As I am a Christmas-and-Easter Episcopalian, which is to say a partaker in a beautiful spiritual tradition that celebrates the sanctity of sleeping in most Sunday mornings, I will be arising at the unholy hour of 9 a.m. this Sunday.
What he said: "The president's remarks were fully consistent with the principles described herein." What he meant: "Back off. Barack's my boy. If you come at him, you come at me, and everyone else in this joint!"
Not long ago, I became dissatisfied with the lack of great Passover songs, and I decided to write one. The accuracy of this song is compromised by my shocking ignorance of actual history. But it is an accurate reflection of the Jewish education I experienced.
My regular red carpet crusader, and Couples Therapy housemate, Chef Chris Nirschel and I teamed up once again to bowl with FX Network's A-Team at Lucky Strike Lanes. The Thursday night bowling league never looked so good!
Understand, I love baseball. Most Americans do. But the reason it resonates so deeply inside all of us has nothing to do with diving catches or late-inning heroics. It's because the game so elegantly captures the essence of human existence.
Unlike the evolution of horticulture or weaponry, the concept of modesty didn't evolve. It arrived on the scene fully developed. Either you believed your genitals needed to be concealed or you didn't. The following is a dramatization of that event.
I felt an energy, a power such as I had never before experienced surging through me from my hands, those hands that had elevated mere food to art. I was, I felt, what I had always been meant to be: a celebrity chef.