My other new reluctant penchant of late has been a gnawing/begrudging addiction to Bravo's Top Chef—and the lovely-in-an-obvious-white-boy-way Sam Talbot (don't worry I'll get back to my foremost true love for all Latin boys briefly). I'll hold off on my food-culture as aesthetic wallpaper/ideal for living till an imminent other post, but will say that TC is still a sub-par take on Food Network's Next Food Network Star—whose godly Andrew Schumacher was robbed last season, but at least had his spot taken by the occasionally entertaining Guy Fieri. That said, I will briefly divert from my ramblings on Seijun Suzuki, Jazztronik, Roni Size, and such, to be an obvious fag for a moment and say that Sam is rather fucking hot, the competition has gotten hilarious and on rare occasions culinarily vibrant (though not fucking half as much as it should be), Padma Lakshmi always seemed like a bitch back in her days of hosting FN's Melting Pot, and still does, and tonight's taking out of Marisa + Josie was a nice blow (no, I don't get like this over that Bravo sibling moronic fashion reality fagfest). To have that chased by a preview with my sage source for vitriolic, perverse, and fuck-all brilliant wit, Tony Bourdain, spouting the psychotropically ingenious line that gives this post its subtitle left me anxious for next Wednesday (which I'll have to tape because I'll be going back and forth from Andy Caldwell (more to come on him) and Brasileiro sonic god DJ Marky, but that's another story elsewhere along my obtusely disconnected synapses...). In the meantime, I posted this screen-grab of Sam rather than the actual clip because it's just more aesthetically sound. Feel free to visit YouTube for it.
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