Mister Notwithabang… woke up late this morning. Forgoing his traditional tea and digestives (McVities), he ran to catch the bus. Though he made it to the bus stop in record time, with his book-bag swinging wildly behind him, the incoming bus did not stop, driving past without even a hint of slowing down. Whether this was because the bus could not slow down for fear of triggering an explosive, or because the bus driver figured that shortening the ride of the current passengers outweighed the happiness granted by stopping down for one rider, was unclear. The outcome was the same; despite his best efforts, Notwithabang… was late and getting later.

After a string of such disappointments, a bus driver finally honored his sense of duty (although he dearly hated doing so) and stopped at the glass alcove. Notwithabang… hastened aboard, but realized that there was nowhere to sit. Although he held on admirably, he was tossed to and fro, and as the bus lurched, he was thrown into one lady after the next. While they maintained their composure, pearls in place and hems pleated, their purse-dogs were less forgiving, yapping and snapping in chorus as our hero developed a series of bruises from the metal poles dotting the bus.

After much further jostling, he made it to his cross-street. Walking briskly to the train, he stepped into Starbucks, in the hope that some caffeine could buoy his lagging spirits. Returning to his predetermined route with newfound pluck, he made it to the train station in record time. Unerringly, he reached for his student transit pass, and deftly ran it through the reader at the turnstile. The light flashed and the mechanism beeped cheerily as it did every morning, so Notwithabang… went walking through… until the turnstile stopped him in his tracks with a dull “thunk.”

He tried his pass repeatedly, but he got little other than a red light and a hectoring “buzz” for his efforts. Walking over to the attendant’s booth, he explained his problem as best he could. As pleading and patient as he had made his case, he was unprepared for the gale-force sass he was met with in return.

“Don’t be telling me that! You used that card already. You is gonna have to wait eighteen minutes before you use it again. Don’t be trying to cheat me, now.”

He contemplated sitting around at the station for eighteen minutes. But he realized that he was already late, and furthermore, didn’t deserve to get ordered around. So he waited for another train to come in, and as a woman exited through the handicapped door, simply walked on through. As he left the escalator for the platform, he relaxed. He was finally going to make it to class, and he had managed to avoid getting mad at the lady in the booth. While she certainly wasn’t being charitable, he knew that if he made more of an argument, it would just drag both of them down.

“Attention! *Bleep!* Upper platform! White male, black shirt, black hair, book-bag! Upper platform! White male, black shirt, black hair, book-bag!” Imagine his surprise when he heard this pipe in over the loudspeaker. His hand started to tremble so violently that it sent a fine spray of coffee in either direction. But suddenly he realized that the same grand CTA, which hired the mean bus driver and the nasty booth lady, probably hired lazy security guards, too, and all was well. For the moment.

After months abroad and a long ocean steamer voyage home, I find the best way to return to normalcy is to spend another five days waylaid and to do nothing other than watch Fox News. This is especially pertinent during late August, when the news of product recalls have been lost, and the War on Christmas is still only portentous. It’s during this nethertime when Fox News really shines, this space betwixt & between when Fox is able to probe AMERICA. But watching Fox News everyday leads to the surprising conclusion that Americans, left and right, are dissatisfied with their presidential candidates. Mon Dieu! While Dash was far away it seemed as if both the Democrats and Republicans had their best slate of candidates in years, ranging from the “young George Gervin” Barack Obama to the star of central casting Mitt Romney and the king of unintentional comedy Rudi (Can’t Fail) Guiliani. Then again, with yesterday’s salad’s own Joe Biden receiving scant media attention, its unsurprising that American’s are pining for a new hope.

So herewith, I bring you a list of potential candidates that the braintrust has spent at least 2 hours thinking about, a list of candidates who will make America proud.


Pros: Gore is the most beloved presidential runner-up since Adlai Stevenson. He has instant name recognition as the star of summer 2006’s best action movie, and his powerpoint skillz are known to “pay the billz.” He’s become a prolific author, and his ability to tell it like it is is unmatched by anyone not named Bill O’Reilly. Loved by all liberals–especially Hollywood types with lots of money.

Cons: Visual similarity to William H. Taft. Also, the idea that “Gore is the New Nixon” has been tarnished by Bush’s increasingly Nixonian White House.

Pros: As spiritual leader of the 180px-rebbezalmanteitelbaum.jpgWilliamsburg branch of Satmar, Rabbi Zalman has the inside track in the Satmar succession crisis, at least in the eyes of New Yorks fastest growing voting bloc, Hipstas! Rabbi Zalman has shown his commitment to education as head of the Queen’s Yeshiva, once ranked in Roll Call as the nation’s premier educational facility [citation needed]. The 15th most prominent Rabbi according to Newsweek (the popular companion to People’s 50 Most Beautiful People), Zalman is able to mobilize thousands of voters at will. Rabbi Zalman is also incredibly dapper, with a tremendous ability to rock a hat.

Cons: Unclear whether or not rival Chabad’s unpopular presence in Iowa will help or hurt. The circumstances of the Williamsburg bet din’s coronation of Zalman as head of Satmar bring unwelcome comparisons to Bush v. Gore. Also, second language of Yiddish not considered as important as Spanish by most Americans as it would seem that the US has done a better job patrolling the borders to Yiddishland than it has to Mexico. Occasional lapses into bad fashion (note the white socks and black shoes).

Read the rest of this entry »

There’s been some discussion lately about how best to run Yesterday’s Salad. Mr.Butwithawhimper recently filed a dispatch suggesting that regular features will once again be gracing these pages, and I’ll oblige by amending a drink of the day feature to the end of this post. Still hiding in the woodwork, other saladeers sent word over the ether that they would like to see a return to semi-rigid beats, with one person writing about one set topic–pretty much how the site ran in January-March. If you have an opinion, please leave it in the comments section. But for now, let us embrace our inner saladness, and discuss, well, salad, or rather, monstrosities and travesties committed in the name of gastronomy.

I knew that the world was in trouble when the New Yorker printed this brilliant piece of reportage about EVOO shenanigans, but my suspicions were confirmed when I saw this blog post about mozzarella ice-cream. The Caribinieri must be mobilizing as we speak.


The Scourge of “A Farewell to Arms”

In a nice bit of “Boston is the hub of the Universe” provincialism, the recipe for mozzarella ice cream is actually a recreation of a mozzarella ice cream made at J. P. Licks, which, in addition to being Dash’s neighbor in zombie riddled Davis Square, is a noted expert in verisimilitude. Last summer’s special flavours including cucumber and honey dew, while this year they featured a flavour called “Grape Nuts with Raisins” that tasted exactly like your morning bowl of grape nuts w/ raisins (if that bowl of cereal was served with heavy whipping cream).


What is that dark figure in Dash’s apartment/this post has more pics than usual

It would seem that JP Licks is now assembling an entire salad worth of vegetable and savory ice creams. Personally, I think that a honeydew, cucumber, and buffalo mozzarella ice cream needs something else-perhaps a bit of chopped nuts, and a rosemary-sage-lemon-vinaigrette ice cream. Perhaps this is JP Licks’ answer to the Grom mania that’s sweeping New York City; are they trying to shore up their defenses for an eventual Grom invasion by preparing whole ice cream meals? Is bad Boston pizza the next flavour on the horizon? The world may never know. After a summer spent in Israel, where people take their ice cream seriously (Tel Aviv is loaded with gelaterias. The best: Iceberg on Ben Yehuda and Gordon), and soft serve ice cream is branded “American ice cream”, I’ve become convinced that Americans need a high-end version of soft serve. Why try to best the Italians at their own game? Besides, nothing says summer like a nice cone of soft serve ice cream–Mr. Softee’s criminal predilections not withstanding.

But until such a day, when the world truly will be reified, have a nice relaxing ice-cream cocktail. From about.com, the “Death by Chocolate.”

  • 2 scoops chocolate ice cream
  • 1 oz chocolate syrup
  • 1 oz coffee liqueur
  • 1 oz dark crème de cacao
  • 1 oz vodka
  • whipped cream for topping
  • maraschino cherry for garnish
  • 1 cup crushed ice
  1. Pour all the ingredients into a blender.
  2. Blend until smooth.
  3. Pour into a stemmed glass such as a hurricane glass.
  4. Top with whipped cream.
  5. Garnish with the maraschino cherry

I can’t vouch for this drink’s success. I usually just have a lot of ice cream and a lot of whiskey.

Admittedly, the timing of this post couldn’t be worse, as CBS not too long ago tapped Drew “I made Craig Ferguson” Carey to host their long-running (soon ending?) Game Show. Replacing Bob Barker-qua-host would be a daunting task for anyone (excepting, of course, David Letterman, Ted Koppel, and ibiteyourshowcaseshowdown!), but replacing Bob Barker-qua-legend is nigh impossible. Why it wasn’t so long ago that he beat-up Happy Gilmore, and even less time since his brilliant guest appearance as Barney’s possible father on “How I Met Your Mother,” an incredibly likable if inconsistent sitcom (though still on my top-five of current comedies. The others? you don’t ask. The Office, 30 Rock, and– no, that’s it. There are only 3 really good sitcoms on American TV right now. But Dr. House makes up for it all!!!!!!!).

Only the consistent work of Bob Barker managed to keep things afloat lo these many years, separating TPIR from its mediocre brethren, and, no less important, helped to control the pet population (something the cat-ridden Zionist entity could surely use). The worry is, of course, that the “Price is Right,” the grande dame of American game shows, will go the way of the “Family Feud”: first they’ll struggle through a sequence of overweight quasi-celebrity hosts, before eventually drowning in the pond of historical expectations (note how the water imagery makes everything seem more important).

Since the powers that be have already spoken, there would seem to be no reason to use this bully pulpit to speak on behalf of the common man, to use this forum to advocate for Michael Ian Black. After all, Michael Ian Black likes motor scooters while Mr. Carey, to the best of my knowledge, has never stated his opinion about motor scooters. Never stated his opinion? About Motor Scooters? So instead of pointing out the wrongful selection and joining the naysayers in their saying of “Nay!”, I’ll instead offer a few suggestions for how best to run the host selection process in the future.

1. Democratization

If the War in Iraq and the great Late Late Show host search of ’04 have taught us anything, it’s that people love democracy. Committees should open up the host selection process and let real-time experience be the judge of a hosts ability/potential. Mr. Carey’s Late Late Show performance was terrible, while Mr. Ferguson’s showed great promise (ironically enough, the best performer that go-round was co-runner-up Michael Ian Black). Have guest hosts for a few months before you choose a permanent replacement and let people who want to host for a few days, and just for a few days, host for a few days. I’m sure CBS is regretting not having an open search for Nightly News host, given the Katie Couric debacle. With an open process they could have tried out John Roberts as an anchor before letting him jump ship, or they could have considered a Connie Chung comeback. Besides, wouldn’t just two nights of the CBS News with Tom Cruise or the CBS News with Triumph the Insult Shouting Dog have made the whole thing worthwhile? Read the rest of this entry »


August 8, 2007

Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. America, and all the ships at sea. Let’s go to press.

After a long, self-imposed hiatus, Yesterday’s Salad is back on the airwaves, er, bandwith. While messieurs Dash Hammerskjold and notwithabang… were off on their respective travels through the Orient, much has transpired around the globe. Though readers who are keen on the news media have no doubt kept abreast of the manifold political strife at home and abroad, we would like to draw your attention to the recent cessation of fellow lit-crit blog Elm Rock City and the departure of Jewbiquitous‘ Annie. Their postings may have ceased to illuminate the blogosphere, but we hope that they will continue to grace us with an occasional comment or dispatch from the field.

So, what can readers hope to find in a Yesterday’s Salad that is a year older and a year wiser?

* Consistent features

For a period of time during the past year, YS was known for its weekly features, which were au courant and received a bevy of comments. While many of these consistent postings were the work of the excellent L.P. Mandrake, who is currently presumed lost in a dusty corner of the twisting nether, we at YS hope to bring back regular features. Whether they will fall under the rubric of the much-missed Drink of the Day or the

ultra-controversial Five Paragraphs to Freedom (at least, its inaugural posting) is less clear, but we hope to provide our readers with something that both interests and infuriates. Perhaps a medical school diary? Suggestions are also welcome.

Read the rest of this entry »

One of the greatest misfortunes in modern life is the de-romanticizing of modern travel. While air travel is easily the most salient example, the decline of railways and steamships should not be overlooked. And sadly, urban rail travel is just as yeoman-like as the rest of the many transport options. With the exception of the occasional dinner party, the modern subway experience is about as stimulating as an episode of the late Studio 60. Is it any wonder that recent studies have shown that New York teenagers who take their dates in cabs are 95% more likely to get laid than their straphanging counterparts?

But never fever, one man, one legend, is determined to restore elegance to the city’s transport. Mayor Michael Bloomberg, America’s future president, has devised an ingenious scheme for increasing public transportation numbers among Upper East Side commuters: armed escorts to express stations. It seems that Mayor B has been testing out a pilot program wherein high-priority riders are picked up in the morning and escorted to the station of their convenience. The muckraking New York Times insinuates that this is somehow a misuse of city funds, or a betrayal of commuter ethics. But really, this is no more than a high-end ‘kiss and ride’ scheme, and one that can inject some much needed love and romance into a morning commute. Bully!

After all, Mayor Bloomberg’s is no stranger than the plan to build a superhighway between Mexico, US, and Candida, thus opening the door for a United North America. Anti-immigration forces are rightly opposed; a superhighway is a terrible drain on the environment. Everyone knows that a mix of passenger and freight railways would be ideal. Besides, my biggest complaint with the plan is the idea to only have a stopover in Kansas City. While I don’t think it to be possible to only have one exit between Mexico and Canada (given the need to eat and refuel), I’m just amazed that Kansas City is the US city of choice. How did Missouri politicians get so powerful? Is this how Bush is paying back Ashcroft for his silence on the wire-tapping controversy? The world demands answers, and we at YS demand an accompanying Atlantic Ocean railroad tunnel between the US and England.