Whipped Cream Difficulties

Man, time flies when you’re having fun. The first of the Austin nightclub trials started yesterday. (Previously.) It doesn’t seem that there’s much to report yet, but I’ll try to keep an eye on the trial for any sensational revelations.

Ah, “Rebecca”. We hardly knew you. Ben Sprecher’s attempt to round up additional financing didn’t pan out, and the musical has been cancelled. (Previously.)

In an interview Mr. Russo, a longtime criminal defense lawyer, said that Mr. Sprecher’s computer might have been hacked and confidential e-mails stolen “as part of some kind of plot to scare off investors and doom the show.” He said that Mr. Sprecher had turned over hundreds of e-mails to investigators. But Mr. Russo declined requests for several pieces of corroborating information that might shed light on one of the most troubled productions in recent Broadway history.

Also in the NYT: yet another story about fishing tournament fraud. I really do not get why people are surprised by this, or why the media finds it newsworthy. Where there’s money, there’s going to be fraud. If you’re talking six figure money, there’s going to be six figure fraud. And if someone defrauds someone else of a six-figure sum of money, why shouldn’t that be a felony, just because fish are involved?

If four new books are any indication, Mr. Zuckerberg is the decidedly nonmacho, non-pickup-driving embodiment of a new breed of American hunter. These young memoirists have loaded their rifles and shotguns for complicated reasons, including culinary one-upmanship. Nothing wows jaded dinner guests like a braised shank of calf moose that you’ve recently “harvested” and “dressed” — hunting euphemisms for killed, skinned and disemboweled — before bringing it to the table.

I haven’t read any of the new books mentioned by the NYT, but I did read Mr. Rinella’s previous book, The Scavenger’s Guide to Haute Cuisine. That was 51% interesting, 49% “throw across the room” annoying. I liked large parts of it – for example, his visit to an eel harvester and seller, and his trip to Alaska. What really set me off was the end of the book, in which Mr. Rinella cooks a large wild game Thanksgiving dinner for friends and family….and one of the guests is a vegan who insists on (metaphorically) crapping all over his elaborately prepared meal.

Sorry, but if I’m in Mr. Rinella’s position and someone pulls that <stuff> on me, I’ll take them aside and tell them politely: “This is your one warning. You are a guest in my house. If you continue to badmouth my food and complain about it not being vegan, I will physically throw you out the front door and see how many times you bounce. If you can’t deal with that, walk out now under your own power.”

Anyway, I don’t feel any real compulsion to read Mr. Rinella’s new book, or any of the others mentioned by the paper of record.