Maybe Tim’s blue ball affinities belong with the supreme blueness entities.
From where I sit, it looks like he has two little blue ones. I always wondered about his heritage.
Oh no.
Alternate Headline: TIM ROGERS HAS A BIG BALL
Feeling sad that you missed the opportunity to see Tim competing in the Urban Assault Race on Sunday? Wishing you were able to see him in uncomfortably short shorts? Wondering if Tim took any, um, “pleasure” during the race? Rest easy, gentle FrontBurnervian, and feast your hungry eyes on this photo. On behalf of FotoJack, I remind you that the photo is for sale. Buy as many as you can. Please.
It’s bee time, baby. Last year, speller Samir Patel broke my heart. But he’s back again this year to compete in the Scripps National Spelling Bee. Some local media outlets have adopted Richardson’s 12-year-old Amy Chyao. But my money’s on Fort Worth’s Samir. Seriously. That’s not just an expression. Daddy’s got five dimes on that kid. Make me proud. So far so good: Samir (and Amy) have advanced to the third round.
Live-blogging of the event can be found here.
Rumor has it–and, bear in mind, it’s just a rumor and we’ve heard similar rumors before–that Southwest Airlines has hired McKinsey & Company “to study a Dallas headquarters-style operation for Phoenix.” Possibility or just posturing? Only The Shadow knows. (Actually, some veeps probably have a good idea, but I’m guessing they won’t share.)
So, Rod, Jessica, Laura, Elizabeth, and I just waited 10 very long minutes in the drive-through at KFC on Lemmon. We ordered a Famous Bowl. I asked the girl at the cash register how many they sell. She said, “Lots.” I pushed. “Like how many?” She broke loose, “We sell lots. Everybody orders them.” Obviously, her brain has left her body. Here’s the deal: a wad of instant mashed potatoes sits in a plastic flat-bottomed container. So, technically it is not a bowl at all. Reconstituted brown “gravy” is troweled across the potatoes before a handful of canned corn is tossed in for color. Next up: six or seven clumps of soggy “chicken” (probably bound with sawdust) are piled on and the whole mess is covered with melted cheese. It looks nothing like the picture on the KFC website. Although it does remind me of a picture of something I threw up after too much Boone’s Farm in 1970. It tastes even worse. Yes, FB Foodies, I took one bite for the team. BUT, I didn’t swallow. I even tried to make it look better by styling it with daisies. If you eat this, I have no use for you. Photo by Elizabeth Lavin
A media-type FBvian who has to just report the facts wants to share some comments on The Bowl:
“Commissioner Price once fought the good fight against alcohol sales in lower-income and minority parts of the city. How about these dietary toxins?”Rod: You hit the nail on the head. Thank you for speaking up about this. It is almost taboo these days to bash the way people eat, and I am sick of it. It’s about time we start holding each other accountable for the flab, not to mention the health problems. I’ve often wondered about the socioeconomics of diet, and recently saw a study stating that most kids in low income families are overweight. Interesting, because in developing nations, the poor are too thin. It’s a shame that eating healthy foods seems to be out of the reach of most low income homes, when it really should not. We would be well served to take the fast food places to task about just where they advertise and to whom, just like we did with the cigarette types.
Ahhhhh, thank you for letting me get that out. As a news anchor, I am not allowed an opinion. This is like therapy.
If you liked Peter Calvin’s photographs in the current print version of FrontBurner, then I invite you to the Afterimage Gallery, in the Quadrangle, this Saturday evening, for an opening reception. We are but a small, humble magazine. And Peter is a great, big, prolific photographer. He’s got lots of images we didn’t have the space to publish. So come check it out.
So says the WSJ. Thaddeus Herrick writes of tiny, fabricated cities offering urban life without the “riffraff,” as one Legacy-resident put it. The article is lengthy and good. I suggest you try to get your hands on a copy and read it with your eyes.
Over the weekend, yrs trly and D contributor Trey Garrison participated in the Urban Assault Race. Good times. If you like to ride a bike, I recommend it. My only regret is that we didn’t finish nine minutes faster. Then we would have come in fourth, beating Two Old Farts. Alas.
Nancy, I got your back. Which I can still easily see since you’re not inclined to eat that noxious bowl of fried salt, trans-fat, sugar and assorted chemical flavorings. It’s bad enough that America is addicted to junk food, and that 66 percent of us are overweight, half of that number obese. We have fast food corporations feeding the junkies and pretending it’s just “tasty.” And marketing especially to young people and lower-income areas. Screw that. It’s killing you faster than high gas prices are emptying your wallet. Commissioner Price once fought the good fight against alcohol sales in lower-income and minority parts of the city. How about these dietary toxins?
Next week, Owens will host a two-day youth football camp. Admission is $195. As the San Francisco Chronicle’s Scott Ostler says:
Should be a great camp. Every evening the boys will sit around the campfire in T.O.’s driveway, each listening to his own iPod and bitching about the counselors and the marshmallows.
Hehe. Ostler made a funny.
Last week, we brought word of Pat Robertson’s ability to leg press 2,000 pounds. That’s right–a ton. Today we found this Slate story, which calls the leg press, “The Lamest Exercise in the World.” The piece then critiques Robertson’s form.
In short, you can’t place your hands on your knees and push up, Pat. And you need a fuller range of motion. And that 2,000 pounds? More like 940, something FB reported previously.
A FrontBurnervian Foodie with a bod for eating right and a brain for calculating empty calories, picks the wrong day to draw my attention to this atrocity to taste. I’m sorry—no, I’m not—but this is toxic stuff. Yes, I am a food snob and I am high-and-mighty about the fact that I do not waste calories on junk food. Any. Ever. (Well, maybe a Coke now and then.) But KFC’s bowl of crap has pushed me to distraction.You want this in your body? You are a loser. And that includes everyone, except Rod, working in this office. They are all headed to KFC right now. By sundown, their jeans won’t fit. But my genes never have. I’m going to jump.