Concerning Mr. Bourdain

If I ever wrote a letter to Anthony Bourdain, it would look a lot like this:

Dear Tony,

This letter mostly concerns your claim that Veganism/Vegetarianism is a 1st world lifestyle, insinuating that I must live in a pleasure palace of cushy diversity, eating a cute little starfruit one day, a prickly pear the next, all the while behaving as if I do no harm and am holier than thou.

I guess I understand where you picked this attitude up. I've never met any myself, but I'm sure that prickley, snooty vegans exist out there. I hear about them on television programs, and it seems like every sit com features a wacky fun time psychic/vegan/new age-y character. I suppose it's easy to assume that these folks are it. Or maybe you've gathered that all vegans unanimously worship PETA, an organization so infantile and reactionary that we could easily both hate them (for different reasons, of course) together.

But regardless, Tony, you're going to have to accept that there are other kinds of vegans out there. I don't care what people around me eat--it's really no concern of mine. I think PETA is an irresponsible institution, seeking to guilt children into accepting a lifestyle that they don't really understand, maybe leading to health problems.

I do despise factory farming, though, and for all the ruckus you make about individuals carving out their own niche, it seems like you would hate it more too.

You would like to imagine that I would burn your house down for eating foie gras, but honestly Tony, I don't give a fuck. Eat a still-beating cobra heart for all I care, you're clearly okay with the decisions that you make. Maybe don't try so hard to be concerned with the ones that I make.

I've never spent summers in France. I don't dine at fancy restaurants. I don't dine at fast food joints. I'll probably never find my way to rural China to have a small banquet thrown in my honor. But if I do, You can be certain that I'll eat whatever they give me. I don't think that eating animals is inherently wrong. I just think that factory farming is bullshit, and I think that your smug, globe-trotting self should fuck off when it comes to acting like a goddamned streetwise cool daddy-o.

fuck you,

Heath McFarland

P.S: The Laos episode of "No Reservations" was truly heartbreaking. Thank you for showing what you did.

P.P.S: Nice sunglasses, you fucking dork.

Effort!

I am the worst about keeping up with what is considered a cool new record. I purposefully distance myself from such records, as my aversion to hollow breathless praise is as high as anyone else's. I'm just now getting around to Wilco's "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot." When I first heard it, I hated it completely, bored with the tepid, go-nowhere strumming and the lack of discernible structure filling in the blank for "experimental." But I think I get it a little better now.

This album sounds like a room full of people wanting to create but being completely depressed with everything they produce. The random noises panning left and right seem set to willfully destroy the song at hand, drawing attention away from their hated creations. That might not sell anyone on the record, but I actually find it infinitely more interesting and touching because of this resigned sort of nihilism. Feeling blank is the worst, and this record seems like an attempt to exercise such blankness. The lyrics appear to be full of non-sequitors, but occasionally a bit of honesty will shine through, such as on Radio Cure:

"Cheer up honey, I hope you can/ there is something wrong with me."

Okay, it's not Keats. But it's an honest statement, and it sounds like it's coming from someone desperate to connect.

Of course, I could be projecting my own perspective over the record (all critics do). I don't know anything about the band, and for all I know they're the cheeriest fellows on the globe. But the beauty of art is that the object created isn't static, and the conversation generated over the object is the stuff that spurs on movements. I may be getting it all wrong, but the record is a lot closer to me now than it ever has been before.

My pooch, Sadie, is also quite fond of the record. This post was originally going to be about records that you and your dog can listen to. Here's what I came up with:

The Beatles: Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
There are loads of great noises on this record, but the best is reserved for last: a dog whistle concluding the ringing piano chords of "A Day in The Life" (my favorite Beatles song, by the way). This is sure to cock their heads, and the looped gibberish afterwards don't hurt either.

Can: Tago Mago
Can were masters of one of my favorite genres of music: Incredible endless grooves with increasingly weird noises piled on top. The bedrock of drums and bass seem to churn endlessly on this record, culminating with the awesome "Halleluweh." Out of tune violins sawing away, strange percussion, Damo Suzuki's cooing of german/japanese/english, noises wrung from god-knows-what (the likes of which Pink Floyd only dreamed of using), all coming in for 20-30 seconds and then leaving. Dogs love it!

I was going to talk about Wilco's record too, but I've already done that. Thanks for reading!