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Monday 11am - 2:30pm 3:30pm - 8pm Tuesday 11am - 2:30pm 3:30pm - 8pm Wednesday 11am - 2:30pm 3:30pm - 8pm Thursday 11am - 2:30pm 3:30pm - 8pm Friday 11am - 2:30pm 3:30pm - 8pm Saturday 11am - 2:30pm 3:30pm - 8pm

http://www.ginosfayettevilleny.com/

Josh Amidon, Fayetteville, NY (2026)

10/30/2026

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10/29/2026

I’m not dead. I haven’t fallen into a well. And no, I’m not being held hostage by a competing spice company.

Although, after about two hours, my kidnappers would probably reach the same conclusion as everyone else who’s ever spent an extended amount of time with me:

“Jesus Christ, this guy is a lot. Let him go. The recipe for Josh’s Magic Fairy Dust isn’t worth this amount of talking.”

I’ve just taken a little break from social media this week to focus on spices and prepare for what will (God willing, knock on wood, light a candle, sacrifice a chicken) be an absolutely insane Christmas season.

My days have been filled with sales projections, inventory counts, ordering supplies, and questioning whether I’ll ever reach a point in my life where I don’t smell faintly of garlic powder.

But I did manage to sneak away for a little retail therapy at a thrift store. And that's when I found THIS magnificent piece of stupidity. What is it? I have no freaking idea.

It's not thick enough to be a coat, but it's too thick to be a shirt.

It's somewhere between a trench coat, a bathrobe, and a cry for attention. Which, coincidentally, are the three pillars of my personal style.

It fits (sorta), it's dramatic as hell and it was only $12. How could I not buy it?!

Is it my color? Apparently not. I've been informed I'm a “Deep Autumn”. No, that’s not a seasonal depression diagnosis...from what I’m told, it’s a color pallet.

Will I look good in it? Probably not. But let's be serious, when have I ever let looking good interfere with getting attention? I don't dress to flatter my figure. I dress to give strangers something to discuss on the ride home.

Honestly, it looks like Carmen Sandiego died and I bought this at her estate sale.

It's giving final boss at a gay Soviet nightclub.

And somewhere in Eastern Europe, there's a brothel missing its madam.

FUN FACT: I couldn't decide which of those three punchlines I liked best, so I used all three.

Moderation is for losers. Maximalism is a lifestyle. And if this coat has taught us anything, it's that I have absolutely no intention of doing anything in moderation. Ever.

And for $12? I consider that a bargain for the opportunity to make myself the center of attention in every room I enter. Some people invest in stocks. I invest in being insufferable.

Naturally, I plan to debut this magnificent piece of…whatever the hell this is…at my upcoming trivia events:

Josh’s Jeopardy & Seasoning Show at The Ten Pin - November 12th, 7 PM! I'll be there at 6:30 PM selling spices, registering teams, and giving everyone an opportunity to question my fashion choices in person.

Goodwood Tavern, Sunday morning, November 8th, for Brunch!

I've been approached about making another appearance at Goodwood.

Naturally, my representatives are still negotiating the terms of my contract. I've requested a private dressing room, imported sparkling water served at precisely 42 degrees, a dedicated lighting technician and a security detail.

My people are standing firm, and frankly, I'm prepared to walk away if my artistic integrity isn't respected.

Just kidding. Details about the Goodwood event are still being worked out. Updates soon!

10/21/2026

Eagle-eyed followers may have noticed a new trivia event that popped up seemingly out of nowhere for tomorrow. Well, it kind of came out of nowhere for me, too.

Josh’s Jeopardy & Seasoning Show at Twin Trees 57

Yes, you're reading that correctly. Twin Trees on Route 57 in Liverpool. Yes, THAT Twin Trees.

For those who missed “The Ronspiracy”, here's the abbreviated version.

I host trivia at Twin Trees Too in Solvay, owned by Jennifer and her husband, Ron, who also own Twin Trees 57 in Liverpool. After months of never actually seeing Ron and repeatedly being told he was “running the other store,” I jokingly began an investigation whether Jennifer had murdered him.

This turned into a online three-part investigative/comedy series involving employee interrogations, a confidential informant named Deep Throat, Chicken Francaise as hush money and a proof-of-life photo that no one believed.

Eventually, I decided to investigate this mysterious “other store” myself. I went to Twin Trees 57 and discovered Ron was very much alive. We met, had a few laughs and I publicly cleared Jennifer of all wrongdoing.

Phew! That was a lot of information to squeeze into such a tiny space. I'm quite proud of myself, actually. Who knew I was capable of telling a story without writing an entire goddamn novel? Not me.

And look at that, I've already started rambling again. Anyway, I digress…

Last week, I was hosting trivia at Twin Trees Too in Solvay. Jennifer came out while we were setting up and gave me a hug, as she normally does. While we were catching up, I casually mentioned that sometime in the future I'd love to host trivia at their other restaurant in Liverpool, too.

Without giving it a second thought, she pulled out her phone, typed one text message, looked back up at me and said…

“You’re booked for every fourth Thursday of the month at 6pm, starting next week. Oh, and you drink for free.”

That was it. One text message. No discussion, no checking calendars, no consulting anyone. Just a few taps on her phone and I had another job and an open bar tab.

The power this woman just displayed was baller. Badass, even.

I may have been wrong about Jennifer murdering her husband, but after witnessing that display of power, I'm more convinced than ever that if she wanted someone dead, we'd never find the body.

This Thursday, I'm hoping I can convince Ron to come out of the kitchen at some point during the evening and give the crowd a royal wave. After Central New York spent weeks questioning whether the man was alive, I feel like a public “proof of life” appearance is the least he can do.

So, Liverpool! Come check out my brand-new monthly residency (god, I’m so dramatic…“residency”) at Twin Trees 57!

I'll be there every fourth Thursday of the month, with trivia starting at 6pm. I'll be there at 5:30pm registering teams and selling spices.

And remember, Jennifer has negotiated free drinks for me, so even I have absolutely no idea how this evening is going to end.

Frankly, that seems like a problematic business decision, but who am I to interfere?

Oh, and one last thing. During The Ronspiracy, a lovely follower named Kathleen sent me this photo she took of Ron working at the original Twin Trees in Syracuse back in the 1980s.

I've been sitting on this photographic evidence for weeks, waiting for the perfect opportunity to embarrass him. And what better occasion than to promote my first trivia show at his restaurant?

Ron, if you're reading this, I'll see you Thursday. You can yell at me then for using this photo without your permission.

10/14/2026

The other day, I went to the grocery store on a very important mission. Root b**r flavored sparkling water.

I've been craving the stuff since I ran out last week. My grocery store stocks it whenever the planets align or someone in corporate decides my store is worthy. Otherwise, it's sold out or shipped off to a busier store where the more important people apparently live.

So imagine my absolute joy when I turned down the seltzer aisle and spotted it. One lonely 12 pack.

I could practically hear the angels singing. I started walking toward it. Six feet away, five feet away, four feet - victory was imminent. And then, from the other end of the aisle, a woman in her early-to-mid 40s shouted:

"HEY! YOUR SPICES SUCK! I FOUND BUGS IN MINE!"

I stopped dead in my tracks. I gay-gasped and clutched my imaginary pearls so dramatically that, for a brief moment, I genuinely believed I was a Victorian widow collapsing onto her chaise lounge after receiving news that her husband had perished at sea.

Bugs in my spices!?!? My reputation! My livelihood!

And in that fraction of a second, while I was busy mentally filing for bankruptcy and preparing to spend the rest of my life living under a bridge, the woman sprinted past me. Straight to the root b**r sparkling water - she took the last 12 pack.

I stood there, still clutching my neckline, watching this woman load my carbonated happiness into her shopping cart. She turned around with a nervous smile and she started talking…fast:

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I LOVE your spices! There weren't any bugs! I made that up! I just needed to distract you so I could get the root b**r!"

"I have a teenage son who turns into a little b***h if I don't bring this home, and normally I just ignore his whining, but I have a migraine today and had a horrible day with a d!ck boss. I just want to go home and drink a glass of w**e without hearing him cry about it.”

I just stared at her. This woman had looked me dead in the eyes, assessed my vulnerabilities and correctly determined that the fastest way to take me out was to threaten the reputation of my budding spice empire.

And the worst part? It worked.

But how could I possibly be mad at her? She got the water fair and square. Granted, she used psychological warfare, character assassination and a completely fabricated public health crisis, but nowhere in the grocery store's rules of conduct does it say you can’t do that.

Besides, all this poor woman wanted was to get home, pour herself a glass of w**e, and enjoy a little peace and quiet. I get to do that every night, she clearly does not. She could have this one.

Later, in the parking lot, as I was loading groceries into my Tahoe, I heard someone approaching from behind. It was her. For a second, I wondered if she'd come back to accuse my spices of containing asbestos.

Instead, she handed me a single can of root b**r sparkling water. And said:

"I know I'm going to be the villain in your social media story, and I deserve it. But I'm giving you a can so maybe you don't hate me. And maybe the people in the comments won't be too mean?"

Ma'am. How could I hate you?! You gave me content. A beginning, middle and end. A plot twist and a morally ambiguous antagonist with a sympathetic backstory. Not to mention a redemption arc.

Do you have any idea how much people pay Hollywood writers to come up with this s**t? And you just handed it to me for free in a grocery store parking lot.

So, if you're reading this, mysterious root b**r bandit, I hope you enjoyed your w**e. I hope your b***h son (your words, not mine) enjoyed my sparkling water. And I hope your migraine went away.

You may have stolen my beverage, but you gave me something far more valuable… attention. And speaking of people who desperately need attention...

This Thursday, Oct 15th, I'll be hosting Josh’s Jeopardy & Seasoning Show at Twin Trees Too in Solvay at 6pm. We'll be there starting at 5:30 PM, registering teams and selling spices.

Come play trivia, buy some spices, and help support a small business owner who was nearly driven into financial ruin by a woman with a migraine and a teenage son.

And if you want to distract me long enough to steal something, I guess all you have to do is yell that you found bugs in my products.

Please don’t. I’m very vulnerable right now and my therapist can’t see me until next week.

10/07/2026

I get spice orders every day, all day long. And if you place an order and happen to live really close to me, there’s a decent chance I’ll just drop it off myself.

No need to involve the United States Postal Service in a journey I can accomplish with my Chevy Tahoe and 3 minutes.

When I do that, I write you a little handwritten note (I apologize in advance for the handwriting), explain why your package did not travel through the mail system, and put your shipping fee back in the package in cash. It just feels like the right thing to do.

This happens a 3 or 4 times a week. Yesterday was one of those times.

An order came in from someone in Cicero. I live in Cicero, and their house happened to be right on my way out of town while I was running errands.

As I always do, I pull into their driveway, leave the Tahoe running, leave my driver’s door open, run the spices up to their front porch, run back to the Tahoe and take off.

Entire interaction: maybe 30 seconds. Think Amazon Prime, but with less organization and money.

So I get on the highway and continue on with my day. A few minutes later, out of the corner of my eye, I see something move. Then I see something jump from my backseat onto the center console next to me.

If I’m being honest, it took my brain too long to process this information.

“Oh, look. It’s a cat...WAIT. A F*CKING CAT?!?!”

I almost parallel parked my Tahoe 360 degrees around a telephone pole. There was a cat, IN MY CAR. Apparently, while I was delivering spices at that house, a cat saw my open car door and thought:

“Finally. My Uber is here.”

This damn cat hid in the backseat, and then waited until I was on the highway to climb up front like, ‘You mind if we stop at Target?’

It was not a stray cat, it had a clear plastic collar and some sort of tracking device on the collar. Not an Apple Airtag, but something similar. But no address on the tag or phone number.

So this had to be an outdoor cat who belonged to somebody. Somebody who, presumably at that very moment, was looking at an app wondering why Mr. Whiskers was doing 67 mph down I-81.

Unfortunately, despite apparently having a feline ankle monitor, there was no address on the collar. Not even a little tag that said, “Hi, I’m Kevin. My mother is probably hysterical. Please call her.”

Now I’m almost at the store clear on the other side of the county. So I have a decision to make. Do I turn around, drive all the way back to Cicero, drop him off in his neighborhood and then drive alllllll the way back out here again to finish my errands?

In this economy? With the price of gas? Absolutely not.

Listen, I care about animals, but I’m not made of gasoline. So congratulations, cat. You’re running errands with me for the rest of the day. I’ll drop you off on the way home.

I made three stops all over Central New York with this damn cat.

And every single time I got out of the Tahoe, I was terrified, because I have leather seats and carpeted floor mats. Every time I walked back to the Tahoe, I was mentally preparing myself to find the interior shredded to bits. Nope.

Every single time I came back, there he was, laying in my passenger seat sunning him/herself. Completely relaxed. Not a care in the world.

At some point it felt like I was Driving Miss Daisy.

Eventually, after His Majesty and I completed our tour of Central New York, I drove him all the way back to his neighborhood, pulled over, opened the door and let him out.

He jumped out like this had been the plan the entire time. No thank you and no tip, I might add…

So, if this was your cat and you checked his tracker yesterday wondering how the hell he managed to travel all over Central New York...His tag wasn’t glitching.

He was temporarily kidnapped. Sorry about that. In my defense, he kidnapped himself.

And since I’ve turned accidentally kidnapping a cat into a promotional opportunity...

Come see me Thursday, October 8th at Ten Pin in Chittenango for Josh’s Jeopardy & Seasoning Show starts at 7 PM. We’ll be there at 6:30 selling spices and registering teams.

Please leave your cat at home. I can’t be trusted not to kidnap it.

10/05/2026

Ask anyone who’s close to me what I’m afraid of and they’ll give you three answers:

“His mom, garden gnomes and goats.”

My mom because…well, that’s pretty self-explanatory if you’ve met her. Hi, Mom! I’m kidding. Mostly. Please don’t call me.

Garden gnomes because I am absolutely convinced those little a$$holes come alive at night, hold meetings and plot the eventual overthrow of humanity.

Laugh now, but when the Great Gnome War begins, don’t come knocking on my door looking for weapons and shelter. I warned you.

But those first two are arguably irrational fears. The goats? That one is based on real life events.

When I was in second grade, we went on a school field trip and I was attacked by a goat.

It chased me, although “chased” is generous because I was a fat little kid and cardio had not entered my personal curriculum (still hasn’t really). Very quickly the goat caught me, headbutted me against a wall and held me there until my teacher came over and pulled it off me.

Do you know how humiliating it is to lose a physical altercation to something that eats tin cans?

I’m going somewhere with this, I promise…

A few weeks ago, I got an email from Brayhope Farm asking if I’d host their 2nd Annual Farm-ily Fall Festival on October 17. Event linked down below.

Now, you know me, you ask me to host something, hand me a microphone and put me in front of people….I’m in. I’m an attention wh*re. I don’t ask follow-up questions.

So naturally, I said yes without doing one single ounce of research into what Brayhope Farm actually does.

Guess what Brayhope Farms is? It’s a local nonprofit where people with special needs get to spend time with, connect with and build confidence through interacting with donkeys and…you guessed it, goats.

F*cking GOATS.

As host, I’ll be on the microphone throughout the day, announcing and emceeing everything from the trunk-or-treat and pumpkin contest to the obstacle course and…get this…the GOAT DERBY.

Yes. I have to host a goat race.

Me. The kid who got assaulted and held against my will by a goat now has to stand in front of a crowd with a microphone and provide play-by-play while a whole pack of those little bastards runs around at full speed.

Honestly, forget Farm-ily Fall Fest. Just rename the event “Josh Confronts His Childhood Trauma: LIVE!”

And I’m supposed to remain professional while doing it, as if I’m not going to be screaming, “AND NUMBER FOUR TAKES THE LEAD! KEEP THAT F*CKER AWAY FROM ME!”

So yes, I will be there and there will be goats.

October 17th. Brayhope Farm. 11-2pm

Come support an incredible local nonprofit, enjoy the festival and witness the rematch nobody asked for: Josh vs. Goats.

I’m older, wiser (sorta) and still not particularly fast.

Anyway, I have until October 17th to mentally prepare for this.

In the meantime, if you’d like to see me in an environment where I’m significantly less likely to be headbutted, come see me Thursday night at the Ten Pin in Chittenango for Josh’s Jeopardy & Seasoning Show!

Trivia starts at 7 PM, with team registration and spice sales starting at 6:30.

Come play trivia, buy spices and listen to me talk s**t about goats while pretending I’m not terrified.

And if anyone from Brayhope Farm is reading this, please understand that I am very excited to host your event. I just have some concerns about certain four-legged attendees.

10/01/2026

The other night, I hosted Mom’s Off Duty Night at Goodwood Tavern, and there wasn’t a spot to sit inside or out. We had 64 ladies come out and celebrate with us. No one expected that sized crowd.

Sounds like a good thing, right? Yeah, but here was the problem: I only brought one speaker.

I put it outside so everyone on the patio could hear me through the wireless mic. Great for them. Unfortunately, that meant everyone inside was just listening to me the old-fashioned way: my factory-installed speaker system.

So while the patio got surround sound Josh, everyone inside got me screaming at them like a substitute teacher who had completely lost control of the classroom.

I guess you could say Goodwood had me screaming all night.

Ba-dum-bum.

I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself. Josh, you are a grown-ass man. Pull it together.

Anyway, I think it’s officially time to invest in another speaker, because I screamed so much that I lost my voice. It’s been VERY quiet in my house for the past few days.

My husband, Joe, is currently on Day 2 of not hearing my voice, and I think this may be the happiest he’s been in our entire 17 year relationship.

21 teams played. That’s 1 answer sheet per team, times 5 rounds - 105 total. That’s a lot of answer sheets to grade on the fly.

I was running around answering questions and talking to people, Sarah was running around making sure she had everyone’s answer sheets and there was nobody to help Joe grade them and keep score.

Suddenly, I turn around and see Ashley from Creative Environment Day School standing behind my Spice Is Right table….that’s what I call my spice table at trivia shows.

I digress….Ashley was standing behind the table helping Joe.

Ashley, I don’t know where you came from. I don’t know when you got there. But thank you. You were about as welcomed as a Xanax at a kids birthday party or an epidural at eight centimeters.

And for those of you keeping track at home, a few months ago I helped Ashley at Creative Day School preparing and serving lunch to the students.

Yesterday, Ashley showed up at MY job and started grading trivia sheets.

So I think we’re even now. I fed your children. You did math for my drunk women.

This is the weirdest bartering system I’ve ever participated in.

I had a complete blast. Thank you for having me. I’m sore, hoarse, and already asking when I can get me some more Goodwood.

Ok, that was the last one. I promise.

In all seriousness, Goodwood asked if I’d be interested in coming back, and I told them I’d be honored.

So when am I going back? I’m not sure. Nothing’s been set yet. I guess you could say…

I’m waiting on Goodwood.

I lied before, THAT’S the last one.

09/22/2026

There’s a new cocktail lounge that just opened in Minoa called Goodwood Tavern.

Fun fact: Before it was remodeled and became Goodwood, my husband and I actually had our broker look into buying the building. Before we could even put in an offer, it sold to Jennifer, who also owns Trappers II in Minoa.

So naturally, I hate Jennifer.

Not for any legitimate reason. She just keeps buying things I want, which feels incredibly inconsiderate of her.

Jennifer, enough already. You have Trappers. You have Goodwood. How much of Minoa do you need? Save some property for the rest of us. This isn't Monopoly. You don't get a hotel because you own three buildings on North Main Street.

Unfortunately, I can’t tease her too much. I've met Jennifer several times and she's actually a genuinely community-minded business owner, which feels increasingly rare these days.

She came out and supported my restaurant, I've gone out and supported hers, and every interaction I've had with her has been great.

I’ve been invited to host their Moms Off Duty Night (can't tag, link below in comments), Monday, 9/28th 6pm.

It’s basically an entire evening dedicated to moms getting the hell out of the house for a few hours. There’s a special Moms Off Duty Margarita Flight, Freyja-LUXE will be there doing permanent jewelry, plus food, cocktails and an entire evening built around not being responsible for another human being for a few hours.

And presiding over the entire thing, for some reason, will be me.

I’m not just showing up to do trivia. I’m HOSTING the night. Beginning to end, Genesis to Revelations. They are giving me a microphone at 6pm and, as far as I can tell, nobody has developed a plan for taking it away from me.

There’ll be Josh’s Trivia. There’ll be Bad Mom’s Bingo. I’ll be bouncing around all night, bothering people, making announcements nobody asked for and generally behaving like this is the Josh Amidon Telethon.

Ashley, Goodwood’s General Manager, reached out to me a few weeks ago and said she was planning this Moms Off Duty Night and wanted to know if I’d be interested in hosting.

You want me to spend the night drinking with a room full of women and saying inappropriate things?

Ashley, I've been doing this unpaid for YEARS. You're asking me to monetize my social life. I can't believe I never thought of this sooner. I've been out here doing this s**t for FREE all this time.

Of course I said yes.

Which brings us back to Jennifer…because Jennifer knows me. And somehow, despite having this information, she approved all of this.

Jennifer, you own multiple businesses. You seem like an intelligent woman. You should know better.

I mean, you JUST spent all that money making Goodwood nice. Why would you do this? I'm what insurance adjusters refer to as an "avoidable liability."

And while we’re on the subject, I have a very serious concern about Monday night.

How the hell am I supposed to say “Goodwood” into a microphone for three hours without eventually making a joke about the forbidden Slim Jim?

You’re putting me in a room full of moms who finally escaped their children, giving them margarita flights, handing me a microphone and then repeatedly requiring me to say GOOD WOOD.

I’m only human.

I give myself 17 minutes.

09/20/2026

I MADE A GROUP.

Because selling you spices wasn't enough. Now I need to know what the hell you're doing with them.

Introducing the Gino’s Spices Cooking Club!

You people have been sending me pictures of what you're making, recipes, ideas and weird little spice discoveries for months now, and I LOVE IT.

The problem is, everything gets buried. It's somewhere in my DMs, in the comments of a post from three weeks ago, or you replied to a random story and I will absolutely never be able to find it again.

So now we have one centralized place to put all that awesome s**t.

And more importantly, a place where we can actually share it with each other.

This is where I want you to post what you're making with our spices. Recipes, pictures, tips you've figured out, weird combinations that sounded gross but somehow worked, all of it.

Don't know which spice to put on something? Ask. Between me and everybody else in there, somebody's going to have an idea.

Need an idea for dinner? Tell us what you've got in the fridge.

Let's figure it out.

Made something incredible? SHOW US. And tell us how you made it so the rest of us can steal it.

F@cked something up? Please take a picture before you throw it away. Kitchen disasters are content too.

And if somebody posts something you know how to help with, JUMP IN. Answer their question. Share your trick. Tell them what you would've done.

This isn't supposed to be me standing at the front of the room teaching a cooking class. I want all of us swapping ideas, helping each other and collectively figuring out what else we can do with these stupid little bottles.

I'll be in there too, answering questions, giving pairing suggestions, sharing recipes and probably stealing some of your ideas and pretending I thought of them.

Basically, I want this to become one giant, digital, dysfunctional kitchen. The kind where everybody's cooking, everybody has an opinion, and somebody is inevitably yelling from across the room that you're doing it wrong.

So if you've got a bottle of Gino's Spices sitting in your cabinet, you're already qualified.

Come join us.

And once you're in, POST SOMETHING. Somebody has to go first, and I really don't want it to just be me talking to myself.

09/17/2026

Yesterday, I found myself out running errands when it hit me. I’m near Twin Trees 57 in Liverpool. Yes, that’s right… Ron’s store.

For those of you just joining The Ronspiracy, I host trivia at its sister restaurant, Twin Trees Too, owned by Jennifer and her husband, Ron. In nearly a year, I’ve never actually met or seen Ron because every time I ask where he is, I get the same answer:

“Ron’s running the other store.”

This has led to an investigation involving a confidential informant named Deep Throat, Chicken Francaise hush money and a highly questionable “proof of life” photo.

And now, completely by accident, I was three minutes away from “the other store.”

Enough was enough. Every great investigation eventually reaches a point where someone has to actually investigate something. Unfortunately for all of us, that someone was me.

The planets had aligned. I pulled into the parking lot at exactly 3pm, just as they were opening the doors. God apparently wanted answers too.

Who am I to question the Lord and His mysterious ways?

I walked in, sat at the bar and started talking to the bartender, Ashley. I asked if Ron was in.

“No, he’s not here.”

You’ve got to be f@cking kidding me. Is Jennifer telling every employee at BOTH stores that “Ron’s running the other store?”

I mean, it’s genius. Honestly, it’s sophisticated enough to warrant its own eight-part true crime podcast.

I had already dialed 9-1 and was hovering over the final 1 when Ashley finished her thought:

“He should be back in a minute.”

Oh. I quietly put my phone away. The authorities did not need to be involved…yet.

After a few minutes, I was invited into the back kitchen. I was scared. Listen, I watched The Sopranos. I know what happens in the back of Italian restaurants.

I walked through the door and there was Ron, prepping pizza dough.

We talked for a few minutes and laughed about how this silly little “Where’s Ron?” bit had somehow turned into a full-blown missing-person investigation.

Toward the end of my welfare check, I told Ron I needed a picture. Obviously, after everything we’d been through, you people were going to demand proof of life.

Ron agreed, but he was adamant that we had to walk to the front of the restaurant because there was a giant chicken he wanted to take the picture with.

Okay. Weird request, but I like weird.

So we walked up front, found the giant chicken, I pulled out my phone and got ready to take the picture. And that’s when Ron, a man I had known for approximately five minutes, looked at me and said:

“Make sure you tell everyone I have a big c*ck!”

An inappropriate joke about your meat treat within the first five minutes of meeting me? Sir, you’re a man after my own heart.

So to fulfil my promise…I’ve seen it, it’s massive. Ron’s is the biggest I’ve ever seen. I mean, I’ve seen bigger on the internet, but certainly the biggest I’ve seen in person.

So, there you have it. Ron is alive. The Ronspiracy is over and journalism has prevailed.

Josh’s Jeopardy & Seasoning Show is TONIGHT at Twin Trees Too with trivia starting at 6pm. We’ll be there starting at 5:30 to register teams and sell spices.

And at some point during the evening, I will pull Jennifer out of the kitchen and publicly apologize for spending the last few weeks telling all of Central New York that she may have prematurely activated the “till death do us part” clause of her marriage.

It’s the least I can do.

Josh Amidon

10/30/2026

10/29/2026

10/21/2026

10/14/2026

10/07/2026

10/05/2026

10/01/2026

09/22/2026

09/20/2026

09/17/2026

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