Today's Chef's Choice

“Some men are born mediocre, some men achieve mediocrity, and some men have mediocrity thrust upon them,” to quote the writer Joseph Heller. I'm writing this in the cradle of modern conventionality, Starbucks, before my first shift at a new job -- and I wonder which of these three categories I fall into. I've been out of work for nearly 18 months, and while this job may not be more of the same, it doesn't feel as auspicious as my last position, and I have to wonder if I still have forward momentum

This career change begins at a small restaurant that motorboats the cleavage of the Hollywood Hills. Right now I'm a dishwasher grabbing into bus tubs of half eaten cheeseburgers and quinoa bowls studded with bits of vinaigrette dampened kale, trying to pull out every espresso spoon and ketchup spattered ramekin. I sweep. I mop the floor. I windex the bathroom. A year and a half ago I was sitting in a box all day, watching movies, writing essays about nude scenes, and tweeting "humorous" tweets.

I John Fleischer am Resigning my BSA Eagle Rank

I know that this act is largely meaningless. At best it’s a small gesture of solidarity. At its worst, it may hurt well-intentioned friends and family who remain Eagle Scouts. Honestly, it’s a selfish act designed to align my reality with my conscience. I have to live with myself. That said, I Jack Fleischer have officially joined the ranks of those who have resigned their Eagle rank and officially left behind the Boy Scouts of America.

Five Things to Know About Grubwithus.com

Hangovers used to be the best indication of a person’s cultural enrichment. For millennia alcohol was the world’s most effective social lubricant, single handedly leveling every social boundary known to man. Then the Internet explosion matched booze’s ability to lower boundaries. Unfortunately there have been a few snags when it comes to bridging online with offline. Forget To Catch a Predator, did you know that there have been four different “Craigslist Killers”?

Simple Amusement: Chew

Art by Rob Guillory (via Wikipedia): Meet the cast of Chew on the cover of #15.

I'm a late arrival when it comes to comic books. The only ones I owned as a child were a battered copy of Marvel Comics: The Empire Strikes Back, and an even more beat up collection of black and white Superman comics from the '60s. Fast forward to my mid 20s, and I was drawn back in thanks to Watchmen and an influx of what can only be called "cartoon porn." Well, my tastes have matured in the last decade, and now I'm reading Chew, the story of a lawman who can learn everything about something just by shoving it in his gob.

Give a Man a Fish... (Food Trash)

This morning I saw the above on Gawker. I laughed, then got scared -- but maybe not for the reasons you think. The comment section of Gawker is a cross-section of pithy and insightful commentary, ("Fat Fuck Feeds Face with Free Fish, Feels Flyer Flagrantly False!" - RootyTooty), but I feel this story requires more thought. Nearly every commentator made the art-life-immitation Simpsons connection (clip below), but I have bigger fish to fry (pun intended).

A Never Ending Panamanian Day

Waking up in Panama is like stumbling into some sort of Groundhog Day paradise. It's not that things are the same every day, but no matter how much you trash yourself with booze and butts, the next day you wake up at around a "7" on a scale of 1 to 10. You might have a slight headache, but that's just probably from dehydration in the heat of the night.

The first time I woke up in Panama, the only pain I had were from the remnants of a jump off a waterfall. The Panama beer, Seco, and Ron Cortez, didn't even seem to figure in.

Killing Pain in Panama

Better than a couch.

It was 2009, and I was on my first trip to Panama. It was a short trip, and in that spirit, I'd been introduced to the largest mall in Panama, Nicaraguan businessmen, diablos rojo, quarter beers, and had already hurt my foot enough to contemplate my own mortality in less than six hours after my arrival.

Jack Goes To Panama in 15 Easy Steps

Well, it seems that some folks thought I was already in Panama this year, but in reality I just got here Monday. Here's a brief look (in pictures) of my trip down, staring at 4:30 AM PST, and ending at around 7:30 PM EST.

One, Two, Panama, More ...

What had begun with a poorly paved road, dissolved and broke away with each turn of the vehicle. Soon my friend Pope, his buddy Alice, and I were traveling down twisted trails of dust, and with the loss of asphalt came a slower and slower approach in the tiny jeep-like car.

Adventures in Panama: A Long Tale

After taking numerous modes of transit, I found myself in front of a large cement brick structure in a sleepy fishing village on the Pacific side of Panama. That morning I had been at my Venice apartment, nestled in my corner of one of the largest cities in the world. That's when my friend Pope came to pick me up at the local super market

He greeted me with a smile and a deeply burned face. His friend Alice was driving a tiny jeep-esque vehicle, we popped in for a few supplies, and soon were on the road to my digs for the next 48 or so hours. I've always enjoyed my LA digs, but nothing prepared me for what was available to rent in the middle of nowhere Panama. At a thousand words a piece, I'll let the pictures tell this story.