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May 23, 2005
Volume 1, Issue 11
You like soup, don't you?
Then you'll like the theme.
Because it's "Soup."
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Comments
“Wonder Twin Powers, Activate!”
“Shape of a tiger!”
“Form of soup!”
I know what you’re thinking. My sister got the cool power. She gets to turn into ferocious animals. Me? I get to become things made of water. But don’t feel sorry for me.
Think about the cool things I can do. Like when I meet some hot chick at a party who’s complaining her drink isn’t cold? Form of an ice cube, and I’m so in. Chicks dig the ice cube bit. This one babe taught me something about ice cubes…
Like I said. Don’t feel sorry for me.
Posted by: Lesley at May 23, 2005 3:55 AM · Permalink
This is going to be hard to be beat for my favorite reader story of the day.
Posted by: michele at May 23, 2005 4:08 AM · Permalink
Yes, but you're an arrested adolescent with a thing for comics. :D
Posted by: Sekimori at May 23, 2005 4:09 AM · Permalink
That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me =P
Posted by: michele at May 23, 2005 4:35 AM · Permalink
"Here's your soup, dear..."
"Soup? I only eat soup when I'm sick. Make me a sandwich."
"But sweetie, this isn't out of a can... I've been working on this all day!"
"All day? You've spent the day making soup? How hard is it to make soup? You put some water and vegetables into a pot, and you're done! Only a moron like you would take all day to make soup. Now, get rid of this and make me a sandwich!"
"Very well, dear."
Emma emptied Frank's bowl into the sink. Next time, she'd put the rat poison in his coffee.
Posted by: Johnny Catbird at May 23, 2005 5:22 AM · Permalink
One potato,
Two potato,
Three potato,
FOUR!
Clam chowder comin' through
the kit-chen door!
Posted by: tree hugging sister at May 23, 2005 6:26 AM · Permalink
"No soup for you!"
Confederate General Maddox, Andersonville Prison, 1907.
7800 POWs died of starvation before liberation by
Colonel Roosevelt's Rough Riders.
"Let them eat soup."
Attributed to Empress Norton-Ann II
(beheaded by Oakland Revolutionary Directorate 04/08/1933)
"Soup? They looked hungry, I gave them soup."
(Last words of John-John Hinckley-Starkweather, executed for
drowning 23 nurses in Toledo, 1956)
"Chicken Soup for the Soul."
Reverend Jones's book. Each adult at the 1978 Kansas
massacre was given a copy as they ate the poisoned soup.
That's why, in 57 states and the District of Berkeley,
the Campbell's Soup kids are considered obscene.
Posted by: Randy Shane at May 23, 2005 8:21 AM · Permalink
Every day, roundabouts two PM, Douglass Washington, took a can out of his cupboard, boiled the contents with two cans water. His only meal.
Some kinds tasted fine, some not. At first he picked the better soups first, leaving him with a run of the worst flavors before the next grocery trip. Then he started removing the labels. Eventually he could remember which were where. He started shuffling them regularly. He learned to identify some kinds by weight. He started picking the first he touched.
His wife Eloise had been a wonderful cook. She had never once made him soup.
Posted by: Jeff R. at May 23, 2005 8:28 AM · Permalink
Every week, I volunteer at the local soup kitchen and every week it's the same.
The same dirty faces. The same shuffling down the line. I always smell the same stink; of liquor, bodies, onions, and bleach. I'm surprised I haven't thrown up yet.
Luckily, they only have me washing the dirty dishes. That way, I don't have to keep looking into those sad and hollow eyes. Why can't these people just go out and get a job?
It's all good though. Pretty soon, I'll be done with this crap. And this is going to look good on my resume.
Posted by: Shawn at May 23, 2005 8:46 AM · Permalink
"Eventual." "Inevetable." A world of words spinning behind those eyes. Black, piercing eyes. Dark. So dark it's hard to look at her for long. She's beautiful when she's like this.
"Distracted." "Disconcerted." Hair in my eyes. Hands in my hair. Hair in my soup. She always does this. Damnit. She eats quietly across the table. Silently. Normal people slurp at least a little.
"Capitulation." A second split. "Appeasement." clever girl. This game goes so much better without solid food. She looks at me with eyes that say she's finished with her meal and her stupid games. I love those eyes.
Posted by: hayner at May 23, 2005 11:48 AM · Permalink
My friend and I argued for years over whether soup was a food or a beverage.
"Food," I'd state unequivocally.
"Beverage," he'd reply with equal confidence.
The arrogance on both sides could drive us mad, and at times we'd storm away from one another, disgusted at the other's sight.
Then came Campbell's Soup in a Cup, which confused things even more.
"It's in a cup; it must be a beverage," he crowed.
I won't bend or bow. my favorite soup has clams, mushrooms, and sausage. That's a meal, jack. You can't drink a clam.
And, don't dare call it stew.
Posted by: Adam at May 23, 2005 12:23 PM · Permalink
"Hey, whatcha got?"
Ari held up the sample jar for his partner's inspection.
"Oho! Cloudy stuff. Primordial soup, do you suppose? Life getting started?" Jan slapped one leg with a gloved hand, laughing. "You never stop hoping, do you? The damn place is just too hot and you know it. Far too much carbon dioxide in the atmosphere."
Passing its one large moon on the way home, Ari contemplated the dead blue world behind them. Why not? Why life on the fourth planet, where water was scarce, but not here on the third, where it could be found in abundance?
Posted by: Carthoris of Helium at May 23, 2005 1:32 PM · Permalink
He stood in the center of the kitchen, staring down at a little bowl. To his left were piles of carrot slicings. To his right lay a pound of ham shavings that had proved unworthy. Beneath his feet rolled a thousand peas that weren’t quite round enough.
The kitchen was a mess, no question, and his wife would kill him when she got home, but it all was worth it. Before him stood a bowl of absolutely perfect split pea soup.
He breathed deeply; it smelled just like mom’s. He bent to take a taste. Damn! He’d forgotten the salt.
Posted by: Geoffrey Barto at May 23, 2005 3:55 PM · Permalink
Pamela brushed away the cat hair then settled into her comphy chair. Picking up the remote she surfed around finally deciding on a PBS special.
Picking up her bowl of soup from the T.V. tray she blew carefully into the hot liquid. Swirling it around she contemplated all the ingrediants.
Soup was like life. A myriad of ingrediants thrown together to create something wonderful. Yep, just like life, one bowl, one spoon, one person. And so much better if there was someone to share it with her.
Pamela sighed, picked up the remote and began searching through the channels again.
Posted by: Minet at May 23, 2005 5:06 PM · Permalink
“Fresh ingredients – that’s the key!” Francois’ imitation of maitre Claude’s voice and clichés was flawless and always a surefire way to get laughs from the other l’academie students.
Claude. That insufferable bastard taught because he never made it as real chef.
The knives danced slicing the chestnuts and vegetables into perfect cubes.
“The crème must heat slowly and never boil.”
185 degrees. Perfect!
“The order in which you add the ingredients is the key.”
The timing was exact!
“To make good soup you must BE the soup!”
Francois heartily enjoyed the first steaming bowl of Velouté de Chataignes et Claude.
Posted by: Jim Parkinson at May 23, 2005 5:53 PM · Permalink
"Look Jeff, this is never going to work, they busted that woman who tried to scam Wendy's"
"C'mon George, take one for the team, it will work! She she had no way to connect the finger with Wendy's. You work at Panera, your finger will be undeniably tied to the soup."
"What if they connect us? What then? I'll be out of a job, and crippled to boot"
"It will work, now c'mon, give me your hand, just think of the millions."
"I don't know Jeff, I'm really not sure .. HEY ... hold on, put that knife down ... let go! AHHHHHHHHHH"
Posted by: Michael Trefry at May 23, 2005 7:36 PM · Permalink
Everyone run for your lives! The Panera lawyers will be along shortly to cease-and-desist us...
Posted by: Sekimori at May 23, 2005 7:46 PM · Permalink
Hmm.. yeah, on second thought, maybe I should have been more subtle.
Posted by: Michael Trefry at May 24, 2005 3:27 AM · Permalink