I love pie.
Alas, in our modern health-conscious world, pies have gone low-calorie, gluten-free, high-fiber, and tasteless. The holiday issues of magazines feature recipes for pie "that is good for you". Well, that's not really pie. I want unhealthy. I want to feel the full blast of a guilty pleasure. I want to say, "I have just abused my body, gained three pounds, put myself in a sugar coma and given myself diabetes, but, by God, I loved it."
This is where fruit comes in. Be it apple, cherry, or blueberry, I can claim that amidst the sugar and spices, I did get my RDA of Vitamin C and anti-oxidants. When I am wheeled into the ER for a jolt of insulin, I will be clear-eyed and wrinkle-free.
Furthermore, purist pie lovers reject "ice cream on the side", whipped cream, or, horror of horrors, artificial whipped toppings. Do connoisseurs of single malt Scotch mix it with ginger ale before tasting? Do wine snobs add club soda before sipping? Real pie is best eaten "straight"..
The final qualification for real pie is how it tastes "the morning after". If a slab of last night's pie straight from the refrigerator makes the best breakfast you've ever had, that is real pie. Let's see some Ladies Home Journal low-calorie gluten-free abomination pass that test.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Air Travel Technology
The Thanksgiving Holiday is “the most heavily-travelled time of the year”. Always one to follow the crowd, my wife and I joined the throngs traversing the Friendly Skies this weekend.
Air travel has changed since my first experiences in the early 70s. In those days, airlines treated passengers as honored guests showering us with honey-roasted peanuts (insert Seinfeld joke here) and even changing those funky little headrest napkins between flights. Seats were spacious and aisles were roomy. We had to entertain ourselves with (gasp) books or magazines instead of DVD players and iPads, but at least we were comfortable.
That’s all changed now. Flights are crammed to the gills and seats are spaced the same as a Kindergarten classroom. For this trip, I was assigned a center seat in coach. On both legs, the person seated in front of me decided to take full advantage of that wonderful new invention, the reclining seat.
The 21st century has seen some technological wonders. Smart phones, fracking to retrieve natural gas, and Mitt Romney's hair come to mind. Still, the reclining seat trumps them all. The fine folks seated in front of me apparently had never encountered this marvel before and only returned to that so-20th-century full upright position when threatened with bodily harm by the flight crew.
I miss those honey-roasted peanuts and especially the headrest napkin, but the thing I’d really like to see again is adult-compatible seat spacing.
Air travel has changed since my first experiences in the early 70s. In those days, airlines treated passengers as honored guests showering us with honey-roasted peanuts (insert Seinfeld joke here) and even changing those funky little headrest napkins between flights. Seats were spacious and aisles were roomy. We had to entertain ourselves with (gasp) books or magazines instead of DVD players and iPads, but at least we were comfortable.
That’s all changed now. Flights are crammed to the gills and seats are spaced the same as a Kindergarten classroom. For this trip, I was assigned a center seat in coach. On both legs, the person seated in front of me decided to take full advantage of that wonderful new invention, the reclining seat.
The 21st century has seen some technological wonders. Smart phones, fracking to retrieve natural gas, and Mitt Romney's hair come to mind. Still, the reclining seat trumps them all. The fine folks seated in front of me apparently had never encountered this marvel before and only returned to that so-20th-century full upright position when threatened with bodily harm by the flight crew.
I miss those honey-roasted peanuts and especially the headrest napkin, but the thing I’d really like to see again is adult-compatible seat spacing.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Bieber Fever Cured
Bieber Fever is about to become a thing of the past.
How can this be when that whole paternity thing was swept under the rug and when scores of pre-teens are camping out at Rockefeller Center in the cold and rain for the Canadian Heartthrob's appearance on tomorrow's "Today Show"? The NYPD can pepper-spray Occupy Wall Street protesters downtown, but they dare not risk the wrath of Bieber fans.
Alas, the very flower of maximum popularity holds the seeds of its own destruction. This morning, the Today Show's Al Roker interviewed a pair of ladies holding a sign declaring "Moms 4 Bieber". "He's so cute. I could just hug him to death."
No self-respecting teen can idolize someone also appreciated by her parents! Look at the history of Teen Idols. Donnie Osmond was the Justin Bieber of the early 80s until his fans' parents jumped on the bandwagon and he hasn't been heard from since. David Cassidy next ascended to the title of Boy Most Likley To Be Pictured On Middle School Trapper-Keepers until Moms across America decided he was "cute". Where has he been for the past thirty years? More recently, the Jonas Brothers were The Boys We Would Most Like To Crash Tiffany's 13th Birthday Sleepover. Then, Mom said, "I'm a fan, too. Those boys are so wholesome." Kevin, Joe, and Nick, we hardly knew ye.
Still, history provides hope for Justin Bieber. When the Beatles threatened to become cross-generational idols and descend into Dave Clark Five or Gerry and the Pacemakers anonymity, they put out "Sgt Pepper". Now perceived by parents as drug-addled, Mahareshi-worshipping wackos instead of cute guys with odd haircuts, they regained their popularity with rebellious youth. The Beatles have probably sold more records in the forty years since they broke up than anyone.
Of course, there is another path. Elvis went from the swivel-hipped, sideburned rebel feared by parents and beloved by teens to those horrible movies and eventually to Vegas headliner. It kept him in blue suede shoes for a lot of years.
Justin, if you want to be relevant in 2041, get grungy, get rebellious or maybe even develop a Vegas Revue. It's not too late.
How can this be when that whole paternity thing was swept under the rug and when scores of pre-teens are camping out at Rockefeller Center in the cold and rain for the Canadian Heartthrob's appearance on tomorrow's "Today Show"? The NYPD can pepper-spray Occupy Wall Street protesters downtown, but they dare not risk the wrath of Bieber fans.
Alas, the very flower of maximum popularity holds the seeds of its own destruction. This morning, the Today Show's Al Roker interviewed a pair of ladies holding a sign declaring "Moms 4 Bieber". "He's so cute. I could just hug him to death."
No self-respecting teen can idolize someone also appreciated by her parents! Look at the history of Teen Idols. Donnie Osmond was the Justin Bieber of the early 80s until his fans' parents jumped on the bandwagon and he hasn't been heard from since. David Cassidy next ascended to the title of Boy Most Likley To Be Pictured On Middle School Trapper-Keepers until Moms across America decided he was "cute". Where has he been for the past thirty years? More recently, the Jonas Brothers were The Boys We Would Most Like To Crash Tiffany's 13th Birthday Sleepover. Then, Mom said, "I'm a fan, too. Those boys are so wholesome." Kevin, Joe, and Nick, we hardly knew ye.
Still, history provides hope for Justin Bieber. When the Beatles threatened to become cross-generational idols and descend into Dave Clark Five or Gerry and the Pacemakers anonymity, they put out "Sgt Pepper". Now perceived by parents as drug-addled, Mahareshi-worshipping wackos instead of cute guys with odd haircuts, they regained their popularity with rebellious youth. The Beatles have probably sold more records in the forty years since they broke up than anyone.
Of course, there is another path. Elvis went from the swivel-hipped, sideburned rebel feared by parents and beloved by teens to those horrible movies and eventually to Vegas headliner. It kept him in blue suede shoes for a lot of years.
Justin, if you want to be relevant in 2041, get grungy, get rebellious or maybe even develop a Vegas Revue. It's not too late.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Don't Know Much About History
It's OK for Sam Cooke to sing, "Don't know much about history. Don't know much biology. Don't know much about a science book. Don't know much about the French I took", but Sam isn't running for President. Michele Bachmann is running though and a course in Remedial History might do her some good.
Appearing before an Iowa church group this weekend, Michele said, "Probably the greatest amount of censorship today occurs in the pulpits of churches because we have a law that limits pastors from what they can say about politics in the pulpit. That's not the American way."
Actually, Michele, it is very much the American way. In fact, "free exercise of religion" is the very first sentence of the Bill of Rights. The Founding Fathers were very clear that religion and politics do not mix. Roman emperors declared themselves gods so any word against them was not only treason but blasphemy. Savonarola stopped the Florentine Renaissance in its tracks from the pulpit. Ferdinand and Isabella killed or exiled all non-Catholics from Spain. King Charles, head of the Church of England, exiled those dissenting Pilgrims to Holland and eventually to America. The Pilgrims, in an act of hypocrisy, then exiled dissenting Roger Williams to Rhode Island. Rhode Island, Pennsylvania, and Maryland were specifically established as a haven for persecuted Baptists, Quakers, and Catholics.
Pastors can say anything they want from the pulpit (good old Bill of Rights again). They can urge parishioners to send in those Right To Life postcards conveniently displayed in the narthex. They can decry segregation. They can espouse voting rights. But they cannot tell you who to vote for. If they do, their church becomes a political organ and is no longer tax-exempt.
That's the extent of "the greatest amount of censorship today", Michele. It has worked out pretty well since 1789 and I think we ought to stick with it.
Appearing before an Iowa church group this weekend, Michele said, "Probably the greatest amount of censorship today occurs in the pulpits of churches because we have a law that limits pastors from what they can say about politics in the pulpit. That's not the American way."
Actually, Michele, it is very much the American way. In fact, "free exercise of religion" is the very first sentence of the Bill of Rights. The Founding Fathers were very clear that religion and politics do not mix. Roman emperors declared themselves gods so any word against them was not only treason but blasphemy. Savonarola stopped the Florentine Renaissance in its tracks from the pulpit. Ferdinand and Isabella killed or exiled all non-Catholics from Spain. King Charles, head of the Church of England, exiled those dissenting Pilgrims to Holland and eventually to America. The Pilgrims, in an act of hypocrisy, then exiled dissenting Roger Williams to Rhode Island. Rhode Island, Pennsylvania, and Maryland were specifically established as a haven for persecuted Baptists, Quakers, and Catholics.
Pastors can say anything they want from the pulpit (good old Bill of Rights again). They can urge parishioners to send in those Right To Life postcards conveniently displayed in the narthex. They can decry segregation. They can espouse voting rights. But they cannot tell you who to vote for. If they do, their church becomes a political organ and is no longer tax-exempt.
That's the extent of "the greatest amount of censorship today", Michele. It has worked out pretty well since 1789 and I think we ought to stick with it.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Triumph of the Geeks
What inspires the techno-geek to trade in his current iPhone for the new iPhone 4S? Does he have several hundred dollars burning a hole in his pocket? Is he anxious to tie himself into a two-year contract to a particular carrier? Even the geekiest among us recognize those as disincentives.
The iPhone 4S's "must buy" feature is "Siri, the built-in personal assistant that responds to your voice in a soothing, robotic female tone." No longer must you key in your Internet requests. Siri will schedule your meetings, text your friends, give you GPS directions, rate restaurants, preview movies, and more. You simply "speak to the phone". In fact, Siri is a female version of HAL, the computer from "2001, A Space Odyssey", presumably without the homicidal tendencies.
But here's the feature that clinches it for the techno-geeks out there. When you say "Thank you" to Siri, she responds with "That's nice of you to say" or "Your wish is my command." The guys who were ignored by girls in high school, who spent their collegiate nights playing "Dungeons and Dragons" instead of partying at the frat house and who spend their workdays typing out computer code in a lonely cubicle can now flick out their iPhone and have a conversation with a "soothing female voice". That is certainly worth a couple hundred dollars and a two year contract. Better yet, Siri ends the conversation with "Your wish is my command". Even Joe Jock from high school never heard that from Tiffany the Cheerleader.
Steve Jobs, you saved the best for last. Thank you from geeks everywhere.
The iPhone 4S's "must buy" feature is "Siri, the built-in personal assistant that responds to your voice in a soothing, robotic female tone." No longer must you key in your Internet requests. Siri will schedule your meetings, text your friends, give you GPS directions, rate restaurants, preview movies, and more. You simply "speak to the phone". In fact, Siri is a female version of HAL, the computer from "2001, A Space Odyssey", presumably without the homicidal tendencies.
But here's the feature that clinches it for the techno-geeks out there. When you say "Thank you" to Siri, she responds with "That's nice of you to say" or "Your wish is my command." The guys who were ignored by girls in high school, who spent their collegiate nights playing "Dungeons and Dragons" instead of partying at the frat house and who spend their workdays typing out computer code in a lonely cubicle can now flick out their iPhone and have a conversation with a "soothing female voice". That is certainly worth a couple hundred dollars and a two year contract. Better yet, Siri ends the conversation with "Your wish is my command". Even Joe Jock from high school never heard that from Tiffany the Cheerleader.
Steve Jobs, you saved the best for last. Thank you from geeks everywhere.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Workplace Ecology
A newspaper ad from Warren County Recycling urges us to "Cut down on waste and get some extra mileage out of your holiday by packing up your post-turkey-day detritus as ecologically-sustainable workday meals". "Detritus", really? To me, detritus is the drumstick that Uncle Stanley spit out when his dentures failed. Detritus is the pumpkin pie crust that little Tiffany The Picky Eater left on her dessert plate or the stringy sweet potatoes that even the dog refused. Call me a Despoiler of the Earth, but that sort of stuff goes in the garbage.
Even good old Thanksgiving dinner "leftovers" pose a hazard when recycled into workday meals. When I began my journey through Cubicle Land in the early '70s, we either ate a cold brown-bagged lunch or departed the premises to a restaurant. Then microwaves appeared alongside the coffee, soda, and snack machines. The buttery scent of microwave popcorn would waft over the workplace. It was far more pleasing than the scent of smoldering Marlboros from the ashtray in the adjacent cubicle. (This was a lo-o-ong time ago).
Then lunchtime would arrive and the microwave would spew forth the odor from whatever Bob from Accounting couldn't finish at dinner last night. Bob was being "ecologically-sustainable" all right, but the fumes from his pork and sauerkraut leftovers overpowered not only the odiferous cloud from boss's pipe smoke but the secretary's cologne which had been known to cause the potted plants next to her desk to wilt.
Despite signs urging microwave users to clean up after themselves and the best efforts of the cleaning crew, splatter built up over time and re-cooked itself into a medley of odors. Bob's sauerkraut would combine with Chang's Chinese and Pradeep's curry residue for a "We Are The World" symphony of smells. At that point, the Marlboros weren't so bad.
I encourage our friends in Warren County to pack those "ecologically-sustainable workday meals". Just avoid pre-masticated "detritus" (You never know what caused Uncle Stanley's teeth to fall out in the first place) and please clean the microwave after use.
Even good old Thanksgiving dinner "leftovers" pose a hazard when recycled into workday meals. When I began my journey through Cubicle Land in the early '70s, we either ate a cold brown-bagged lunch or departed the premises to a restaurant. Then microwaves appeared alongside the coffee, soda, and snack machines. The buttery scent of microwave popcorn would waft over the workplace. It was far more pleasing than the scent of smoldering Marlboros from the ashtray in the adjacent cubicle. (This was a lo-o-ong time ago).
Then lunchtime would arrive and the microwave would spew forth the odor from whatever Bob from Accounting couldn't finish at dinner last night. Bob was being "ecologically-sustainable" all right, but the fumes from his pork and sauerkraut leftovers overpowered not only the odiferous cloud from boss's pipe smoke but the secretary's cologne which had been known to cause the potted plants next to her desk to wilt.
Despite signs urging microwave users to clean up after themselves and the best efforts of the cleaning crew, splatter built up over time and re-cooked itself into a medley of odors. Bob's sauerkraut would combine with Chang's Chinese and Pradeep's curry residue for a "We Are The World" symphony of smells. At that point, the Marlboros weren't so bad.
I encourage our friends in Warren County to pack those "ecologically-sustainable workday meals". Just avoid pre-masticated "detritus" (You never know what caused Uncle Stanley's teeth to fall out in the first place) and please clean the microwave after use.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Pulitzer, anyone?
Journalism is a tough racket. Young reporters must suffer through endless City Council meetings or high school field hockey games and then interview the principals for a newsworthy story. Is this how Woodward and Bernstein started?
Lehigh Valley news reporters will face their most challenging interviews yet this coming weekend when Comic Con comes to Allentown. Alas, this is a minor league Comic Con. Instead of an appearance by Captain Kirk or Mr Spock from the original "Star Trek", the best that Allentown can do is the doctor from "Star Trek - Voyager". Now, an interview with Dr McCoy from the original or with the sexy redhead doctor from "Next Generation" might be a career-maker for a local journalist, but Pulitzer-seeking reporters would be better served interviewing the guy dressed like a Klingon who lives in his parents' basement in Macungie.
There is hope for local scribes, however. Also appearing at Comic Con are the guy who played Chewbacca and the guy who did Yoda's voice in "Star Wars". It's not exactly "What did the President know and when did he know it?" but these probing questions could lead to a Page 1 by-line:
Q - "Chewbacca, is it The Force that makes Imperial Storm Troopers such crappy shots while every blast from you and Han drops a bad guy?"
A - "A-a-agh."
Q - "Yoda. you are three feet tall and have hands the size of a Kindergartener's. Still, you wield a full-size light saber and slay adult-size bad guys. How is that?"
A - "Matters not size. Special effects overcome."
Q - "Chewie, you are bigger, stronger, and a better pilot than Han Solo yet he's the one who gets all the glory and, no surprise, the girls. What do you have to say about that?"
A - "A-a-agh."
Q - "Yoda, Luke wasn't fully Jedi trained, yet George Lucas killed you off in "Return of the Jedi", why did he do that?"
A - (Out of character) The Department of Education claimed that kids across America were mangling grammar while claiming that it was part of their Jedi training. Verbal SAT scores were plummeting. The Feds threatened to give future "Star Wars" movies an X rating unless George killed me off. Then George killed off the franchise anyway by introducing Jar Jar Binks. Instead of hauling in millions doing Yoda's voice, here I am in Allentown working for peanuts. Thanks, George."
Now, there is a Pulitzer-winning interview.
Lehigh Valley news reporters will face their most challenging interviews yet this coming weekend when Comic Con comes to Allentown. Alas, this is a minor league Comic Con. Instead of an appearance by Captain Kirk or Mr Spock from the original "Star Trek", the best that Allentown can do is the doctor from "Star Trek - Voyager". Now, an interview with Dr McCoy from the original or with the sexy redhead doctor from "Next Generation" might be a career-maker for a local journalist, but Pulitzer-seeking reporters would be better served interviewing the guy dressed like a Klingon who lives in his parents' basement in Macungie.
There is hope for local scribes, however. Also appearing at Comic Con are the guy who played Chewbacca and the guy who did Yoda's voice in "Star Wars". It's not exactly "What did the President know and when did he know it?" but these probing questions could lead to a Page 1 by-line:
Q - "Chewbacca, is it The Force that makes Imperial Storm Troopers such crappy shots while every blast from you and Han drops a bad guy?"
A - "A-a-agh."
Q - "Yoda. you are three feet tall and have hands the size of a Kindergartener's. Still, you wield a full-size light saber and slay adult-size bad guys. How is that?"
A - "Matters not size. Special effects overcome."
Q - "Chewie, you are bigger, stronger, and a better pilot than Han Solo yet he's the one who gets all the glory and, no surprise, the girls. What do you have to say about that?"
A - "A-a-agh."
Q - "Yoda, Luke wasn't fully Jedi trained, yet George Lucas killed you off in "Return of the Jedi", why did he do that?"
A - (Out of character) The Department of Education claimed that kids across America were mangling grammar while claiming that it was part of their Jedi training. Verbal SAT scores were plummeting. The Feds threatened to give future "Star Wars" movies an X rating unless George killed me off. Then George killed off the franchise anyway by introducing Jar Jar Binks. Instead of hauling in millions doing Yoda's voice, here I am in Allentown working for peanuts. Thanks, George."
Now, there is a Pulitzer-winning interview.
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