A few years ago I visited Peru with Tony Hawk. Tony had learned via a CNN profile that Peruvian chef, Virgilio Martinez, had grown up as a skater in Lima in the '90s. Since then, Virgilio traded in his skateboard for a cutting board and he is now an internationally renowned chef and an ambassador of Peruvian cuisine—mostly due to the success of his Lima restaurant, Central, rated the fifth best restaurant in the world on "The World's 50 Best Restaurant List" (Central is currently sixth). So Tony DM’d him.
One of the great treats about now having Dave Carnie contributing words to our Luddite site is that: a) I'm no longer the sole voice of questionable reason; and b) Dave has a much more worldly and wise mind and, as such, always has exciting new tidbits of knowledge to drop on me in the midst of casual eCommunication. Curiously and fortuitously, one of our latest exchanges just so happened to provide a heretofore unknown to me label for something I'd been planning to blahg about in conjunction with our upcoming annual Halloween* release: a mortified movement!
I don’t like movies. Waste of time. Actors are cocksuckers. Pretending and playing make-believe is not an art, or even a talent. It’s just lying. So I found it rather amusing when StrangeLove asked me to write some posts for the site and among the various subjects they suggested was: movies.
Today's debate: the veracity of the saying, "Never meet your heroes."Generally speaking, this is true. I mean the phraseobviously exists for a reason—granted, not all reasons arerooted in reality, but I'llspare the morose existentialism for anothersunny day—and there's certainly no short supply of experiences out there to corroborate its generational persistence. The obvious takeaway from all that being mystery and intrigue are almost always better than a glimpse at what really goes on behind the curtain and some things are best left to ones imagination. Especially nowadays in our social media-centric world where direct, unfiltered access to the thoughts and actions of the famous has never been more easy and, consequently, never more disastrous, discouraging, disheartening, disappointing, and many other dis-oriented words.
When I was in grade school, my parents decided to take a family trip to Chicago. This was a "very big deal" then, because my family never went anywhere more than a two hour's drive time from home (ours being in dead central Wisconsin, so Madison was about as "big city" as it ever got for us). Anyway, while heading into Chicago my dad accidentally got on the dreaded "loop," at which point my mom started freaking the f' out and stressed my dad out so f'ing bad that we never went on any "big city" trips again throughout the duration of my time under their roof. Weird how that memory has stuck with me over 40 years later, but I've got Chicago on my mind because that's where you're about to go in a much smoother and far less stressful manner with Timothy Johnson.