Does anyone remember when you were young and every strange looking and bizarre food item frightened you into paralysis? A paralysis from which you were immovable?  No matter many tools of convincing the enemy (parents) tried to employ against you…  It just wouldn’t take. When I say “strange looking and bizarre” I’m talking about things like mushrooms, olives, peppers, onions, various green things, etc…  The types of items children are automatically repulsed by.

“Try the broccoli…  It’s good for you!”

“Get thee back, woman!”

I’d say that everyone went through this phrase for the better part of their youth. But most eventually grew out of it.  In the transition from childhood to adulthood it is common that one develops a keener sense of taste for the more exotic ingredients (For the most part) and prejudices held previous are forgotten.

But that’s not what I wanted to talk about.  What I’m thinking of are the ass kissing kids.  The one’s who were supposedly right up there with the adults with their overly developed palettes.  Do you know what I’m talking about?  The kids who, when you dismissed or at the very least scowled at your unappetizing food, they gave you the same lecture that your parents did!

“Have you even tried it before?  If you’d try it, you’d like it!”

“I’ve tried it…  I don’t like it.”

“Oh…  Well…  You just don’t know about flavor.”

These kids had been forced by their loved ones to try the food over and over again and had finally decided to feign delight in favor of constant culinary oppression.  And now they were taking out all their hate and frustration on you.  I have a feeling that those kids are politicians now.

Love and Madness,

D. Bradford

p.s. – I still don’t like any of the foods I listed above…  Except broccoli.

Food and freedom were never meant to be one.  This has never been more evident than in the phenomenon that is Subway.  Subway’s sandwich making and service system is beyond my comprehension.  I have no idea how to react to it.  It makes absolutely no sense to me.  I don’t know what the purpose is.

Firstly, okay…  It’s nice to be able to customize your sandwich ingredients.  Oh boy, yeah!  That’s great, yah know…  But what I’d like to do, really, is order the sandwich that is up on the board.  Would that be so difficult?  I’d like to be able to say:  “I’ll have the ‘Chicken Ranch Club,’ please.”  And then get exactly that.  But I can’t.  It’s impossible.  As soon as I ask for a particular sandwich I’m bombarded with a serious of grueling inquiries regarding the ingredients of the sandwich.  I don’t know what goes in the ‘Chicken Ranch Club’!  Just make it already!

“What kind of meat do you want?”

“Oh…  Well, it’s the ‘Chicken Ranch Club’ so…”

“So you want chicken?”

“Yeah, yeah…  I want the chicken.”

“What kind of sauce do you want?”

“Are you kidding me?  Ranch…  I want ranch.”

“Okay, now…  What kind of veggies?”

“What?  Are you trying to say 'vegetables'?”

I just don’t get it.  If you’re going allow changes, substitutions and omissions of every single part of the sandwich then why even have specific sandwiches at all?  Why have the “Turkey Breast & Ham.”  What kinds of questions are you going to be asked if you order the “Oven Roasted Chicken Breast” (“Do you want the chicken breast to be oven roasted?”) or the “Sweet Onion Chicken Teriyaki” (“Do you want teriyaki on that?”)  It’s like you have to just create your own sandwich from scratch.  That’d be fine if that was the hitch but it’s not.

Secondly…  I don’t really have a second point to complain about.  Oh, wait!  Isn’t Subway supposedly some big health-conscious place?  Why then, by the time you’re through the dreaded gauntlet, are you offered soda and a cookie?  It just doesn’t make sense!

Love and Madness,

D. Bradford

p.s. – I was once pressured into choosing a bunch of ingredients I didn’t want because they were training a new employee; However, I did get a free cookie out of it.

Halloween always brings out the horror movie fans.  They emerge from the shadow and grab at you with their bony, white fingers demanding that you watch their beloved horror flicks.  All my life I’ve had beat them off with a stick or cross.  But every year they keep coming back for more.  “You gotta do it…  It’s Halloween!”, “Are you a sissy boy?” or “Hey, Ugly…  I don’t like your face!” (I don’t know what that guy’s problem was.) It’s like they don’t understand that someone could actually not enjoy watching crap for 90 minutes or so.  And not just crap…  But bloody crap that flings at you from all directions!

I’ve never been a horror movie fan (As I’m sure you’ve gathered.)  I don’t think I ever will be.  I just don’t understand them, I guess.  When I watch a movie I want to sit back, relax and take it all in.  You can’t do that with a horror movie.  With them it’s full-on, non-stop sensory bombardment!  No breaks!  I can’t do that!  It’s like a frickin’ work out (A subject I’m even less enthused about.)  But…  Considering its Halloween…  I figure I’d better speak up on the issue (‘Cause so many people look to me for guidance in all matters.)

One group of horror films that I’ve always found fascinating (Though never watched) is the meeting up of classic monsters.  You know what I’m talking about?  When one monster would “meet” another monster for whatever purpose.  Movies like Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man or Abbott And Costello Meet Frankenstein.  I wonder…  How do they meet exactly?  Do they just bump into each other while shopping at the Thrifty Mart or Shopko?  And if so do they chat each other up about old times or does mayhem ensue?

There are also two films where Frankenstein, the Wolf Man, Dracula and a Mad Scientist just sort of get together and…  Hang out.  First at Frankenstein’s place (Frankenstein the monster…  Not to be confused with that Victor Frankenstein, the scientist who stole his name) in House Of Frankenstein and then Dracula’s in House Of Dracula.  I don’t know why they never went to the Wolf Man’s house.  Although I can assume it has something to do with smell.  And I think that Frankenstein and the Mad Scientist live together (You know how that goes!  Wink, wink!)  It took 17 years for Barry Pickett’s novelty song Monster Mash to come out after that (Sidenote: Apparently there was a movie based on that song called Monster Mash: The Movie produced in 1995 and starring Barry Pickett himself.  He was an aspiring actor. Sad... )

So in the end…  I guess what I’m trying to say is STAY BACK.  Keep your damn horror films to yourselves!  Of course one could argue that every movie I've discussed here are really more campy comedies than true horror.  But if you've thought that or anything close to it you're probably a horror movie asshole.

Love and Madness,

D. Bradford

p.s. - It’s interesting to note that after they made Abbott And Costello Meet Frankenstein they made another one where they didn’t even bother to come up with a monster for Boris Karloff to play called Abbott And Costello Meet The Killer Boris Karloff. Whatever brings the consumers- er, I mean…  People in, right?

I found a little children’s book in the basement of my house that was all about influential Americans.  It was titled “101 People Who Changed America” or some nonsense to that affect.  I flipped through, seeing people like George Washington and Mark Twain.  Okay…  Sure.  But then I saw Andy Warhol.  Really?  Warhol?  Changing America?  Maybe I just don’t know enough about Mr. Warhol to make a serious judgment.  I do know a little (He was played by David Bowie in the Julian Schnabel film Basquait about artist Jean-Michel Basquait.  A great film if you’re a Jeffrey Wright fan.)

Well, turns out (According to the highly reliable Wikipedia) that Andy (whose real name is Andrew Warhola – Come on now, people…  If you’re gonna change your names get creative.  At least 2 letters, minimum.  Woody Allen’s real name is Allen Stewart Königsberg.) was the leader of the 1960’s New York art movement known as “Pop Art”, which is basically turning popular logos, icons or people of the day into art.  Not only was he the leader of the movement, but fellow artist (Such as the aptly named Billy Apple and Jasper Johns (Whose, by the way, famous piece is just a print of the American flag – Jasper also appeared on an episode of The Simpsons, where he was featured stealing various things, including Homer’s art, throughout the episode.) saw fit to refer to him as the “Pope of Pop”.

He is famous for his print work.  Such as multiple portraits of Marilyn Monroe, A plethora of Campbell’s brand soup cans as well as many self-portraits.  He also did some crazy avant-garde gay films (Don’t ask how I know that. One of his films, Vinyl, is actually an adaptation of Anthony Burgess’ novel A Clockwork Orange) and was considered to have made himself into somewhat of a pop icon (He was constantly seen wearing a black cashmere suit, a paisley tie, a platinum wig, and sunglasses.) 

He was also shot once, by Valerie Solanas.  She was the founder of a crazy feminist movement called S.C.U.M. (I don’t know what that stands for but I do know they were against men, particularly Warhol, and authored something called the S.C.U.M. manifesto) and shot Warhol (Along with fellow artist Mario Amaya) in his studio because he had “misplaced her screenplay.”  But really because he was a man who, and I quote: “had too much control over my life” (Solanas).  They made a movie about that too.  I Shot Andy Warhol is it's name.  I fell asleep half way through.

That’s all great, grand and wonderful but I just don’t see how it makes him one of the “101 People Who Changed America”.  If anything he simply held up a mirror and let America sort of check it’s self out.  Freshen up; comb its hair a little.  That sort of thing.  I don’t know…  I’ve never really been a big “art” fan.

Love and Madness,

D. Bradford

Addiction is a delicate balance.  And I am a terrible addict.  I have finally come to terms with this within myself, which I think is an important thing to realize.  My most potent addiction (Or rather the biggest I wish to discuss openly) is caffeine.  A common one, yes, but that shouldn’t suggest that it has any less significance.  It can be bastard at times.

Anyone who knows me well knows that I am partial, in my addiction, to the sporadically available Pepsi One.  A fine product if I do say so myself, containing multiple superiorities to any other manifestation of Pepsi (Living, dead or otherwise); However, this is a topic for another time.  Now we are discussing the quandaries of caffeine addiction (I almost said “Spice” addiction.  Too much Dune).

The most recent revelation for myself, concerning addiction, has come as a direct result of Pepsi One.  I have been addicted to more than one form of Pepsi for the better part of my teenage life and beyond, but due to the increasing unavailability of Pepsi One (Due in part to unpopularity and an infinitely ignorant society) the dilemma has brought it’s self to the fore front of my being.  I have at least 4 12-packs in my room at all times and I’m constantly thinking 4 more 12-packs ahead.  There has been a dry spell recently, however…  And it’s shook me to the bone.

A couple of weeks ago I stopped off at a local grocery store with the intent of purchasing an obscene amount of Pepsi One.  Macey’s, a grocery store which I frequent and have in turn grown to know.  To my horror I found that they no longer carried Pepsi One (The only conclusion I could come to considering I’m probably the only person who buys it at this particular store…  Or perhaps in the world?).  Outrageous!  In a mad panic I scrambled for the car and speed across the city to a different store.  There were some there but the ordeal still left me in somewhat of a panic.  And last night I went to the same store, finding they had only 2 liter bottles not cans.  2 liter bottles?  Come on!  I still bought them, though, finding myself upset that they only had four bottles.  I wanted to take advantage of the fantastic 10 for 10 deal.

Not everyone suffers anxiety like this.  Some people lead normal, healthy lives.  I watch them and wonder how they can do it.  I imagine not drinking a Pepsi for one day and my mind reels in alarm!  Perhaps one such person would like to comment? (You know who you are!)

Love and Madness,

D. Bradford

Welcome to "Love and Madness".  My name is D. Bradford and this is my first entry.  It is my hope that "Love and Madness" will prove a useful tool in my on-going mission to expose the "Love and Madness" in the world as we know it (Hense the title).

Lets face it...  Blogs are for losers, really.  Nothing more than a bunch of hateful jackasses wasting away their pathetic lives in front of a flickering screen.  But come on...  Be a jackass with me, won't you?

Love and Madness,
D. Bradford