Anthony Bourdain Ruined My Life

vietnamese penis stir fry

I am sorry to hear he took his own life, I understand he was exhausted from traveling the world, eating culinary masterworks, drinking the finest wines and making ass piles of money. It was a grind. In his 40 year career, he’d battled depression, alcohol and drug abuse, Low-T and 176 different kinds of intestinal parasites leading to incessant, explosive diarrhea, dysentery and other digestive maladies. Close friends estimate that he spent around 5-6 hours of every day shitting. They say he rarely made it to a restroom. The toxins from a Somalian Camel Fetus Pizza he consumed in 2011 nearly killed him. The hump was so humiliating, he withdrew and avoided the public. So I understand his pain and I sincerely hope he rests in peace.

This is actually a very gracious gesture on my part, because the guy totally ruined my culinary career, even though I think he meant well. See, I used to run a roadhouse type restaurant back in the day. We served the usual fare – steaks, chicken, catfish, burgers. We even had a veggie burger on the menu. One of our customers ordered it frequently. We called it Earl’s and it soon became the premier dining spot in the whole county. The Baptist Church bulletin awarded us 5 stars for our Creamed Corn. We were rocking.


It was a few years later when the world famous chef and author, Anthony Bourdain walked in with his TV crew. They’d heard of us and wanted to do a feature on Earl’s for his show. We were so thrilled and figured this would be our Golden Ticket to the big time.

But Mr Bourdain was unimpressed with our menu. We had no fois gras, no duck eggs, no goat cheese, truffle oil, squid ink…none of the foodstuffs popular in the best restaurants. He was particularly displeased with our complete lack of knowledge concerning flavor-infused foams. This left us all feeling pretty embarrassed and uncool, so we pleaded with the Chef to help elevate our bill of fare. He happily agreed to prepare a new, signature dish that would lift our ratings into Michelin territory. He asked us to provide a wild Boar’s Head and a turnip, then he went out back and gathered a few other resources.


He disappeared into the kitchen, shooed all our staff away and went to work. He travels with all his own cutlery, pots, pans, EVOO and secret herbal ingredients he reveals to no one. 3 hours later he emerged with his new creation, the epitome of Haute Cuisine – Earl’s House Special Hog Snout Tartare. WOW.

snout tartare

The kitchen staff was stunned and amazed by this masterpiece and fell to kiss his feet. He suggested we price the meal at $60.00 in consideration of our uncultured clientele who might not go for it otherwise. We put it on our menu as a full color spread, named it in French (that let us add $15 right there) and waited for the accolades to roll in.

But nobody liked it. Most of our regular customers wouldn’t even order it, saying it looked like “barf” and they already know what barf tastes like. The local paper called it a “dog’s lunch” – but even the dog wouldn’t touch it. One of our internationally-sourced busboys tried it rolled up in a flour tortilla. We think he self-deported, not sure but we never saw him again.

We held out, insisting this was culture and virtue-enhancing food that all the best people eat. We dropped steaks and burgers from the menu completely and replaced them with Saffron Risottos and Shad Roe and Seaweeds and Mushroom Dust…elite foods targeted at elite palates was our new mantra. The unwashed masses could get their Frito Pie and Chili Cheese Fries somewhere else. We were determined to maintain our new status as a progressive and culturally sensitive epicurean destination, with hip new tableware and indecipherable ingredients that taste like sweaty socks. Like it or not, we had evolved.


Again, nobody liked it. Any of it. Turned out, we had no sophisticated palettes to serve. Only “normal” people who like “normal” food. Incurious food cowards with no desire to explore the rancid fermented flavors of other cultures. Closed minded provincials who’ve never crapped a scorpion in their lives. People who like corn dogs and pork n beans but won’t touch pancreas. Backwoods dregs who eat to get “full”.

All because of Anthony Bourdain and that damn hog head. Foodies suck.

The End.



  1. This is a creative masterpiece, Earl. I will forward it to the editors of Gourmet magazine. But they will scoff and send it back. Asshats. They won’t recognize a heartwrenching true gastronomic tale when they see one.

  2. That’s some funny stuff Earl. This is what happens when anyone takes advice from Lefties.

    Once again, Lefties at the top of their game making gobs of money off themselves. A trend? Maybe it is because Trump is turning out to be such a good president. I hope the trend continues for all our sakes.

  3. Bourdain was a zero. What a dick. How dare he put you out of business, Earl. Good riddance.

  4. Three things. 1. Hope everything’s OK. 2. Are these selection too late for the Iftar dinner? 3. clean restrooms? You’d better get with the “all inclusive” trend that Starschmucks is making famous when Earl’s Fine Dining re-opens.

  5. You have no one else to blame but yourselves for going along with Bourdain’s recommendations. The left eventually destroys almost everything they touch.

  6. They claim that drunken bum was a “celebrity chef” but I never seen him in a kitchen cooking anything. He just staggered around the world in an alcoholic stupor eating other people’s food. And I don’t believe he committed suicide intentionally either. I think he was beating his meat David Carradine style and the knot got stuck. He said once that he’d put poison in Trump’s food. Well, who’s laughing now? I am, that’s who, hahahaha HA!

    1. I just hope the habitrail was still attached to his rectum and that family of gerbils escaped.

  7. Earl-Your up scale menu was mouthwatering but vomit inducing.
    I am guessing that you saved some of the upscale food to this day for us to sample. What time should we swing by?

  8. One of your best, and you have had some great ones. R.I.P., Anthony, and bon appétit.

  9. Its noted that many master chefs commit suicide by eating one of their own creations. This occurs after a long binge on drugs in an effort to drive away the voices in their heads. An insider told me he was trying out a new recipe he had threatened to feed to Trump.

    All well that ends well.

  10. Elitist snobbery, more evidence these fools enjoy eating shit when it’s called something else. Kinda explains their attraction to the brown clown obammy.

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