perfidy

A plethora of quick hits:

• Check out implosionworld.com, "the explosive demolition industry's worldwide source for news and information on building implosions, blowdowns and all other types of structural blasting projects." You can watch video of stuff asploding, which I think we can all agree is pretty freaking sweet.
• In a giant "suck it" to common sense, health, and all that is good and holy, the Hardees' chain of fast-food restaurants ("Hardees: Not Quite Huddle House, and Proud Of It!") now offers a 1400-calorie, 107-gram of fat concoction they call the "Thickburger." With fries and coke, that calorie count comes to 2,300. Gaaah! I am deeply reluctant to assign moral weight to eating choices (apart from cannibalism and other special cases). I have blogged before about my feelings on the assignment of the language of sin and transgression to food (sinfully delicious!). 
  
  But these reasoned and moderate thoughts can't stop my gorge from rising even thinking about 2/3 pound of grade-Z beef cooked to death and slathered in imitation mayonnaise. So we're clear: 2/3 pound of good quality chopped steak formed into a patty and served with as much real-deal mayo as you want: fine. Ridiculous, but fine. Hardees: an affront to everything I stand for. Not that it means anything, but I generally consume in the neighborhood of 1800 calories a day, and I'm a highly active male on a weight-training and running regimen. That 107 grams of fat plus the fat in the fries? That's me in a week. Gaah. I'm not claiming moral superiority here-- eat what the hell you want, but I'm just wondering. The Thickburger meal: disgusting monstrosity, or disgusting eat-for-two-days-for-$7 bargain?
  
  The best part? They offer a low-carb version.

• Loyal Reader #0017, EDog, is writing a novel this month as part of NaNoWriMo. Read it here. I've started it: fun! Sample graf:

  The bartender took a mug and went to an honest-to-God wooden keg sitting on the wall and filled it with the blackest beer Liza had ever seen. An odor reminiscent of fine coffee filled the air for a moment, and Liza's nostrils flared with the sharp scent. The barkeep swept a wand across the top of the mug, cutting the foam from the top. Then, almost in slow motion, he slid the mug down a well-polished groove in the bar. Liza watched the mug's progress, as if it were suddenly the most important event she had ever witnessed. The man reached out his hand and caught the mug just before it vanished off the edge of the bar into darkness. In a moment, another mug came sailing back up the path again, but this one was empty. The bartender caught it with practiced ease and took it back to the chipped ceramic sink where he began to flush it with great quantities of hot water.