Guy Fieri Talks to Himself in his Trailer’s Mirror Before Going on Set
“Hittin #stagecoach2019 with a case of #SantoMezquila with my boy @HunterFieri
#realdeal #smokehouse #unicorn”
—@GuyFieri 11:14 PM - 25 Apr 2019
You’re the realdeal smokehouse unicorn.
You’re a dry rubbed medium-rare specimen.
You butcher, you host, you love, you taste.
You tableside throwdown, you locally sourced
can of whoopass, you USDA Certified lover,
you fiery red Camaro, you hole in the wall.
You’re a guy’s Guy, a chef’s chef, a mogul’s mogul
and a ladies’ man. Pop culture’s Jalapeno popper.
You have an intellect that’s smoked low and slow.
May you rise up on the wings of a Buffalo.
Get out there and do it, you magnificent bleached
bastard. Do it for Flavortown. Do it for the dead.
Do it for Hunter. Do it for the people
who can’t stop laughing at you.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Dad
"If this is paradise, I wish I had a lawn mower"
—Talking Heads, "(Nothing But) Flowers"
Okay so I had to YouTube how to start it but
back in my day, there were a lot more steps.
See? Didn’t I sound just like a dad there?
Just like walking into that store today and saying,
I am here to buy this lawn mower. Yes. The red one.
And now I’m sold, like a lawn mower—
Suburbs. Slippers. A reusable shopping bag
full of other reusable shopping bags.
I’ve tasted the Kool-Aid, I am a believer
in the sanctity of coming home to a nice lawn,
of having a pair of white Nikes stained green,
of sweeping clippings off a sidewalk I can call
“mine.” Now that I mention it, right now
a glass of Kool-Aid sounds pretty good.