Scott Wolf, Party of Five

Welcome to Con de Struction

Our Mission: At Con de Struction, we focus on deconstructing the average dinning experience.

Our Food: An ever-changing menu consists of unique combinations of classic American comfort food deconstructed, reconstructed and re-deconstructed until only the slightest hint of the dish’s pure essence remains.

Enjoy tonight’s three-course offering in the motif of a summer backyard barbecue.

Ap peti Zer

Potato chips with Greek yogurt and dill dipping sauce:

A large, unwashed potato arrives with a small cup of oil and a paring knife. The diner will whittle this potato into a sex object, dip it in the imported grapeseed oil and fuck himself/herself while our eager waitstaff throws salt in the diner’s face. For the full culinary experience, this traumatic incident is accompanied by a dill-infused yogurt foot massage administered by a Greek man who keeps changing his pronunciation of the word “gyro.”

En Trée

Old-fashioned Cheeseburgers:

Our twist on the classic American cheeseburger starts with an eye dropper half-filled with a paté of the finest waygu beef infused with bright, organic herbs grown at a community garden, and topped off with tears from the very bovine you’re consuming.

This nostalgic nosh concludes with three lines of pure, powdered Vermont sharp cheddar cut with the crumbs of an artisan, 7-grain loaf baked with sunflower seeds plucked directly from the beaks of local song birds. Diners are read disparaging e-mails sent by their mothers while they use our straws—made with 100-percent recycled pool noodles—to snort the delicious cheese and bread powder off our vintage fun house mirrors.  

A vegetarian version of this dish is available where the beef has been replaced with a puree of squashes native to the American Southwest, finished with local herbs, and accented by the sweat of migrant workers paid no more than $2 an hour to pick squashes native to the American Southwest.

De s Sert

Root Beer Float:

A chilled bottle of house-brewed root beer is served next to a frosty glass mug. The bottle of root beer is broken over the diner’s head, and—in rare cases where consciousness is not lost—the ice-coated mug is used as a bludgeoning device to ensure a complete blackout. The diner awakes to find they’ve been hooked to an IV drip of pure, organic vanilla extract, and are dressed in the garb of an old-timey milkman.

What Is This?

A long, long time ago, back when I was fresh out of college with a print journalism degree and an equal sense of optimism and entitlement, I created a website called The Man Diary. Most people immediately started ignoring it. I tended to this like a goldfish, or child, I was tasked with caring for. I would only feed it all the time, then once a month, then once every other month, then once a year.

At the time, the thing my post-college, dickhead self didn't realize is: You can just as easily ignore a blog as you can a website. The best thing is that having a blog has become just as cool as having a website. (Or a newspaper. Am I right? Come on, where my new media assholes at?) And since I'm too lazy to feed that website and have it grow up good and strong and not at all a dirty stripper, it'd be a whole hell of a lot easier if I just moved to a blog.

Now I can put up all the best of The Man Diary era, and delude myself into thinking that I may actually write other weird digital scribblings, strange half-cocked mutterings and jokelets. And all of this with little to no HTMLing, no payments to elephant-hunting enthusiasts, and better ways to send you to Twitter, where I do most of my work.

Basically, if you're looking for the old Man Diary stuff, it will be here, labeled accordingly. And if you're looking for new stuff, this is where you'll want to go. Here, or my Tumblr, davidunderscorebaker.tumblr.com, where I may post weirder comedy stuff. We'll see. Who knows?

The only thing I can promise is that I'll get drunk and talk about my dick to 107 pornbots on Twitter.