As Sean mentioned in a previous post, I had introduced him to the recent popularity of the art of public mortification—a genre loosely called “mortified”: “Witness adults sharing their most embarrassing childhood artifacts (journals, letters, poems, lyrics, plays, home movies, art) with strangers,” it reads on getmortified.com. My high school zine, Surreal, is the first thing that comes to mind when I think of being mortified by the early work of “Lil Baby Davy.” Mostly because this embarrassment was public. I put this thing out there. I aggressively sent it to other skaters all around the world. And it’s fucking horrible.
The day after our return from Peru my friend Mark invited me out for food and drinks. “I’d love to,” I texted back, “but I’ve been puking and pooping, pooping and puking, since I got back from Peru last night.”
This year has been a total dick. The Chinese call 2020 “The Year Of The Rat,” and while a dirty sewer rat is certainly an apt representative of this year , I feel it’s a little unfair to the rat to blame our diminished quality of life on them. The only thing rats ever did wrong was evolve into humans. That was just stupid. Why would you evolve into a creature that is going to perform cruel and inhumane experiments on you, its own ancestor? (We evolved from rats, right?) Anyway, rats are gross, sure, but is a rat really going to buttfuck you right in the mouth for an entire year like 2020 has done? I don’t think so. I think we can all agree that this year needs a much stronger mascot and that’s why I’m calling 2020 “The Year Of The Dick.”
Let me guess, you expected something like, "Winter is coming." I mean, sure, even I have to admit it's hard not to idly go there after having the phrase fracked into our collective pop culture subconscious over the past decade, but once winter finally came and a Starbucks cup was left on the table I was more or less over it (and apparently the writers and crew were, too). So, next up on the mental mnemonics list of cold-shit-that-immediately-crystallizes-to-mind would be Metallica's "Trapped Under Ice." After all, nothing screams metal more than a headbangin' nod to cryogenics!
It’s PERU PAR2, woooo!—oh, that’s fun to say. Anyway, we’re in Part 2 and Tony’s coveted dinner reservation at Central isn’t for a couple nights, so Chef Virgilio handed us off to his old friend, Lucho, who I mentioned in Part 1. In this episode, Lucho takes us to his favorite place to get frisky with Peru’s national dish.