Thanksgiving Corn's Dramatic Comeback: A Nevin Barich Blog Experience

(Nevdogg Note: Last year, I wrote about how corn had once again returned to my Thanksgiving meal after an absence of several years. I love corn, and never did understand why it was somehow eliminated from the Thanksgiving meal menu. Because I have so many new readers from last year, and because what I wrote was pretty damn funny in my opinion, I have opted to re-post my blog from last year about Thanksgiving corn's dramatic comeback. Enjoy!!)

Last night at my Thanksgiving table, I greeted an old friend. It had been years since I'd seen him. Years since he and I shared a turkey day together. It had been far too long, and seeing him yesterday truly warmed my heart.

I call this friend:

Corn.

:-)

Ah, corn. Sweet, tender, buttery, delectable corn. The perfect side dish on my Thanksgiving plate.

Study your history. The Indians gave the pilgrims turkey, potatoes, gravy, yams, Ruffles, french onion dip, chocolate-covered cherries, diet pepsi and...

Corn. :-)

As a kid growing up, I spent several Thanksgiving getting acquainted with this wonderfully starchy vegetable. But something happened over the past several years:

Corn disappeared from Thanksgiving.

The turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy remained in abundance, but corn for some reason was no longer on the menu.

:-(

At first, I confess: I didn't think much of it. Perhaps someone had forgotten, focused on making more yams. But the following year, corn was again missing. The year after that, same thing. And the year after that, no corn.

So a few years back, I began my campaign to get corn back on the Thanksgiving menu. But a process I thought would take little time took six years. Unbeknownst to me, there's a lot of anti-corn sentiment in this world. 2003, 2004, 2005, 6 and 7: Each year, I argued for the return of corn on Thanksgiving and each year I was brutally rebuffed.

I heard every excuse in the world. It's too much trouble. No one eats it. It's boring. It's yellow. It's no good cold. Our old people can't eat it off the cob.

But I don't give up easily. I was determined to see corn and Thanksgiving united again. And so, I continued to fight the good fight, and in 2008 I went to my mom and asked her this:

Mom, I have wanted to see corn on the Thanksgiving table for so long. Would you be the one to stop the madness and unite corn with Thanksgiving once again?

And you know what she said?

Sure. I'll make a corn casserole.

NO!! Jesus, how complicated can this possibly be? I'm not asking for kobe beef or homemade cheese. It's corn!! Freakin' corn!! Go to the market, head to the frozen food section, and grab a bag of Jolly Green Giant.

Without putting it into a God damn casserole!!

Jews and their casseroles. A topic for another blog. :-)

And I know what some of you are thinking:

Nev, if you wanted corn so bad, why didn't you just make it yourself?

Because it defeats the entire purpose of the ideal male Thanksgiving!! If you're a guy, the best Thanksgiving food is the food you don't make yourself. It has to be made by someone else, preferably a woman (that's right, I said it), to bring out the ideal flavor. Otherwise, it's just not the same.

Men reading this blog know what I'm talking about.

But luckily, fate stepped in.

I got a call from my mom two weeks ago. She tried making the corn casserole. It didn't come out good (shock of shocks). So as a fallback, she was going to make corn.

The casserole taketh. And the casserole giveth.

So last night, corn returned to Thanksgiving.

And it was goooood.

:-)

And now for this week's:

SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE

Recently, a man married a video game.

Yep.

A man married a video game.

In another sign that the world is about to collapse, a fan of the Nintendo DS dating sim Love Plus liked his virtual lady so much that he decided to marry her. For real.

I hope he didn't buy her a ring. That's all I got to say.

Being One Of The Last People On Earth To Own A Flip Phone: A Nevin Barich Blog Experience

I own a cell phone that flips.

Otherwise known as the flip phone.

You remember the flip phone, don't you? It's a cell phone where you flip open the front to reveal the number keypad.

Then you call someone.

The flip phone.

I own one. And it serves me well.

I don't own one of these fancy phones. I don't own an iPhone, where you can take pictures, check traffic, shoot video, instant message people, check the weather in Singapore, and simulate swinging a golf club for the latest game application you downloaded.

Conversely, I don't own a Blackberry, which simulates a mini keyboard like you would find on your computer and is meant to make it easier to text, but is in fact 100 times harder because -- if you're like me and your fingers are the size of, you know, a human -- you keep pressing five keys at once.

So instead, I stay with my flip phone. And it can perform the following functions:

Dial.

You should see people's reaction when they see me whip out my flip phone. They look at me like I'm an Amish woman in a gay-and-lesbian bar...

(apologies to my Amish readers)

...and treat me like I churn my own butter.

Among the comments I receive:

You don't own an iPhone?

They still make those?

You text with a number pad?

Can that thing...do anything?

Can "that thing" do anything? Yeah, dumb ass, it can call a person!! And it wasn't long ago that that was all we needed a phone to do!!

Here's the problem with America today: We've become a society where your phone has to do everything for you. It's not a freakin' tool box, it's a phone. It should have one function. It should not act as your camera. It should not act as your music player. It should not act as your television.

And it sure as hell shouldn't act as your lighter!!

Have you seen this application on the iPhone? Apparently, you can download an app that simulates a cigarette lighter. So when you go to concerts, instead of taking out a regular lighter during the "take out your lighter and sway it around" moments, you instead can whip out your phone, turn on your lighter app, and move that back and forth.

I mean...c'mon.

All I'm saying is that I don't want "calling somebody" to be feature No. 26 on my phone. I want it to be its primary use. Because damn it, that's normal.

And I like normal.

The rest of you aren't normal.

I'm normal.

Unlike you.

One day, you're going to expect your phone to raise your kids.

And I'll tell you right now:

Your kids are going to grow up fat.

:-)

And now for this week's:

SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE

I now have 13 followers on Twitter!!!

And I only know six of them.

:-)

The Obsession With Twitter: A Nevin Barich Blog Experience

Would someone explain to me this obsession with Twitter?

Here's how I understand it:

Someone signs up for a Twitter account and he or she does nothing but let you know what he or she is thinking or doing or seeing or eating or drinking at any point throughout the day.

And people can sign up and follow you on Twitter, so that you can know what someone other than yourself is thinking or doing or seeing or eating or drinking at any point throughout the day.

Sound about right?

My wife -- Daily News sports columnist Ramona Shelburne -- has a Twitter account and more than 1,200 followers. She's always asking me to follow her on Twitter and my answer is always the same:

Honey, we're married. I already know what you're thinking or doing or seeing or eating or drinking at any point throughout the day. Now you want me to follow that online?

When you said we needed to communicate more, I assumed you meant, you know, talking.

But apparently, I'm living in the past.

And beyond that, why is it so interesting to following the twits...

Is it twits or tweets? Is it tweets? It's tweets, isn't it? Jesus.

Why is it so interesting to follow the tweets of people you don't know? At least on Facebook, I know these people (or have at least met them). But I really don't care that Shaquille O'Neal has finished a burrito. Or that Jessica Simpson found great shoes. Or that Jennifer Aniston insists that she and John Meyer are still good friends.

I just don't care. And I don't know why others care when I don't care.

By the way, while writing this blog, Ramona walked into the house, found out I was writing about Twitter and told me that the reason I don't get Twitter is because I'm not following her on Twitter and maybe if I joined the 1,200-plus other morons who followed her on Twitter, I would become a moron who understood it too.

I'm paraphrasing a smidge. :-)

Listen, for those of you who tweet regularly, let me say this:

I know you have thoughts.

I know you have feelings.

I know you have a voice yearning to be heard.

But no one gives a damn.

I mean, I'm sorry, but you're just not interesting. You did the laundry? Good for you. You LOLed at the latest episode of Glee? Great. Got bad gas? Maybe you should keep that to yourself.

The world was less complicated when folks didn't share anything. Simple were the days when we kept everything inside.

One final note:

I have just joined Twitter.

Because I'm actually funny.

:-)

And now for this week's:

SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE

To be honest, this isn't a real SOTS, but I had to share: A few months ago for my birthday, Ramona got me tickets to the USC-Stanford football game today. I'm a longtime USC fan and she's a Stanford alum. USC lost 55-21, the most points they've ever given up.

Thanks for the tickets, babe.

But next year for my birthday gift, get me a colon cleansing. I think I'd enjoy that more.

Video Games Are Getting Too Complicated: A Nevin Barich Blog Experience

Have video games today gotten too complicated?

My oldest friend Josh and I had an in-depth conversation about this the other night outside of a Burger King in Northridge, where he was smoking a cigarette and I was nursing a diet coke. As we took to our respective vices, we reminisced on how there used to be a Malibu Grand Prix just down the road -- featuring a huge arcade center -- and it got us talking about the video games that kids today are growing up on and how there's a whole generation out there who have never heard of the Nintendo Entertainment System.

Ah, the Nintendo Entertainment System. Now that was a system!! Lots of different games, lots of different premises, and most importantly: Simplistic. Consider the controller the Nintendo used. It consisted of:

---A directional pad, which had the following options:

Up.

Down.

Left.

Right.

---An "A" button.

---And a "B" button.

That was it. That was all we had growing up. And you know what? We were happy.

You ever see a video game controller today? It's insane!! There's this impossible-to-use joystick for you to do required diagonal, vertical, horizontal and circular maneuvers; there's an "A" button, "B" button, "C" button, four buttons at the top, a trigger on the back, and a tiny red button in the right corner that looks like it will give the order to launch nuclear weapons; in short, if you want to play a home video game today, you essentially need to be an octopus, there are so many things to press.

And then there's the video games themselves. To my older readers: Do you remember the game Double Dragon? Here was the premise: Guy's girlfriend gets captured by gang. Boyfriend goes after gang to rescue girlfriend.

Quick. Easy. Simple.

And forget fancy maneuvers or powers. All your moves consisted of punching or kicking. There were bats, weapons and knives. The only guy who had a gun was the final boss, and that's what made him so powerful.

Quick. Easy. Simple.

And your mission didn't change midway through. You don't find out in level 3 that your girlfriend isn't really your girlfriend, or that this is part of an international conspiracy, or that you were secretly given a drug beforehand and everything that's happening is really in your mind. No, your mission was always to save your girlfriend. In fact, when you got to the final boss, you saw her tied up on the left of your screen, just to reinforce the fact.

Quick. Easy. Simple.

Today's video game premises are insane. Plots and subplots and subtitles and choices and misdirections and chapters and unforeseen developments. Everyone is involved, everyone has a role, your mission changes 18 times in the first seven seconds of the game, and by the end you're so blown away by everything you've seen that you've forgotten one important part:

What the hell the game was about in the first place.

And finally, there are the graphics. Honestly, how real does a game have to look? You want reality? Go outside. Me? I'm happy with two dots on a screen and a couple of colors. I'm easy to please, and so should the rest of video game America.

My point is: I come from a time where I would get up on a Saturday, go to a buddy's house, and me and other buddies would play a game that required little thought, few graphics and a couple of buttons. And it was this generation that developed the Internet, made Texas Hold 'Em a household name, and introduced flat-screen TVs.

In short: We made the world a better place.

But today's generation, with their fancy Wiis, are threatening all that my generation stood for. Soon, everything that we created -- that I created!! -- will be destroyed, replaced by a sea of complicated plots, space-age like controllers, and graphics that don't allow you to separate fantasy from reality.

Today's video games are destroying the fabric of everyday life.

And they must be stopped.

:-)

And now for this week's:

SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE

L.A. Lakers star Lamar Odom wants to have a kid with new wife Khloe Kardashian soon.

And that's more ammo for those who think a license should be required for those wanting kids.

The 'Evolution' Of Halloween Candy: A Nevin Barich Blog Experience

Shopping for Halloween candy has taken on a life of its own.

Back in my day...

(note: "Back in my day" is probably like 1990)

...there were the following main Halloween candy options (and I'm not counting candy corn):

---Snickers

---Milky Way

---That Hersheys miniature pack that consisted of little Hersheys, Krackel and that yellow-wrapped candy with nuts that no one liked.

---Almond Joy and Mounds (which, to me, is the same damn thing).

---And Three Musketeers.

That was it. That was essentially the extent of Halloween candy.

And you know what? We were happy. We were content with the limited choices of Halloween candy we had. Because damn it, it was Halloween candy!! It's like Thanksgiving turkey. It's never bad no matter who actually makes it or how many times it falls on the floor. We were just happy to have it.

It was a simpler time, back when kids were easier to please.

Today, in the 21st century, kids are spoiled. My sister Blake (who, by the way, forbids me from mentioning her in my blog without her permission. I don't have permission here, so I have to hope she actually means it when she says "No, I don't read your stupid blog") is a high school teacher in south Boston and thus has first-hand knowledge of how selfish kids have become. Kids today, she says, have more choices of main Halloween candy. Snickers now comes in several varieties, including peanut butter. Hersheys chocolate can now be white. Three Musketeers now features mint.

Mint!! WTF?

And because these kids are now given so many choices, they're more likely to lift their noses high in the air when you offer them candy from their bowl than they are to say "thank you". What the hell am I supposed to think when some snot-nosed 3 year old named Gus gives me a "you cheap bastard" look when I offer him a small box of Milk Duds?

F*****n Gus.

I'm not in favor of beating up little kids, so I'm just gonna hope the minty Musketeers bars gives him diabetes.

That's OK, right?

So today, as an adult, I have one of two choices: 1) Continue to give kids who come to my door on Halloween the stuff I got as a kid. Or 2) Give in and give the Guses of the world the fancy stuff.

I'm gonna give these kids the fancy stuff.

Because the world changes. And I can no longer live in my comfort zone. I can't fight what the world of Halloween candy has become. And if kids demand better, then I will give better.

Right after I scare them senseless with my Grim Reaper costume when I open the door.

Complete with plastic sickle.

That's something...that's timeless.

:-)

And now for this week's:

SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE

Iceland has said goodbye to McDonald's.

There's actually a place in this world with no McDonald's.

If that ain't an SOTS, I don't know what is.

Wishing I Was A Bad Person: A Nevin Barich Blog Experience

Sometimes, I wish I was an asshole.

OK, let me clarify: There are times where I definitely am an ass. Just yesterday, for example, I had a horrible day at work that was preceded by another crappy day at work, and I found myself moody, irritable and -- worst of all to the loved ones around me -- more or less refusing to be consoled. I just wanted to be moody and irritable, crawl into bed, hide under the covers and disappear.

But in general, I'm considered to be a good person. I treat my friends and loved ones well, I listen, I don't break the rules, I don't have a criminal record, and I feel I'm considered by my friends to be someone they can rely on.

In short: I have "nice guy syndrome." :-)

But here's the problem: Like all people, we do bad things. It's inevitable. We're humans and we're not perfect people. But when a nice person -- someone not considered to be an ass in general -- does something bad, it goes over far worse than when someone considered to be an ass does the exact same thing.

For example:

Let's create a person who is a general ass -- let's call him Steve -- and he and his friend Linda have made plans to go to the movies on Friday night. Friday comes and Linda can't get a hold of Steve. He's not returning calls, texts e-mails or smoke signals. By this time, Linda's other friends have already made plans and her Friday night is ruined, because Steve has suddenly fallen off the face of the Earth.

The next day, Linda comes to find out that Steve didn't fall off the face of the Earth. Rather, his buddies asked him if he wanted to hit the bars with them, and he agreed, conveniently blowing off Linda, forgetting all about their plans, and not realizing his phone was buzzing when Linda was calling because he was drunk off his ass drinking Patron.

Now what do you think is Linda's reaction in this scenario? Is it:

a) Anger, frustration and utter disappointment because Steve just totally blew her off and didn't consider her feelings. Or

b) Just kind of shrugging her shoulders and brushing it off because, hey, Steve is Steve and that's how Steve is. He's an ass and we just have to accept that.

If you answer is "a", you're an idealist like I used to be. :-)

Amazingly, most reactions to this scenario are in the "b" category. Because people generally considered to be assholes have basically been given a pass by a number of their friends to be assholes because...well, they're assholes and that's just what assholes do.

Now, take the same scenario from earlier and put another person in the situation -- let's call him Nevin -- a nice guy, reliable, keeps his plans, calls if he's going to be a few minutes late because he values your time, etc. Let's say I blow off Linda without explanation and it turns out that I went to the bar, got drunk, and pretended I didn't hear my phone. You think that Linda is going to give me any sort of "asshole" or "well, Nev in general has always been a good guy so I'm gonna let it slide this time" kind of pass? Hell no!! She's going to scream and shout and be hurt and offended, not speak to me for weeks, and be chilly toward me for several weeks after despite my repeated apologies, completely ignoring all the times I've been there for her!!

Now let me ask you: Why is that?

Why do assholes get forgiven more easily than non-assholes? Is it because we're holding non-assholes to a higher standard? Don't non-assholes have a right to be flawed too? Why are suddenly all the good deeds done by the non-assholes erased in one fell swoop because he -- or she -- had one minor asshole moment.

And then there are the times when the asshole does something nice. And it's not even a big deal. It's something like handing someone a bottle of ketchup for their fries. Then the asshole is the greatest person to ever walk the Earth. Because we expected him to hog all the ketchup like he always done, but today he had an epiphany that -- hey -- maybe you'd like some too!!

You know?

What I'm saying is: Sometimes I envy the bad people.

They have it easy.

They're not expected to answer their phone.

:-)

Before I get to this week's Sign of the Apocalypse, I want to give a shout-out to longtime reader anothersuburbanmom, who has a very entertaining blog called anothersuburbanmom.blogspot.com Check it out!!

And now for this week's:

SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE

Los Angeles Dodgers owner Frank McCourt recently fired his estranged wife Jamie McCourt as CEO of the team.

Somehow, I don't see "makeup sex" in their future.

Changing The Design Of Olympic Medals: A Nevin Barich Blog Experience

Let me ask you a question:

Do you think the recipe for ketchup should be changed?

Ketchup. It's a condiment. Made from tomatoes. Used for fries and another fatty fried-potato concoctions.

Ketchup, according to my good friends at Wikipedia, can trace its roots back to 1801, when it was made from tomatoes, walnuts and mushrooms. The modern version you've come to know and love came about around 1913.

My point is: Ketchup as we know it has been around for 96 years. It hasn't been changed because it doesn't need to be changed. It's ketchup!! It's perfect in its current form. And if you don't like ketchup, there's still no point in changing it because whatever it was changed to, you wouldn't eat it anyway!!

Here are some other things that they got right the first time:

Gum.

Baseball.

Paper clips.

And Olympic medals.

The last of these, unfortunately, are undergoing a dramatic transformation. Beginning with the 2010 Winter Games in Vancouver, Olympic medals are going to look badly formed radishes, with its curved shape and "I'm on acid"-like appearance.

The idea behind this, apparently, is to take into account the uniqueness of the Vancouver landscape, with its ocean waves, drifting snow and mountainous landscape. Additionally, every medal will be unique. Everyone who wins a medal in 2010 will have something that's one of a kind.

So essentially:

After 114 years, it was decided that the current shape and size of an Olympic medal -- you know, round -- was no longer good enough for the Olympic community at large. So they decided to add some curves to it because...

...well, I guess it beats making them square.

But we can't stop there. Each of the medals has a unique hand-cropped section of the abstract art, making every medal one of a kind. Because apparently, just winning an Olympic medal -- which, last I checked, wasn't the easiest thing in the world to do -- no longer carried the same weight. Now it's not enough to win a medal in 2010. My medal has to look different from the dude who won in the same medal in the same event in 1976.

I mean: C'mon.

What I'm saying is: Olympic medals are one of the things they got right the first time. They don't have to change it. A tweak here and there? Fine. Make the paint with less lead. Make the medal strap a little firmer. All acceptable things. But don't change it completely!! What the hell is wrong with you?!? While we're at it, let's add green to the American flag. Let's make the steering wheels on cars octagons. Let's dye salt purple.

If it ain't broke, don't fix it.

"If it ain't broke, don't fix it."

Another thing that shouldn't be changed.

:-)

And now for this week's:

SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE

NBA legend Kareen Abdul-Jabbar was recently on an episode of celebrity Jeopardy and he was asked a question about a line in a movie that he delivered.

And he got it wrong!!

It's OK, Kareem. As a lifelong Laker fan, I still love you.