January 24, 2010
We’ve had a flurry of activity these last few weeks, and I’m excited to report that there’s more to come. Mr. Dale Pickle has joined us to write about politics, mixology, and sometimes both at once, and at least two more new writers are on the way. We’ll still post on a wide variety of topics, but hopefully you’ll find that there’s a bit more coherence. Or: that our incoherence is even more entertaining now than it was before.
So as we welcome new writers, now seems like a good time to look back at the debuts of some of our older writers.
First, Ibiteyoureyes, who offered several theories as to our blog’s soul.
1) Yesterday’s Salad is a support group for disgruntled carnivores. Think about this. Why, today, is there still salad left over? Because all we did yesterday was eat meat, meat, animal, and more meat (the difference between meat and animal is that animal is still alive). And so, this blog just might be a means of support to all of those, bloggers and blog readers alike, dealing with the repercussive guilt of not utilizing our flatter, squarer teeth. Personally, I say to hell with these teeth. I delight in envisioning a uneaten, wilting salad weeping before me on the kitchen table. In fact, let it wilt and weep on the floor. The cat won’t eat it. No one will. Salad does not belong to today – which is the day of sandwiches, sandwiches made out of meat and animal (there’s a post all on it’s own, How to Eat an Animal Sandwich While Said Animal is Not Yet Dead). The salad, we will deal with tomorrow, once we have gloried in meat. So that’s theory number one. It’s wrong. (Full post)
And Rabbi Dr. Professor Jurgen Haverstam, DHL, who looked at the Yesterday in Yesterday’s Salad:
Men of science have fallen victim recently to some rather dippy conjecture. There is a gentleman at Harvard, one Homi Bambam I am told, who is very much the man in form. Allow me to narrate a story that has yet to be told using reason free from passion. We, I mean I, shall show how a solid grounding in the sources and the science of historical inquiry always anticipates and trumps the new.
There is an beverage, popular among men of breeding and character, that I wish humbly to submit to the annals of yesterday’s salad. An Old Fashioned you say? Ha! But surely you, I mean we, jest. Sadly, the New Salad Order has cast this important beverage to the dustbin of history. Let these dry bones live!