The "Fat" Man

Fat Albert--Bill Cosby's Big Boned Alter Ego.

Jake and The Fatman--Fatman was the co-star on this moderately successful 80's drama.

Fat Bastard--"Get in my Belly!!"

Minnesota Fats--pool shark played by Jackie Gleason in "The Hustler"

Fats Domino--50's rock and roll legend

Lafayette "Fat" Lever--underrated 1980's Denver Nugget guard who turned out 4 of the best statistical seasons in NBA history from 1986-1990.

Jared "Fats" Shapiro????--could he be the next member in a long line of great "Fat" men?

Given my overly reclusive nature, I've surprisingly had many friends with many nicknames over the years. I've been friends with a Boob, a Buddha, a Rooster, a Q-Dog, a Fixer, a Formanto and even an EG Green. I've enjoyed the use of all of these names, yet there was always a part of me that longed for more. There is a name out there that is the true gold standard of nicknames and any other name really fails to compare. The name I'm referring to is "Fat" or "Fats". Whether you use the singular or plural version this is the nickname by which all other nicknames should be measured. There have been many great "Fats" in history (as illustrated above) and I've sadly never had a relationship with any of them. As I enter my twilight years and continue to associate with less and less people, I've come to the realization that I may never have a "Fats" in my life. Saddened by this truth, I've decided to take matters into my own hands. I went through my rolodex of friends in an attempt to find someone worthy of this billing. This friend would need to embody everything the name "Fats" stood for. He'd have to be able to carry on the legacy of other great "Fat" men that came before him. After much introspection and analysis, I came up with only one friend that I thought may be able to live up to the title. My friend, Jared Shapiro, is a Fat Man. But does he have what it takes to be the "Fat" Man? Before we anoint him "Fats", I thought that out of respect to this great name, that we should take a moment to review his resume.

I. APPEARANCE

Over the years, Jared's appearance has been broken down, scrutinized, made fun of and over analyzed to the point where my friends and I have ultimately exhausted the topic. Yet I'm going to break it down one final time. Consider this the definitive and final work on the subject. When breaking down Jared's appearance it really comes down to two parts--his head and the rest of his body. We'll start with....

A. His Body--Jared once described himself as shaped like a pear.

SIDENOTE: "The Pear" is actually an often used nickname and a pretty good one at that. I actually considered keeping him out of the "Fats" sweepstakes, because he already had a pretty solid nickname. In the end though, I had to give him the opportunity to go for his dream name. It's kind of like Roy Williams leaving Kansas to coach North Carolina. Kansas is a storied program and was certainly a great job, but at the end of the day it just wasn't North Carolina. "The Pear" is a great nickname, but "Fats" might just be his destiny.

So back to my pear shaped friend. For anyone that can't quite visualize what a pear shaped body looks like, I'll give you another illustration. Jared really looks like famous McDonald's character, Grimace. His day to day actions might say "I'm the Hamburglar", but his body SCREAMS, "I'm Grimace". Either way, it's safe to say that he knows his way around a Big Mac. If you're tired of the pear references and can't visualize Grimace, he also bears resemblance to a Weeble Wobble. And if none of these comparisons are working for you, I can tell you that his body is more or less shaped like a Christmas Tree. That is, a Christmas tree with the biggest tree topper star on top in the history of mankind. Which brings us to....

B. His head--Saying Jared's head is big is like saying Blagojevich is a bad Governor. While technically accurate, it's not really telling the entire story. Jared's head gets compared to a melon and rightfully so. Once again, clarification is necessary. The truth is, Jared's head makes a cantaloupe look like a tangerine by comparison. If you want to compare his head to a watermelon however, well, now you're talking (but only if you're talking about one of those humongous watermelons that can easily feed all of the employees at a Fortune 500 company's summer picnic). You'd think a big noggin like this must have a big brain inside. I don't subscribe to this theory. I personally think it carries a regular sized brain that is surrounded by a few dozen pounds of chopped liver, italian meats and thanksgiving stuffing that he's stockpiled over the years.

II. HIS WORK HISTORY

Jared's formative years were spent working as a waiter at Don's (a local diner in the Livingston, NJ area). While Don's was always a very successful establishment, ownership noticed that their profits were down by a staggering amount from 1991-1993 (not surprisingly, the same timeline as Jared's tenure). Long time customers that came in for large portions of comfort food were taken aback by how skimpy the plates had gotten all of a sudden. Common complaints included:

• "I'm used to getting a heaping platter of chicken fingers and fries. Why does this plate only have one and a half chicken fingers and a few streaks of ketchup on it?"

• "Why is my double cheeseburger half eaten?"

• "Waiter, you and I are not on a date, and I didn't ask for 2 straws with my milkshake."

• "Sir, is that my chicken pot pie you're wearing on your shirt and chin?"

Eating off of the customers' plates wasn't the only issue. One night when Jared was a junior in high school, his Mother woke up at 2 in the morning and realized that her son wasn't home. Worried that he had gotten into some type of trouble she quickly called the police. After an exhaustive search of the area, Jared was finally located at Don's. He had fallen asleep in the walk in fridge. He had passed out with nothing but a big spoon and a 50 gallon tub of Rocky Road ice cream that he just about polished off. It took his Mom two days to get the hot fudge out of his hair.

Even after the "Don's incident", Jared still hadn't gotten food service out of his system. He went off to college and quickly ran for the position of Kitchen Steward at our fraternity house. Jared's love of pork constantly came to the forefront and was suffice it to say "controversial" in our all Jewish house. This controversy came to a head at a Sunday night meal when the brothers found the only offerings available to them that evening were ham or salami sandwiches. While Jared tried to defend his position by claiming that these meats were "turkey based" his credibility was shot. He sadly resigned his position in shame later that week.

A year or so later, after his ego had mended, Jared decided to take a waiter position at Damon's Ribs. This experience was almost like coming out of the closet for him. At Damon's, he had nothing to hide and could wear his love of swine proudly. It was a true place of acceptance for Jared and he could really be himself for once. As expected, Jared thrived in this setting. Sure his customers didn't always get their fries, but they loved his enthusiasm just the same. He was a rising star within the Damon's system and if it weren't for an ill timed angioplasty that was a result of eating nothing but baby back ribs for an entire semester, the sky certainly would have been the limit for him there.

III. OTHER MISCELLANEOUS NOTES

-His dream is to someday host a dinner party and serve chopped liver out of his belly button.

-He believes that gefilte fish should be highlighted on the menu at every reputable seafood restaurant.

-On vacation, he initiates the "early dinner rumors" conversation before breakfast is completed.

-He developed a restaurant concept that only features Bar Mitzvah type appetizers. And it would have been successful if it wasn't all you can eat and if he wasn't a customer there.

-He created the concept of the "Guest Carver". This involves having VIP "guests" (usually stocky Dad's or celebrities) getting to do honorary shifts "carving" (prime rib, turkey, roast beef, etc) at medium to large functions. He actually presented this idea to our friends' parents during the planning of our graduation dinner. Although it was a close vote, it was ultimately rejected (damn you, Bill Shane).

-He contemplated trading one of his children for a platter of pigs in a blanket and his own personal make your own sundae bar. He ultimately thought better of it.

-He once tried to convince me to fly to Acapulco for lunch, because he was in the mood for a Kafka Burger (which Jared describes as a "taste explosion in his mouth").

-He authored a well received essay on how to strategically place yourself near the kitchen at weddings in order to maximize the number of passed appetizers you can consume in a 1 hour window.

-He often dreams of carving his own Gyros while shirtless.

-He is notorious for arriving 2 hours in advance for the Forman Super Bowl Party (which is known for both quality and quantity of food) to get a headstart on the eating, even though it is a six hour game.

-He likes Chips Ahoy cookies more than most people.

IV. ACHIEVEMENTS

He once ate a 96 ounce steak that he cooked himself at a restaurant in Madison called Prime Quarter. His picture is still on the wall there.

V. REFERENCES

Pretty much anyone that's ever been at a table with him when onion rings or nachos were served.

So Jared, after careful review and thoughtful analysis, a verdict has been rendered. It is with great pride and pleasure, that I now anoint you the newest "Fats". Whether you choose to go by "Fat Jared" or "Fats Shapiro" is entirely up to you. Just know that I'm proud to call you my "Fat" friend. Wear this crown well (even though it probably won't fit on your gigantic melon). And please try not to get barbeque sauce on it.

The Mindless Thoughts of a Road Tripping Son-in-Law--The Sequel

"On the road again
Just can't wait to get on the road again
The life I love is makin' music with my friends
And I can't wait to get on the road again
On the road again
Goin' places that I've never been
Seein' things that I may never see again,
And I can't wait to get on the road again."
(Lyrics provided by my main man, Willie Nelson)

This just about sums it up for me. Except that I hate the road. My friends are not musical and we've never attempted to make music (on the road or otherwise). And the places I keep I going to I actually have been to many times. And I keep seeing the same stuff (IE. Olive Garden, Super Target, McDonald's Toll Plaza, etc.) I anticipate that much to my dismay, I probably will see them again too. So yeah, I could probably wait to get on the road again. Beyond that, this song was pretty much written about me.

In a previous entry http://notinbookershouse.blogspot.com/2008/07/mindless-thoughts-of-road-tripping-son.html, I wrote about the absurdity of the Super Target store that I witnessed on one of my many Chicago to Toledo jaunts. I never thought anything would top the Super Target phenomenon. However being the devout guy that I am (that's devout as in devoted to providing inane ramblings, not devout in a Jehovah's Witness sort of away), I continue to push the envelope. And lo and behold, on the same stretch of I-90, 6 months removed from the Super Target finding, I had another jaw dropping experience.

I'll set the scene. It's your average gray-skied Indiana Friday afternoon. We get out of Chicago without any hiccups. Alexis (my 3 year old daughter) is in her car seat navigating her DVD player like she invented the technology. Kristyn (my wife) is in the backseat next to her navigating her DVD player like it's 1996 and she's pissed off that she had to give up her VCR for this new device. I'm in the front seat listening to ESPN Radio. (I recognize that listening to ESPN Radio in and of itself is not cool. It gets worse. I'm not just listening to ESPN Radio, I actually downloaded several podcasts to listen to in the car. It gets worse. Most of these podcasts are fantasy football related. I was never the coolest guy to begin with, but whatever "cool" genes I did have clearly went down the drain of my shower sometime between 1999 and 2001. But I digress.) So as I'm listening to a combination of Matthew Berry discussing Terrell Owens' worth sans Tony Romo and Dora The Explorer discussing Tico the Squirrel's worth sans his goofy looking car, all while trying to fight off the urge to fall asleep and barrel into the highway median, I noticed it. At first it looked like any ordinary McDonald's. The red and yellow signage, the golden arches, the notification that they've served 20 trillion and counting (I don't impress easily, Ray Kroc). This wasn't just any McDonald's though. This was MCDONALD'S EXPRESS!?!?

Now correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't McDonald's build it's empire by serving....fast food? In fact, I'm pretty sure the term "fast food" stemmed from McDonald's. So wouldn't the term "Express" be inherently implied? Calling it "McDonald's Express" is like saying "Smart Genius, Rich Billionaire or Tall Giant". The name is redundant. So that being said, I ask myself this question--if they are going to take the liberty of calling it "McDonald's Express" (versus the standard, "McDonald's"), are they implying that this version is somehow faster than the undisputed King of Fast Food?

Before we answer that, let's take a moment to recognize just how fast your average McDonald's is. Let's say I'm a husband and father driving my family from say...Chicago to Toledo. Traffic is awful, weather is bad and to compound things we are hungry. Restaurant choices are limited so we decide to stop at McDonald's (since they strategically have at least one at every highway exit on the planet). We walk in, we don't know what we want and there is a line. Even given these challenging circumstances, we're able to be at our table with our full meal in front of us in less than 4 minutes. We're able to have indigestion in 7 minutes. That's fast, baby! We're talking Carl Lewis fast. These guys are known for inventing "fast food" for a reason and it's clear they've perfected their craft in their 60+ years in business. So again I pose the question, how have they improved their speed so much at this one given location that it warrants the name, "McDonald's Express"?

After much pontification, here are some potential answers that I've come up with:

1) Orders can be placed telepathically. For the last 20+ years, McDonald's has been pouring money into research and development. They've been using this investment to breed highly evolved employees that will redefine the entire food service industry. Not only are these highly evolved beings thrilled to be working at McDonald's Express and making minimum wage, they are each trained to make over 75 Big Mac's per minute and can fry perfect french fries using heat vision (sort of like Superman melting a glacier).

So picture a heavy set truck driver cruising down I90-W from Ohio. It's the middle of the night and he has to get his delivery to Wisconsin by sun up. He is hungry, but doesn't have much time to stop. He sees a McDonald's Express billboard. He thinks to himself, I could go for a large coffee, a couple of Quarter Pounders, some fries, maybe one of those apple pies. As soon as he thinks it our evolved staff begins processing his order. And moments later, as our bleary eyed truck driver opens the door to the restaurant, but before he even steps inside, he's pelted with his order which is shot out of one of those novelty t-shirts guns that they use at NBA games to get souvenirs to fans sitting in the third deck. It would literally be like the last scene of "Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid" where Butch and Sundance get shot up by the entire Bolivian Army. If we can ignore the downside of this guy getting scolded by hot coffee that was traveling at an incredibly high speed, this system would undoubtedly put the "Express" in McDonald's Express. And it's not like McDonald's doesn't have experience defending this type of lawsuit.

2) The food comes in pill form. How nice would this be? You go up to the counter, tell the attendant that you'd like a six piece nugget, a McRib sandwich and a medium fry. You give her the money, she hands you 3 pills, you pop them in your mouth, take a slug of Sprite and you're good to go until your next meal. These pills are filling just like consuming a regular meal and you get all the wonderful side effects that you'd get from eating at McDonald's (IE. sluggishness, indigestion, diarrhea, etc.)

3) But what if I don't like swallowing pills? Oh, I've got you covered elementary school reader. McDonald's Express also offers their meals in the form of an injection that is loaded with cholesterol, fat, taste and calories.

4) McDonald's Express is a giant vending machine. As long as you remember your quarters, you can walk in, avoid human interaction, and have a tasty Filet O' Fish sandwich and a large fountain drink within mere seconds.

SIDENOTE (as always I have to go off on at least one idiotic tangent per post): Now a word on Filet O'Fish. I'm not sure this is what it's actually called, but if it's not it should be and if it is, I like it. The name would pass as an Irish Sandwich. Tom O'Brien will have a Filet O'Fish before he heads up to O'Sullivans for a pint of Guiness, some soda bread and a sack of potatoes. (Did I just stereotype the Irish? Those guys can clearly kick my ass and WILL (damn it, I did it again). I just can't help putting my foot in my mouth. I will now subconsciously mention that they're good drinkers (DAMN IT)). I'm sorry Irish readers--that was meant in good fun. Feel free to ask to see my horns or comment on my big nose at our next face to face meeting.

Now a second word on Filet O'Fish. Our babysitter often has my wife or I do McDonald's runs. Her standard order is a large chocolate shake and a double fish sandwich (she's not Irish, apparently). Double fish sandwich might be a menu item at her local McDonald's, but they've never heard of it at the McDonald's by my place. Needless to say, hilarity ensues when I go through the drive through and attempt to order this. First the order taker has to tell me that they don't sell this item. At this point, I ask if they can make it special for me. They tell me, yes, but they'll have to charge me for 2 fish sandwiches. I accept these terms. The next step is to pull around to pay for and receive my food. You should see the look of horror the window girl gives me as I accept my double fish sandwich. I normally compound the problem by attempting to explain to her that the sandwich isn't for me. I always leave with the feeling that I was unconvincing (note to self: the correct move is to just quickly drive away in shame).

Now a third and final word on Filet O'Fish. You're ordering fish? From McDonald's? Really? Really??? Best of luck with that....

5) The chef is a robot. You don't hear as much about robots as you used to. Remember back in the 80's? Is it me, or was public opinion back then that robots would pretty much be running things by the year 2000? But here we are in the year 2008 and you don't hear a damn thing about robots. Maybe McDonald's Express has changed all that and will bring the robot back to prominence and fulfill its destiny.

So to conclude, unless McDonald's Express has executed one of the five theories that I have just laid out, I will continue to question the ridiculous use of this name. While I'm skeptical that they've implemented any of these concepts, who am I to question the immortal Ray Kroc (a fine Irishman, no doubt).

I Love Her (because Chris Harrison instructed me to)

I just saw a promo for the new season of "The Bachelor". This season's schmo (er, bachelor) just went on the record saying that he KNOWS that one of these 25 women is his WIFE. He knows it. He GUARANTEES it. Despite overwhelming evidence from the last 34 seasons (that they've managed to jam into a 3 year time span) with nary a marriage, this jonah thinks he's a LOCK to find his WIFE on THE BACHELOR. In a way, I'm envious. This guy is still a believer in true love (within the context of reality television). I, on the other hand, will continue to be a believer in deli meats (and witchcraft).

Ginger Ale: The Rodney Dangerfield of Beverages

Diet Canada Dry. The mere mention of it makes my mouth water (in a good way). Cold (if refrigerated in advance, otherwise, not cold)*, effervescent, refreshing, light, good with food or as a stand alone beverage, not sweet and yet having just the right amount of sweetness. It is one of the truly perfectly crafted drinks. And did I mention effervescent? Brief pause for my internal conversation.............


(I did. I mentioned effervescent. Roughly 35 words ago. I'm sorry. I can't help it. What can I tell you--it's fun to say effervescent. I may name our next child Effervescent. Effervescent Kaplan. It sounds good for a boy or girl. Good luck selling that to the wife, Brad. Jackass.)

And we're back. What was I talking about again? Ginger Ale, right. Riveting stuff. I'll work on fixing the economy next week. In the meantime, let's tackle why Ginger Ale gets no respect (god, that's hokey).

Here's my problem. You can walk into any restaurant on the planet and get some type of diet cola drink. Yet I don't even have the confidence to ask a server for a diet ginger ale mainly because:

a) I don't want to be the victim of said server's disdain and/or mockery
b) I don't want to be perceived as "difficult" resulting in same said server tampering with my Turkey Club
c) It's a virtual certainty that they're not going to have it anyway

It's "c" that's the crying shame. Who do I blame for my outrage? That's what I need to get to the bottom of. I have 3 possible candidates so please indulge me as I breakdown their respective accountability and how they could (potentially) become less a part of the problem and more a part of the solution.

1) Restaurateurs/Chefs

I don't know that I can blame the restaurateurs entirely. I know of plenty of chefs that would love to highlight pork belly and offal on their menus. Unfortunately, they know that their rube customers would continue to order the same boring, mainstream dishes (IE. roasted chicken, filet, salmon, etc.) leaving the pork belly and offal unsold and unappreciated. It's a bad business move--so why bother trying? The same issues apply to diet ginger ale. It is indeed the calves pancreas (or sweetbreads for those of you scoring at home) of the soft drink world. It might be great, but in the end you have to cater to your customers' wants. You could say that the restaurateurs/chefs are the ones that need to start the grassroots effort to give ginger ale broader appeal. Unfortunately, we're not talking about sushi, foie gras or even sundried tomatoes. The restaurateurs are going to continue to push Diet Coke and my beloved Ginger Ale will have to take another angle to get its due.

2) The General Public (sorry, but that means you, buddy)

Can I blame the general public? It would be easy to take this route considering my overall dislike of the common man (No, I don't mean you, READER. As far as you're concerned, I'm talking about those other READERS. Believe that.) Seriously though, the general public are a bunch of sheep. Through peer pressure and (somewhat) sophisticated advertising, they are programmed on what to like. Society tells them that their beer of choice is Budweiser, their winemaker of choice is Ernest and Julio Gallo and their diet soft drink of choice is Diet Coke. They adhere to this unconditionally. It's stupid, but I can't say it's their fault. How do you bring the type of change that I'm looking for (besides getting Obama to advocate Ginger Ale. Yes He Can!)? Celebrities, baby! The only way to induce change in dumb, follower people is to enlist their even dumber heroes to shill to them. Britney, Paris, Girls from that Hills show--you're on the clock....

3) The Ginger Ale Muckety-Mucks

Here's the real culprit. What the hell have these guys been doing? They're like the old money guys. They created a delicious beverage around 100 years ago, have a nice niche following of loyal drinkers, do ok at the saloons when someone needs a mixer for their whiskey and continue to make a fortune without a whole lot of effort. But the fact remains, these guys haven't gotten off their asses in 50 years. Come on Ginger Ale executives. You're better than this! Get off those yachts and private golf courses and spread the gospel. Your drink should be in every refrigerator in the world. I shouldn't feel embarrassment going into my favorite dining establishment and ordering your delicious potable. I want you to reach into that war chest and recruit an army of salespeople that will recruit a navy of restaurateurs that will recruit an air force of chefs that will recruit a marine core of waiters to help champion this cause (my apologies to the coast guard for leaving them out of that sentence--it was getting too run-on-y). Or at the very least hire Britney (or Obama). Yes We Can!


*I suppose ice would also make a drink cold.

...and I'll need a beer chaser with that

During the week I get a lot of my financial and industry news from the CBS Marketwatch website. Today I noticed that their stock ticker is now sponsored by none other than Jack Daniels. Seemed appropriate given the current state of the economy. I'd expound on this, but sometimes the best joke is the one that goes untold. Drink up, bastards.