breakfast for dinner again.

tofu scramblers,
and home(boy) fried potatoes,
with tofurky not-dogs and tons of ho' sauce?
check the invert teleport:

yuuuuuuuuuuuup.
if it doesn't hurt at least a little,
it can't get served on those sexy plates, neighbors.
i'm serious.
we have very exacting standards about how we get it poppin' off
from out of the pantries and larders of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
too much is the right amount, and that includes spiciness and weight.
add in some g.p.o.p., a splash of smoky sweet paprika, and some turmeric,
and all the flavors and colors and shapes are suddenly jumping onto your palate
with the power of a thousand bolts of vegan viking lightning.
that's a thing.
and that's also why thin disks of greyish-beige burnt-up protein tubes
get activated inside the redskinned starchy uber-hot hottness on top.
because a blitzkrieg of tastes and textures is what i need,
and me and my main ninja the cucch are just the kind of wizards to make it happen.
yuuuuuuuuuuup.
culinary prowess, manly beards, intentional activation.
it's breakfast,
but it's for dinner.
get it?
got it.
***********
so, once again,
i've been incommunicado for a few.
huh?
oh,
you aren't reading this one either.
i gotcha.
word up.
well, there were decent reasons, whether or not you're interested-
i've got some rotten feverish stormswept 'itis,
and my duders are all up in full effect,
including my out-of-town get-down battle-beasts.
there have been holiday parties, berfday parties, and movie nights,
and all of that has conspired to keep me actively engaged in real-time
real life hard-style participation,
and well away from the documentarian diatribes you've come to love
whilst simultaneously largely ignoring.
awwwwwwwwwwwww.
it's cool.
it's all really happening, regardless of if you happen to witness it or not.
nobody leaves with the title, kids;
never quiet, never soft.....