Grumpy Da-da's N'oxymoron for a Thursday Afternoon

Yeah. Thanks, Carl. Do you know how much a fresh universe costs these days?

Da-da's grumpy, so today's near-oxymoron -- or "n'oxymoron" -- is, "celebrity chef." For the most part, chefs are not celebrities. Some are, like Jacques Pepin (who can cut an onion faster than any machine), but the rest are just corporate celebrity chef wannabes, rehashing the same voguey or costly, or voguey costly ingredients over and over again in a redundant pottage of pottage redundancy. They wax this tuna while suggesting viewers purchase $400 mixers and $3000 copper-core can openers and exotic, pricey ingredients tossed akimbo amidst amazing quick-cut culinary trips to some cheese-laden caveau in the Pyrenees, or the Champagne region where we're forced to endure them rolling their eyes, moaning and nodding to that impossible-to-procure Fumé Neuberg grown by their now-good-friend, Francois -- all the while wagging their chemically shock-treated hair, $10k smiles and iconic, impeccably slouchy wardrobes in our gray-toothed Old Navy faces. They're not all like that, o'course.

The schlumpy sincere-esque ones are merely obnoxious and gad about hating and mocking everything in the world (like writers, chefs all secretly hate one another) -- except for that impossible-to-procure Fumé Neuberg grown by their now-good-friend, Francois. For the most part, these are not folks you'd let stand in your kitchen for more than a few seconds before whacking them in the head with a baked alaska. We now return you to Grumpy Da-da's (instant) coffee, already in progress. Da-da coffee is always intense.

Here's one Da-da made earlier.

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