Another blogless weekend, as you knew.  You’re probably wondering why As you also knew, I was busy becoming Arch-Mage of Winterhold College.  So behold, at long last, an extremely obscure geek reference!  Phandaal’s Gyrator:

Yet tonight even Skyrim takes a backseat to…ultimate epic foosball! 

You will root for ‘Bama.  Or my Arch-Magi powers shall turn you into a Gingrich newt.

Hey, you heard that the FDA wants to regulate even restaurant salt?  From haute cuisine all the way down to Krystal’s.  (For you Yankees, Krystal’s is the poor man’s White Castle).  No word yet on whether salt packets will become prescription only, or require a five-day waiting period.

I recently took my brother, the German Science Babe, my niece and her new hubby out for their first churrasco dining experience.  Everything was excellent, except the house specialty: that prime sirloin crusted with sea salt was awesome.  And, apparently, soon to be illegal.      

So here’s my all-American counteroffer, FDA:  stay the hell away from my food, you low-sodium S.O.B.s.  Any salt you steal today will be rubbed into your wounds tenfold on the morrow.

Wait, I meant to say “marrow”.   As in, salt will be rubbed into your very marrow.  Seriously, don’t grab for  my sodium or chlorine.  The only reason not to eat salt is because you’re playing with it.