,
Still feels the pull.
Neil Young
replaced by the monotonous flat prairie country:
Endless, desolate fields gone to timothy and low shrubs..
Eerie, deserted estates guarded by brooding, shadowed mansions where demons undeniably walked..
Leering , empty shanties where the people had moved on or had been moved along...
An occasional dwellers hovel, givenaway by a single flickering point of light in the dark, or by sullen , inbred clanfams toiling in the fields by day..
Corn was the main crop, but there were beans and also some pokeberries.
An ocasional scrawny cow stared at him lumpishly from from between peeled alder poles...
Coaches had passed him four times, twice coming and twice going..
Nearly empty as they came up on him from behind and bypassed him and his mule, fuller as they headed back towards the forests of the North...
Now and then a farmer passed with his feet up on the splashboard of his bucka..
Careful not to look at the man with the guns.
Stephen King
I have eaten Balut, cause its popular in the Philippines. xD But I didn't eat the whole thing.
And I remember durain, We have that tree next to our house. It stinks really bad. But people still eat those. :p