Yep.

A burger. Made entirely of bacon.

Matt Bloom over at Wired.com has posted his harrowing tale of making (and eating) a hamburger (literally) made with only food processed bacon and a single egg for structural stability.

This is most definitely why you're fat.

The article, which is both informative and disgusting, features a video of Bloom eating his caloric crusher to varying degrees of enjoyment.

Notable: the video is shot with an iPhone 4 and looks awesome.

CALZONES

update:

naturally: NPR - What is a 'Massive Heart Attack'?

You know what I've never understood? Why do newspapers always say somebody died of a massive heart attack? Didn't New York Yankees owner George Steinbrenner just die of a heart attack? Is it really relevant that it was massive?

It's the same thing as when someone dies in a horrific car accident, or is brutally stabbed in a murder. Aren't fatal car accidents all generally pretty horrific? Isn't a stabbing murder by nature brutal?

#editorialpetpeeves

The Polaris Prize finalists seem awful familiar

The 2010 Polaris shortlist:

• The Besnard Lakes
• Owen Pallet
• BSS
• Radio Radio
• Caribou
• The Sadies
• Karkwa
• Shad
• Dan Mangan
• Tegan and Sara

Does it reflect badly on the prize when the same bands keep showing up on this shortlist every year? I'm all for the concept of the Polaris, awarding artistic merit. And to the prizes credit, the winners have often been smaller bands grinding out original sounds (Miracle Fortress, Fucked Up) but, seriously, every year there are the same 4-5 bands on this short list. Metric is missing because they didn't release anything this year. Stars missed the cut because... uh, well, because their new album is kind of awful.

But the Besnard Lakes are repeat nominees. As are BSS, Final Fantasy/Owen Pallet, Caribou, Shad, Tegan and Sara. That's 6 out of 10!

Maybe the issue is there simply aren't 10 prize-worthy albums released in Canada every year. Let's be honest, if Forgiveness Rock Record or Tegan and Sara when this year's prize, people would be pretty shocked. So why are they even on the list? Another personal complaint, but where's Sarah Harmer? Her new album is wonderful.

On the bright side, I love that the Polaris sheds light on some great, less publicized Canadian artists -- which, let's be honest -- is really the whole point of this exercise.

I'm personally rooting for Dan Mangan's Nice, Nice, Very Nice. Great folk-pop album, strong from start to finish. Mangan's voice comes off as a happy version of Glen Hansard (of The Frames) minus the accent. The songs are tightly written and there isn't much to complain about as Mangan manages to jump from twangy to dreamy without batting an eye nor unsettling the flow of the album.

Smashing snooze on the biological clock

New York Magazine has this really great feature on the modern dilemma of having children. Essentially it explores whether there is a dichotomy between parenting and individual happiness, and the nebulous attempts to define what the hell happiness really is anyways.

Rarely do articles both provoke thought and are relatable these days, but this one indeed hits the mark twice.

Full disclosure: all my friends are having kids. Literally, all of them. By November I'll have known nine couples who had children this year.

I'm obviously not going to foster children any time soon (I haven't quite perfected a-sexual reproduction yet). Still, the mere thought of being a parent induces mild panic attack type reaction from my body.

From the perspective of the species, it’s perfectly unmysterious why people have children. From the perspective of the individual, however, it’s more of a mystery than one might think. Most people assume that having children will make them happier. Yet a wide variety of academic research shows that parents are not happier than their childless peers, and in many cases are less so. This finding is surprisingly consistent, showing up across a range of disciplines.

Despite a sombre title (All Joy and No Fun: Why parents hate parenting) the story is actually patently informative, objective and insightful about the myriad complexities involved with bringing life into the world that so often go untalked about.

A great read whether you want kids, or not, or simply are of the age where this is even an interesting topic.

Inner dialogues #8714: retails awkwardness

Self-admission: I am at times rather self-concious despite my oft tendency to display an absolute and utter lack of shame. These tendencies manifest themselves in irregular ways however.

For example, do you have a certain store that you tend to buy most of your clothes from? Have you ever found yourself in a mall wearing clothes from said store, then confronted with having to possibly go into that store to look around but find yourself kind of embarrassed you would do so wearing essentially their clothes?

I'm not saying this is at all logical. I'm just saying it is a somewhat hilarious twinge that most certainly passes my mind; the momentary fear of judgment from the employees in the store, who surely would be thinking "why is he wearing all clothes from this store? does he think he's a mannequin? what a loser! lollollololrofol".

OR, even worse, when you buy something on sale, and you realize after a few days it was an even better deal than you initially understood, then you want to go back and buy another of the same item in a different colour but you're actually wearing that item at the time. Do you ever think "hmmm... maybe I shouldn't go in and buy those shorts right now, because I'm wearing them, and I don't want to seem like I am so unoriginal that I buy all my shorts from here when they are dirt cheap, even though I really need another pair of shorts because it's so goddamn hot".

Yea, that's the worst.

Threat level: jacinthe

Let's not beat around the bush -- I am concerned for my inner child.

Unlike many abusive parents however, my weapon of choice is more subtle. I am starving that little ingrate to death.

Between looking for jobs, not working and/or working jobs I don't particularly enjoy, there seems to be unrelenting regression in my abilities to create, think, write, imagine, sing, play music, cook, finger paint, sculpturade in Cranium or, in general just do anything involving an iota of original thought.

It is a tide I am struggling to stem, and it does not feel to me like it is merely a trickle. I feel my creativity (and will to be creative) is... you know... leaving me. God, I can't even think of a witty metaphor to describe a very strong exodus. Something water related ideally I suppose, but, you know, whatever.

Fuck it.

My point is, a concerted effort is being undertaken. This is like one of those civic projects where a municipality plunks boatloads of taxpayer money to maintain and refurbish a historical building.

More reading. More music. More more more culture and art and things that will pique my curiosity beyond what songs will be sung on the next episode of Glee.

Also, I'm going to get good at moonwalking. Don't ask why, I'm just going to do it alright?

You should too.