Eggs Benedict

Interesting:

The McDonald's Egg McMuffin was created by Herb Peterson, a McDonald's franchisee, in 1972. As a friend of Ray Kroc's, he knew that Kroc liked eggs Benedict. Peterson sought to create a "poor man's version" by replacing the hollandaise with a slice of American cheese. To cook the eggs, Peterson paid a local blacksmith $90 to make a batch of Teflon coated rings. Mainly due to the success of the Egg McMuffin, McDonald's had a monopoly on the fast-food breakfast market until the mid-1980s.

Heck of gross:

Waffle Benedict replaces the English muffins with a full waffle. It is commonly topped with maple syrup in addition to the hollandaise.

Historical:

In an interview in the "Talk of the Town" column of The New Yorker in 1942, the year before his death, Lemuel Benedict, a retired Wall Street stock broker, claimed that he had wandered into the Waldorf Hotel in 1894 and, hoping to find a cure for his morning hangover, ordered "buttered toast, poached eggs, crisp bacon and a hooker of hollandaise."

Just plain dumb:

An advertisement for Haill Hayden's Hollandaise — a bottled hollandaise sold in a 6 ounce jar for 50¢ — ran in the 1938 The New York Times. "Here is a sauce such as no man has had before. On tasting it, great chefs have broken their egg-beaters over their knees and wept in jealousy! It is made of butter fragrant from timothy and alfalfa, eggs to which their mothers are still clucking at this hour, lemon and pungent spices! It is not profaned with a drop of oil or any substitutes. Serve it over cauliflower, artichokes, lettuce, eggs Benedict, fish, singing 'Broccoli, Broccoli,' as you eat".

And the rest.

Edwardian Toddler

Edwardian Toddler, originally uploaded by Living in The Past.

Everyone gets to be happy.

The Crawling Eye

There's one word besides "crawling" you could use to describe the Crawling Eye: disgusting.

Actually, let's make it two words: disgusting and pathetic. You're disgusting and pathetic, Crawling Eye.

You’re an organ, pal. A sense organ, not even one of those potentially destructive digestive organs. You can’t even absorb nutrients. You're an an eye affixed to tendrils. A shark egg that needs an optometrist. You're not so tough. Crawling Eye, I feel nothing but pity for your freakish, belabored existence.

How are you going to menace anyone? You're a sense organ. Stop blinking at me, it's not intimidating at all. And stop trying to strangle me. Your tentacles are as strong as soggy pool noodles.

That's not very strong, by the way. I know you're not familiar with human customs.

You're as one-dimensional as your depth perception. Why do you menace women with your tentacles? Crawling Eye, are you scared of women? Were you abused by your mother?

Crawling Eye, you don't scare me. At all.

Shit....

Crawling Eye, please stop crying.
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Ir may interest you to read my compatriot's writing on this image as well.

Incurables

Incurables, originally uploaded by Who We Were: A Snapshot History of America.

Written on the back: "Mike and Bill are doing well. We will be taking them to Lewis Crozer Home for Incurables in Upland, PA tomorrow."

Keep your mouth closed and let your eyes listen

"Not a good question. You are trying to deduce if I am obsessed like the subjects of my films. Let's not get into that. I am a professional person. Others would not do what I do, but I am trying to be a good soldier of cinema. "

-Werner Herzog

"They say the bad guys are more interesting to play but there is more to it than that — playing the good guys is more challenging because it's harder to make them interesting. "

-Gregory Peck

The interior life is often stupid. Its egoism blinds it and deafens it; its imagination spins out ignorant tales, fascinated. It fancies that the western wind blows on the Self, and leaves fall at the feet of the Self for a reason, and people are watching. A mind risks real ignorance for the sometimes paltry prize of an imagination enriched. The trick of reason is to get the imagination to seize the actual world — if only from time to time.

-Annie Dillard

Tintype of young girl

Tintype of young girl, originally uploaded by tokyogaz.

The Polish Plait

The Polish plait usually results from deficient hair care. Uncombed hair becomes irreversibly entangled, forming a matted, malodorous and encrusted or sticky moist mass. It may be caused by or accompanied with lice infestation (pediculosis) and lead to inflammation of the scalp. The Polish plait is typically a (sometimes large) head of hair, made of a hard impenetrable mass of keratin fibers permanently cemented together with dried pus, blood, old lice egg-casings and dirt. The disease may be easily prevented by standard hygienic practices, such as washing and combing of the hair. Treatment involves cutting the affected hair.

Please note that the polish plait was intentional:

In the early 17th century people began to believe plaits were an external symptom of an internal illness. A growing plait was supposed to take the illness "out" of the body, and therefore it was rarely cut off; in addition, the belief that a cut-off plait could avenge itself and bring an even greater illness discouraged some from attacking it.

I'm going to go shower now. Again.

Golden Amazon

The Golden Amazon is the feminine spirit of destruction. She's the distaff Ares. The bosomy Thor. Chi You with ovaries. She is the yin to the yang of H. Norman Schwarzkopf. She sws strife in her footsteps and spreads discord in her path the way heavily-perfumed women leave the scent of gardenias behind them. She is clad in the finest of Amazonian armor, made of gold, silver, and bronze. She carries the truest of Amazonian laser pistols, a weapon crafted by the finest Amazonian weaponsmiths, never sullied with the touch of a man. And it goes without saying that she wears makeup appropriate to the goddess of war: On most days she wears the mascara of martial force with the lip gloss of wild and furious anger (both by MAC). When she goes into battle she wears the Max Factor pancake makeup of hatred, applied with the damp cosmetic sponge of rage. She keeps the body butter of collateral damage on her vanity table, right next to the cold cream of throwin' down.
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Read Seth's interpretation of this postcard here.

Loves of a Girl Wrestler

When she was a girl, she wrestled. She wasn't good, but she attracted attention from men. The loves of a girl wrestler were infrequent and subtle. She just wasn't aware enough when she was young. Opportunities passed her by, and relationships died: When she was young she noticed excitement and exception. She noticed the peaks of emotion and thought this was what love was. When she got older she sat down in a chair one day and realized that sometimes being around someone feels right and easy, and that you don't notice because that feeling feels so natural. When the air is clean all you do is breathe.

She keeps pictures of him near her wrestling memorabilia: shirts, flyers, and other a set of trinkets winnowed down to what could fit in a shoebox. In the best photograph they are holding each other while she laughs. She wonders where the happiness in those photographs comes from, for in her memory there are only misunderstandings and arguments. People came between the two of them in ways that should have raised questions but didn't, and one morning he came to her room and said "Can't you see what this is doing to me?" and in her shock she had no way to respond to his panic. He never spoke to her again after that morning.
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Read my associate's interpretation of this postcard here.

Action Park

Action Park was a waterpark/motor themed park open from 1978 to
1996 in Vernon Township, New Jersey.

Its popularity went hand in hand with a reputation for poorly-designed, unsafe rides; inattentive, underaged, underpaid and sometimes under-the-influence employees; equally intoxicated and underprepared visitors — and the poor safety record that followed from this perfect storm of circumstances.

link.

Reefer Madness

That first marihuana cigarette (or "jay" in colored slang) may not taste that sinister...it may come to you from a friend who wants you to "relax"...or from a stranger at the bus stop who's just a little too chummy. But it is sinister beyond imagination. The first one may be fine...but you'll go back for more...another...another...and another...and then it's too late.

You've caught communis-er, reefer madness.

Chronic reefer madness afflicts one in eight Americans. Symptoms of reefer madness include thinking your own jokes are much funnier than anyone else does, macraming your ass to the couch for days on end, eating bad food and thinking it's fantastic, eating fantastic food and thinking it's fantastic, and a general sense that one's life is basically satisfactory. These things are un-American.

Advanced reefer madness is sadly untreatable. In godless Europe, it is controlled with the use of Nintendo 64s, cheap beer, late-night television and filesharing networks.

This is also un-American.

If you suspect a friend, neighbor, or loved one has reefer madness, do the American hing: report them to the HUAC -er, I mean DHS.

Go, Man, Go!

The day after he won his first drag race, Eddie found a lump in his ball. Not long after his mechanic got whooping cough. Whooping cough! In the twentieth century. He might as well have contracted the Black Plague for the sense that made.

Being lawless has its advantages. You live by the Code of the Road, which says Leave no man behind.

If you want something, take it.

Don't snitch to the fuzz.

Drinkin' and drivin' is a-okay.

If a GI just back from washing potatoes in Incheon tells your old lady she's a looker, race him off a road.

Smoking Lucky Strikes is cool.

Things the code doesn't say:

If you drink over twelve standard drinks of alcohol per week, you may be a problem drinker.

Smoking unfiltered cigarettes could result in tracheotomies and sleep apnea, both of which will drastically lower your quality of life.

Eating diner food for every meal puts you at high risk of diabetes and heart problems.

Unprotected necking puts you at high risk for herpes and other diseases.

Because greasers are victim to malignant neoplasms as much as the next guy, schedule an annual prostate checkup today.

Big problem, those omissions...But "Go, man, go to your primary health care provider for a yearly physical checkup" just doesn't have the same ring.

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Read my associate's interpretation of this postcard here: Progression Towards Something of Unquestionable Insignificance

TBF 01, originally uploaded by KatrencikPhoto.

The Cat Creeps

It was the first apartment either of them had rented and they picked the cheapest one they could find - that is, the cheapest within their very narrow constraints of safety and access to public transport. Ian had a poster of The Cat Creeps that he wanted to put on the wall. Hank could not stand unframed posters or the smell of poster-putty so it was their first argument: Where to put it? Eventually it went in the garage. The day they moved in together, Hank wore three rings and sweatpants. The two of them never could figure out where to put their hands so when they were happy they extended their arms above their heads like they were two solitary members of a roaring stadium. And when they were unhappy they shuffled around like preteens who hadn't been told that there was a way to walk that made you look like an adult.

Hank was the smarter of the two, but not by much: While they moved the cardboard boxes of their clothes and cheap ceramic plateware into the walk-up, he told Ian a story that involved using double finger-quotes (") with embedded single finger-quotes ('). Ian didn't watch sitcoms or talk to anyone who understood anything at all about the world whatsoever. And he didn't read. So he missed the reference. The joke was just lost on him.

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Read my associate's interpretation of this postcard here: Progression Towards Something of Unquestionable Insignificance

Broaden-and-build

The broaden-and-build theory of positive emotions suggests that positive emotions (enjoyment/happiness/joy, and perhaps interest/anticipation) broaden one's awareness and encourage novel, varied, and exploratory thoughts and actions. Over time, this broadened behavioral repertoire builds skills and resources. For example, curiosity about a landscape becomes valuable navigational knowledge; pleasant interactions with a stranger become a supportive friendship; aimless physical play becomes exercise and physical excellence.

This is in contrast to negative emotions, which prompt narrow, immediate survival-oriented behaviors. For example, the negative emotion of anxiety leads to the specific fight-or-flight response for immediate survival. On the other hand, positive emotions do not have any immediate survival value, because they take one's mind off of immediate needs and stressors. However, over time, the skills and resources built by broadened behavior enhance survival.

The broaden-and-build theory is an exploration of the evolved function of positive emotions. It was developed by Barbara Fredrickson starting around 1998 and is commonly associated with positive psychology.

The broaden-and-build theory has substantial support. Barbara Fredrickson has conducted randomized controlled lab studies in which participants are randomly assigned participants to watch films that induce positive emotions such as amusement and contentment, negative emotions such as fear and sadness, or no emotions. Compared to people in the other conditions, participants who experience positive emotions show heightened levels of creativity, inventiveness, and "big picture" perceptual focus. Longitudinal intervention studies show that positive emotions play a role in the development of long-term resource such as psychological resilience and flourishing.

More.

High School Hellcats

I'll tell you what a good girl must do: Get a bleach-blonde Jayne Mansfield and find a cat looks like Sal Mineo from the scalp down. Spread peanut butter over your neck. Smack Smucker's grape jelly on Sal-lookalike's face and tell him to start making a PBJ. But keep your eyes peeled, sister, because the shine of his hair is in short supply, and other good girls wanna make their bones to. Find those good girls. Grab 'em and punch them in the breadbasket. Are you wearing baby blue for the punchin'? Is the girl who is bein' punched also wearing baby blue? Good. Your instincts are good. Lend your boyfriend your pop's 30.06. He'll need it, baby. Those girls, once they get over how fun it is to be punched, they're gonna turn on ya. They're gonna see Sal, and think, hey, he ought to neck with me. Two weeks will go by while they avoid you. Enough for each of them to save up a little scratch from taking in laundry. Enough to get a communal bottle of bleach and some white shifts. And then they'll come for you, dressed like your Stepfords. They'll come for you with their fists. Lure them to the field. Stick Sal on the treeline. Test out his line of sight first - don't get between Sal's rifle and the girls!

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Read my associate's interpretation of this postcard here: Progression Towards Something of Unquestionable Insignificance

Teenage Caveman

Who can blame the Teenage Caveman? Dad wants him to follow in the family mud farming business and mom's too preoccupied with keeping their cave decorated just right to really be a help. His friends are all getting ready to either join the mammoth hunters or work their lives away at the stone tool factory. Not many prospects for Teenage Caveman, not many at all. Who can blame him if he gets drunk on fermented mushberries and plays chicken on a stolen Tiger against Uzz Gunderson, the age-group bully? It's just a good thing no one's invented Saturday Night Specials yet. Or Saturday nights, for that matter.

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Read my associate's interpretation of this postcard here: Progression Towards Something of Unquestionable Insignificance

Chip Shapes

If you have ever made homemade potato chips you will have noticed that the edges curl in the oil.

Tortilla chips do more or less the same thing, although they're baked so the curling is not quite as extreme.

This happy accident allows chips to be used to spoon up cheese sauce and ranch dressing and salsa and beans and cheese sauce and other foods which are delicious when dipped. This malleability means that snack chips are subject to structural engineering innovations.

At some point during the history of manufactured potato chips a food scientist working in the industry remembered a basic rule of materials: Things with ridges are stronger than things without ridges. Maybe chips were breaking too frequently in their laboratory onion-dipping tests. That seems about right. But let's move past the motive. He applied his knowledge:

Rrrrrrrrruffles have ridges!

Now we have crinkle-cut chips. Crinkle-cut chips are stronger than non-crinkle-cut chips. That kind of burst open the gates for shaped snacks:

Tostitos sells Scoops, which are specifically and ingenuously designed to hold large amounts of salsa or cheese sauce. They're like little boats.

The entire point of Pringles is that they're so consistently shaped (via an extrusion process) that they fit together in a tube like a stack of plastic chairs. Sort of the Eames approach to snack food.

But I think they're all getting it wrong. What I want in a chip is not complexity of three-dimensional shape. It's not even novelty.

I want flat chips. Chips so flat you could use them to illustrate the concept of "two-dimensionality" to a child. No curls. No ridges. Pressed flat chips made of either extruded potato, sliced potato, or corn flour. Flat chips cannot hold much dip or salsa. Their shape is almost impractical. Because they're no longer sutiable for dip delivery, the eater is obliged to find a different way of having fun with their snack food.

I want IKEA-style flat-pack chips packaged with pen-shaped flavor dispensers so I can write you a letter and then you can eat it.

A Story Problem

An accountant travelling on business to a small town in central Canada arrives to find that the airline has lost his luggage. He panics because he only has the clothing he is wearing on the flight. He's going to be staying in this small town for several months. He could ask his wife to send him a few extra shirts, but she's staying at her sister's house after a serious fight they had. What a time to get in an argument, he thinks, and puts down his cell phone.

On the way to his hotel, he passes a men's store, located conveniently next to a dry cleaner's. He stops his rental car and uses his company credit card to buy a tie, a dress shirt and a week's worth of underthings and socks.

The accountant sweats heavily and can only wear a shirt once before it needs to be laundered. These are nice shirts which he does not know how to press (again, he could call his wife and ask her help, but not after what he said just before he left). He needs to be well-groomed every day of his visit in order to impress his business contacts. He can wash his underwear and undershirts in the sink and dry them in the shower stall of his hotel room once a week but the shirts will be a problem.

He stops in to the dry cleaner and finds out that they can clean a shirt in six days. Fine, he thinks, I'll put it all on the card. So he goes back to the men's shop and buys four more shirts. He now has shirts for the next five days. If he drops his dirty shirt off at the cleaner's tomorrow afternoon, he'll get that shirt back in six days time.

Assuming a seven week stay and unfettered access to his expense account, and knowing that he needs a clean shirt every single day, how long until he swallows his pride and calls his wife to apologize and ask her how to iron a shirt?