boombastic/inelastic/made of plastic/starts to fade but then goes faster

Taco Friday for Friday, APE-ril 16th

Taco Friday is today, my droogs. Since no one has RSVPed, I can only assume that it will just be me, sitting here, eating ten peoples worth of tacos and bourbon, yelling at myself and simultaneously making fun of and promoting my own penis. It's going to be a complicated affair.

JUST KIDDING, KIND OF. If you plan on coming, let me know sort of soon or else I swear to all dead gods that I will gut you just like a scared pig.

a fox shits copper

I'm not going to beat around the bush, people. I've got an announcement. Sit down if you're not already.

I'm sure you're familiar with the Clap-o-meter, if not by name. You may not know that Taco Friday also has a Clap-o-meter of sorts, except that it doesn't measure applause. This peculiar device determines the amount of fun had at one of our functions by the difference in the amount of whiskey in the bottle at the beginning of the night versus the amount the next morning. By overwhelming consensus as determined by this "bourbometer" (bur-BAHM-et-er) there will be back-to-back Taco Fridays. The week of April 12th features a Taco Friday at the same taco place and time, and goddamnit, we are going to have fun.

This post serves as a sort of placeholder. More information/uninhibited sass will follow later in the week.

Tacos Risen

Taco Friday for Friday, April 9th

Last Taco Friday was such a complete success/mess that it's taken me this long to get back into the throne in which I sit to write these dispatches. Thanks to everyone who came, especially the new folks. This throne, by the way, is not a metaphor. Ask Me About My Throne; No, It's Not My Toilet.

This complete exhaustion that sometimes follows Taco Friday reminds me that my friends and companions are like leeches that drain the little precious vitality that I have. You, reader, are like a parasite of the best sort. The liquor that we drink is my blood, which you somehow digest into friendship. If we follow this analogy to its logical conclusion, you use the friendship that you draw from me to spawn your fiendish vampire worm offspring. No, I'm not deleting this paragraph; we're just going to play it fast and loose.

If it's not clear from this, I am inviting you to a Taco Friday this week. This week's affair will be more like the days of yore. Not quite like the days of yore, but basically this means that T.F. will be slightly less elaborate than the more recent days. I'm going to make you tacos, and then, I am going to drink so much that I lie through my liar's teeth. Sorry, or, you're welcome.

Please let me know what up.

be the trouble you want to see in the world

Taco Friday for Friday, March 26th.

Who's got two thumbs and is hosting an ostensibly taco-themed party? This guy (me). As previously mentioned, Taco Friday is back in gear and ready to roll. It's been too long. I hope you haven't forgotten me. Do... do you remember me? My name is Adam, and I wear a beard and also my heart on my sleeve.

There will be no theme, but there will be dessert and also a secret surprise. Anyone who writes a short (two to three paragraphs) essay about Taco Friday will win a prize. Anyone who brings pictures of their parakeet will win a different, smaller prize. My hosses, I can't wait.

As always, the Taco Friday Customer Support Team is available at taco.friday.inquiries@gmail.com.

"History is merely a list of surprises. It can only prepare us to be surprised yet again. Please write that down."

Weeks without tacos; who could imagine this fate? Moreover, who could survive? This is what it must feel like for a father to fail his children, or maybe for a father goose to fail his goslings. I have no way of knowing in either case.

There are still twelve horrible days before Friday, March 26th, the next celebration that brings us together. This will be a grand time with a grand menu, enough to make up for three weeks of personal failings. Let's all consider what we've accomplished in Taco Friday, and how we've been bettered or worsed (read: wurst, or sausaged). What have you gained from Taco Friday? Have you gotten hit? Hit on? Did you meet your spouse or spouse-to-be? Did you rage, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing? I want to know.

Your personal essay task: What Does Taco Friday Mean To You? My video response:

I'm just going to leave this here

Congratulations, Whitesnakes and Melody.

The Camel's Back

Guys I'm so sorry.

For the next three Fridays, I will be out of state and therefore unable to host a Taco Friday. I will not be able to yell or even glare at you through hazy eyes. This is completely unavoidable and a shame beyond shame. Your consolation prize is this, a complete triumph of the human pigeon spirit.




Hu-ZZAH!

this is a _thing_

The Taco Friday management is pleased to deliver a special message on behalf of the Taco Friday team:

On this upcoming Taco Friday on Friday, February 26th, will be hosted by none other than your friend and mine, Jay Pyle. These "away games" are indeed very special. I get to drink as much as I want to, without worrying about becoming so intoxicated that I can't stop guests from stealing my copper wiring. The fear of drinking so much that I can't maintain an erection, however, is legitimate and persists.

According to inside sources, fish tacos will be served and Blade Runner will be screened. Jay can be located at 135 Central St., #5 in Somerville. Questions? Send 'em here. General Taco Friday inquiries can be directed to the Taco Friday Customer Service Email Node. We Care About You.

One more as we round the bend

This is the wise wantonness and benevolence of my soul: it does not hide its winter and frosty storms; neither does it hide its chilblains.

Let them pity me and sigh with me over my chilblains: 'He will yet freeze to death on the ice of knowledge!' — so they wail.

In the meanwhile, I run with warm feet hither and thither upon my mountain of olives: in the sunny corner of my mount of olives do I sing and mock all pity.

Thus sang Zarathustra.


Thus Spoke Zarathustra, "On the Mount of Olives"

I remind you that I have no idea if you are reading this. Kindly tell me if you may be attending or else maybe, horror of horrors, there are not enough tacos. Always enough bourbon, though.

do i make mistakes in my sleep

Taco Friday: Friday, February 19th

Fully caffeinated, we're back in the saddle. Taco Friday is coming up, and you are warned a full six days in advance. I would usually use this opportunity to describe the next Taco Friday theme, but alas, there is none this week. Just regular nonsense, fueled with the boredom of the past five days and also whiskey.

For those of you who are new to Taco Friday, I am not going to spoil the fun by telling you what the deal is; you've got to find that out on your own. However, I will say that though you may think it so, it is improper to say that the universe is a cruel place; cruelty implies intention. Instead, the universe is as vast in scale as it is in meaninglessness. There are two common reactions to this fact. One of them is Taco Friday, and the other is suicide.

Taco Friday offers not only food for the body, but food for the soul.* Also there is whiskey.



* Souls aren't real things.