The following is the table of contents from a pioneer cookbook, discovered in an abandoned 1890s farmhouse in the heart of Nebraska's Even Flatter Lands region. Following a painstaking effort by University of Nebraska handwriting experts to deduce what the hell had been scrawled within, we can now catch a glimpse of the culinary wealth ("Culinary wealth?" "Food," maybe. Just write "food" –ed.) of just one Pioneer table. This is merely the table of contents - the full recipes will be printed in full in the compilation Larders of Plenty: Nearly Edible Dishes From The Pioneer Kitchen , due out in the summer of 2025 but already garnering angry protests. Enjoy!    • Dried-berry pie • Cold-boiled pork • Salt-rising bread • Honey fat-cake • Corntack • Woodpone • Lemon cider • Sour beet soup • Cabbage sundae • Trout mash replica • Leather chops • Dandelion pie • Wedding mash • Spiced prunes • Boiled goose fat • Salt apples • Cold yeast • Beef wine • Weddin' Pidge • One boiled egg

Web series cohosted with Jason Katz. This episode's guest: comedian Laurie Kilmartin. Episode written by Elliott Christ.

(warning – strong language)   Imagine yourself boarding an airplane like most of us do. You bring your bag through the little causeway and step up into the door. You glance over at the cockpit and think, "You know, if I really wanted to, I could just run in, grab the controls, and fly around like my dad's car or my uncle's speedboat. Just for shits. Just to see what it can do. 'Don't worry, Captain, I'll be safe. I'm gonna stay in JFK airspace.'" You drop the thought - fuck it, you tell yourself - and walk back into the aisle.   You walk down past the first class section, with its plush, extra-wide seats with Tempur-Pedic cushioning and remote-controlled self-massagers. Brad Pitt, Kate Winslet, and/or Oprah is reading the premium-subscriber version of SkyMall, as their flight attendant (Brad Pitt, Kate Winslet, and/or Oprah's body double) serves them slow-roasted Indonesian venison filet on a bed of heirloom fennel and Italian gold leaf. The movie is something good, like The English Patient. It's not all glitz, though - because of budget restrictions, the champagne will now be served in mere silver goblets.   Past the curtain you reach coach class - the you've-seen-one-you've-seen-'em-all section. Gray-haired dads in floppy hats and 7-11 sunglasses. Hipster guys who would have no business on a flight to Birmingham, Alabama if his girlfriend's parents didn't live there. A strange German kid who won't stop staring at you. Everyone gets ham and cheese croissanwiches - even the Orthodox Jewish couple in row 28, who are forced to kind of sit awkwardly in its presence. The movie will be be a two-year-old rom-com staring Sandra Bullock and/or Kate Hudson. You look back towards the people having a ball in first class; the curtain dividing the section is thick enough to enforce segregation, but thin enough to let them mock you with their presence.   You are now herded to the back of the plane as a flight attendant turns a latch to a tightly sealed door as you enter your section - third class.   The seats are made of stained green fabric and wicker, stretched over lead piping. Children are placed in dog cages into overhead compartments. You are brought to your seat, between a dirt-blasted window smeared with a handprint, and a massive old lady who periodically starts laughing manically at nothing. As you take your seat, you feel something moist.   The giant door is slammed shut, locking away the croissanwich-eating bourgeoisie over there in coach. A giant, bald, muscular man with a fur cap and lazy eye, makes his way to the center of the aisle. Behind him is a wordless, moustachioed man in his mid-sixties, wearing aviator sunglasses and tattered military gear, while brandishing an AK-47.   "Your attentions please," the bald man barks in an unplaceable Eastern European accent. "This is Jackal speaking. You are now afford the privilege of this flight in third-class section. As this plane prepare to mock God by punching into the sky, we are now make special announcement.   "Because this trip more than two hours length, we serve you dish of  verglev , seasoned with sliced mild grzyenküu  and boiled in yaxpis . You will also be given drink of nagretsl'n , which is strong spirit brewed from finest moss. Jackal does not permit you to leave plane if you do not finish nagretsl'n . We do permit you to bring outside food or livestock onto flight. If this is stolen by plane urchin, airline is not responsible.   "Above head is small vent and switch. If you are cold, flip switch to bring about steam heat. If you are hot, fuck you! Jackal train for years in Blydenkyo Desert with nothing but porn and small bottle of nagretsl'n . Do not tell Jackal of your petty wants, you scum!   "For music on flight, we have choice between recording of Anthems of the Grand Military Chorale, condemned man in bunk who play harmonica, or greivous wailing of mother who has lost her children. Film to be shown on plane is glorious classic BL-32Z Belt Cutter Instructions and Handling Information , which demonstrates power and triumph of BL-32Z Belt Cutter. Also is children's film favorite, Little Otter Dzorvznypelotkn . Boys and girls love   "Now is safety announcement. Instructions shall be given once only. Do not question Jackal. "Please notice safety card in front of you." You pull out a card that features few words, overpowered by a sea of shapes (hands, triangles, spirals, lightning bolts, cats, houses, and skulls - lots of skulls) intended to suggest instructions.   "In case of impending doom," continues Jackal, "card contains instruction for how to make seat belts from the clothing of others. I trust you already have prior military instruction on how to tie knots. "When window break open and air suck out of plane, you will be give special oxygenation system, provide generously to us from Museum of Military and Spaceflight." The man with the gun lifts up an old gas mask and helmet, with a worn but conspicuous CCCP written across it. "Place over face and turn compression dial until red needle goes to я.   "In case of water crashing, travelers of third class will be jettison to save weight. You will be permit to use the bodies of the weak for flotation. If bodies fail to stay above water -"   Just then the plane lurches forward, picking up speed. People, babies, and cats stir the silence. The two men take their jump seats facing unblinkingly towards the passengers - but not before Jackal delivers one final warning:   "Men and women, the flight is begin. Please take moment to pray to your God."   And then, after a pause, he adds - "He will not hear you."

“Polarization,” he proclaimed triumphantly. “It’s a new mint gum that makes your mouth feel like absolute zero!”   Martinsen had a gift for naming things. He was a one-person advertising maven who proudly outdid his colleagues at Venson and Sturges by his one stunning ability. When Pizza Hut came with a design for a deep-fried ball of dough and sauce they had to name, Martinsen stared at the sample for about 3.4 seconds, inhaling through his teeth and staring at it intently, before intoning, “Stromballi.” Thus a fast food legend was born.   Yet Martinsen’s talent was his undoing. In Madison Avenue, it only takes one slip-up to doom the mightiest career. A slight lapse of concentration on Martinsen’s part, combined with Fisher-Price’s automatic trust that Martinsen was a master among men, led to the Christmas release of something called the “Kiddie Fun Stick.” Concerned parents intervened. Dateline ran an expose on the product. The Kiddie Fun Stick was pulled off the shelves three days after it was released. Martinsen was let go.   Martinsen never recovered. Five years after his downfall, Donalds, a colleague at Venson and Sturges happened upon a 45-year-old balding white man, in a shabby, beat-up Adidas jacket, an LA Dodgers hat, and a necktie with the Tasmanian Devil on it - this man was selling hip-hop CDs on Times Square. Donalds stared at him - could this be Martinsen? They exchanged looks - the man stood quiet, as if Donalds wasn’t allowed to see him this way. Out of sheer pity, Donalds bought three of these CD-Rs; he handed his old colleague five twenties and told him, “Keep it, Scout.” The man stood silent. Then Donalds walked away.   Donalds later listened to these three hand-burned, hand-labeled CD-Rs. The artists were billed as different musicians, but they all sounded the same - the voice of a very un-street ex-ad man shouting over the drum machine from a Casio keyboard. Donalds looked at the names of the “artists:” Absoloot. Street Smartz. 3EOh. Could this be Martinsen material? He could only guess...

Headline I pitched as a contributing writer for The Onion News Network in 2009.