Welcome to StabbyMart! We supply a full range of mutalitory items as well as various instruments of maiming and deathing. Also, sometimes we talk about kids, puppies and Jebus. If you are easily offended by sex, religion, profanity or general deviancy and debauchery; you're an asshole and should probably fuck off.
I was forced to read a Guy Gavriel Kay book by my wife. She's been nagging me for years but it wasn't until she very publicly called me out on Pa'eh'ba day that I decided to take her up on her most subtle insistence. She did a review of a GGK book as he's a Canadian author who happens to be from my home province. (did I mention that she received a copy of his latest, unpublished book as a thank you?). This wouldn't be such a big deal but for the fact that Guy Gavriel Kay is from one of the most redneck towns in the province but has managed to develope an imagination far beyond anything I could hope to ever obtain. While I refused to take my wife's advice for a time (mostly due to her love for American Idol, Grey's Anatomy and her penchant for watching all of the television shows my kids watch) I have to admit, she was right: Kay has a fantastic gift for storytelling. However, in this case, it is certainly not without fault.
The central story is about a newly crowned emperor, his empress of lesser means, a mosaicist, and the all the politics that go along with being favoured by His Highness. A few years after winning the throne, the emperor summons mosaicist Martinian of Varena to Sarantium to construct a mosaic unmatched in the world in his holy temple. However, Martinian (being an old man) insists that his partner Caius Crispus go in his stead. Caius, having lost his wife and daughter to the plague the year prior, refuses to go until he speaks secretly with the queen of his country .She urges him to go with the intention that he delivers her offer to the emperor in the interest of peace and saving her life. Caius sets off with the aid of a necromancer and his "tricks" but has no idea of the pagan religion he must face or the political intrigues that await him.
Honestly, when I began to read this book, I was about ready to call my wife on her bullshit. It bore a striking resemblance to many other tales of the city of Rome. In fact, you could substitute Rome for Sarantium and never miss a beat. At first, It's somewhat difficult to grasp who the story is about because the prologue of the book is fifty-one pages long and details the current emporer's rise to power; but it also begins with the perspective of a poor shop-keeper, then it shifts to a bureaucrat, then it then it moves to a Senator, then it details the thoughts of a hooker and her lover then some dudes in the harbor...you get the idea.
I was extremely frustrated. I could not beleive that my wife and I could be so disjointed in our appreciation of fiction. Really, it took me about a week to get through the first 150 pages, which is unheard of! Then, after that, I tore through the next 400 pages in a day.
Kay describes everything and everyone in minute detail. While this was initially perplexing to me, it all made sense at the end of the tale and I could definitely appreciate his reasons for fleshing out seemingly innocuous characters (with one exception). The way he describes objects through the eyes of his characters is truly breathtaking and his attention to detail (once you get used to it) really makes this book wholly engaging. At its heart, Sailing To Sarantium is a book of political intrigue with a smattering of the occult and a whole lot of love. As such, explaining each characters motivations in such a detailed fashion is integral to the plot. While I initially criticized Kay for being obtuse and unnecessarily verbose, he has a gift for making you understand the motivations of the characters and believing in every action they choose to perform.
Sailing To Sarantium is the first in what I understand will be a duology. If I enjoy the second book as much as I did the first (after the first 150 pages) I may have to admit to my wife that I was wrong. While I'm generally adverse to admitting her correctitude, I'm willing to accept it in this instance.
On Sunday, just out of the blue, I up and decide to try something a little different for supper. I'll do this fairly often as I just like throwing some shit (not literally) together and seeing what comes out. For the most part, things tend to work out for the best but there has been the odd failure. We don't really talk about those. Being the red-blooded Canadian I am, I decided that there was nothing better than to stuff some meat in some other meat. I guess it wasn't really stuffing, it was more like enveloping a juicy cut of beef in the smokey and savoury heaven known as bacon. "Now why would you do that, Mr. Manager?" you may be asking. If you are actually asking that, please make a vigorous attempt at removing your tonsils with an eggplant. You're an idiot and have no business being here. The world will be better off never having to hear you speak again. The following is a brief outline of my odyssey to a swiney orgasm.
First, you need a roast. It doesn't really matter what kind but you should consider that it has to be cylindrical, not very fatty and of a reasonable circumference. They don't make two foot long slices of bacon and, while I believe that this is an affront to nature, I don't make the rules. I used the butt of a beef tenderloin which was about three pounds and twelve inches in circumference. It wasn't ideal as the shape isn't a cylinder and they tend to be tapered at both ends. Please keep in mind that you don't need to use beef; pork on pork isn't a hate crime, it's a crime of passion.
If you're using a tenderloin, they usually aren't cleaned. You have to tear and slice off all of that lovely viscera so you don't end up with tender deliciousness on top of a layer of rubber. A good rule to follow is "if it's shiny, cut it off." This rule does not apply to my junk. If you've got a prepared roast (one that's been cleaned and trussed by the butcher) you're good to go. Lay out a layer of way paper to put the bacon on as this will help with the rolling process. Next, lay out the strips of bacon vertically. Use as many strips as you need to equal the width of your roast. Now the tricky part; weave more bacon horizontally through the vertical bacon. The easiest way is to simply fold back every second piece of vertical bacon, lay the horizontal piece down and fold the vertical strips back down. Alternate the vertical strips until you end up with what we have below. You may have to stretch the bacon a bit to make it reach but that's just fine.
Fuck the pill, I choose pork!
So now we have what I call the bacon matrix. It's as good as the Wachowski's Matrix but without all the Keanu aftertaste. Next take some herbs, pepper, garlic, and whatever else you may think will work and put it on that porcine delight. It doesn't matter if you use fresh or dried seasoning. I used fresh garlic, sage, basil, oregano, mushrooms and cracked pepper. DO NOT USE SALT! The bacon is salty enough on its own. By the way, get a mortar and pestle, you can mash up some brilliant things with apothecary tools. When done, you get something like this:
Now slap your meat down about four inches from one end of that bitch. Take the edge of the wax paper and fold it over the roast. Now roll it all up (peeling the wax paper off of the bacon as you go) like you're rolling a nice, tight fatty. Really, keep it as tight as you can. Now you have to tie that fucker up. It's the only way you're going to keep it all together and keep the bacon close to and covering the roast. Use some butcher's string and tie it with loops every couple of inches. This is a bad example as my roast wasn't uniform in circumference but you get the idea.
Now it's time for cooking and I decided to use the rotisserie on my grill. People, I can not tell you how important this is, invest in that add-on for your grill. Pay for the extra burner and all that shit. Yes it's a little awkward at first but you will never have juicier or tastier roasts and chickens in your life. Plus, it's so easy. The rotisserie uses both direct and indirect heat so you get a lovely sear on the outside which keeps all the juices on the inside and, because of the rotation, the meat bastes itself. Because of the direct/indirect method, you can also cook at awesomely low heats while still getting that gorgeous caramelization that we're all looking for. You can certainly roast it in the oven if you wish, but make sure you have a rack in the bottom of the roasting pan and you leave the roast uncovered. You'll also probably have to increase your heat to about 300F in order to crisp the bacon. You could also roast it on your grill sans roasting pan by way of indirect heat.
I Spit-roasted this sexy bitch for about four hours at 200 F and it worked perfectly. Actually, I cooked it to a medium/medium-well which I usually wouldn't do but there were children present and I was a virgin when it comes to wrapping my meat (That's a lie, I forgot about it for a bit). This brings us to another lesson: get a fucking meat thermometer! Not only can you stab people with them at the movies but you can stick them in your roast, chicken or turkey and they will tell you exactly how well it's done. Please note: always cook your roast/chicken/turkey to just a hair below where you want it. It will continue cooking while you let it rest (we'll get to resting in a moment). I know you're not stupid, but, use a drip pan if you're doing this on the grill. If you don't, the next time you fire that fucker up you may as well pre-warn the fire department. So, when the roast is almost done, remove it from the heat and/or take it out of the pan and place it on a cutting board to rest.
You know you want me
Resting allows all those sexy juices to absorb back into the meat and it will finish the cooking process. You want to leave any meats you grill or roast to rest for about 7-10 minutes and that includes fowl and steaks. After you're sexy swine-slathered stud has rested, slice it up. Don't slice it thin like a roast, slice it like you were cutting a steak for grilling. That way you get a lovely layer of bacon that hasn't been shredded by your futile attempts at fuck-cuttery. Another note, real meat lovers don't use electric knives. You spent fifty bucks on a vibrating piece of metal when you could have gotten a perfectly good slicer for the same price. So buy the good knife, then learn to sharpen it. Look, is advertising ever wrong?
Now we come to the best part, the consumption. Use a fork and knife as people expect you to use something called 'manners'. I'm unfamiliar with the term as I've never seen them demonstrated.
It's ok if you want to put your dick/clit in it.
Oh yeah, the potatoes! Those were good too! About an hour and a half before the roast is done, dump a small bag of new potatoes in a mixing bowl. Go and get about six tablespoons of the drippings out of the pan under the roast and toss with the potatoes. (You cannot use the drippings as gravy as they're too fatty so don't even try.) Put the potatoes on a foil covered baking sheet and pop them in the oven at 350F. Feel free to add whatever bacon leavin's you have to the cookie sheet too. About twenty minutes before the roast is done, pull the potatoes out of the oven and put them back in the bowl. Add a few tablespoons of dijon mustard, herbs (I used the same kind as on the roast but dill is excellent) a pat of butter, garlic powder, salt and pepper. I also added fresh mushrooms because that's how I roll. Mix, toss them back in the oven for the remaining twenty minutes and serve. Devine.
The aftermath was that the bacon was fabulously smokey but not too salty and was almost like a moist and tender jerky. It added just the right amount of seasoning to the roast and kept it brilliantly tender while not being greasy at all. The herbs were a lovely accent that permiated the entirety of my mouth and the slight bitterness of the dijon potatoes contrasted perfectly with the savory flavours of the bacon and the heady taste of the tenderloin.
Final rating: 8 out of 10 arteries.
StabbyMart: promoting coronaries so we can sell you a defective heart valve.
Robert J Sawyer is a Canadian author who has won the Hugo and Nebula awards for various works previous to Wake. To non-Science Fiction geeks that probably doesn't mean a whole lot but those of you comfortable in your nerdom will recognize this awards as something to be quite proud of. I've never read any of Sawyer's other works so I was totally unbiased while reading this book while lounging by a pool on a 28 degree day in January. Wake is the first book of the World Wide Web trilogy which will have two more contributions in relatively short order (I hope).
Wake begins in Waterloo, Ontario where Caitlin has just moved to from Austin, Texas due to her father taking a position at a technology company. Much like any young teenager she's having difficulty adjusting to life in Canada; the climate, the larger school, the new girl stigma and mostly her new surroundings. You see Caitlin is completely blind and has been from birth. She and her parents have tried many exerimental treatments and surgeries but all to no avail. It isn't much of a detriment for Caitlin though as, at the age of fourteen, she's a genius and has developed a staggering understanding of the world aound her. She excels at everything she tries, is a whiz with mathematics but her best talents are on the World Wide Web. Through the use of tools made specifically for the blind such as braille keyboards and reading software, she can use the internet with more dexterity than most sighted people. She remembers all of the links and complex pathways of the net and, for lack of a better term, generates a map in her head of where she's been and how to get there.
One day Caitlin recieves a strange e-mail from a doctor in Japan regarding an experimental surgery that she appears to be an ideal candidate for. This surgery would implant a mictoprocessor onto Caitlin's optic nerve that would interpret the visual signals it recieves and pass them on to her brain. She would also wear a small wi-fi router/processor on her belt to receive and transmit data and firmware to and from Japan via the internet. Caitlin has nothing physically wrong with her eyes, it is the way the signals are moved to her brain that causes her blindness. After some deliberation Caitlin and her family decide to go to Japan to try the surgery. The proceedure is performed with a minimum of complications and the time comes to turn everything on. Nothing.
Caitlin convices the doctor to let her keep all of the equipment for a while to see if soemthing may miraculously happen. One day when she's walking home from the school dance she sees intermittent bright flashes. Pitch black then milliseconds of bright white. She sees lightning. After conferring with the doctor they decide to do a software upgrade. During this upgrade soemthing strange and wonderful happens. Caitlin can see a series of bright lines that all interconnect and sometimes have bright globish things flying up and down the lines. She talks about this to the doctor about this as it only happens when her processor is in a particular mode. The doctor is at a loss and has made no progress on her vision so they just leave it as is. One day, in science class, Caitlin is looking at this wonder when she switches back to the other setting and...she can see! The doctor immediately flies to Waterloo to investigate her new found vision (both kinds) and upon consideration, they learn that Caitlin can not only see the physical world now, but also the internet. The actual information on the internet as it flows back and forth from node to not But there's soemthing else, something just in the background. Cailin, the doctor and her father do some test on this mysterious occurance and it turns out that it is intelligent. As Caitlin goes about her day to day routine, she begins to notice things, kind of like feedback loops in her software. One time she actually sees a picture of her face transmitted back to her. They run the intelligence tests again and find that the mysterious static has grown more intelligent almost as if its alive and sentient! The revalation that Cailtin comes to leaves her stunned at the possibilities that now exist.
Overall I found the book to be quite good but it does start off rather slowly. What I will say is that the detail and level of research Sawyer must have put into the technology that a blind person would use is rather impressive. Nothing seems out of place in Caitlin's world, whether it's the speach reading software or even the surgical implant she receives. He also delves into some pretty complex mathematics which I can't really call real or imagined (mostly because I'm lazy and won't look it up) but he does an excellent job of relating these complex theories to the reader. I found Caitlin to be quite endearing and she has a sufficiently dry wit that I could easily relate too. All told, I enjoyed the first book of the trilogy enough to continue on through the next two books, whenever they may be published.
I''m having a bit of a conundrum. I like Neil Gaiman. I think his writing is great, he descriptions of people, places and items of note is fantastic and his imagination is brilliant. I've read three of his books now; Good Omens, American Gods and now Neverwhere. I really enjoyed American Gods but, upon the completion of the other two, I found myself with a feeling of "well that was...alright." It seems that I just don't connect with some of his writing like I do with other authors. Is it him? Is it me? I just don't know. Nevertheless, Neverwhere is a perfectly fine read for those that are fans of Gaiman's other works and I'm sure that I may be in the minority with my less than stellar impressions of the book.
Neverwhere is the story of Richard Mayhew who, on the eve of leaving for London to begin a career in securities, receives a warning from an old woman as he's lying on the sidewalk outside the pub about to be sick. "I'd watch out for doors if I were you." she states. Typical of young men preparing to venture to the big city and with a liver full of liquor, Richard promptly disregards her warning and even more expediently, forgets it. After living in London for a while, Richard finds himself engaged to a woman who is out of his league, in a job that seems to be plodding along but not really taking him anyhwere and just kind existing day to day. One evening, as Richard and his fianceee are about to have supper with her boss, they come accross a girl laying on the sidewalk who is obviously hurt badly. His finaceee admonishes Richard to leave the woman where she is as this supper is extremely important to her carreer. Richard, being a person with a soul, stops to help the woman and takes her back to his apartment to care for her. Eventually she recovers enough to tell Richard what happened and her name, Door. Soon thereafter, two men appear at Richards door asking about the woman he had rescued. These men obviously have bad intentions towards the girl so Richard tries to provide cover as best he can but when he goes back into his apartment, the girl is gone.
The next day, things start to get very strange. People he's known for years have trouble remembering him, his bank account seems to be missing and some people come to look at his apartment while he is still there but don't even notice him. Richard sets out to find out what the hell has happened to him and what happened to the girl which leads him to the underground of London with the help of a street bum. He meets the rat people and is taken to the Rat King who aids him in finding Door again. Door tells him of her family's murder and her talent for opening, well, doors. what follows is a harrowing adventure through the underground to bring the killers to justice and to remove an ancient evil from the underground of London.
That's not a very good description so let me just say this: Neverwhere is yet another re-telling of Alice in Wonderland. It's far more sinister than the versions that I'm familliar with and certainly isn't out of place amongst Gaiman's other works. All the characters you're familiar with are here in some form or another. The Cheshire cat, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, The Mad Hatter and of course The Queen of Hearts. Gaiman is in fine form as he weaves his imagination in and out of the classic tale. There's blood, there's horror, there's the supernatural and it's definately an excellent book. So what's the issue I had with it? Well, I've read it before. That is, the story of Alice has been told, told and re-told many many times. While it's interesting to read Gaiman's take on the adventure, you always know what's coming next. I just didn't connect with this book like I do with most others. As I said, it's a perfectly fine tale, but it's a tale that you've all read before. If your a fan of Gaiman's, you're sure to love it. If you're a fan of Alice in Wonderland you'll probably enjoy it. For me, well, I've been down that rabbit hole before and I don't feel the need to go back.
I know, I know...I'm late. Not in that good "Hey, I'm knocked up!" way, but in the "sorry, I had to stop and steal candy from orphans" way. Funny thing, when you're not at work, nobody does it for you. God damn Cheerio fuckers. Anyhow, I'll have an epilogue up some time with some murderous wisdom to share about "The American Experience". Until then, suck on these:
Dill pickle chips:
Do Americans not have these at all? Is there some sort of law against pleasure in America (don't answer that, I know) How can you people possibly survive without these, tasty, savoury, salty, pickley slices of deep fried love? It baffles the mind! Look, I'm a potatoe chip connesiur, so I am completely confident when I say that bbq, salt n' vinegar, regular, jalapeno, sour cream n' onion all suck a diarrhetic ass in comparison. I honestly pity you poor, chipless Americans.
Yellow Lights:
It's a universally accepted rule that a yellow light means speed up, because the light will turn red soon. I have no issue with that. I compensate for it. But in America, it would appear that a yellow light means "Hey! The light is going to turn red. You only have another thirty seconds to go through the intersection. Yeah, it's illegal and your fucking up the people who actually have the right-of-way but, you know what, fuck them. You're special." It would appear that there are a lot of special people in America.
Airport Security:
Hey, Lady, there are three hundred people in line! Would you mind helping your kid pack his backpack, tie his shoes, put away his toys and put his things through the scanner? Not that I'm in a hurry, but I do have a whole fuckload of stuff that has to go through that electronic raping and I'd rather not hold everybody else up. Yes, our shoes are tight (we had the same sneakers).
To the US security people: you were excellent. You didn't feel me up once. However, requiring me to remove the padding from the car seat, maybe a little much.
American Beef:
I'm going to give Armourica a pass on this one. I bought the best steaksI could find in the supermarket which is something I generally don't do. But even when I buy supermarket beef, I can perform magic. It wasn't tough, but the taste was...there? Was this the vaunted American beef that I've heard so much about? Was this "grain fed"? Was this going to make me swear of bovineian deliciousness for the rest of my days? No. Of course not. I realize that you people have suffered since you restricted out beefy imports. It's not your fault, blame the gubment. Really, people, You shouldn't be able to see the ribs on a cow. Ever.
American Cigarettes:
Yes, I smoke. Deal with that shit. I'll quit when I fucking feel like it. I'll tell you though, I'd quit a hell of a lot sooner if I lived in America. American cigarettes are fucking disgusting. "But D" you're saying, "all cigarettes are gross." Not like this. American cigarettes act like they want to be cigars but really just don't want to put in the effort. I'm really wondering if the camel shit and boot leather rumours are true? I brought five packs of Canadian cigs with me to moderate the blurgh, but I knew that I would have to give in eventually. But I honestly have to wonder how these lawsuits against the tobacco companies were successful because the fucking dirty pimps pretty much tell you you're going to die with the taste.
Tact:
Let me just say that, after having three kids, my wife's modesty has pretty much been tossed out the window. It takes me both hands, both feet and an abacus to count up just how many people have seen my wife's slippery valley. For real, ask Trouble and Tracer, if baby's hungry; she'll whip that shit out in front of total strangers. However, you won't see a thing. She's a tiity ninja! You'll all be sitting there talking and suddenly there will be a booby on the boob. I can't help but think that this could be a marketable skill.
So, the day we fly out of FLA, the rest of the family decides to hit the IHOP (I voted for The Waffle House). We're seated in a booth by a bubbly used-up thirty year old woman but the booth is too small for the car seat. This causes some serious issue as the poor lass can't figure out what to do. I tell her it's no big deal and put the car seat in an adjacent booth (it wasn't busy) which only leads to more confusion. I spend the next five minutes convincing our lovely waitress that it will all be okay. We proceed to peruse the menu while listening to the delighful banter between the kitchen and the serving staff when the baby gets hungry. True to form, my lovely wife slaps a titty in her face. Note: This also works on men. Our waitress comes along to take our orders and as my father starts to speak she says: "Sorry, wait a minute." looking at my wife she continues, "I just want to say, that I think that is the most beautiful and natural thing ever. I'm glad that you're comfortable enough to do that in a restaurant and I just think that's beautiful."... Cue silence.
We're all a little bit speachless and my wife responds with the appropriate awkward courtesy. The waitress continued to fire questions at The Mrs. and The Mrs. continued to respond in an affable manner. We weren't upset or mad because the waitress was totally sincere about it. She honestly thought that this was the greatest thing ever! She was cordial, friendly and we enjoyed her quite a bit. But, can I have my pancakes now?
StabbyMart: Tossing Titty To Troublesome Toddlers.
I have an admission. I've never read Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice and, as such, I don't think it would be fair to either Austen or Smith to give an honest review without having the comparison. I'll admit, I'm kind of on the fence about the whole thing and I'm not sure whether it's due to the original work or the additions that Smith has made. Therefore I'm going to cop-out on this one and review both of them together upon completing Austen's original work. I want to like it but there's just something nagging at me and I need to know who's going to get a taste of my wrath. I have my suspicions, but I would rather be accurate in my critique as 'classics' tend to be a fairly contentious issue.
Her Fooshyness may see fit to call me on this "review" but I promise that the dual review will more than make up for it.
Sorry all. After the vacation, shit has gotten busy again. I've got some projects that are taking up my time in the evenings so, while I've got three different posts on the go, I've not had a chance to fully write them. I've got the last two of the 'Murica series and a special Valentines day post. Unfortunately I haven't had the time to view most of yours either. Does that make me a bad internets pal? Yes. But I'm a bad, bad man. I'm hoping to have all three done by the end of the weekend. Oh, and those three posts don't include the four book reviews I'm behind on for the CBII.
Stay frosty. (Minus 34 overnight? Fuck you Saskatchewan.)
I live with four women and a bitch. This is not condusive to maintaining any sembelence of sanity. I also work with the public in a job wherein "asshole" is a more common moniker than my own. I've been exposed to the dumbest and most ignorant of peoples. Hence, StabbyMart was born.
