Eat Chili

Hey: You want Clueless?

You want Disengaged, Blithe, Oblivious, Heedless, Purblind, Obtuse?

I spent most of yesterday thinking the Super Bowl would be played at 6:30 last night.

I came to this misinformation from a bleary-eyed, not-yet-caffeinated caption in the morning meatspace WashPost: Super Bowl, Sunday, 6:30 PM, ABC-TV.

Well, shit, wouldn't you draw the conclusion from this that "Sunday" meant, well, this Sunday? I mean, Christ, somewhere deep in the Jingo Hypothalamus there exists the knowledge that there's a two-week hiatus between the conference championships and the Big Game -- as advertisers are hilariously forced to call it or risk a trademark infringement suit. Maybe, just maybe, I lost count of weekends in among all the other, far-more-important-than-football activities I have going on in my life. How the hell am I supposed to keep all these things straight, when I'm dashing off to see Al Gore's DAR Speech, or composing groundbreaking & important orchestral music in my loft space? Why the hell didn't my personal assistant inform me before I committed two pounds of churrasco-cut steak to the Jingo Family Traditional Super Bowl Chili?

Yes, that is what I'm going to continue to tell myself. I had far more important things to think about than some silly panem-et-circensis spectacle. I will hew to this line, and banish from my thoughts the idea that this oversight is an early harbinger of the dotty old coot I am well on my way to becoming, alone and irascible and wearing clashing plaids and white patent shoes with my pants hiked up to my nipples, muttering dark imprecations against suspicious busboys and insolent bus-drivers, my plastic gimme cap from the USS Ronald Reagan (CVN 76) levitating a ridiculous tuft of thin white hair from the back of my head as I pat my pockets in vain for the keys to my condo -- which I hold in my left hand.

Stupid football game.

The chili was fuckin' great, though. Man, can I cook chili. Here's the recipe I followed -- the cocoa powder's the zinger. The special kick, not in the recipe, is in the sour-cream-and-chipotle garnish I whipped up out of thin air. Thin with plain yoghurt and drizzle over the chili. Then sit down, turn on the TV for the Big Game and -- surprise!

I hear kidney beans have got like Vitamin F or something that gives you antioxidizing agents-n-stuff that kick Alzheimer's ass. Eat lots of chili, that's my advice.