BOY: Wanna hear a joke?
GIRL: Sure.
BOY: Too bad. If I were funny, would I really need to speed date?
(Girl walks up to table.)
BOY: Can I have a cheeseburger, please?
GIRL: I’m not a waitress. I’m your next date.
BOY: Wait, this is speed dating? No wonder no one’s brought me my food.
GIRL: Do you like bowling?
BOY: No.
GIRL: Me neither. I guess we have a lot in common.
BOY: Do you like Star Wars?
GIRL: No…
BOY: NEXT!
SCENE: A flashy restaurant. A tuxedoed man is seated with his guests, while a sommelier in a white dinner jacket explains the wine list.
CUSTOMER: I’d like something fruity, yet smokey. Ever left a cupcake out in the rain? Something like that. Something that goes down easy.
SOMMELIER: Well, the latest trend is a drink with a little more constitution. I’ve got a personal favorite from New Mexico you might like.
CUSTOMER: Fine, what do you suggest?
SOMMELIER: The Suahcahtaka Merlot might be nice. It complements this group atmosphere nicely. And it’ll go great with the seafood platter, too. It has notes of bacon, stained glass, and nursing home bathwater. Coming from a Northwest South Carolina Sommelier of the Week like myself, it’s got a lovely bouquet.
CUSTOMER: Actually, the seafood looks a bit pricy. How would it go with the duck?
SOMMELIER: Well, you need the seafood. Unless you wanna miss out on the merlot. A fine wine is like a fine woman – both need a loving companion, be it a sensitive male or a seafood platter.
CUSTOMER: Fine. Bring them both out.
(Sommelier brings out the wine. He clumsily pours the wine into a salad dressing can and back into a cup.)
CUSTOMER: That’s an odd-looking decanter.
SOMMELIER: It’s new technology. So, you like the wine?
CUSTOMER (gagging): It’s a little hard to take.
SOMMELIER: It requires a very selective palette, at least that’s what WINE SPECTATOR said. It should almost feel like you’re eating a porcupine. It should be painful. The best wines assault the senses.
CUSTOMER: Can we see the wine list again?
(A family is gathered in their dining room for Thanksgiving. The table is covered with an embroidered tablecloth and loaded with china bowls of food. A kind-looking mother and father are sitting there, along with their heavily-tattooed and pierced son.)
MOM: Josh, it’s so nice that you got here from Portland for Thanksgiving. That storm could’ve really messed up your travel plans.
JOSH: Please, Mom, call me Lotus.
MOM: Lotus?
LOTUS: Yes, Lotus. My yogi gave it to me. He says I am radiant like a lotus blossom.
DAD: That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, Josh. Are you still playing guitar?
LOTUS: The guitar? I sold it. As of now, I’m playing lead in an all-accordion post-glam pre-thrash speed folk band. We’ve got a cool 26 plays on MySpace since March. We’re working on this new three track EP that will sell in almost 7 stores across Oregon. It’s gonna be sick!
DAD: You know what, Josh-
LOTUS: LOTUS!
DAD: Fine, Lotus. But when are you gonna get a job? Or go back to school? You had a full ride to Berkeley.
(Lotus’s disgusted cringe makes the dragon tattooed on his neck dance. His mom starts to tear.)
LOTUS: I told you, Berkeley was inhibiting my creativity. Besides, I have a job: I’m an Occupy manager for my block.
DAD: Sure, you make two bucks a week sleeping in your own feces with other weirdos. That’s exactly what a National Merit Scholar should be doing with his life.
MOM: Harold, stop it! Don’t ruin another Thanksgiving!
LOTUS: Yeah, cool it Dad. I’ve been sending resumes around as well. And I’m going back to school.
DAD: Oh. Then I’m sorry. So what’s this you’re doing?
LOTUS: I’m going to the Portland School of Glass-blowing, and you don’t need to pay a thing. I’m becoming a barrista.
DAD: Fine, I don’t give a rat’s ass. Do whatever you want to do, but I’m not paying for it anymore.
(Lotus slams his chair against the table and walks into the kitchen. His mom follows him.)
MOM: Honey, don’t worry. You can stay here whenever you need to.
LOTUS: (tearfully): Really? Thanks, Mom.
MOM: Of course, sweetie. Just take those tunnel plugs out of your ears, please. You look like the plumbing department of a hardware store.
Why do the hibachi and fondue industries get to charge extra for forcing you to cook the food?
If Santa drove a Camry instead of a sleigh, it would cost 4000 dollars in gas to drive the world’s circumference. If he feeds his reindeer a nutritious diet of apples, it costs him 100,000 dollars to feed them for the big night. Seems like those elves must be getting slave wages.
Welcome to a new series, here on the Lighter Side of the Moon. For the last few years, I’ve stood idly by, and watched fedora-wielding hipsters infest New York with their irony and over-priced baked goods. Today, in my never-ending quest for truth, I ask the tough questions, and wonder: What makes this bakery item so expensive? With each installment, we’ll uncover the secrets behind one delicious treat, and learn what those dastardly hipsters are putting in them. So, without further ado, let’s discuss our first item, the red velvet cupcake.
Surprisingly enough, there is no actual velvet in these cupcakes. They have an off-white cream cheese icing, and a deep, reddish hue. In some artisan exam-
ples of these cupcakes, it is the coloring of these cakes where the money goes to. For example, some bakers prefer to use sacrificial blood obtained from Maya prisoners-of-war in ancient Guatemala, which has been fermenting in cisterns for thousands of years. I guess you could say, they’re to die for. Other cupcakes are colored by grinding and mashing up to 72 separate kinds of beetles, from the lush tropical rain forests of Papua New Guinea. The color is so bright, you could really bug out.
Other bakers pay closer attention to the icing, which is one half of the cupcake. One cook I imagined speaking to, said he preferred the breast milk of freshly impregnated Floridian albino manatees, which would then be made into cream by imported Dutch milkmaids. The flavor of the icing is really accentuated by the fear the manatees have of being decapitated by boats. One of the more nouveau cupcakes I’ve seen has cream cheese derived from Kobe cows, but that’s not all. In order to have a lighter texture, the cream spends up to 18 months on the International Space Station, where the low gravity helps to distribute the flavor, so I’ve been told.
Now you understand why some baked goods cost more than others. If you’re feeling adventurous, give one of these cupcakes a try. The hipsters will need the cash when their parents stop funding them.
The Lighter Side of the Moon 