funny face drink

Garden Word Salad

Earlier this week, I found myself at the local Fresh Market.  (Disclaimer: I do not often look for myself at the local Fresh Market, because the chances that I would be there are very small.)  But I was there for a reason.  Let me explain.

(Disclaimer: Unlike most stories about me behaving atypically, this story does not begin with, “So, there was this girl…”.)

I am not a connoisseur of fresh, healthy food, as you can probably tell from my dining habits. But every so often I get a hankering (more than a yen, less than a yearning.) for a band sub.  When I was a kid, back when Sleestak ruled the earth, my high school band used to sell submarines one Saturday a month, to raise funds to buy band things like ocarinas and sousaphones (as opposed to banned things like Cuban cigars and carved ivory ocarinas and sousaphones).  The band came around the week before and took orders, and the subs were delivered Saturday morning.

Band subs were the greatest sandwiches in the world.  Cold cuts and lettuce and tomato and onions and Italian dressing.   They arrived just before lunch time, infused with flavor (from the French infuse “to sit in the back of a 1978 AMC
Gremlin since 4AM until the Italian dressing soaked into the bread”).

So the other day I had a hankering for a band sub.  Having no high school band handy, I went off in search of ingredients.
The hardest ingredient to find is the tomato.  Tomatoes are almost extinct, having been crowded out of their habitat by some kind of crunchy red things that ship well.  These tomatoids creep into tomato nests at night and eat their young.  The proper, or “squooshy” tomato, survives only in hidden tomato preserves. (Disclaimer: They are not hidden on the shelf behind the raspberry preserves. I looked.)

This is how I wound up at the Fresh Market.  As I approached the entrance, I was greeted by this sign above the entrance:

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I smiled wistfully (from the German wistful “as much as you can comfortably put in a wist”), knowing that they would in fact be seeing me soon.  Then I stepped inside to be seen.

I was immediately surrounded by a dizzying array of foods and food byproducts.  But as I entered the produce section, I began to realize that something was awry (more than afoot, less than amiss).  Rather than the normal foods they sell in my regular supermarket, Fresh Market is a leading retailer of GMOs (Grammatically Modified Organisms).  Here’s what I mean:

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USA Conventional Slicer Tomatoes

Slicer tomatoes are strictly regulated under the terms of the Geneva Tomato Convention of 1971, which governs the type of fruits and vegetables which may be thrown at bad vaudeville acts.  The convention also outlaws the production and use of nuclear and biological tomato slicers.

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Chile Conventional Lemons

The Chileans take their fruits and fruit drinks very seriously, and have no patience for unconventional fruits like Lefty Lemon (at top, right, with Jolly Olly Orange. Goofy Grape, Choo Choo Cherry, Freckle-face Strawberry, and Rootin’ Tootin’ Raspberry).

Mexico Conventional Avocados

Mexico’s National Avocado Party (Fiesta Avocado Nacional) held its nominating convention in Puerta Vallarta in 2012.  The delegates are now for sale.

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Mexico Conventional Keitt Mango

People talk a lot about “organic” produce. Produce, being plant matter of some kind, is all “organic”. Mangoes are no exception. A conventional mango is chock full o’ carbon compounds. Keitt mangoes are particularly rich in mangonese.

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Heirloom Tomatoes

Back in the Victorian era, tomatoes were prized as objet-d’art, and passed down through the generations, as seen in this dramatic re-enactment of an actual reading of a will from 1906.

Executor: And to my loving cat Lady Fuzzlepot, who brought me hours of joy by knocking things off of shelves and throwing up on the carpet, I leave my remaining two Faberge tomatoes, that she may spend hours of fun knocking them off the shelf, like she did with the rest of my collection. I also leave her my shelf and carpet.

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Cotton Candy Grapes Are Here!

I have attempted every possible parsing of this sign and none are particularly satisfying. Through the magic of conjunctions and punctuation, I rank them below in increasing order of likelihood:

  • Cotton Candy Grapes (0%) – No amount of biology, chemistry, or physics is going to fuse spun sugar and grapes into one thing. Just…no.
  • Cotton and Candy Grapes (10%) – I’ve never heard of candy grapes, and it seems an odd thing to bundle with cotton.
  • Cotton, Candy, and Grapes (30%) – We had one of these next to the Bed, Bath and Beyond at the mall. It’s possible they were bought out by Fresh Market.
  • Cotton Candy and Grapes (60%) – They’re both sweet.  They’re both foods.  And they appeal to, respectively, bad mothers and good mothers.  I’m going with this.

Here’s the problem. Look closely at the picture.  It says “COTTON CANDY GRAPES are here!”  As in here.  The seafood department.  Right behind the Seafood Salad Bar, where (I believe) they sell endive and broccoli florets to crustaceans and flounder.  I looked.  No grapes, no cotton, no candy.  Just fish and fish byproducts.

I must commend the Fresh Market for this elaborate practical joke. Now I understand why they were so glad to see me. This must have cost them a fortune.

Editor’s Note: The unconventional fruit on the right is Loudmouth Lime.  This is Lefty Lemon:

lefty_lemon

We regret the error.

poker hands

Hands on deck

With my birthday now past, I bring to an end my 53rd (or Joker) year.

In my 54th year, I have decided to move beyond Jokering to the next card in the deck of life, so I plan to devote my next year to the ranking of hands:

Full House

Full-House

beats Two of a Kind

FRONT: MARY KATE OLSEN, ASHLEY OLSEN / BACK: CHRISTOPHER SIEBER, SALLY WHEELER

which beats Two of a Kind.

two travolta

Ranch hands

ranchHands_group

outrank jazz hands.

jazzhands

Mr. Hands

mr-bill-goes-to-new-york

ranks above Mr. Hand.

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Agent Victoria Hand of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Victoria Hand Agents of SHIELD

outranks Rollin Hand of Mission: Impossible

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who outranks Rollie Fingers of the Oakland A’s.

Rollie-Fingers

 

Hmmm, I seem to have completed my task 364-or-so days early.  Let this be a warning to those of you planning to devote a year to something.

 

burger chef and jeff

Half it your way

There’s a saying: Go big, or go home.  Maybe you’ve heard it.  (If not, go back to the beginning of this paragraph and begin again, only more slowly.)  This is one of those things often said by people (such as coaches) who have a vested stake in the performance of someone else, but no actual responsibility if they fail.  Spectators who encourage gamblers to go “all-in” with their life savings are another example.

I have always considered that saying to be a false dichotomy.  No matter how big I choose to go, I have every intention of going home afterwards.  Perhaps I’m just a wimp (Disclaimer: Yeah, pretty much), but going big enough to threaten my ability to go home (skydiving, crime wave, going all-in with my home on a pair of deuces) is not for me.

Hold that thought for a moment.

When I was a kid, one of the rewards my parents used to keep my brother and sister and I in check was dinner at a fast-food restaurant.  Because my hometown isn’t that big, we didn’t have the major franchise chains locally.  Instead of Burger King and McDonald’s, my hometown had Burger Chef (home of Burger Chef and Jeff, top) and Winky’s (some sort of clown, if I remember correctly).  Burger Chef was the better of the two, mostly because they had great shakes.

Editor’s Note: The previous paragraph is a non-sequitur (Latin for “not sequitur”). We apologize for the digression.

Anyway, as I was saying before the editor interrupted, we went out for fast food when I was a kid.  Back then, the American government had instituted cola rationing to support our fighting boys overseas.  As a result, sodas came in three sizes: small (12 oz.), medium (16 oz.) and large (20 oz.).  Today, modern advances in soda extraction technology have eliminated the need for such soft drink restrictions.  (Disclaimer: Recent attempts to reinstate soda rationing in New York City were met with resistance because they were stupid and wrong.)

Nowadays, fast-food sodas come in three sizes: small (bathe-in), medium (swim-in), and large (sail-on).  (Disclaimer: Some establishments also sell an extra-large soda (separate-continents-with).  Environmentalists at the drive-thru believe this causes global warming.)

OK, now remember when I was talking about the phrase “Go big or go home”?  (If not, go back to the beginning of this post and begin again, only more quickly.)  I was at Burger King the other day, and as I was perusing the menu, I noticed that for another dollar, I could “Go Large!” and upsize my combo to feed a family of 4 (not included).

But then, just above the “Go Large!” offer, I noticed another, more reasonably priced, option:

Go Medium! 50¢

I’ve never thought of Medium as a way to Go, and certainly not an enthusiastic one, but apparently it is a viable Going alternative.  I imagine it is something like when the Denver Broncos clinch the top seed in the AFC in week 15, and rest Peyton Manning the last two weeks of the regular season.

Given that the first seed guarantees the Broncos at least one playoff game in Denver, I’m pretty sure Peyton gets to go home, even if he sits out.

Author’s Note: My search for a picture of “Burger Chef and Jeff” also turned up this picture:

Keanu-Reeves-Sandra-Bullock_Speed_02O

 

If I remember correctly, this is a publicity still from the 1996 movie Speed Food, starring Sandra Bullock as Burger Chef, Keanu Reeves as Jeff, and Dennis Hopper as Winky.

Update: Upon further review, Winky appears to be less a clown and more of a psychotic doofus with something in his eye.

winky

The casting of Dennis Hopper in the role now makes more sense.

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Self-serving the community

This morning when I went to Barnes & Noble there was a fire truck out front. There was no fire. Apparently there were no fires anywhere this morning, because the firemen were talking with kids, passing out plastic fire helmets*, and posing for pictures with kids next to the fire truck.  (Disclaimer: A “picture” is like a selfie, only someone else takes it — kids, ask your parents.)

I wish to take a stand in support of holding a fire safety program right outside a giant building full of paper.

* Disclaimer: The plastic fire helmets were black.  This is an odd choice of colors, unless you are attempting to recruit anti-firemen to drum up business.  My stand for this is substantially less supportive.

Author’s note: I walked into the store behind a young father and his 4-year old son.  Before we had even gotten through the airlock (that space between the inner and outer doors where they put the table of unsellable books they don’t care about you stealing), the boy took off his black fire helmet, handed it to his father, and said, “Can you hold this?”  I could feel the waves of regret emanating from him as he took the helmet.

Meeting my non-obligations

About 6 months ago I was at a Catholic men’s conference.  The priest who was speaking happened to mention that whenever he is in line at Starbucks, he always pays for the person behind him.   As I am a long-time proponent of giving simply because you can, I decided to adopt this policy myself.  (I have since learned from friends at Starbucks that it is not uncommon for people to do this at the drive-thru.)  Whenever there is someone in line behind me, I will tell the baristperson that the next person’s drink is on me.  I don’t do this for any deeper reasons than 1) I can, and B) it makes other people happy, and I enjoy happiness.  It’s a good return on the investment of a few dollars.

The reactions I have gotten are varied and usually positive.  There’s usually a moment of “What?!” when the baristette tells them their drink is already paid for, followed by a look at me and the question, “Are you serious?”  (Disclaimer: That would be a really mean thing to do.)  Once they realize I am serious, then comes the smile.  Most people thank me two or three times, as if I had just rescued them from the Cybermen.  One woman did a little dance.  Once on a Saturday morning, a teenage girl beamed at me and said, “I’ve been up since 4AM, and everything has gone wrong today.  This is the only good thing that has happened!”  I floated through the entire weekend on that one.  That is why I do it, so someone can go through the rest of their day knowing that something good happened.

But every once in a while, someone will look at me apologetically and say, “Oh, you don’t have to do that!”  I never know quite how to respond to them, because that statement is both obvious and irrelevant.  And it puts me in a quandry, because it kind of defeats the purpose of making people happy to mock them while doing it.

Here are some of the things I want to say, but don’t:

  • “I don’t?!?!  Oh, thank God!  Now I can go buy that wooden hip for my grandmother!”  (Disclaimer: Yes, wooden hip.  As I was writing that line, the terms “wooden leg” and “artificial hip” collided in my mind like those chocolate and peanut butter addicts in the old Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups commercials of my youth.  Coincidentally, a peanut butter/chocolate pileup on the interstate is why my grandmother needs a wooden hip.)
  • “Of course I do!  They’re watching!”

There was one woman who was so adamant about buying her own coffee that she tried to force $5 into my shirt pocket, even as I kept backing away from her.  No matter what I said, she insisted on reimbursing me for her drink.  She relented only when I finally told her, “If you give me back the money, I’m just going to pay for her drink instead!”, referring to the person in line behind her.  (I did end up paying for her drink as well, with far less brouhaha.)  But I really just wanted to stop her and say, “Seriously?  Are you so horrible a person that you’re not worthy of a free cup of coffee?  Do you really need to fight back this hard?”

So I’ve come up with a compromise, one that I hope balances my dual obligations to be kind to strangers and still mock them.  Whenever someone says to me, “You don’t have to do that,” I just turn to them, smile, and say, “I’m sorry, did I ask for your opinion?”

I haven’t been punched yet.  Yet.

 

A cookie for my thoughts

I had a particularly challenging code bug to work on today.  As is often the case, I blamed it on elves.

Not the kind of elves you’re thinking of.  These are not those kinds of elves.  The elves I’m talking about are more like gremlins, the weird little creatures that damage WWII fighters and freak out William Shatner if you feed them after midnight.  Only with software.

You’re thinking of one of the other kinds of elves.  There are three main kinds of elves: elves that bake cookies, elves that make toys for Christmas, and elves that fight orcs. 

Unfortunately, that got me thinking.  What if there were a kind of elf that makes Christmas cookies for orcs?  (Disclaimer: Yes, I actually thought this.)

So naturally, my next thought was, “What kind of cookies would elves make for orcs?”  (Disclaimer: There is nothing natural about this thought.  Even I can tell that.)

The obvious answer is, of course, orcerdoodles.

Unless you have coconut handy.  Then you can make orcaroons.

But if you don’t have time to bake, you can always buy Orceos.

Or, if you’re on a budget, Uruk-haidrox.

Author’s note: I have needed to get this out of my head all day.  The only way I know to do that is to transfer it to you.  I regret the inconvenience.  To misquote TV spokesagent Samuel L. Fury, “What’s in your imagination?”

Author’s other note: The above post contains numerous stereotypes that might be offensive to the Elvish-American community.  I don’t care.  They keep messing up my code.  If they don’t like it, they can go back to their hollow trees at the North Pole of Middle-Earth.

newblack

In vantablackest night

In dark arts and sciences news, a group of researchers in England have created the coolest and most unnecessarily dark substance ever.

The material, known as Vantablack (Very Amazing New and Totally Awesome black), was described by patrons at the Optics Express kiosk at the mall as “really blackety-black”.  It works by taking really thin carbon drinking straws and gluing them to aluminum foil.  Light gets stuck between the tiny straws and is absorbed.*

Vantablack is so dark that the human eye cannot understand what it is seeing, and wanders off in search of simpler colors to look at, like periwinkle and burnt sienna.  It absorbs 99.965% of the light that hits it, setting a new world record for the blackest thing.  The previous record was set by Jack Black and Black Manta at a Clint Black/Black Eyed Peas concert in Blacksburg, Virginia in 2002.

Vantablack’s practical uses include calibrating sensitive imaging systems, which must be pointed at something as black as possible. Today, cameras must be calibrated by pointing them at black items such as a door knocker, London cab, or Audrey Hepburn (below).

3black-afpgetty

There are military uses that the material’s maker, Surrey NanoSystems, is not allowed to discuss.  However, loose-lipped CTO Ben Jensen explained that the landscape disappears on areas covered by it.  “You expect to see the hills and all you can see is like a hole, like there’s nothing there.”  Federal investigators would not comment on any connection between Vantablack and the recent disappearance of certain hills in South Dakota.

Natalie Portman 8100005

The nanostraw material has been grown on sheets of aluminum foil in the Newhaven-based company’s cafeteria. Hot and Bright Star Natalie Portman (shown here floating incorporeally around a dress-shaped hole) told reporters, “I was having lunch at Surrey NanoSystems the other day.  I was enjoying my quiche, but I couldn’t finish it, so they wrapped the leftovers for me in the shape of a Vantablack swan.”

News of the discovery was heralded by groups as diverse as the Goth Poets Society, the National Endowment for the Puritan Arts, and avant-garde hell-raiser Coco Chanel.

Stephen Westland, professour of colour science and technology at Leeds University, said traditional black was actually a colour of light, producing a traditional blacklight to prove his point.  “Many people believe black is the absence of light.  I totally disagree with that.  And I ought to know.  I’m a professour of colour science and technology.”

“It is too a thing!”, he yelled in response to a reporter’s question.  (News that “colour science and technology” was a thing one could profess in was greeted with great excitement by rising third-grader Miranda Johnson of Mrs. Marino’s art class.)

Vantablack is one of a growing number of extreme colors under development.  Scientists in Los Angeles are working on Vannawhite, a white so dazzling it is capable of turning letters, but can only be seen a half hour at a time.  Fantaorange is a shade of orange so orange you can practically drink it.  Colour science experts believe that Fantaorange could be the new Vantablack.

†Visually Appealing but Not Nearly Absolute white

‡Fruity Amalgam of Nectarine, Tangarine and Apricot orange

* Warning: Vantablack should be cleaned periodically with a damp sponge.  Failure to do so will cause it to continue absorbing light until it creates a supernova that rips a hole in the fabric of existence.  Do not dry clean.

Click here to try to see more about Vantablack.  

Click here to see simpler colors like periwinkle and burnt sienna.

One in a row

Today at work I got an e-mail inviting me to “the first in a series of lunch sessions on Concurrency”.  I will not be attending.  It seems to me that if they were really serious about Concurrency, all the sessions would happen at the same time.