Fried Enema Revisited

In early January, I posted a photo that Sanam took during her trip to China. She had spotted a restaurant menu that listed fried enema. She was understandably perplexed.

Per the suggestion of word blogger Goofy, I sent a link to my post over to the people at Language Log, who were kind enough to repost it with an explanation. We can all be thankful that the food-that-should-not-be isn’t, in fact. Fried enema is merely sausage or a meat-free sausage-like substance made of wheat flour and fried, sometimes in hog casings. The enema appears as a result of the last two characters in the dish’s Chinese name —炸灌腸, written in the English alphabet as zhá guànchang and translating as “fried sausage” — being pronounced as guàncháng, which could be the noun “enema” and the verb “to give an enema.”

The commenters did not discuss why there would be such a similarity between the words for “sausage” and “enema,” but given that the verb form of guàncháng literally translates as “to irrigate the intestine,” I’m guessing that the similarity may not be coincidental. I don’t know much about Chinese, but there’s a certain visual resemblance between a sausage and an intestine. And the English word colon comes from the Greek kolon, which can mean both “large intestine” and “food” or “meat.”

which is it? WHICH IS IT?!

I know, I know — just when fried enema began to sound a little less gross, I went and spoiled sausage for everyone.

Lost for Other Reasons, on a Different Sort of Island

I've been quiet. But I have a good excuse: For the first time in a while, I have neither time nor desire to sit in front of a computer and interpret the world through the words that come out of my fingers. Instead, I've been actually doing things, seeing people and making words with my mouth. More importantly, I've been doing so in New York, where there's plenty of things to be done, a seemingly infinite number of people to see, and so many words to make. (Big in that last category: “Excuse me” and questions beginning with the word “where.”) Today, however, is a cool-down day and my first real chance to think about the past week. Decisions must be made and I think my brain is slowly getting to a point that it can make them. Slowly. And definitely not in a manner that is conducive to the formation of words in the near future.

So in lieu of anything else, you get something that I'll throw together about Lost, a show that I've had a few opportunities to think about while in New York. It's occasionally a thematically appropriate show, despite my life's lack of smoke monsters. (So far.)

I actually had reason to think about Lost moments before I stepped out of the cab that drove me from the airport. In the show's first episode, the Losers hear the thing that eventually came to be known as the Smoke Monster. It crashes through the trees, all the while clicking and clanking and making all manner of machine-like noises that we don't usually associate with masses of air. One of the Losers, Bronx native Rose, notes that the then-unseen entity sounded familiar --- an odd comment that I don't think has ever been directly addressed on the show itself. The people who make Lost have admitted, however, that one of the noises incorporated into Smokey's repertoire of sound effects is that of a receipt printer as one might find in a New York City taxicab, hence Rose's familiarity. I'd heard this but forgotten it, until the moment my cab ride ended. And then bam! Lost, when I least expected it. Cue the signature Lost horn of alarm. Whaaaaaaaam! SURPRISING THING!

In explaining this little connection to Sanam, she one-upped me and admitted that she spotted on the subway a man who looked exactly like Ethan Rom, the creeper Other who tried to steal Claire's poor little island baby. (Further clarification: He's the one who looks like a melty-faced Tom Cruise, because he's played by William Mapother, who is Tom Cruise's melty-faced cousin.) Sanam managed to sneak a photo:

A striking resemblance, you must admit. Of course, given that someone recently stole all of Sanam's babies, it probably really was Ethan Rom. Whaaaaaaaam!

Fried Enema

From Sanam, who returned from her good will trip to China with proof that Chinese food over there really is different from Chinese food over here:

And here’s the delicious dish in the context of the original menu. No clue here. If Sanam ate the fried enema, she lied to us and said she didn’t.

Chinese-savvy readers: any clue as to what the menu writer was going for here?

Boogie Woogie Feng Shui

Two more curiosities for my own online wunderkammer, the first coming via Spencer from the Wikipedia page on hermits.

Obviously, it depicts the Russian mystic St. Seraphim of Sarov, sharing his meal with a bear. (Bonus hermit info: Under the subsection “In philosophy and fiction,” the same Wikipedia page notes that “Herman’s Hermits were not hermits at all, but instead a creatively named popular music band.”)

The second comes via Sanam from the blog Shorpy. Sanam sent it over in response to my “dogz ‘n’ ladeez” post.

Obviously, it’s Miss Nancy Weeks with Mr. Rowe. It may initially seem obvious who is who, but think about it for a moment and you too will wonder if your first guess was correct.

Can't Seem to Unremind Myself

I wrote Sanam an email last week, in reference to a coincidence involving a night in several years ago on which she and I and some other people watched the last ten minutes of an apparently terrible movie with a terrible name: Wolfen.

Something has happened and it seemed notable, but you’re the only one who might be able to appreciate it, hence this letter. When I was a kid, there was this commercial that would play on TV that I found scary. It was an ad for a book and the ad involved lots of people’s drawing of what they thought aliens looked like. [NOTE: I realize now the email was unclear in this part. The point of the ads was that everyone drew the aliens to look the same, with the big bald heads and dark eyes — the typical “gray” alien.] Freaky, no? I hadn’t thought about it in years until I worked at the bookstore and ended up having to help Holly find a book for class. It was that very book: Whitley Strieber’s Communion. I was at a thrift store this weekend and saw a cheap copy of the book and decided to buy it. I’m old enough that seeing the cover doesn’t give me nightmares anymore and. I feel like it’s well-written. After 100 pages or so, I learned that Strieber was a fiction writer before he wrote this supposedly non-fiction book, and one of his previous works is a little novel about superintelligent wolves called Wolfen. Weird, no?

Anyway, the coincidence seemed like it was worth mentioning, and Sanam would be one of the few people to appreciate the fact that I have now twice acknowledged that Wolfen exists, either in its book or movie versions. Sanam didn’t find this as weird as I did, I guess, and she supplied me with some better examples of what she considers to be properly weird. They included this and this — both of which are actually quite horrific, so you’ll have to click the links if you want to see them — and then finally the below image, which does, in fact, disturb me a bit.

Is it the fact that this bird’s name is “The Spectacled Tyrant” and that sounds like the name of some comic book archfiend rather than an apparently innocuous bird? Is it that his large eyes remind me of a real-life version of Tony Millionaire’s Drinky Crow?

Or is it simply that this bird — even in the form of an image on my computer screen — seems to be giving me at least one stink eye as he plots my doom?

Stand Up for Anteater Rights

Both members of Brooklyn-based power couple Sanaemon saw fit to give me a heads-up about notable online anteater goings-on of the past few days. The male half did so with the explanation "anteaters blowing up on reddit.com." Not literally.

Notable cyberanteater unit one (a.k.a. "fuck you" anteater):


And notable cyberanteater unit two, (a.k.a. "anteaters in sweaters" and courtesy of theinternetisterribel.com):


Sanam and Aemon, in case you wanted to know, live in Brownstone that reportedly looks just like the Cosby house — which would make sense, seeing as how they are raising two scene-stealing moppets named Rudy and Olivia, respectively. (Eldest daughter Sondra moved out.)

Damn Fine Coffee

Apparently, December is David Lynch month here at the Back of the Cereal Box, because the dude seems to be everywhere lately. (Must be all the transcendental meditation.) Less than a day after I mentioned re-watching Twin Peaks through to the end, Sanam sends me a link to this: an Onion article (but not a fake one) about how he started his own Signature Line coffee brand a year ago. (The article actually went up one day short of a year ago, strangely enough. But what does "strange" mean when writing about Lynch?) The article also shows a clip from an old Japanese commercial Lynch did for Georgia coffee, mid-Twin Peaks fame there, I'm pretty sure. The clip features Coop, Lucy, Hawk, Andy and the Log Lady — then some Japanese guy and a Japanese lady that's supposed to be Annie, I think. It's not the same brand of coffee and the one Lynch launched (ha), but just another connection between the director and his favorite beverage.

Funny how Lynch complained about ABC tinkering with Twin Peaks but apparently was okay with lending the show's characters and setting out to an international coffee company for a few ad spots.

EDIT: Apparently the above clip is just one part in a series. Here are two others:

My Sweet Sun Bear

It makes me happy.


I first saw this image on a comment from Lela on Sanam's MySpace profile, then saw it again moments afterward when Dina sent me a link to a page on the World's Weirdest Animals that also included this very image of a sun bear. I suppose it makes sense, seeing as how sun bears aren't the most-photographed animal in the world. Plus there's the fact that if you wanted to use an image of a sun bear, the above one if, like, the best one ever.

Regarding the list of strange animals Dina forwarded to me, she did so with the note that a few of them haven't even showed up on my blog yet. That's true. Specifically, the following purportedly weird animals have already been fawned over here: the red panda, the sloth, the axolotl, the alpaca, the narwhal, the blobfish, the platypus, and, now, the sun bear. That means the World's Weirdest Animals page offers a few new ones worth mentioning.

Read all about...

The flapjack octopus, a.k.a. the far-less cute-sounding Opisthoteuthis.


The Leafy Seadragon, a.k.a. the Australian seahorse.


The Yeti crab, a.k.a. kiwa hirsuta.


And the Aye-Aye, a.k.a. Omigod-Keep-That-Thing-Away-From-Me.


The most noteworthy of this new batch of freaks, at least according to my opinion? It's the guy who graces this t-shirt from McSweeney's.

Belated Christmas Present From Sanam

I realized this never made it to the Back of the Cereal Box. Near the end of last year, Sanam posted on her Archivolt blog something titled "FOR DREW." The posts consists on just one image, which I've posted below.


Of course, it's not one of my beloved anteaters. It's an aardvark, or "dirt pig." Confusing the two is like calling a Kiwifruit an Aussiefruit, but I'll forgive Sanam. I'm assuming this aardvark is a pup, though if he's actually an albino midget aardvark who's been denuded through some terrible turn of events, that's the saddest thing ever. Why do so much things that I associate with Sanam make me feel happy and sad at the same time?

Here's a quick lesson that should help everybody tell the difference between the lovable anteater and the lowly aardvark, so no one makes the same mistake Sanam did.


Here's an anteater, being adorable and politely extending its paw upon meeting a new person in accordance with the ingrained anteater sense of manners.


And here's an aardvark, slyly trotting away after having mauled a toddler. He's eyeing the cameraman only because he doesn't want to leave any witnesses and he's therefore memorizing the camerman's face. Note the obvious "criminal" posture with which this slovenly creature carries itself.


Here are two anteaters re-enacting a scene of the Holy Mother and Jesus Baby. Anteaters are devout Christians with a flair for the visual arts.


And here's an aardvark. Thought it might look like it's in a zoo, but it's actually in prison. This aardvark stole money from war widows. The spots on its forehead are actually gang demarcations.


Here's a saintly baby anteater, resting up after having cured several blind children. Performing such miracles drains even the considerable will of the noble anteater. To certain indigenous South American peoples, the anteater is known as the "jungle doctor" in recognition of its well-documented medical miracles.


And here's an aardvark. The picture doesn't properly convey it, but this aardvark is shouting a horrible racial slur that I won't taint my blog by printing here.

Now let's see if we can keep these two animals straight from now on.

Best Insult Ever

"Cram a bastard in it, you stupid crap."

This is the insult some anonymous commenter wrote on the post about spices and flavors. I read it last night and could not stop laughing. It's the single most nonsensical yet utterly effective insult I've heard in years. It seems like whoever said it just plugged in mildly offensive word nouns into a sentence someone else wrote, Mad Libs-style. The result, in my opinion, works well. I can honestly say I don't think I've ever been called "a stupid crap" before.

Compliments aside, I'm a little confused as to exactly who that comment was referring to. I assume me. It's my blog, and most people who write things like that generally direct them at me. (Or, a few times, at Jill, but only because they believed tings I made up about her.) In the chain of comments on this post, however, Mr. Cram-a-Bastard could just as easily been referring to Nate, Stevi, Sanam or Bri, who written comments beforehand. I'm feeling that the likely target for the insult was atcually Bri, since her comments regard the return of "Veronica Mars" to TV and not food or spice and this talking out of turn irked another reader to the point where he or she demanded that she find a bastard baby and lodge into something — at best, her mouth — and that she was a stupid crap. But maybe that's just my ego, and I'm the stupid crap.

Oh, let's be honest — it was Nate.

Again, that was "Cram a bastard in it, you stupid crap."

EDIT 1.29.2007: Nate solved the mystery.