The Bruce Palma Report

I have tried to get up at 4 am every morning so I can crush my goals and feel like a productive member of society (just what society I want to help produce, I’m not sure) but I seem to want to sleep more and more. What I mean is, I keep hitting the snooze button on my phone as the alarm rings and tries to send me out of dreamland. I feel bad about this and a tad unworthy. I realize a person my age should be able to sleep as long as he damn well pleases. But somehow I feel as though I’ll be missing out on some juicy slice of success if I sleep later than I planned. I blame it on the books, coaches, experts and other fools who seem to know exactly how everyone else should live their lives, and have no problem charging buckets of ducats for it.  If I woke up in the morning (at the appointed time, my crush time), I don’t think the first thing on my mind would be how to tell the rest of humanity how they can wake up on time and make a million dollars if they just buy my book, watch my...

  We must talk about avocado toast. I don’t want to talk about avocado toast. There are plenty other things to talk about: war, famine, politics, pimples, popcorn or even a new set of tires. But I feel it’s my obligation as a connoisseur of all things food to warn you of the evils of buying avocado toast out in a restaurant or anywhere west of the equator or in Iceland.  A random sampling of over 20,000 restaurants shows avocado toast to be anywhere from $10 - $30, depending on what you’re wearing that day. If you do the math, a simple piece (or two) of avocado toast consisting of bread, avocado and possibly some form of seasoning (herb sprinkle, Celtic sea salt or free-range pepper, your choice, hold the mayo) should only cost no more than $5 bucks. Let’s calculate this together class. And don’t tell me your dog ate your homework. Avocado: 2-5 bucks. Full avocado. Most restaurant avocado toast only contains half an avocado. I measured it. Cheap, that’s what the restaurants ar...