Guess who's back in the motherlovin' house with a fat slice for your motherlovin' mouth?!

Sooooo, after massive computer dilemmas, Slice Harvester has been narrowly saved by my girlfriend who perma-lent me her old computer, which runs ten times better than my computer that is like a million computer-years newer. And the keyboard has all the keys and there is music recording software so I can finally finish recording the a cappella techno song "I Want You To Want To Hang Out With Me (Boom Boom)" that I wrote when I was working security at Bonaroo a few years ago whenever I wasn't listening to Born Against and pretending to shoot all the weird college jock-hippies with an imaginary sniper rifle.

I've been freaking out about my lack of internet presence and how un-updated Slice Harvester has been and I just realized that it's only been like, 4 days, which is so not a big deal. In the meantime, I was on a radio show called The Let Out on East Village Radio. In fact, if you want to listen to my awkward interview, follow that first link and click "listen" for the 6/18 show. It was pretty fun, I basically just talked about a bunch of bullshit for a while, had a great time, and then played some records, a few of which mentioned pizza, but most of which were just rad bands with women I know in them, which was my inadvertent theme of the evening. It was especially gratifying to play Twat Sauce on the radio. You can look at the whole playlist here. All in all I had a good time on the radio and I just wish that I had brought an airhorn.

The other thing that happened was that a guy sent me some art!

This was, of course, a cleaned up version of the logo I posted a week or two ago. Evan's website, The Southern Drawl is pretty cool. And while I'm probably gonna stick with my hand drawn logo because, as is apparent time after time on this website, I like shit that sucks, I am totally honored that someone as talented as Evan spent his time creating something for Slice Harvester.

We will return to regular pizza reviewing in the morning. In closing, I would like to leave you with this selection of short films:

And finally, a picture my friend Dan Stein just sent me:

If anyone could get me a tanktop with that screened on it I'll do something totally awesome for you. And one of those shirts with Bugs Bunny and Taz dressed like Kriss Kross would be cool, too.

My Daddy's Pizza: "Probably the grossest named pizzeria in America."

As I mentioned previously in my post about Toasties, nothing chaps my ass more than grown ups talking like babies. It is like, maybe my biggest pet peeve. More than white dreadlocks, more than people who don't let other people off the subway before getting on, grown-ass adults talking like wittle itsy bitsy babies seems like the most insipid thing on Earth to me. Now, the Book Thugs recently scored all this sweet vintage smut and I was looking through some back issues of The Play Pen, this classifieds magazine from the 60s for infantalists and diaper fetishists. I just want to say, though I think it's obvious, that if I have any readers who are into that weird shit, I am the last person to judge! Fuck however and whoever you want as long as it's all consentual, and fuck anyone (figuratively speaking, of course) who tells you otherwise or makes you feel dumb about it.

But there is a line where the way your kink translates to your clothing or vocabulary is something that I can think is corny without being a dick, right? So like, people wearing bondage bracelets look like Hot Topic dweebos or Teen Werewolves and that's totally fair game for me to amicably take in jest. Or not. If people seriously disagree, then by all means let me know and I will consider other opinions.


The point is simply that maybe the owner of My Daddy's Pizza is an infantilist and that's why he named his pizzeria something so gross. I would probably be more into this place if I knew that it was like, run by a True Weirdo and named after some dude's sex fetish than I am if it is just some weird breeder naming it for his kid or some creepy sentimental adult calling his own father Daddy. Either way, the real point is that the name of this pizzeria grosses me out and if it doesn't gross you out that means you are a pervert and need to be castrated!


It's all a moot point, really, because this pizza is really bad. I took my first bite, made a face, and began to pass it along to the boys, who eyed me curiously. "This tastes like Manhattan Clam Chowder," I observed.
"I HATE Manhattan Clam Chowder!" Matt Carroll fumed, his face red, smoke emitting from his ears, his clothing tearing as his body grew to enormous, dare I say hulking proportions. He does come from proud, Puritan stock, after all. I didn't think about the intense anger New York's clam soup wells up in a staunch New Englander's psyche.

It took us a while to pick the shards of glass out of Matt's fist after he DAMAGEDed the mirror in his rage over Manhattan clam chowder, but afterwards he admitted he'd never tried M.Clam.C took another bite of the slice and acknowledged, "this would make a pretty good soup," shaking his head in affirmation.

The rest of the slice was either bad, or so wimpy that it was overpowered by the intense taste of clam and tomato soup. The crust was hollow crap and it just turned to dust when bitten into, like when you karate kick a snowball that someone throws at you except not cool or fun. All told, this place has a gross name, and gross pizza.

Rating:


My Daddy's Pizza - $2.50
976 Avenue of the Americas
New York, NY 10018

Broken computer/radio appearance!

Hey, so my cat just broke my computer. I have to be at work in fifteen minutes and then immediately go to another job until pretty late, so I may not have time to fix it tonight but I will try. Bear with me. I think at the end of the summer I will try and buy a new one. Now is the time to renew your desire to donate your money to me.

In other news, I will be guest DJing/being interviewed on The Fader's show The Let Out on East Village Radio tomorrow from 6-8. Tune in by going to www.eastvillageradio.com and clicking the 'stream' button or whatever. It will also be available as a podcast some time later and I will post that link.

Anyway, sorry for no update, these things happen. And sorry if this is formatted weird, I am posting from my phone.

Broadway's Jerusalem 2: "Expensive and depressing."

I docked my flotilla of lanky goyem at Broadway's Jerusalem 2 with little to no incident. I purchased a single cheese slice and a can of cola. Actually, it was purchased for me by one of the gentlemen. I know Jacob did the purchasing but I am unclear who's dollars were spent, as there was a flurry of brandished wallets and one of those Tazmanian Devil clouds and then, whoosh! my pizza was paid for and I was holding it again, suddenly surrounded by fashionable orthodox 20-year-olds.

SCENE REPORT: Fashionable orthodox 20-year-olds out in public flirting with each other are no more or less annoying than fashionable 20-year-olds of any other variety that you run into in New York City. I realize now, the only difference is that maybe these people were married. Whatever.

We ascended a staircase and snaked through a narrow hall, which opened into an enormous room. It was startlingly bright, with yellow walls and these wild day-glo chairs. It reminded me, for some reason, of the YM & YWHA (the H stands for Hamas, my parents were hippies) where I attended summer camp as a youngster. It reminded everyone else of a school cafeteria. Jacob, Matt and Mike reenacted their high school years by sitting alone in the back corner while everyone else in the room refused to even so much as glance at them.


The most interesting thing about this slice was that as soon as we set it down on the table, the tip fell off. Now, I'm not sure what you barbaric gentiles do or don't do to your penises because I haven't kept a catalog of the ethnic origins of the dicks I've seen, but I know when Jews are babies we get the tip of our's cut off. We don't even do it in a hospital, we do it in Jewish Church, or Synagogue. I know this because I saw it happen to my cousin. I don't remember being a baby, so I don't know what happened to my foreskin, although hopefully it's not part of anyone's luggage, but I do know what happened to this slice's foreskin after it fell off of it's own accord: I picked it up and ate it. And it wasn't very good.

This pizza had all the usual kosher pitfalls. It was was too sweet, the dough was a weird texture, and the cheese totally sucked. After his second or third bite, Matt said, "The cheese taste doesn't go anywhere. You get an initial taste of cheese, and then it just stops."
"No intertia," said Jacob, shaking his head back and forth.
"No cheese intertia," Matt agreed excitedly, "no Lactoinertia. This slice has no Lactoinertia!"
And so a new scientific term was born.

Rating:

Full Disclosure: Jacob rated this slice a 3.5, Matt and Mike both thought it was a 2.

Kosher Scale Rating:


Broadway's Jerusalem 2 - $3.00
1375 Broadway
New York, NY 10018

Bravo Pizza: "Han shot first."

As is evidenced by the "we cater corporate" sign, Bravo Pizza is operated by sellouts and will have to be destroyed before the Rev.

This Bravo Pizza looks a little less cool and a little less weird that the last Bravo Pizza which I went to with my pal Jeffrey Lewis. It's decorated the same, cool looking old wooden panels, hall of mirrors shit and tons of neon. But the room was bigger so where the other Bravo made me feel like I was in a dive bar on Tattooine, this one was just kind of meh. In the other place, the cramped space, in conjunction with the neon and mirrors, made this illusion of infinity that was actually quite claustrophobic. An oppressive falsity, an image of space and room to breathe that is so transparently false it is offensive. This place, there actually was plenty of space and room to breathe, so it wasn't really an issue. And if it's not clear, I find that particular kind of claustrophobic, oppressive setting preferable to the mundanely comfortable.


Like the first Bravo, this slice wasn't very good and it was once again because of low-quality ingredients. This slice tasted like crappy canned kids pasta, some unhealthy, brainkilling, Chef Bo Yar Dee bullshit. Matt said the bottom tasted like a saltine. He was quick to add, "and I'm from New England, I LOVE saltines," though that didn't help him love this pizza. It was a real test, because I was concerned Jacob and these two Terribles, despite their impeccable credentials, were going to fail me as pizza reviewers. My fear mostly stemmed from something that Mike told me at Pronto, he was talking about the time that he and a friend ate at every pizzeria in Worcester (a project I only learned about after the inception of Slice Harvester. Great minds, yadda yadda bararar), and he concluded that he didn't really dislike any of the pizza. "It's kind of like the movies, because I just like being at the movies. It doesn't really matter what kind of movie it is. Same goes for pizza. I'm usually just glad that I'm eating pizza." This statement was obviously a cause for concern on my part. Were these three boys so smitten with the slice that they would fail to recognize when it was flawed? Luckily, they can tell when a slice sucks and everyone in the group was unimpressed by Bravo's crappy wares. As opposed to Bravo's Crappy Warez, the website I used visit when I was thirteen, hosted by famous "hacker" Bravo, where I could download bots that would automatically type out ASCII art of boners into aol chat rooms.


One really cool thing Bravo had going on was the availability of "Pizza Packets," these little pocket-sized packets of pizza seasonings. On the back of each packet is a pizza fact, or "pizzoid". According to Pizzoid #110, "Americans consume about 100 acres of pizza each day." Put that on your slice and eat it.

Rating:


Bravo Pizza - $2.50
1367 Broadway (36th & 37th)
New York, NY 10018

Pronto Pizza: "Third time's the charm."

I just got home from eating some pizza with most of "famous" rock band, Jacob the Terrible, which is actually The Terribles but fronted by Jacob Berendes. Sadly, Jamie Buckminster was not present, but Jacob, Mike Leslie and Matt Carroll came and it ruled. Those dudes are all awesome and I am very fond of them, so it was a real treat to meet up while they were in town and get some pizza.

Jacob is especially excited.

Sadly, the first place on our list was Pronto Pizza, and it had all the trappings the Pronto Pizzas I am already accustomed to. I expected this place to be horrible, and I warned the dudes as much. I was like, "dudes, this place is gonna be horrible."


We were all pleasantly surprised, however, when the pizza didn't suck. It's a little floppy and undercooked towards the crust. It was too salty for my tastes, but not as bad as the previous 2 Prontos. Aside from these minor quibbles, it was really good! I enjoyed it immensely, which might have had to do with being caught off guard, but I think it's actually just that it was an okay slice. It wasn't great, it wasn't even good, per se, but compared to its predecessors, which were both BAD, this place is amazing. This is like the Gino's of Pronto Pizzas, the first Pronto I went to is the Famous Original Ray's of Pronto Pizzas, and the middle one is the Pronto Pizza of Pronto Pizzas, which is arguably the least glamorous or favorable title ever bestowed on anything.

Rating:

Mike, Matt and Jacob all thought this slice was a 6, though.

Pronto Pizza - $2.75
1333 Broadway (35th & 36th)
New York, NY 10018