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Nerdist Podcast: Anthony Bourdain
Episode 528: Nerdist Podcast
Anthony Bourdain
Nerdist PodcastNerdist Podcast

Nerdist Podcast: Anthony Bourdain

World traveler and brave food enthusiast Anthony Bourdain hangs out with the guys to talk about eating strange food in strange places, his intricate plans when he cooks meals for his family, turning his life around to become a writer and TV host, and how he strives to make his show Parts Unknown different from anything else on TV!

Watch Parts Unknown on CNN Sundays at 9 pm!

Photo: CNN

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  1. makoy says:

    Dad what is Instagram- Instagram- it’s like prayer son. You do that before you eat your meal. 

  2. Open Letter to Anthony Bourdain

    I have been thinking about this for several days now.
    Should I? Shouldn’t I? Really, …what’s the point?
    It isn’t as though anyone is really going to read it. It’s simply a purging of the soul, my own.
    The opening of a vein and the steaming release of tainted blood. So why do I feel so compelled to do it?
    And then I realize,like many other things in life, I do it because … I have to.
    Because…as someone once said ..”I’m mad as Hell..and I’m not going to take it any more!”

    I have watched your show…for years. Across decades it seems now. I would have to actually research it to
    discover when I began. From the times I waited and waded through episodes of Zimmern to finally “find you”,
    to the days such as now, with the relentless reruns every weekend of regurgitated, half chewed cow bile
    oozing from my screen, dripping like stained candle-wax over my Xbox 360 and surround-sound boombox in some
    darkened, drunken Monks Inn.

    And I think to myself…”What the Hell?!?!?!” WHAT happened?”
    I can’t take it any more. No more. I quit, I’m more for me thanks..I’m driving.

    Is it me? Am I the one who has finally grown and matured? Was I really THAT naive in the beginning,
    to think..that THIS…is what I needed and searched for, like so many of the other meercats I suppose,
    rising in unison, noses twitching, paws to chin…”He’s here. Bourdain is on!Come everyone! Oh come gather
    round the Holy fluorescent light.Let us prostrate and pray at the Altar of Bourdain., For he has risen once
    again to bless and raise our consciousness to those otherwise unobtainable heights for us so mere and mortal,
    where the air is thin and laced with the residue perfume of absinthe vapors, misting from his now emptied chalice.
    Then together, we shall crawl towards the edge of the precipice, scraping the scabs from our knees, so fresh blood
    may mark our trail for other of our acolyte brethren to follow,and together we shall leap into the ocean…
    good lemmings all …. chanting in fading echos in the sunset…”Anthony….Anthony….Annnnnn….thhooo…nnnyyyy…..”
    … Like the tolling of a hollow solitary bell in the distance….

    Ugh…nope. Sorry. Was never one of them. Never part of the “crowd”. But I digress. You know what did it?
    Any guesses? Nope. Wasn’t the second installment of the self-mutilation and (please dear God) subsequent
    “Suicide in Sicily”, though truth, that probably stirred the tinder. Wasn’t even the pomposity…no no no..
    Not “pomposity”..but..pompisity! (Pompisity?!?! hmm..pompisity…yes. Let us rejoice in the creation of a
    new word, but…credit where credit is due – inspired by the Master of such – Anthony Bourdain.

    /(pom~piss~ahhh~tee`)/ noun
    the quality of being pompous; self-important – the act or portrayal of being “pompous”, but at the same time
    presenting a facade of self-deprecation, but only to the point where this deprecation is transparent and shallow,
    thus easily recognized to be a pretense, and therefor reinforcing and confirming the underlying quality of pomposity.

    ….Yes…so…where was I? .. ahh yes, …. No…wasnt even the pompisity of the Vegas episode, the near ruination
    of Granada and the self-adulation of the participants in Tangiers…No, none of that. It took this current Thailand
    esipode for me to say…”No. Enough. I’ve had enough.” While I do not currently reside there, the Pac Rim has been
    my back yard for decades. I’ve lived in Tahiti. I’ve lived in Taipei. Been to Hong Kong, Japan, Korea and the Philippines.
    Traveled to Atuona to visit Gauguin’s grave…and never left. And I resent your off-handed centile portrayal.
    In this and other related episodes.

    Seriously, do you watch or review any of this shit before it gets released? Do you have ANY creative influence,
    opinion, license or control over the trash that bears your own name? Or are you truly the architect of your
    own demise? What is the WORLD makes you think that fish-eyed close-ups of toothless natives slurring down bathtub
    gin, giggling incessantly while you participate and stare off in a drug induced stupor – is in the least bit
    media worthy, artistic or expressive of Thai culture? (yeah yeah, I know. There is a disclaimer at the beginning of
    the episode. An “underbelly” episode, to say the least. Not to represent the true culture of the nation.
    Best to include such a disclaimer on all subsequent episodes.
    “Warning: No worthwhile or otherwise meaningful content to follow.”
    These people you “pop-eyed”. They do not know that you are mocking them. That your minions laugh AT them.Not with them.

    But then to add to this sophomoric display the backdrop of 1960’s Sunshine tab and Acapulco Gold psychedelic oscillating
    imagery…and it’s complete in its idiocy. Christ. This is EXACTLY this same kind of crap that compelled me to walk out
    on a scholarship at Pratt university some forty years ago because I could no longer bear the inundation of “artistic
    expressionism” of the pseudo-intellectual “professors” there, prancing about in their bowler hats in midnight graveyards,
    grinding out their own home grown film noir masterpieces the mainstream Philistines simply would never be able to comprehend.
    Aaahhh, but “Nosferatu” was required “reading” then. Black and white and German. How could it get any better? If only we could
    all be beatniks or expats, wallowing about in puddles of our own vomit and urine in some some darkened alley of Tangiers.
    Yes, Billy Burroughs all of us. I’m tired of it. I’ve had enough. You know why people romanticize this shit?
    It’s just another version of “mob madness”. It because they weren’t there, didn’t live with it or through it. There’s
    no romance in the mob…New York, Chicago or VEGAS! I’ve survived surrounded by them. They’re mindless, heartless animals,
    eyes veiled over like predatory snakes. And there is no glory in deifying William Burroughs. If people met him…they
    wouldn’t have liked him.He was a homosexual murderer and addict in self-exile to avoid prosecution, who managed to stay
    alive while roiling in his own piss and excrement with what little cognitive resources available to him only capable of
    shoving another needle into his arm in mindless reflex. Oh yeah, I wanna be like him. Don’t get me started on Kerouac.
    Friggin “On the Road” was written in a one room apartment in Ozone Park, Queens! And contains about as much truth as “Fear
    and Loathing”! He wasn’t an alcoholic. He was a DRUNK! About the only worthwhile thing he ever said was “I had nothing
    to offer anyone except my own confusion.” Amen Jack! How he ever got credited with free thought and “spontaneous” writing
    is beyond me. He wrote on rolls of newsprint because if he stopped to refill the typewriter he would have forgotten his train
    of thought by the time he returned to the keys. Oh but then there’s Thompson. Well..he is endorsed by Johnny Depp, so…what
    more does one need? Yeah….Gonzo journalism…that’s what I want to aspire to. And where’s your “Canticle for Lenny” episode?
    What? No kitchen in the Victory? Surely there must be SOME culinary spin you can concoct to explain his bent? I must have
    missed that one.

    You know what I really want to know? Who the HELL ever told you…that you could WRITE?!? I’m sorry Anthony, but you are not
    Paul Bowles. And you certainly ain’t no Dylan (Thomas that is, fools) or Edgar Allen. These were tormented souls, but capable
    of true artistic expression while in their own private hells and miseries. And as far as Burroughs, I’d rather read a good
    Edgar Rice than William. I listen to you now and I feel like I’m at a bad “AA” meeting. You know the kind…where it’s all
    “one-up-manship”. The “well, “I” was THIS crazy” meetings. Who can tell the wildest story. Who slept under how many bridges
    and overpasses in how many days. Who lost what. Where the scars and trials and recoveries are carried not in modicum or humility,
    but displayed like badges of courage and accomplishment.
    I’m sorry. Spare me. Been there, done that. And burned the T-shirt. Not hung it from my porch like some pennant of honor.

    You know why I’m upset? Why I’m venting on you? Because I’m disappointed. And embarrassed. In you, for you. And in myself.
    For telling people I followed you. That I at one time looked forward to you. That I recommended you. And now ..I simply
    wish I could turn my head and deny it all. It never existed. Forgive me, it was the Patron talking. Espousing this…this…
    …J. Peterman “journalist”. A bad clothing catalogue. Hey ! I just got a GREAT IDEA!!! Let’s get ahold of Jerry Seinfeld!
    He could do a comeback episode! You and John O’Hurley! Facing off! Oh..just think of it! The literary possibilities.
    And…and…we could have it narrated by George Plimpton!
    Oh God, wait a second. Don’t tell anyone yet. I’ve got to get this copyrighted first! This could carry for years! Think of the
    residuals! And it seems to me – you’re going to need ’em.

    And so, I must bid you adieu. Richmond is about to come on, and at least one knows not to take him seriously. And as
    I heave after enduring that, perhaps I can as well finally loose this “unknown” bile from my system. For if I watch another
    (is it “Unknown”? or “Unknowing”? Hmmm…) episode, it is certain you are going to owe me for a new 58″ flatscreen (is OK.
    I really want the new “Curve” anyway). Because if I hear you describe ONE MORE culinary experience as being “delicious”,
    my screams will set off a chorus of neighboring 911 calls as I hurl my glass of black Ceylon through the screen and embed
    it in the wall behind.
    Because do you know what the word “delicious” signifies and conveys as a descriptive device?

    Goddamn F$*%&^*ING NOTHING !!! IT’S MEANINGLESS!!!

    You might as well jump in the ocean screaming “Goddamn! That water is “wet”!!!…or that seawater tastes “salty”!

    Christ. Peabody and Emmy material all. Welcome to the working week.

    In all seriousness Mr. Bourdain, take this as it is truly intended. Despite appearances to the contrary, it is a constructive
    critique. Physician, heal thyself. For none other will. When it is over, they will turn and devour you, simply another
    pour (misspelling intended) punch line at some cocktail party.

    I WAS going to simply send this as a private message. After all, it is not my intention to make a public disparagement of you.
    And if I posted it in “Comments” then the hordes will rise up, calling me “Troll”…no doubt complaining to FB and getting me
    banned for a time. But then I thought…what the Hell.. I am a man, and entitled to my opinion on the subject. Surely your
    congregation is mature and “intelligent” enough to recognize this indisputable reality. N’est pas, Capitaine, mon capitaine?
    But, let it be as it may. For though “they call me rebel and traitor, I feel no concern from it; for I should suffer the misery
    of Hell, were I to make a whore of my soul” …and not speak the truth of my mind.

    Ahhh…I feel spent. But…better now. I hope I have performed some small service for you as well.
    Finally, in the words of Andy Warhol, …. “Tick……..tick…….tiiiiii……ccc……kkkk…kk…kk………k.”
    Or was it Timothy Leary? I forget…… In any case, this one’s winding down, dude.

    I hope you didn’t invest ALL your disposable income in those cocoa trees.

    Barkeep, light me up another sugar cube, please…


    (p.s. – in case anyone is stumpted and Googling the intro – it was Howard Beale. 1976’s “Network”.)

    • Wut says:

      I think I speak for everyone when I say “What the fuck man?” 

    • Ben says:

      tl;dr Anthony Bourdain has lost part of the pretentious douche demographic. I reckon he’ll survive.

    • Ben says:

      And who are you?

    • zenboy23 says:

      wow!  Emerald you hit all the “talking points” of inarticulate vomit. Good job

    • Peter says:

      Hmm. I can imagine you feel spent. It’s probably like how you feel when you know you are done throwing up a bad lunch. 

      I would, however, request that, next time you do this, flush it down the toilet, rather than posting it here, because it reeks of substance abuse. 
      Thank you. 

  3. Eric S says:

    Just fucking killer… the perfect format to hear from Tony… 

  4. dun dun dun says:

    He explained his position on doing that episode with Ted Nugent. Just because you don’t agree on with someone, it doesn’t mean you can’t seat down and have a conversation.

  5. littlestripes says:

    Why should I have conversations with nasty people who prey on young girls? I imagine you’re white and male.

  6. Eric says:

    For real.  I love Tony but his episode of No Res in Iceland really missed the mark. 

    Okay, yeah, *some* of the food is awful.  But that’s not really the point.