What … what did the neighborhood supermarket discover about this, which appears to be an egg salad on a croissant, that required them to go back and cross out the word “sandwich”? What terrors would be unleashed by someone attempting to apply this in a situation where the benefits of sandwiches would ordinarily be expected? I want to know, but not enough to spend six bucks on it now that I’ve been warned this is merely the illusion of a sandwich and only the egg salad is guaranteed.
I am so sad. I broke one of our good soup bowls. It wasn’t on purpose, I was just taking it out of the dishwasher and then it wasn’t in my hands but it was in four pieces. The worst part of this, besides that it wasn’t the good soup bowl with the unexplained ineradicable stain on it, is that now we’re stuck not being able to have anything but adequate soup until I replace it.
Well. It could be worse. Adequate soup is better, after all, than being stuck having disappointing soup. And soup does still remain the best way to have food but wet. And I know, you were thinking this was better than having poor soup. But I can’t say anything bad about poor soup, because the alternative is having to ladle soup, and none of our ladles are anything to say anything about.
I’m sorry, just, stuff kept coming up. I should have kept Prince Valiant in this week since, while Dick Tracy didn’t have intensely complicated stories the last couple months, Prince Valiant had less story. Anyway, please enjoy something I never knew about Tastee-Freez: that it’s spelled “Tastee-Freez”. Also that it’s shipped from mountains by snow-bunny power under the supervision of Casper the Friendly Ghost gone through a chocolate fountain.
So I agree that it’s hard to define what exactly is the best in life. That granted, you know? That summer vacation when I was about eleven and had nothing to do except work on this box that was like two feet by two feet by one foot tall and was filled with tagalong rejects? That’s got to be somewhere in the top five of bests ever.
It’s paczki season again, and none too soon, since I’ve still got three pairs of pants that fit. I’m told there’s a spot of controversy on the neighborhood Facebook, or possibly Reddit, or something or other like that. Some place where people who don’t own dogs argue about barking dogs with other people who don’t own dogs. This controversy is about the paczki made by the Lansing-area omnipresent convenience store chain. The strong contingent of how everybody loves them is facing stiff competition from a faction arguing that they’re not made anything like actual paczki and are basically just jelly doughnuts with Top Of The Town wins.
Though I am ethnically Polish I must admit, I don’t know the culture well enough to say. Most of what I observe in Polish culture is my secret kielbasa-and-sauerkraut recipe (I get some vegetarian kielbasa and sauerkraut and warm it all up) and being judgemental of how other people pronounce “Kosciusko”, and if you think that doesn’t come up a lot, you clearly don’t travel in mustard circles or across a couple bridges over the Hudson River. Well, one of them is across the Mohawk River and that’s kind of two of them and, okay, this is getting a little too fussy.
My point is just if someone wants to tell me this peanut-butter/pumpkin-spice-latte/mint-icing/boba-tea paczki doesn’t accurately reflect the culture of 16th-century Krakow? I’m not listening. I’m buried under a mountain of powdered nutmeg and stevia.
New in the neighborhood: the grocery store, the one that’s been around for a hundred-plus years and that’s just where to go when you realized you somehow both ran out of bread crumbs and need bread crumbs? It’s now got a record section. Yes, just like it’s the 70s or something. The records have got a chunk of the aisle next to the Elmer’s glue and the off-brand index cards. Not, like, obscurities, just the stuff you’d expect to get from Record Store Day For Middle-Aged Guys. Metallica’s first album. Thriller. Rush’s Album Where It’s Black and White and the Title Is Really Tiny in Little Script Letters Like It’s an Electrocardiogram or Something. Guns N Roses. I have questions about why the store has put in a record section, but the important thing is we’re all set if we need a can of cream of mushroom soup and Queen’s A Night At The Opera because our casserole is going wrong.
| State | Looks Like |
|---|---|
| Delaware | A pawn |
| Michigan (lower peninsula) | A mitten |
| Colorado | Detroit-style pizza |
| Vermont and New Hampshire | Someone heard about Penrose Tiling and tried drawing it without ever seeing a picture of what the tiles really look like |
| Michigan (upper peninsula) | That solar flare the starship Voyager flies through in the opening credits |
| Wyoming | Second Detroit-style pizza |
| Rhode Island | My cursive lowercase ‘r’ |
| Connecticut | Elementary-school-style rectangle pizza with a tail |
| West Virginia | A potato you forgot about long enough it’s growing roots |
| Florida | That little emergency release handle to break open the bus window when it falls in the river or something |
| Oklahoma | A pot of macaroni and cheese someone left in the campfire |
| Tennessee | Deck of cards you set down wrong so they’re sliding apart |
| Maine | New England giving the Black Power salute |
| Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia | That cool animated PBS logo from the 1970s where the letter P turns around |
| Idaho | Cheese, Mega-Delaware |
Reference: Lunar Lander: How We Developed The Apollo Lunar Module, Thomas J Kelly.
However, it does mean that now and then I spend all morning haunted by the memory of some 1980s commercial promising that in case of (something) you could have “Chicken Diane in less than thirty minutes!” I don’t know if that’s a good time for chicken Diane, or if it was a good time for it in the 80s but we have more sophisticated techniques of chicken today. Or of Diane-ing chicken. I don’t even know what chicken Diane is like. I don’t think we ever had it, or at least it wasn’t announced as such. And I don’t know why it’s lasting so in my mind but, there it is, just in case I need chicken Diane in under thirty minutes and can go back to the 1980s sometime and find out.
But we discovered that our half-tub of chip dip expired on the 15th and so all our plans had to be put on hold to get that squared away.
You may remember the Viennetta, which entered the United States market in the 80s and 90s as a way to provide a presentable fancy-looking dessert to company you wanted to serve ice cream cake. I did not, which derailed my love’s story about buying one. But this is how we got to finding that YouTube has a video titled “How a Viennetta is made (suitable for kids)”.
So it is. And yet the title implies there must be a similar video too emotionally raw and blunt about the horrors of modern life and the existential dread that an adult knows as the combination of regrets and fears for a too-short future all about the making of this ice cream cake. Where is that video? Who made it? Who is watching it? How badly would a child facing the nightmares behind, oh, chocolate or sugar be scarred by what it has to say? Or is the music just too risqué? What makes this undetected video so unsafe?
So I’m going to treat myself by eating Cheese Idaho.
Sycophants
The Case For: Word turns out to mean “people who tell you where the figs are”.
The Case Against: Is not related the word meaning “people who tell you where the unhealthy elephants are”.
24-bit Computing
The Case For: Represents signed integers of up to 8,388,607 in a single word.
The Case Against: Most implementations are really 16-bit and they just leave the other eight bits in the junk drawer.
Godzilla
The Case For: Deft, seamless artistic blend of gods and Nilla wafers.
The Case Against: Too whiny anymore to stomp on the pointy skyscrapers around the financial district.
The Yukawa Potential
The Case For: Is so, so good at describing pairwise particle interactions mediated by either a massless or a massed particle.
The Case Against: Is not the name of any noteworthy prog rock band or album.
So, I’m aware that this is the season for putting things up against other things. And heck, I can think of things. So, here’s my first-ever March Pairwise Brackety Contest Thing. I panicked when I was filling out the forms for bracket contest names. Sorry.
Bruce Springsteen
The Case For: All-time classic songs like Born in the USA and Born to Run, plus other non-birth-related songs.
The Case Against: Though he was born in the USA, his strengths are singing and songwriting. His running is nothing of note.
Sandwiches
The Case For: For over 25 years now the most convenient way to keep hot meatballs in your hand.
The Case Against: Hasn’t been a good sandwich song in the Top 40 in months.
And here I finish off the “Chinese Fortune Cooky” advertisement I started last week. I don’t find much in this Mystery Science Theater 3000 fanfic that needs explanation. You can see I wrote this when I still thought I would make a go of that Web Site Number Nine replacement. At the end of this is a bit that’s supposed to be an ASCII art representation of the mailing blanks, and HTML, alas, cannot understand the concept of “I want blank spaces here”. (Yes, I know about the non-breaking space.)
The original advertisement has a line delivered in that insulting “Chinese” stereotype fashion and while I make fun of it, if you don’t want that stuff in your recreational reading, you are right, and can safely skip this. While it was a fun MiSTing to do I can’t say this has any all-time great lines you’d regret missing.
>
> Yes! If you order twelve of these amazing Christmas
> Greetings,
MIKE: Twelve? Who could possibly have twelve friends at Christmastime?
> the price is only $4.98 for the complete package delivered
> to your door — or only about 40c each!
CROW: 45 cents if you don’t have a door.
> If you order twenty-five,
> then each fortune cooky greeting gift cost you only 36c each!
MIKE: If you order 36, then each costs only twenty-five cents.
> If,
> however, you order fifty or more, then the price can be lowered to
> only 32c each, or $15.95 for fifty.
TOM: They sound hesitant.
CROW: Yeah, like they’re rethinking the whole cookie business model.
> This is far less than many good
> quality cards that cannot compare in the impact and joy that they will
> give your friends!
MIKE: I’d like to see a direct joy comparison on these cards.
>
> CHINESE SANTA CLAUS SAY:
TOM: Oh.
CROW: Please, no.
> “Have Happy Thought
MIKE: Oh, dear.
> — Give
> Greeting that is also Gift!”
TOM: That’s enough, please.
>
CROW: Oh, thank goodness.
> Rush your order today to get your cooky greetings in
> ample time for Christmas mailing.
MIKE: Lest Chinese Santa Claus pop back in with more directions.
> Orders received
> after Nov. 20th will be returned.
TOM: Orders received before November 20th will be rotted out before Christmas.
> So send coupon
> right away.
CROW: Please tell me that’s not more Chinese Santa Claus.
>
>
> +——————————————————————-+
> | HARRISON HOME PRODUCTS CORP.,
TOM: The only home products corporation named for President William Henry Harrison.
> DEPT. 10-DC |
MIKE: Department 10-DC, box 37, desk 4, altitude L-24.
> | 250 Passaic Street, Newark, N. J. |
CROW: Newark: where Christmas meets fortune cookies!
> | |
> | CHECK personalized greeting of your choice: |
TOM: Choose wisely. Wrong answers will be punished.
> | ___ Merry Christmas and Happy New Year |
> | Your Name Here |
MIKE: Ah, ‘Your Name Here’, renowned Chinese fortune cookie teller.
> | ___ Season’s Greetings |
CROW: o/` In our souls … o/`
TOM: o/` Yummy Fruity Pebbles in our bowls. o/`
MIKE: Stop, both of you.
> | Your Name Here |
MIKE: If you have no name, the name of someone you know may be substituted.
> | |
> | I want greetings signed ………………………….. |
> | PRINT PLAINLY |
TOM: I want greetings signed `PLAINLY’?
CROW: Worst Mad-Lib Ever.
> | |
> | Please send me ……….
MIKE: Please send me … [ drumroll … ]
> Personalized Fortune Cooky |
MIKE: [ Cymbal clash. ]
CROW: Yeah, still doesn’t quite work.
> | Greetings, complete with Gift Boxes and individual mailing |
> | cartons. |
TOM: Yes, but will they be mailed to you?
> | |
> | ___ Payment enclosed ……. |
CROW: They rolled it up and slipped it into a fortune cookie.
> | ___ Charge Diner’s Acc’t No. ……… |
MIKE: Charge! Diner’s accountant? No! [ Drumroll! ]
> | |
> | ___ 12 for $4.98
TOM: 13 for $5.38!
> ___ 25 for $8.98
CROW: Six will get you eggroll!
> ___ 50 for $15.95 |
MIKE: You know, I’d kind of like a hoagie instead.
> | SAVE MORE! For each additional 25 over fifty add $7.50 |
TOM: For 25 fewer under fifty subtract $7.50, and it’ll all work out.
> | |
> | NAME………………………………………………… |
[ CROW, TOM, and MIKE snicker overenthusiastically through this. ]
CROW: [ to MIKE and TOM ] All right, all right, ssh, shh, shhh …
[ to the ad ] FIRSTNAME …
[ ALL burst out laughing at this. ]
CROW: [ to MIKE and TOM ] Be cool, be cool. [ to the ad ] … M …
TOM: OOoh, hoo, hooooo, the silliness!
MIKE: Sssh, you’ll wreck it, Tom!
CROW: LASTNAME!
[ MIKE cackles ]
> | ADDRESS……………………………………………… |
TOM: [ to CROW and MIKE ] I got this one, ssh, stop giggling …
[ to the ad ] One Two Three …
[ CROW cackles and then keeps giggling ]
TOM: … 123 _MAIN STREET_!
MIKE: [ Clapping, and then to TOM and CROW ] I got this, you’ll love it.
CROW: Oh, how are gonna top …
> | CITY……………………………
MIKE: ANYTOWN!
[ TOM and CROW are bowled out of their seats laughing. ]
> ZONE….
[ TOM and CROW pull themselves up just enough for this ]
TOM: Zone? Zone is forbidden!
CROW: Take permits many.
> STATE……….. |
[ TOM and CROW giggle in anticipation. ]
MIKE: [ Stoner voice ] State of Confusion, man!
[ ALL cackle and hoot at all this, and then … ]
> | |
[ ALL stop abruptly. ]
TOM: Well. What next?
> | In Canada:
TOM: Oh. Canada.
CROW: My something something something land.
> Order from Harrison Home Products Ltd., |
MIKE: A *completely* different company.
> | 675 King St., W.,
CROW: [ As Jimmy Durante ] It’s under the big St!
> Toronto, Ontario |
TOM: Wait, Toronto doesn’t get zones?
MIKE: Canadians just don’t get zones, man.
> +——————————————————————-+
>
CROW: Let’s blow this popsicle stand.
[ 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… ]
[ SATELLITE OF LOVE DESK. MIKE has a tray with some fortune cookies on top, and a paper-wrapped shoebox, and another similarly wrapped box about twice the size. TOM and CROW are to the side, watching this. ]
MIKE: Now, each of you has picked one fortune cookie and I’m giving Tom here the chance to trade what’s in the cookie for what’s in the little box, do you want to trade?
CROW: Take the box!
TOM: The box … the cookie … the box … yeah, I’m gonna go with the box.
MIKE: All right, and inside the box is … [ he lifts up the shoebox, revealing two fortune cookies inside ] Ah, another cookie!
[ CROW laughs at TOM. ]
MIKE: Now, do you want to look at the contents of the cookie, or do you want to trade it for the modestly larger box?
TOM: I … I …
CROW: Keep the cookie!
TOM: All right, the cookie.
MIKE: [ Cracking it open and eating the cookie ] And inside the cookie … ‘You get the modestly larger box!’
[ CROW cackles ]
MIKE: And inside the modestly larger box is … [ lifting it up, to reveal another fortune cookie ] … another cookie, with … [ MIKE cracks it open, eating the cookie and reading the fortune ] … ah! You win the original two cookies!
TOM: [ Completely baffled ] Uh … yay?
CROW: Ah, Tom, loser-boy, you get … uh … wait …
[ MIKE slides both cookies over to TOM. ]
CROW: I’m confused.
MIKE: Then we’ve had a good day. And if you at home are having a good day, why not consider the new MiSTings archive lurching its way into existence at http://www.-.com/mst3000/ ? It’s got MiSTings, and … uh … quotes from MiSTings, and isn’t that plenty in these troubled times? Thank you, won’t you?
[ MADS sign flashes; MIKE taps it. ]
[ DEEP 13. PEARL FORRESTER and DR FORRESTER are looking over boxes of DEEP 13-labelled stuff which they study. ]
PEARL: You know, if we have them buy cookie dough, and set delivery …
DR. F: Yeah, then they forget it and we can keep the money and the dough.
PEARL: [ Breaking concentration ] Is that a pun?
DR. F: No! No no no no no no no no … no … wait, was it?
PEARL: That was *totally* a pun. and you know what that means.
[ DR FORRESTER reluctantly turns around and walks, ashamed, to stand in a corner. ]
DR. F: [ Calling out ] Ah, until next time, cookie puss?
PEARL: Clayton! Rules.
[ DR FORRESTER slumps sadly in his corner. ]
PEARL: Cookies. What were we thinking? It should have been pot luck.
[ She presses the button ]
\ | /
\ | /
\|/
---O---
/|\
/ | \
/ | \
Mystery Science Theater 3000, its characters and situations and everything are the property of Best Brains, Inc, and don’t think anyone is challenging that at all. The Fortune Cooky scheme belongs to the Harrison Home Products Corporation of Newark, New Jersey, of 1962, and was advertised as such in the Diners’ Club Magazine of October 1962. http://blog.modernmechanix.com/2009/01/29/imagine-your-christmas-greeting-inside-a-chinese-fortune-cooky/ for the original.
Keep circulating the posts.
> CHINESE SANTA CLAUS SAY: “Have Happy Thought — Give
> Greeting that is also Gift!”
I have realized that when I have a dream about trying to find a bathroom, it’s because I should wake up and apply the bathroom that we have. Straightforward enough.
What I don’t know how to parse is dreaming that it was very important I wash my hands because I was about to eat a banana. I don’t make a habit of not washing my hands; I’ve been known to wash my hands because I felt like I had got them a little too dry after washing them in the first place. But if I have choose something to eat without washing my hands? A banana has a lot of appeal.
Now for two weeks of a Mystery Science Theater 3000 fan fiction I probably should have run back in December. Ah well. This is another advertisement reprinted on a now-defunct Modern Mechanics blog, offering just what the subject line suggests.
I set the host sketches for this MiSTing in Season 7 of the show — the Pearl-and-Dr-Forrester year — because there were almost none set then. I think there were more MiSTings where people came up with their own, post-season-6 “new settings” than that short season ever got.
The New Jersey Big Sea Day is something that I, a New Jersey native, never heard of before running across a mention in Walt Kelly’s Pogo. It’s this early-August festival in Manasquan, on the Shore, with sandcastle-building and stuff like that. Von Steuben Day is a late-September celebration of Friedrich von Steuben, the Prussian military officer who introduced General Washington’s Continental Army to “training”.
The riff about where fortune cookies came from reflected the best information I had on hand around a decade ago when I wrote this MiSTing. It’s also not any kind of joke, but what am I going to do with trivia, not shove it in front of people’s faces? That would be impossible.
Axiomatic to my riffing is the supposition that it’s a silly idea to have customized messages printed in fortune cookies. But it’s not that silly. It would definitely get people to talk about whatever you or your organization put in there. It’s just what they would say is, “Huh. Cute” and then stop. It probably would take more than ten minutes to make fortune cookies from scratch, but not that much longer. They only need, like, five minutes to bake, even if you have a 1962 oven.
[ SEASON SEVEN opening credits. ]
[ 6… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… ]
[ SATELLITE OF LOVE. Desk. MIKE is reading the SATELLITE NEWS; CROW and TOM carrying bags slung over their shoulders enter. The bags are full of greeting cards. ]
TOM: [ Hesitantly ] Ahem?
CROW: [ Coughing ] Um … uh …
TOM: [ Nervous, once MIKE, perhaps unwisely, looks up ] Ah, good day or evening sir and/or ma’am?
CROW: [ Also as a frightened child ] And with the upcoming seasons of seasonal greetings with calling for celebrations of seasonal greetings to be given out around the holiday seasoning …
TOM: [ To CROW ] You’re skipping, let me! [ To MIKE ] And for only twenty cents per card on certain deals you can have a customized and personal message for convenient home delivery?
MIKE: [ Patiently putting down the newspaper ] Oh, let’s see. Tom? Crow? Trying to build an economy on me sending cards to you, Crow, and Gypsy for Christmas?
TOM: Not merely for Christmas mister and/or missus Mike but for any of the holidays you can send out cards for.
MIKE: So I could send my wishes to the three of you for any holiday that I felt like?
CROW: Our fine line of finely lined cards are open to many interpretative holiday acts.
MIKE: Ah-huh. So you’re actually getting me set for the New Jersey Big Sea Day, and not just, oh, running some thing where Doctor and Mrs Forrester get you to swipe my meager paycheck for a promise of delivery of cards about three months after I forget I ever wanted any at all?
[ DEEP 13. DR FORRESTER and PEARL FORRESTER are squinting into the camera. ]
DR.F: Mother, they’re on to us!
PEARL: Clayton, go deep, break left, watch for the long pass.
[ DR FORRESTER runs to the far end of Deep 13. ]
PEARL: All right, if we can’t get you on cards … [ She punches several miscellaneous buttons as DR FORRESTER prances back and forth in the background ] … We’ll get you *cookies*!
DR.F: I’m open!
[ PEARL grabs a piece of Deep 13-crusted camera gear and tosses it at DR FORRESTER, who catches it, knocking him over. ]
[ SATELLITE OF LOVE. MIKE is staring at the camera while TOM and CROW bump one another’s card bags. ]
MIKE: … the heck?
[ MOVIE SIGN starts up. ]
ALL: Aaaah! Movie sign!
TOM: I want cookies!
[ 6… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1.. ]
[ ALL enter the theater. ]
> Imagine!
TOM: Now stop imagining! Settle! Now rationalize your settling!
> Your Christmas Greeting Inside a Chinese Fortune
> Cooky!
MIKE: A `cooky’?
CROW: What a kookie idea.
>
> Your Friends will be Amazed and Delighted
TOM: You know, the way people are often amazed by fortune cookies.
> When They Open this
> Gay Attractive Package
CROW: What, in public?!
> And See Your Personalized Greeting
MIKE: Even now their eyes are rolling and they’re sighing patiently at your kookieness.
>
> Think of it!
TOM: Keep thinking of it, until you have a good idea instead.
> Just picture this scene, taking place in each of
> your friends’ homes!
CROW: OK, we have a place, now, we need professions.
TOM: Dentists!
CROW: OK, a bunch of dentists at a friend’s home and what are they there for?
MIKE: Elvis impersonations!
CROW: Elvis-impersonating dentists at a friend’s home, there’s our scene, let’s go!
>
> Approximately one or two weeks before Christmas this year,
> your friends’ doorbell rings!
TOM: Sure, like your friends even know people who *ring* doorbells.
MIKE: That doesn’t even mean anything, Tom.
TOM: Er … hush.
> There, in the hands of their postman,
CROW: It’s a letter in the bag for me!
> along with the usual run of ordinary Christmas cards, is something
> completely different
TOM: It’s a Christmas Belgian Waffle!
> — a small, cardboard Christmas container, with
> their name and address on the front, but with no other
> identification!
MIKE: Immediately the bomb squad is called in.
>
> The ordinary cards are tossed aside!
TOM: The recipients panic, wrecking their home while fleeing!
> Eyes focus on this
> mysterious container as your friends slip it apart!
CROW: Your cookies are detonated at a secure facility in Utah!
> And just picture
> the expression on their faces when they draw out of that container a
> lovely Christmas Ornament Box
MIKE: A Box? Why, that’s even better than being *loved*!
> — with its brilliant red braided silk
> string to hang it on their tree
TOM: Murray, you’re supposed to hang it on the Christmas tree, not the diseased elm out back.
> — with the year 1962 in blazing red
> numerals on its face
CROW: The moldy, rotted remains of ancient cookies on the inside.
> — with its sides and bottom covered with gay
> white, red, yellow and brown Christmas figures
TOM: That certainly don’t reflect dopey old-time casual racist stereotypes so stop bracing for that shoe to drop.
> — and with its top
> printed with the command, in red letters, to “OPEN ME HERE”!
MIKE: OR SUFFER MY MIGHTY COOKIE WRATH!
> As
> your friends open that top, as they peer into the inside of that
> beautiful little Christmas box
CROW: .. as they free the unimaginable cookie spirits within …
> — what they see is a Chinese Fortune
> Cooky — the eternal symbol of good luck, good fortune and long-lived
> happiness!
TOM: That were invented around 1910.
CROW: By Japanese immigrants.
MIKE: To San Francisco.
TOM: That’s kind of eternal, right?
>
>
> ON YOUR TREE
MIKE: ON YOUR TREES, EVERYONE! This is *not* a cookie drill!
> — a Gift for Every Friend and Neighbor!
CROW: For up to four friends or neighbors.
> Hang your tree with colorful ornaments that become Gay
TOM: Wouldn’t a cookie drill just break?
MIKE: Huh?
> Greeting Gifts when neighbors and children drop in
> this Holiday Season.
CROW: But the holiday is Von Steuben Day.
TOM: I mean as soon as you tried drilling something with it. Cookies are fragile.
MIKE: Thanks for being on top of that, Tom.
>
> And when they break open that Fortune Cooky, there, inside,
CROW: Is the bomb!
> individually printed on colored Christmas paper, is your personal
> greeting — SIGNED BY YOUR OWN PRINTED NAME!
TOM: Oh, my stars.
MIKE: It’s like a Christmas card, only complicated!
>
> Yes! This Christmas, you can amaze your friends and loved
> ones
MIKE: Never before had they imagined such reasons to avoid you!
> with a completely different kind of Christmas Greeting Package —
TOM: A *box*!
> that gives them a thrilling surprise when they open it
CROW: Wait, you can *open* the box too? That changes everything!
> — that hangs
> as an attractive ornament on their Christmas tree after they open it
MIKE: Peeling the tree open with band saw and corkscrew.
> — that they’ll pick off that tree and show with pride to their
> friends for months to come
TOM: Your friends who leave their trees up for months after Christmas.
> — and yet, that costs you no more than a
> ordinary, good-quality Christmas Card that you buy in a store!
CROW: You know, the kinds of cards that people like.
>
> No wonder your phone will ring constantly the week before
> Christmas,
TOM: As your phone seeks revenge!
> congratulating you on this amazing Christmas greeting!
MIKE: It’s so amazing, you could buy something that takes nearly ten minutes to make from scratch!
> No
> wonder your friends will beg you to tell them where you got it!
CROW: And you’ll withhold the information, cackling with glee at your casual cruelty.
> No
> wonder they’ll hang it in a place of honor on their tree — take it
> off that tree to show to their friends.
TOM: Thereby defeating the point of hanging it on the tree.
>
> THE PERFECT GREETING FOR YOUR COMPANY OR ASSOCIATES
MIKE: “GREETINGS, COMPANY OR ASSOCIATES!”
TOM: Perfect!
> Wish your clients, customers and business associates
> Good Fortune and Good Luck for this Holiday Season
> and the New Year.
CROW: Their lucky numbers are 24, 33, and 33, and on the back are the Chinese words for “headache” and “potato”.
>
> And how much does all this fun cost you?
TOM: Remember to add the cost of lost dignity.
>
> As you know, regular good-quality Christmas Cards usually
> cost 50c — 75c—even $1
CROW: Two dollars!
TOM: Eighteen dollars!
MIKE: A million dollars!
> or more each!
TOM: Uphill! Both ways!
> But now, if you take
> advantage of this special offer, you can send your friends these
> personalized Chinese Fortune Cooky Christmas Packages — complete —
MIKE: What’s an incomplete fortune cookie?
CROW: That’s where they forget the little laminated bill for the buffet.
> for as little as 32c each!
TOM: That seems kind of pricey for a cookie for 1962.
[ To conclude … ]
And now let me conclude one of my most giddy, silly Mystery Science Theater 3000 fan fictions. As mentioned last week, this started as an advertisement in a 1930s issue of Modern Mechanix. Seems like one of those things that might have been legitimate enough, if you wanted to spend your time and energy making and selling potato chips. I’m going to guess this isn’t how the Better Made chip empire was born, though.
The closing sketch is a riff on the old-time-radio series Lum and Abner, for not much reason besides I like the show. I was getting into it when I wrote this MiSTing originally. (It’s a great example of the 15-minute serial comedy.) And it would not be absurd if Lum and Abner — about two completely guileless Arkansas shopkeepers, often trying some scheme to get some extra money — had a story where they tried to get rich making potato chips.
The end of the sketch has Tom Servo announcing a replacement for Web Site Number Nine. This was a project I was doing back then, to learn PHP and database stuff that might get me a job and also serve the community. I never got happy with the finished project, but I use some of the scripts for that even today, to do all the nice formatting on these MiSTings that give the quoted text a light blue background and that highlights Mike and Joel and Crow and Tom Servo’s names. So if you know someone who’d be willing to pay me, oh let’s say $65,000 pa for that coloring scheme, let me know, okay? Thanks.
The “used Sklar” references the Sklar Brothers, whose Cheap Seats show on ESPN Classic(?) in the early 2000s scratched many of our Mystery Science Theater 3000 itches. But with more sports and spelling bees. I don’t remember whether the blogger gotten for trading Tom Servo meant anyone in particular or just a comment on how, hey, bloggers, they’re always making fun of stuff that doesn’t need it, right?
>
> BIG PROFITS
MIKE: No, bigger!
TOM: It’s a wild profiteeria!
>
> The profits in this business are enormous.
CROW: [ Amused ] They’re potato-y chip-tacular!
> You can
> take $11.50 in raw material
TOM: [ Announcing ] Any raw material! Have some bauxite? Make potato chips with that!
> — run it through the machine
CROW: [ Feebly ] We, ah, we’re still working on this part but it’s going to be great!
> and take out enough chips to bring you $35 cash
MIKE: [ Amused ] Cash or potato chips!
> — selling at
> wholesale. A clear profit for your time of $23.50.
TOM: Wow!
CROW: Why, that’s nearly twenty-four dollars!
MIKE: You can almost buy Manhattan on that potato chip fortune!
> And that’s
> one day’s output for the machine.
CROW: [ Humoring this ] Why, in two days you could make a profit of $47!
> At this rate it is possible
> for a man and wife working together to make $135.00 a week.
TOM: [ Humoring ] Hey, that’s a whole twenty-*seven* dollars a day!
MIKE: [ As the announcer ] The money is just pouring in! And it’s just potatoes and bauxite!
> And now the complete plant — with my new machine —
CROW: I call it … the POTATO machine!
MIKE: It’s amazingly fantastic and chip-based!
> can be
> put into your kitchen or basement
TOM: Or toss it immediately on the pile for the garage sale.
> for less than the down
> payment on a cheap car.
MIKE: Far less than the payment for a whole car company!
>
> SEND POSTAL FOR FREE INFORMATION
CROW: [ Announcing ] Mail anything to anything else!
MIKE: [ Likewise ] Just mail something! You’ll get valuable free information!
TOM: [ Likewise ] And if you meet a Postal then send it!
>
> Send your name and address today on a postal card.
MIKE: [ Announcing ] Include a sample of your favorite potato chip!
> I’ll send you pictures
TOM: *Uh*-oh.
> and information free showing exactly how
> you can start at home and make money the first day.
CROW: Full explanations of what a potato is!
TOM: Clear diagrams show what parts are the skin!
MIKE: Helpful “Frequently Asked Questions” show how to identify a potato in under twenty minutes a day!
> All
> information is Free.
TOM: We make our money selling potato chip toner!
> No obligation.
MIKE: Just your friends and family rolling their eyes and talking to you through clenched teeth!
>
> O. K. MILLER,
TOM: Didn’t he have a series on Mutual Broadcasting?
> 325 W. Huron St.,
CROW: Here on Huron?
TOM: Huron chips!
> Dept. 406 Chicago,
> Illinois
MIKE: Chicago! Potato chip by the Lake!
CROW: 406 potato chips by the Lake!
TOM: Time to blow this popsicle stand.
[ 1 … 2 … 3 … 4 … 5 … 6 … ]
[ SATELLITE OF LOVE. CROW and MIKE are behind the desk, with General Store-type toy junk scattered haphazardly. From one plastic barrel MIKE takes and eats a potato chip. ]
MIKE: [ With an Arkansan accent, kept until the note later on ] Well, if this weren’t one of the most underwhelmed p’tato chips I ever did see.
CROW: [ Similar accent, also kept until the note ] I doggies, Lum, I knowed it, but what are we s’pposed to do ‘gainst the Squire’s p’tato chip monopoly?
MIKE: [ As a jingling bell rings ] Hold on there, that’s a stranger come into our store, ain’t it?
[ TOM, with a bouquet of potato chips in his bubble, enters; he speaks normally but ebulliently. ]
TOM: Gentlemen! Could I interest you in as many potato chips as I have bauxite to make and pass the savings on to you? Please try a sample — my bubble is perfectly hygienic!
[ MIKE samples a chip. ]
MIKE: By gum — this here ‘tato chip tastes like more than p’tatoes!
CROW: Now, that’s plum silly, how can that happen?
MIKE: [ Giving CROW a chip ] But it’s got itself a tasting like they was sour cream and chives in it! Chives!
TOM: Yes! I bring you chives! And at under twenty-three dollars!
CROW: [ Finishing nibbling ] Why if it weren’t the most amazing thing I ever did see! What a future we got ourselves to live in!
TOM: And we are near a breakthrough on dip!
MIKE: [ Folding his hands together, and, bowing — with this, MIKE and CROW give up the accents and resume speaking normally ] And … scene. [ Eating another chip from TOM ] Thank you, gentlemen. Now, Tom, you had a special announcement, didn’t you?
TOM: Why, yes. Our potato chip bit is all in fun —
CROW: [ Muttering to himself ] Potato chip bite.
TOM: *Thank* you, Crow. But for Mystery Science Theater 3000 fan fictions or MiSTings, whichever comes first, plus MiSTing quotes yanked out of all context, why not try the shiny new web site
http://www.—–.com/mst3000/
TOM: Thank you, won’t you?
CROW: And what about the Dibs List for future MiSTing authors?
TOM: [ Looking at CROW ] You can’t just let me have my moment, can you? For shame, Crow, for shame.
[ TOM exits, sulking. ]
MIKE: Right, ah, what do you think, sirs?
[ DEEP 13. DR FORRESTER and TV’s FRANK are piling up open baskets of potato chips. TV’s FRANK eats one. ]
FRANK: Dip? Dip?! Why, we’ve almost solved the problem of cheddar cheese potato chips! Get out of here with your dip!
DR F: As the henchling says, gentlemen. Why, at 23 dollars and 50 cents we’ll be rolling in crispy, fried money by tomorrow.
FRANK: Oh, and I’m going to trade Crow for a used Sklar.
[ SATELLITE OF LOVE. CROW is riled up; MIKE is eating potato chips. ]
CROW: What? Me? What for? Which Sklar?
[ DEEP 13. As before. ]
FRANK: Who knows? Besides, I’m getting a blogger for trading Tom. Hey, Steve, shall I push the button?
DR F: No, Frank, you should push the button.
FRANK: Oh, OK, I’ll do that instea — huh?
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Mystery Science Theater 3000, its characters and situations and everything are the property of Best Brains, Inc, and don’t think anyone is challenging that at all. O K Miller’s advertisement copy is used for non-commercial parody and commentary purposes so don’t get the idea any infringement-like things are meant. I’m curious how the machine worked. No defamation of the Squire was intended.
Rotisserie League sports have that name because of a group of Philadelphia Phillies fans in early 1980 who gathered at Manhattan’s Rotisserie Francaise restaurant on East 52nd Street for fantasy league meetings. Special thanks for the “tragedy … and party snacks” line as well as to my beta testers.
Keep circulating the posts.
> START YOU in a Profitable Potato Chip Business At Home
[ The End ]
I’m happy to bring another recovered MiSTing and one I don’t think I’ve read in a five years easily. I remembered having written it, but not most of the riffs on this old Modern Mechanix advertisement. So I’m happy for the rediscovery. This is among my silliest of Mystery Science Theater 3000 fan fictions. The great bombastic but silly lead of the original material makes it easy to stay goofy. I can certainly hear the Jam Handy Repertory Players narrator reading the advertising copy.
Dr Forrester’s line about “Did you know everything you can count can be turned into money for people who aren’t you?” feels like I’m somehow riffing on the NFT scam, a decade and a half before it was even invented.
[ SATELLITE OF LOVE. CROW and TOM, wearing glasses with pencils tucked against their heads, are going over a mess of papers, as MIKE, wearing a baseball glove and playing with a ball, enters and surveys the scene. ]
TOM: 48 out of 152 by my count.
CROW: Yeah, but there were like a dozen assists.
TOM: They don’t count when you get yelled at for them.
CROW: They do too! Mike! [ Startling MIKE, who drops the ball. ] Tell Tom they count!
MIKE: Tell Tom what counts and for who’s counting, Crow?
TOM: Oh, don’t pad, Mike.
CROW: Our *statistics*, Mike. We’ve got to update our statistics on riffs attempted, riffs completed, laughs gotten, bobbled references, all these things.
MIKE: And this is important … why?
TOM: For our rotisserie league! Sheesh, don’t you follow anything?
MIKE: Constantly. What rotisserie —
[ MADS SIGN flashes. ]
MIKE: Oh, for the love of … hello?
[ DEEP 13. TV’s FRANK is sitting at a collapsible table with many sheets of grid paper and books as he works. DR FORRESTER sits opposite him with a small pile of cash. ]
FRANK: So center seat I’ve got Mike … left seat I’m going to stick with Tom … right seat … what do you think, ten bucks for Crow?
DR F: Absolutely.
FRANK: [ Handing a bill over to DR F ] All right! I got a team!
DR F: [ Pocketing the bill ] You’ve got a rare talent, Frank.
[ DR FORRESTER faces the camera. ]
DR F: Well, now, minions. Did you know everything you can count can be turned into money for people who aren’t you? It can. Now off to the theater and let’s generate some statistics, mmm? Your game today is an advertisement for potato chip manufacture … riff all you want, boys, we’ll make more.
[ SATELLITE OF LOVE. ]
TOM: Did he just Jay Leno all over us?
CROW: This can only end in tragedy. And party snacks.
[ MOVIE SIGN flashes; general alarm. ]
MIKE: Later, we got movie sign!
[ 6 … 5 … 4 … 3 … 2 … 1 … ]
[ THEATER. ALL file in. ]
CROW: All right! Tie game so far!
> MODERN MECHANIX
MIKE: And practical jokes!
CROW: Like the spelling.
> AND INVENTIONS
> June 1935
TOM: [ Snorting ] Blazing its way from print, to us, to you.
MIKE: It’s not so much snail-mail as continental-drift-mail.
> http://blog.modernmechanix.com/2006/05/03/turn-potatoes-into-cash/
TOM: Oh, now we’ve got blog all over the … potatoes into cash? The heck?
>
> I WILL SHOW YOU HOW TO TURN Potatoes into CASH!
MIKE: Worst counterfeiting scheme ever.
>
> START YOU in a Profitable Potato Chip Business At Home
CROW: [ Taking odd offense ] Yeah? Well … start *you* in a profitable potato chip business at home, then!
>
> THE invention of a marvelous new machine
MIKE: Excuse me, that’s [ Booming, announcing ] *A* marvelous *NEW* machine.
> throws the big
> potato-chip market wide open again.
TOM: After the big Ruffles-Lays bailout.
> Even if your community is
> being supplied with old fashioned chips,
CROW: Hand-carved by traditional artisans working under a stern but understanding taskmaster.
> I’ll show you how to
> step in and grab the market,
MIKE: [ Booming ] Unless you meet my demands immediately!
CROW: Won’t the potato chip market be all greasy and have that salt grit all over your fingers?
> rake the profits into your own
> pocket.
TOM: I don’t have a pocket.
MIKE: [ Announcing ] I’ll show you how to afford a pocket!
CROW: I don’t have a rake.
MIKE: [ As above ] You’ll be able to afford a rake!
TOM: A pocket rake!
> You simply manufacture and sell to stores at wholesale
> — let stores sell for you.
CROW: Stores selling things! Why, it’s brilliant!
MIKE: Oh, now, he’s thought of everything.
> I furnish complete plant and
> exact instructions for making profits the first day.
TOM: [ Announcing ] The fourth, sixth, and ninth days you have to wing it!
>
> "GREASELESS" Potato Chips Made by New Machine
MIKE: One hundred percent John-Travola-free in minutes!
>
> Think of it — for the first time —
CROW: They’re right! It’s amazing! For the first time!
TOM: Third time it’s just kind of `huh’.
> a Potato Chip
> from which all excess oil has been extracted by my new
> "wringer".
TOM: [ As the advertiser ] And sold to the worldwide potato oil cartels!
> Look better, taste better, stay fresh longer.
CROW: What if I want to stay fresh wider? What then?
> No
> wonder the public is crazy about this new kind of chip.
MIKE: Potato chips with the great, great taste of guys who buy stuff from Modern Mechanics ads.
> No
> wonder my operators are having such big success,
TOM: And fabulous cash prizes!
> even with no
> experience.
CROW: Even with no potatoes!
[ To conclude … ]
Reference: The Jersey Game: The History Of Modern Baseball From Its Birth To The Big Leagues In The Garden State, James M DiClerico, Berry J Pavelec.
Not mentioned when I first posted this, but implicit, is that much of this is drawn from real life. Preventorium Road, for example, which exists in Howell, New Jersey. (It once had a hospital for children with tuberculosis, which makes the oddness of the name less merry.) Also the vegetarian burgers; there was this place we went a couple of times and every time they had one of the vegetarian burgers that my love and I wanted, so I’d settle for the portobello mushroom. Porbotello mushrooms are what restaurants offer when they feel like they have to offer a vegetarian option but don’t want anyone to actually order it.
It’s still a lot of fun reading the names of the streets off the overpasses. “Fangboner Road” alone threatens to keep the gang giggling for hours. “Preventorium Road” inspires everyone to toss out out their ideas of what this could even mean. This goes on for so long and for such a merry time that by the time anyone can think to look it up they can’t remember what exactly the road name was. They know it wasn’t Vomitorium Road, but that’s as far as the consensus will reach. Amanda’s claim of knowing a “Squankum” are shaken off. It feels like a bad laugh although they’re not sure exactly why.
The fourth great field of sheep is not so much fun as the first. Dan insists the problem is the sheep aren’t trying to be interesting. Sophia asserts that few things would be worse than sheep that compel your interest. The menace of the hypnosheep masters keeps the group’s spirits up for the next two fields of sheep before they sink beneath all possible commentary.
Is that a strip mall with two yoga centers? Josh says it’s three, but he’s definitely mis-reading tea room as a yoga center. Right? We mean it’s one of those tea rooms too fancy to be comfortable. Well, there’s definitely at least two. Maybe this is just the yoga center district of town?
Well, this is a restaurant. All right, it’s not a vegetarian-friendly restaurant. It seems determined to put meat into things that don’t even need it. There’s a high-pressure gun in the kitchen. It injects chicken and processed lobster food product into everything. “We just want some garlic toast,” beg Josh and Amanda. “We don’t need animals to have died for the cause!” The restaurant tries to cope with the concept of someone who wants the tomato soup that hasn’t had a fist-sized chunk of pig flesh ripped off and unked into it. But the effort fails. There’s a mishap in the kitchen, and it sprays chicken cutlets, which are dug out even of the glove box up to three months later. At least that’s how the story goes. Really it’s more that the waitstaff has to come back to apologize that they don’t have a second black-bean burger patty, would a portobello mushroom be all right? And it really wouldn’t, but Josh would take it to not cause trouble for people who have to deal with much worse customers. It’s all right, since it turns out they don’t have portobello either. He gets a plate of melted butter with a scoop of mashed potatoes. Later he tries to insist that mashed potatoes would be a good substitute for the burger patty, earning him so much grief.
That’s a weird bunch of sheep but nobody wants to reopen the subject.
All right but serious talk. Or anyway, comparing the bathroom stuff that different hotels give you. Everyone takes turns asserting they’ve seen the most preposterous blend of things. Sophia claims to have been at a long-term hotel once that had a single tube which claimed to be soap, skin lotion, shampoo, hair conditioner, toothpaste, mouthwash, energy drink, makeup remover, transparent nail polish, shoe polish, stain remover, windshield fluid, transmission fluid, and fish ick treatment. Two miles later she says she thinks she went on too long for the laugh she could possibly get. Dan says that a combination mouthwash and energy drink is a great idea and she should patent that. Amanda questions whether you could patent … what, coffee with way too much mint? This allows everyone to learn a little bit more about each other, as they say what kinds of things they can or can’t eat right after brushing their teeth. This causes everyone to realize their friends are daft. This is worse than when they learned what podcasts everyone else listened to.
All right but is that a two-story strip mall? Is it possible to be a strip mall if it has got a second story? Yeah, we know about that strip mall with the two-story Borders that used to be there, but that was just the one place. If the mall has a second floor with different shops upstairs isn’t that … well, we clearly don’t have the words for this concept. What is it and how many yoga centers can it have?
A couple years after my original posting of this? I still listen to all those podcasts. Well, except for the one that ended.
The gang is ready to set off. It’s going to be a long trip. Maybe the longest they’ve ever made. Maybe the longest there ever will be. Anyway it’s at least two hours longer than the last one the group’s managed. Dan is not saying that if he were in charge he would set up a definite rotation for driving. He’s just saying that a definite rotation for driving would be good. After the third iteration of this Sophia answers that if they rotate too much they’ll end up right back where they started. Amanda has the bad luck to mention 180 degrees in this. This brings lively but unproductive talk about the differences between 180 degree, 360 degree, and 720 degree turns. Dan attempts to propose a 270 degree turn just to lighten the subject.
Still, better if we set out sooner rather than later. No, sooner than that. Maybe a bit earlier than that. After three different chat rooms have settled on five different start times Dan proposes that everyone set out the night before and meet up at the park-and-ride twenty minutes out of everywhere. He’s being facetious, everyone tells themselves.
The compromise is to move the start time 90 minutes earlier. The morning of the start everyone is running about an hour late, so they agree to just start 30 minutes ahead of the original start time. Then somehow just getting everything in the trunk and one last trip to the bathroom takes 75 minutes. Josh insists that by starting 45 minutes late they’re running ahead of schedule. Dan is not convinced by this. It will be until the state welcome center before the topic has been debated enough that everyone lets it drop.
The seat belts are locking up. Just the ones in back. They do that. There’s a trick to it. You have to sit so you’re facing forward. No, not that forward. Dan, just … no, you need to … there, see? Now it’s pulling out. All right, now it’s locked up. Maybe you should get out and get back in the car the correct way this time. No, the other correct way. Look, both feet on the floor, that’s the first thing you need. Now face forward. Not that much forward. All right, why don’t you try the other side? That’s right. Now sit facing forward. Not that much forward. Don’t pull the seat belt out that fast. All right, let it out and back again. Not that slow. You want to go medium speed. More medium than that. Not that … look, this is before your turn but why don’t you try the front seat? Oh good grief. All right, let’s try where you started again. Right. You know most of us can use a seat belt. Yes, try facing forward. Not that forward.
Fine, we just won’t crash the car this time.
There is a great sense of thrill and delight at finally being off. And then stopping again because Sophia needs to stop at the convenience store ATM for some overpriced money. Dan does too. Also Josh. Amanda doesn’t need any but, you know, it wouldn’t hurt to get some Combos. This turns into getting sour cream doughnuts instead. And then there is great thrill at being off again.
There is also great thrill at seeing the trip’s first group of sheep. Who knew there were sheep and they were just standing there, tending sheep tasks, off on the side of the road, just like that was a normal thing? So, sheep. Yeah.
This is the time when everyone learns their friends have the worst taste in podcasts. Josh is partial to three guys laughing at each other, with occasional guest hosts. Dan prefers one guy trying to remember all the things he wrote down in the notes he doesn’t have. Sophia likes one person interviewing three people about something she never heard of before and will never hear about again. Amanda likes hyperbolic descriptions of movies and TV shows she never really watched, they were just on. Sometimes two or three can find a podcast that satisfies them, but there is no hope of all four enjoying what they’re listening to. The shows keep getting interrupted for explanations of the in-jokes that don’t need explanation.
It’s pointed out that if the trip doesn’t ultimately have a 360 degree turn then they can’t ever get home again.
Wait, you expect me to believe this whole factory — the entire thing, building, machinery, stock, even the staff — is made of cheesecake? No, my friend. I remember how I was fooled by tales of a factory made wholly of old spaghetti. I shall not buy into this.
I do however want cheesecake.
The series may be awkwardly titled. But I still like this bit from autumn 2019 about going on a road trip. Writing the first one, I realized I had something, when I got to about a thousand words and didn’t feel half started. Usually my best ideas peter out at about 500 words and I need to spend a couple days thinking to have a second idea to bring in. So please enjoy this glimpse of a time when getting a bunch of people together and driving somewhere wasn’t an irresponsible thing to do.
The gang agrees a road trip would be great. It’s been so long since the last one. There’s not going to be many more good chances this year. The weather’s getting to be more of itself. Work is getting busier. There’s the chance the state might discontinue roads for the rest of the year. No telling. If we don’t get to it soon we might never start at all.
Which car to use? There’s the obvious choice. That’s the one that would reach its scheduled service mileage about one-third of the way through the trip. That’s … something we could handle? … Right? … Daniel insists he can handle it. Nobody believes it. The cashier at Pita Pit asks Daniel if he’s all right, or if he’s lying about something powerfully important to him. The guy at the car wash just leans in and hugs him, saying, “I don’t know why but, man, something about you says you need this. Whatever it is, it’ll get better.” Amanda’s the first to admit this won’t work, though, even after finding car dealerships roughly along the planned path.
It’ll be Josh’s car instead. It’s less comfortable. But Josh insists he’s glad to host the trip. “It’ll be great! I can finally get updates to all my state maps!” Nobody’s sure whether this is serious. But in that little cubbyhole in his car doors are a lot of maps. So many maps. Gas station maps. Maps from Esso gas stations. A map of the Washington, D.C. area that still shows “Lee Family Estate” where Arlington National Cemetery should be. A map showing the Colonie of Nieuw-Nederland. It’s pristine. His car is three years old. There have always been things about Josh nobody understood. Now, knowing a little more, everyone knows him less.
Road snack purchases are a hot debate. There’s the faction that wants things bought ahead of time, so the gang can set off without false starts. There’s the faction that sees the false start as tradition. There’s the faction that insists there’s rest areas on the highway for a reason. Amanda tries to be the sensible one and insists road snacks aren’t necessary if everyone just eats good meals. There seem to be more factions than people going.
Fourteen hours of heated debate spread over three chat groups, none of which have all the participants in it, agrees at least to go to the same convenience store and stock up. This after ninety minutes of argument about the supermarket being cheaper. Or the neighborhood grocery store being better for the long term economic health of small business all right THANK YOU we get it. It’s twenty-five bucks’ worth of Fritos, economic justice doesn’t enter into it.
The cooler issue will not settle. There’s good economic reasons to get bottles of soda, even small bottles, and keep them in cooler. This crashes into the faction that fresh-poured fountain drinks taste better. A hard-shell cooler works better but bangs the knees of everyone in back. A soft-shell cooler fits between people but Sophia’s read things about breeding bacteria? Somehow? It’s all very tiring.
The day before the trip the low-tire-pressure light comes on. Josh has a pressure gauge for just this problem. It’s not the front driver’s side tire. It’s not the rear driver’s side tire. It’s not the front passenger’s side tire. It’s not the rear passenger’s side tire. Two hours of increasingly cross words follow in three of the now-five group chats. Fourteen separate web searches for symptoms follow. Eight of them end up on Yahoo Answers. Despair sets in. Sophia has the breakthrough insight: could it be the spare tire? Yes, it could, but it is not. Thirty minutes later the low-tire-pressure light stops lighting. Daniel offers it was his suggestion to put electrical tape over the dashboard that did it. The real explanation remains unknown. Perhaps the tires just wanted some attention.
“Fritos are not a matter of economic justice” becomes the newest in-joke for the group. Three and a half years later it switches to being Cheetos not being a matter of economic justice. No one is able to explain this phenomenon. It becomes a matter of great angry debate when anyone tries to insist that it was originally Fritos.
So, you know that canister of bread crumbs? The one you got from the local food co-op chain the last time you visited it, a couple years before it went out of business in 2015? You’ve still got like two-thirds of it left, so, you don’t have to worry about that.
Spent a long, long time chuckling at how this “Smoky Carolina BBQ” vegan jerky advertised itself with a picture of Kentucky, a state that is neither North or South Carolina, before finally noticing the company name is “Louisville” and that’s the largest single thing on the entire package.
So this week as you see me not understanding things, consider, this is my understanding-things baseline.
I’m trying to get back into writing short stuff, but, you know. I’m out of practice. Is this a thing?
The dragon was nonplussed by the offering of a vast quantity of fish. after a lot of thought the dragon explained, “You must have got something wrong … I don’t have a hoard of herring. I’m just a little deaf in this ear.”
Anyway please let me know on a scale of things, ranging from “a small thing” such as maybe an apple slicer through to “a reasonable-sized thing” such as a loaf of ciabatta bread. On looking back over this, also, I’m not sure I’m not just hungry.
Reference: Defining NASA: The Historical Debate Over The Agency’s Mission, W D Kay.
Reference: Wedding of the Waters: The Erie Canal and the Making of a Great Nation, Peter L Bernstein.
Reference: Amelia Earhart: A Biography, Doris L Rich.
Another Blog, Meanwhile 