L.A. Weekly, whose food blog Squid Ink is hitting the top of its game by giving us more of Elina Shatkin’s sharp prose, sometimes feels a little like those fascists-of-cool who come to punk/hip-hop/skate shows and lay down rules for how to keep it real. And yeah, they’re usually right. Yesterday, for example, came a report on which terms not to use when discussing your favorite morsels of moist, supple, voluptuous, and fleshy cuts of meaty meat (can we please add the redundant phrase “meaty,” you guys?). Today Jonathan Gold drops a plea that we can really get with, despite offenses here, there, and just about everywhere else. To paraphrase: Stop using gross jokes about balls when talking about your food! Yes, even if they’re truly tasty orb-shaped bites like Ludo’s fried chicken, Starry Kitchen’s tofu, or Great Balls on Tires’ rotating rounds of whatever. Mr. Gold asks for everyone’s participation on this one, and we’re, ahem, in the bag here, hopefully not cutting Nguyen Tran off at the you-know-whats. Ordering eggs in Spanish is probably okay, though still subject to the chef’s sense of humor.