“Of course it isn’t. What a strange thing to say.” I absolutely love this. My dad was a pioneering nuclear scientist. At the nursing home I found a “get to know me” sheet on his bulletin board one day. It had his birth place right and family stuff mostly right. It had nothing for his college. It had “workman” on his “How I made a living” line. I asked a nurse about it. “Oh,” she laughed. “He told us he was a nuclear scientist!” Now she was really laughing. She went on after a gasp and a chortle, “So I said, “how about workman.” It took her a fat second to realize I wasn’t laughing and her eyes got large. “He’s of right mind,” was all I got out. I took a pen out of her hand and corrected his sheet. Later I asked him about it. He simply said, “She either didn’t believe me or she didn’t know how to spell nuclear.”
Outstanding. I've decided (just now!) that Bob's Pizzas exists in the same universe as Joe Ohio. I call it The Ohio-Verse! Or maybe the Joe-verse, IDK. Also, I really miss Joe Ohio.
My late m-i-l had a recipe for a cheeseburger pizza that called for the pizza mix in a box. It is quite tasty, and we have it once in a while. My husband made it for me one of the first times I went to his place for dinner, so there's that.
My mom made those for us. For a time that was what I knew as pizza. Then Pizza Hut opened and offered an all-you-can-eat buffet. She took my brother and me, and we broke that promotion, and our Boy-Ar-Dee habit.
Perhaps its because you have a daughter in the industry, but you seem to have a tremendous faith in marketers making wise decisions. I'd be much more inclined to believe that the international conglomerate would take over Signore Bob at the height of his memetic powers, totally misread the cultural moment, and send the whole thing -- Bob, brand, and megabytes -- crashing to the ground. Overnight, Bob would become the symbol of everything that is un-hip, the pizza equivalent of the bad yearbook photo kid.
When I was still working, my office would order in pizza for the staff on those " all hands on deck" occasions, from an Italian restaurant. A place our pre-teen sons referred to as "that place with the gay toppings", i.e. broccoli, artichokes and so on.
I thought for a bit you were describing the pizza place here in town. They had 3. Down to one out by the crossroads. The downtown oven, from the 1950s, is currently being sold through social media/LinkedIn Marketplace or some such.
You can buy the frozen pies in the local supermarket. Shrinkwrapped.
I read this yesterday morning, and while the storytelling and writing are marvelous, I was sad when I finished. I didn't know why then, and I still don't. May have something to do with my perception of the original joint having a sort of warmth and coziness to it that was lost.
I do know Lileks has been hitting the gym hard and often for more than a year. I'm thinking the AI representation above isn't too far off from reality.
“Of course it isn’t. What a strange thing to say.” I absolutely love this. My dad was a pioneering nuclear scientist. At the nursing home I found a “get to know me” sheet on his bulletin board one day. It had his birth place right and family stuff mostly right. It had nothing for his college. It had “workman” on his “How I made a living” line. I asked a nurse about it. “Oh,” she laughed. “He told us he was a nuclear scientist!” Now she was really laughing. She went on after a gasp and a chortle, “So I said, “how about workman.” It took her a fat second to realize I wasn’t laughing and her eyes got large. “He’s of right mind,” was all I got out. I took a pen out of her hand and corrected his sheet. Later I asked him about it. He simply said, “She either didn’t believe me or she didn’t know how to spell nuclear.”
Outstanding. I've decided (just now!) that Bob's Pizzas exists in the same universe as Joe Ohio. I call it The Ohio-Verse! Or maybe the Joe-verse, IDK. Also, I really miss Joe Ohio.
I miss Joe, too. And you're right. Same universe.
BRING BACK JOE!
This reminds me of the Bleat when I first started reading it ... twenty-five-ish(?) years ago. James hasn't lost it at all.
Here I confess an unpopular opinion: I like Chef Boy Ar Dee pizza
My late m-i-l had a recipe for a cheeseburger pizza that called for the pizza mix in a box. It is quite tasty, and we have it once in a while. My husband made it for me one of the first times I went to his place for dinner, so there's that.
I wanted to like this comment, but I touch your heart, and get nuthin' So, consider this a "like" same goes for you your highness, King Banaian
My mom made those for us. For a time that was what I knew as pizza. Then Pizza Hut opened and offered an all-you-can-eat buffet. She took my brother and me, and we broke that promotion, and our Boy-Ar-Dee habit.
Damn, this reads a lot like those old Mn Daily columns. Which I still have tucked away in a fat folder from 40 years ago.
This. This is why we keep coming back and consuming. The best.
Beautiful.
Perhaps its because you have a daughter in the industry, but you seem to have a tremendous faith in marketers making wise decisions. I'd be much more inclined to believe that the international conglomerate would take over Signore Bob at the height of his memetic powers, totally misread the cultural moment, and send the whole thing -- Bob, brand, and megabytes -- crashing to the ground. Overnight, Bob would become the symbol of everything that is un-hip, the pizza equivalent of the bad yearbook photo kid.
When I was still working, my office would order in pizza for the staff on those " all hands on deck" occasions, from an Italian restaurant. A place our pre-teen sons referred to as "that place with the gay toppings", i.e. broccoli, artichokes and so on.
This ... I liked.
I thought for a bit you were describing the pizza place here in town. They had 3. Down to one out by the crossroads. The downtown oven, from the 1950s, is currently being sold through social media/LinkedIn Marketplace or some such.
You can buy the frozen pies in the local supermarket. Shrinkwrapped.
I always preferred Davanni's.
Oh. Oh my. I didn't expect that ending.
Now I want a pizza from a local joint...
Epic. How sadness pervades our reality.
I read this yesterday morning, and while the storytelling and writing are marvelous, I was sad when I finished. I didn't know why then, and I still don't. May have something to do with my perception of the original joint having a sort of warmth and coziness to it that was lost.
This was absolutely brilliant - thanks, James!
I cannot find Lac Du Boeuf in Google. Doesn't that mean Lake of Beef? What an odd name for a lake
Just excellent. My favorite subscription, by far. I hope more and more subscriptions are flooding in.
Did your face get longer, AI generation of yourself, or Botox?
I do know Lileks has been hitting the gym hard and often for more than a year. I'm thinking the AI representation above isn't too far off from reality.
He almost looks like Tom Selleck minus some hair.
Chef's kiss (for the column)
Perfect best substact yet! All are good. This is bedt