Worst-Recipe: Ravioli With Ricotta Mint Lemon Zest, Slightly Burnt

Subtitle of this post: Or How To Fix, Make Delish, Your Kitchen Screw-Up.

There are many recipes like this on the interwebnets. Good luck finding one with slightly burned butter, though.

Ingredients (approximate):

  • Flat pasta, preferably fresh made the night before
  • 200g Ricotta
  • Mint leaves
  • Lemon
  • Olive oil
  • Butter
  • Parmesan

How To:

While I rolled the pasta with our trusty machine, better half whipped up the ricotta. Just put it in a bowl and add chopped mint leaves. Before slicing lemon to get to the juice, remove yellow (only) from skin (the white under the skin is bitter!) and put finely chopped pieces into the Ricotta. Then slice your lemon and squeeze one half into the mix. Add some fresh, shaven parmesan and then salt and pepper. Mix well.

Once pasta is rolled, flattened, circles are cut-out, lay on ravioli cutter and using a finger dipped in water, slightly moisten around the edge. Fill with a teaspoon of ricotta and fold over. The moistened edge helps the pasta stay together. Pamper with some flower and set aside on a cloth.

Btw, due to the circular nature of the noodle cut-outs, there will be some remaining pasta. Run it through the machine and then cut into strips and put aside to dry. Use this left-over pasta within the next few days for lunch. Just boil it in salty water and when “Adante” cover with some olive oil, salt and pepper and parmesan. Delish, baby.

Once your ravioli is done, cook them for about five or so minutes in boiling, salted water. While doing that, heat up a pan with a good, thick layer of olive oil. Add a heap of butter and then mix-in whole mint leaves. Although the olive oil should prevent the butter from scorching, I was trying out my gas burner on my grill and set the heat too high. The butter burnt quickly. Luckily I caught it before it burnt too bad and just threw in some of the “pasta-water” from the pot to calm things down. But the damage was done. Oh well.

Once the mint leaves in the pan have softened, add a bunch of ravioli. Mix and flip till the ravioli is covered with the oil and butter sauce. Salt and pepper and let simmer for about a minute. Then add some fresh parmesan. Mix and flip more. Done. Plate it with more parmesan and pepper if needed.

Although we were in a bit of hurry this evening and I obviously rushed things, the slightly (butter) burnt ravioli was fantastic. The mix of mint and lemon inside the noodles is both refreshing and enticing as it all burst open while chewing and mixes with the oil and butter sauce.

Rant (and worst-cook) on, baby.

-T

Ward Of A Nation

“Thus did the United States government definitely assume charge of the emancipated Negro as the ward of the nation. It was a tremendous undertaking. Here at a stroke of the pen was erected a government of millions of men,—and not ordinary men either, but black men emasculated by a peculiarly complete system of slavery, centuries old; and now, suddenly, violently, they come into a new birthright, at a time of war and passion, in the midst of the stricken and embittered population of their former masters.” -WEB Dubois – The Souls of Black Folk

-Rant on

-T

“The Media” Or A Mirror To Hide Behind

Screen Shot 2018-07-04 at 09.29.29

 

Sometimes a podcast can motivate. For example. Last night while listening to the Ralph Nader Radio Hour and the show Google is God, the last few minutes contained an interview with a guy named Michael G. Merhige. He was promoting his new book: Thoughtful Pauses – A Political Philosophy. According to Nader, Merhige is a former servant of the grand $hitshow. That is, he’s a former military guy who, among many other achievements, served in Vietnam and then worked for the CIA. I’m guessing that he’s now retired and living the good life in front of his TV probably somewhere in Florida and all the while trying NOT to be crushed by a lazy-boy–that is somehow induced to flip his channels to the right and beyond.

Or maybe not.

Michael Merhige is–obviously–part of the generation of $hitbags that have given the world my beloved & missed #Americant. You know what I’m referring to, right dear worst-reader? He’s either of The Greatest Generation or he’s their off-spring The Boomer Generation. And what does this extreme generational servant do with his time? I’m not really sure but if I were to guess based on reading this very short book, he sits around and jots down random but driven thoughts and is then able to put them all together and get a weary publisher to publish them.

Oh, and let’s not forget he’s also able to get Ralph Nader’s attention. And before I forget, I specifically use the word driven (previous paragraph) and NOT agenda to describe what Merhige jots down because, well, it’s obvious that he too is doing his best–like so many of his generation–to not fall into the trap of being labelled. Being labelled, by-the-buy, is one of the new #Americant consume-to-survive past-times and is the only way to open any door or window of opportunity to have a living standard. At the least, for Merhige, it worked with an opportunity to get on Nader’s show and sell his book (to me).

And so.

It’s more then who you know to get ahead in life in these trying times. It’s now who you know and does who you know like/approve your label? Yeah, labels are the things two horrendous generations have given the world among so many other really, really, krappy, ugly things.

But on that note I digress.

I have been curious about the origins of my beloved & missed #American’t for some time now. I suppose that’s what motivated me while listening to Nader (naively) interview the author of this book–and then subsequently buying it in the middle of the night and finishing by 6am. My curiosity has brought about a few questions. You know, how did the show that was America turn into the $hitshow that is now #Americant? Did it happen one day or did it happen overnight? Was there one event or one person that lead to the $hitshow? Is there anyone out there even capable of grasping the $hitshow if all there is… is the $hitshow?

Unfortunately I’ve not been successful in answering most of the above questions. I am an expatriate, don’t you know. I live far far far away–from the #Homeland–and my research capability is limited. (Or is it?) And even though there is quite a bit of literature out there that deals with the nature of a superpower or even human history, there is very little out there that reveals the truth about the innards of the people that make up the $hitshow. Rest assured, dear worst-reader, Merhige doesn’t come close to revealing anything about what’s wrong back home–although you’d think based on the first few chapters of this odd and strange manifesto that he might be trying to do just that. This cute little book of sayings and one-liners in the form of a pseudo-political manifesto stuck in the drunken shadow of Thomas Paine might convince a few readers out there that Merhige has something worthwhile to say. But once I got past the first few pages, something familiar began to click in my worst-mind.

Oh my, I thought. This sounds so so so so so familiar. It’s like reading snippets of *faux newz* galore.

So here’s the trigger about Merhige and his f’n generation of $hitbags that brought us the $hitshow: While nothing original or even inventive comes out of his writing, it does become clear through his choice of words that he too is nothing more than a shill for a system that no one–AND I MEAN NO ONE!–in my bloved & missed #Americant is able to see through. At least no one that is capable of publishing a book. Except maybe Ralph Nader. With that in mind, I can forgive Ralph for this awful book recommendation. Ralph was fooled, I’m sure. But let me not get too far off subject.

What’s the first sign that can indicate you’re reading something produced by a shill? Of the highlights I made in this odd and strange book, the word that stands out the most is “media” or The Media. The tablet version of this book that I read in about two hours–on account it’s only seventy pages long–has the word media printed hundreds of times. You know, as in, blame the media. The next word(s) that is constantly and overly used is: “politically correct”. After that comes Government, The Press, TV, Entertainment, blah, blah, blah. Or should I say: blame blame blame someone or something else.

Come on. Seriously? I jumped all over this book because Ralph Nader recommended it. It even started out pretty good. I really don’t mind a well written manifesto here or there. (Big fan of Thomas Paine, btw!) But then the book simply goes on and on and on with one-liners describing what the author thinks is wrong with everything and everyone but never really addresses any truth about the actual problem–and how things got the way they are. In other words. Same old same old from complainers and whiners–i.e. two generations of greed mongers that are #Americant.

Yeah, words through me off big time in this little book. It’s as though the author has had some tube inserted into his skull and faux newz is feeding him everything to say, think, do. Of course, he might be a faux newz hater and perhaps doesn’t even watch it. But at this point in #Americant history, that doesn’t matter. Faux newz, including the grand master of bigotry Rush Limbaugh, are the manifestation of a voice that controls not only the national narrative that has been broadcast daily for the past thirty-plus years throughout #Americant but it also represents the mindset of the/a people. Particularly conservative people. And let’s face it: conservative is #Americant, #Americant is conservatism. Of course, the worst part about this voice is that it so easily transcends conservatism. In fact, in #Americant, there is no escaping it–especially considering the neo-liberal movement owned by so-called Liberals. Merhige proves with gusto, like so many #Americants on a daily basis, that his mind is trapped. He’s trying desperately to find a way to express what is wrong with everything and yet, even after writing this pamphlet-like book, he’s still probably never sat in front of a mirror and said a few of the thousands of one-liners he wrote down that ultimately just complains about everything. On the other hand, I wonder how many times in his life he actually voted for republicans because of taxes, family values, his bank account, etc., never realising how he’s been so brilliantly duped. Yeah, write a book about being duped, dude.

Suckers galore that know how to write and publish a book about how things should or could be? Indeed. Much ado about nothing, baby.

Another word Merhige misuses in his book is Truth. Using the word or writing it down or saying it isn’t as powerful as living it or being an example of it. He should come around to worst-writer-ville, don’t you know. But then again, we all have our mirrors to hide behind.

-Rant on

-T

Trying The Mirror This Evening But How Many Directions Can One Turn Away Away And Again Away?

 

Had about enough with #MAGA again again today. That means I spent a few hours reading the newz of my beloved & missed #Americant. I’m not sure if my interest in newz has peaked on account of #Trump or if I’m just having one of those feel-sorry for myself evenings on account I can’t find a way to get back home. Indeed. So much is the humour and taxation of being worst-writer, the unwilling expatriate. But before I get too far off subject.

Even though I own the DVD, I haven’t actually watched it. 1984 (the film), that is. I mean. Wait. I’ve seen the movie. I think I’ve seen twice. Yes. Definitely twice. There might have been a third viewing here or there but I also recall that one would have included banging some bimbo so I probably didn’t watch it to the end. But once again, I’m off subject.

Here’s the thing, dear worst-reader. I got through about five minutes of the beginning of the movie. The beginning of the film with all those automatons as the audience of a propaganda rally was just too much for me. I short circuited. Indeed. #Trump and what has happened to my beloved #Americant has got me riled. Or have you not seen video of his rallies? But that doesn’t matter either. The thing to remember in this worst-post is that I simply can’t take it anymore. The whole dystopia thing that is obviously taking over my mind’s eyes.

Or am I wrong?

Nomatter.

-Rant on.

-T

How You Know You’re A Conservative, Especially If You Think You’re Not

 

There is a reason in my beloved & missed #Americant there are so many shows on brain-dead TV that make fun of conservatives. You know, The Daily Show, Samantha Bee, pretty much everything on Comedy Central and, of course, Stephen Colbert. The most obvious thing to keep in mind, though, is that conservatives, especially compared to liberals, are just easy to make fun of. Does that mean that Hillary isn’t easy to laugh at? Maybe. Conservatives–and I mean all conservatives–simply have a price to pay for their greed-mongering, for their bigotry, the hypocrisy. They deserve in the least to be made fun of–especially since they’ve won at everything else for the past thirty yrs. Seriously. The best joke a conservative mind can come up with is: three Hillarys walk into a bar where there’s an email server, Benghazi and a blue dress stained with the same sticky stuff that keeps #Trumps hair….

But I digress.

Beyond the funny stuff, the political $hit liberals do–at least in the past thirty or so years–hasn’t been about propping up rich people (although I’ll agree that certain aspects of that is arguable, especially considering Blue-Dogs and neo-liberals), wars-of-choice or religious nuttery that goes beyond the extreme bat$hit humanity tried to purge itself of with things like, gee, I don’t know… The fcuking enlightenment. Anywho.

I’ve been worst-thinking lately about what makes a conservative and how you can tell someone is, in their heart of hearts, conservative. The problem I’m having reaching any conclusion though is that I’m not smart enough to figure it all out. You know, empirical study; analysing/figuring $hit out like a professor would, etc. I’m sure a philosopher somewhere has touched upon the issue. I’m obviously far from discovering that piece of work, though. So I’m just gonna go with my prejudices here in reaching my own worst-conclusion. That’s right, I’m prejudice against conservatives and conservatism. One of the main reasons for that is how it’s all become so obvious that conservatism (of late) has embraced certain aspects of political extremism that, at best, borders on fascism. Beyond all the other uglies they espouse, a really bad part of being a fascist or a conservative is that these people simply are not funny. Nor do they know how to take a joke.

So let me cut to the chase. The pics above are examples of how you can tell if someone is a conservative–even if they say they aren’t. Just look at the pictures. If they/you laugh or giggle at the pics they/you are a conservative (in your heart of hearts). This little experiment also includes, buy-the-by, libertarians and Blue-Dog Democrats, i.e. neo-liberals. FYI. Libertarians, IMHO, are nothing more than republicans without any balls. Blue-Dogs and neo-liberals are cocksucking corporatists that haven’t yet seen the light about what it is they do–i.e. pawn of the piper–in order to make a living (on the backs of others). And so.

You are a conservative if you find the pics above in any way humorous. The reason for that is easy: the pictures depict something that is not only true but not twisted enough to be comical. For example, #Trump treats #Americants like children doing yard work (and #Americants obviously like it that way). The reality of the pic, though, which the motif subverts, is too deep for a conservative mind to actually grasp. And so… A conservative will giggle at #Trump bullying a little boy and his lawnmower. Whereas someone with a mind, with intellect, will see the picture for what it is: the truth.

Women, so many of whom enabled #Trump irregardless of his locker-room banter, drink the tears of liberals while sunbathing in their own grab them by the pu$$y swimwear. Which is fine as long as some other woman’s pu$$y is being grabbed. And while I’m on the subject, why isn’t there a pu$$yhat protest everyday in #Americant? Why aren’t stars from hollywood, especially the hot ones, boycotting the moneyed interests of movie makers who are benefitting from the mindless tax cuts for the rich that President Stupid dished out and that only adds to what has to be paid for by others in the future?

Only an a$$hole can in anyway believe that #Trump was some kind of protest against the establishment. If #Trump has proved anything about who and what he really is, he is a great–if not the greatest–conman the united mistakes of #Americant has ever seen. There is a whole country of a$$holes that have fallen for his con.

And then there’s the grand painting of #Trump and (his) stubby. Although the portrait is humorous in its clarity and uniqueness, it is so real that one can only scream in absolute horror–unless you’re a conservative–which means you’ll either shun it or giggle at it. And so. Here is President Stupid of the greatest land ever of Free To Be Stupid in all his/its glory.

Good luck suckers.

-Rant on

-T

PS Another way to know if you’re conservative is if words like millennial, LGBTQ, borders, immigrants, PC or political correctness, liberal this or liberal that, etc., etc., appear in the news you’re consuming. And although I think those words are important, be careful who is writing/saying them. It’s usually someone full of lots of uglies on account them words ain’t the issue(s).

Blut Und Boden Or If You’re A Good Boy You Can Have All The Pu$$y You Want

Screen Shot 2018-06-20 at 06.52.37
Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8402204; FYI I did edit the pic a bit removing the disgusting swastika and nazi stuff. You’re welcome.

Well, dear worst-reader. I got five years. It’s been a long time since my expat host country offered me five. For the past ten or twelve years (about half my total stay so far), it’s always been a two year visa. “Two years and let’s see how things go,” some automaton sitting behind an ugly office government desk would say. Indeed. Of course there was a time when I was offered a ten year visa. And then there was the time I was offered citizenship. But I laughed when they offered citizenship. Reason? Because of the unrein  (impure) nature of my existence, i.e. born of a half-breed American male serving in the US Navy and a German fräulein, I don’t have the right Blood and Soil (Blut und Boden) combination and therefore am punished (for something I never had control over) by not being allowed to have duel citizenship. Hence I can have citizenship but only if I give up my American citizenship. “Is you stupid,” I said to the automaton working behind the ugly government desk that made the ridiculous offer. “Why the fcuk-you would I want to give up citizenship from the greatest country in the world to have citizenship from some two-bit #Eurowasteland country that is still stuck in the 18th century–even though you guys make great cars?”

Fcuk you, Germany!

Anywho. As far as the ten year visa offer went, they saw that my home country passport was expiring and told me that I’d have to get a new visa anyway if/when my passport expired within their ten year visa period. So whenever they ask I usually just say: make it for two years you cock $ucking mutterficker–and while you’re at it don’t forget how I assimilated in this $hithole country long before #Trump & Co called out all $hithole countries. You’re fcuking welcome, biatch. And then I added a final remark about how they don’t deserve me anyway. If the automaton had a bit of pre-school English then we both giggled and continued looking away from each other. If he (or she) understood me fully, then he (or she) closed up, we remained silent for the rest of the process until he (or she) dished out… my fcuking papers.

But hey! Have no fear, dear worst-reader. The other morning, the stars were aligned. The moon is in the eye of Jupiter and my passport has another ten years till expiration. And so. I have been granted a five year visa.

Fcuk you, Germany!

Pause. Breath.

“Would you like a permanent residence visa,” I was asked.

“Why,” I retorted.

“No. That won’t work either,” the automaton said, correcting himself. Then he added after looking in my passport and pointing it out to me, “But I see you’re passport expires in 2025. There is no time for ten year visa. Basta, ja.”

“Dude, just make it two years. I really don’t give a flying rats-a$$ fcuk.”

“Yes. Ok, then. We’ll make it five,” he said. And we didn’t giggle.

Whoppp-dee-fcuking-do!

And so was my Monday morning this week. I had pranced up to the hideous bureaucrat facilities behind the train station and waddled my way through a crowd of refugees galore. Although I thought I had prepared myself with all the required paperwork–which amounts to nothing more than proving I have the financial means to not be dependent on The State–along with my US passport, of course, I did forget one thing. A new biometric photo.

worstwriter angry or not
Say, Germany, do I look like a give a fcuk?

So I trekked across the campus behind the D’dorf train station to a pastry shop nearby where I bought a cup of black coffee. I only did this because no one would/could provide me the proper change for a 50,-€ bill. Usually I never carry bills under €100. The biometric photo machine only takes exact change, or 7,-€, and the nearby change-machine doesn’t take bills higher than 20,-€. The line to use one of the two photo machines was long but it looked like it was moving.

Yeah. Bureaucracy and the poor, baby.

Once I got the proper change–and the coffee–I headed back to the refugee facility to see what bureaucracy awaited me next. Of course, I realised I don’t drink cheap coffee so when I passed a security guard in a bright yellow jacket–of which there were many–I asked him if he’d like a cup of coffee and handed him the fresh cup. I told him it was untouched and I only got it to get change. He spoke a broken form of Bulgarian German (or something like that) and thanked me, accepting the coffee as though someone was doing something nice for him. I assure you, dear worst-reader, that someone wasn’t/isn’t me.

IMG_4570.jpg
Yellow mark-down is what I mis-read. Actually, the truth is, I never read this shit in this first place. Still, it does say I have to provide a current photo–which I eventually did after buying a security guard protecting Germans from a horde of refugees in the direct vicinity.

Since I usually don’t pay much attention to German bureaucracy, I missed the part in the instructions I was sent that required me to bring a new photo. Hell, check out that list of krapp they want me to bring along. Look at all that stuff! Are the refugees Germany is taking in from #Americant middle-eastern war zones required to bring that much stuff, too? Oh wait. I wonder where all those people struggling on boats in the middle of the Mediterranean are able to get a “Schulbescheinigung” (proof of education) or “Mietvertrag” (rental contract). Oh wait (again). Most of the stuff I’m required to show has to do with money–not with wars of choice that Germany and, of course, #Eurowasteland has profited from over the past twenty (or so) years.

Ok. Based on that last worst-remark about Germany profiting from mid-east wars, let me say this: I stand by it. In fact, the whole of #Eurowasteland has had numerous chances to stand up for the weak and oppressed of this world–that’s right, even by calling-out the US for it’s wars of choice–but it has done NOTHING accept promote a world of consuming to survive hidden behind the hideous filter of its past. The Continent is once again preoccupied with the greed $hitshow of nativism, tribalism and its reawakening of old-time aristocracies reminiscent of pre-WWI. That’s why I have no issue–like so many Germans do–with all the refugees being taken in. In a way, I’m one of them. And please don’t mistake that last sentence for me equating my situation whole heartily with theirs. And so goes the $hitshow of first, second and third world refugees all coming together in a country of automatons and corporatists that, in the event it’s required, couldn’t find their way out of a wet paper bag.

On the other hand, taking in millions of refugees is the only thing Euro greed-mongers can do in answer to #Americant’s wars-of-choice. This is of course how Europe supports those wars! And no matter how you view it, it is a sad state of affairs, especially in Germany right now. I really feel awful for all those naive refugees that the pseudo-rich Germans are taking in. The facility that processed me as a foreigner the other day was packed to the hilt with people who are clueless to what awaits them–and their children. And let me tell you, it ain’t pretty. Even though they have made it out of extreme poverty, war-zones-galore or the humiliation of dictators, by coming to Europe they will be regulated to a state of 2nd or 3rd class citizenry that they will NEVER be able to overcome. The Germans, and other Europeans, will never accept the influx of these people who, sad to say, look quite different than the average (especially northern) European. For if I’ve learned anything after twenty-plus years of living in a part of the world where collective greed was invented, it’s this: Blut und Boden is all that’s left. Unless, of course, you can get a bank to finance a fancy car or afford regular trips to Mallorca for a get-away. Yeah, that’s what refugees are after. (Sarcasm off.)

As usual, I’m off subject. This was supposed to be a post about worst-writer, aka Tom Stough, acquiring permission to live legally five more years in the old country–that he can’t get out of. And although I should be happy about it (I guess), I am instead furious. And the only thing that comes to my worst-mind right now is… Blut und Boden and how Germans, French, and yes, even the British, are obsessed with it. Btw, anyone out there in worst-writer land remember Blut und Boden? It was used vividly (in English) during the Charlottsville, VA, antics where #Americants tried to promote their greed mongering ignorance only, in the end, to slip and slide down that fun-game of racism #Trump & Co. have made dinner table talk once again. Welcome back to 1968, my beloved #Americant.

I wish all those refugees that I was in the middle of the other day a better life than what they left to get to $hithole Germany. Heck, I even wish them better and more luck than I had. They’re gonna need it.

-Rant on

-T

PS The second part of the title of this worst-post kinda reflects that only thing the Germans really have to offer. But I digress.