I don’t know what was happening on the Main Green, but my glaucoma sure feels better. Har har.
In all seriousness, the 4:20 p.m. 4/20 celebration was just broken up after at least 18 minutes of partly cloudy skies. Several officers of the BroPo were hanging around with some U. officials, apparently forgetful of why they were there in the first place. One BroPo officer took pictures of groups of students who were engaged in what he told the blog was “criminal activity.” Why was he taking pictures? He wouldn’t elaborate. What did he do when he was done? I assume he downloaded this iPhone app. After the jump, pictures (but not of anybody doing the deed).
The French fusion taco sandwich was easily the most intriguing item on the dining hall menus today, so this intrepid blogger just had to give it a try.
The sandwich base, a bland baguette-esque bun came loaded with a paltry amount of Sloppy Joe beef and some grated cheese. Shredded lettuce and chopped tomato were optional fillers.
The taste: not great. Sloppy Joe seasoning is different from taco seasoning, and the Joe just didn’t go with the taco theme. Also, many other taco standards were missing, including chopped onions, salsa, sour cream, and guacamole. The taco thing is falling apart (like most tacos do).
The only remotely French aspect of this concoction was the bread, a hardly-French American imitation. Without another link between the French cuisine and whatever culture produces generic ground beef seasonings, the fusion thing falls apart too.
This dish screams, “We ran out of taco shells but still had all the other ingredients so we made up a fusion dish to get away with putting tacos on buns!”
Not a good idea, Ratty. Only 4/20 revelers will want to eat this.
Brown Visiting Lecturer in Ethnic Studies Marie Myung-Ok Lee provides a pointed perspective on medical marijuana in her three-part series for Slate explaining why she gives pot to her nine-year-old autistic son. Check out parts one, two, and three.
Here’s a brief excerpt:
A friend whose child was once diagnosed with autism, but no longer (he attends school at his grade level and had three developmental assessments showing he no longer merits the diagnosis), wanted to embark on a kind of karmic mission to help other children. After extensive research, she landed on cannabis the way I had. “It has dramatic implications for the autism community,” she says, and it’s true. We have pictures of J. from a year ago when he would actually claw at his own face. None of the experts had a clue what to do. That little child with the horrifically bleeding and scabbed face looks to us now like a visitor from another world. The J. we know now doesn’t look stoned. He just looks like a happy little boy.