Science Fiction and Sandwiches

Ah, the simplicity and ubiquity of the humble sandwich.

From lonely Arthur Dent, great sandwich maker and carver of Perfectly Normal Beasts on Lumella, to the famished Bilbo Baggins, longing not for bits of meat toasted on sticks but for a loaf and butter, the human longing for a sandwich knows no earthly nor metaphorical bounds.

Thus it is fitting that the intrepid voyagers in Philip Wylie and Edwin Balmer’s “When Worlds Collide” should share sandwiches, wrapped in waxed paper, as they voyage from the destroyed earth to their new home on Bronson Beta in this classic 1930s Science Fiction novel.

I capitalize science fiction because this was the era of true sci fi, unaided by technology and fueled only by the promise of technology to come and the human imagination. Thus, the vision of sandwiches unaffected by gravity:

Their habit of relying upon the attractive force of the Earth resulted in an increasing number of mishaps, some of them amusing and some of them painful. After what seemed like eons of time someone asked Tony for more food. Tony himself could not remember whether he was going to serve the fifth meal or the sixth, but he sprang to his feet with earnest willingness – promptly shot clear to the ceiling, against which he bumped his head. He fell back to the floor with a jar and rose laughing. The ceiling was also padded, so that he had not hurt himself.

The sandwiches were wrapped in wax paper, and when some one on the edge of the crowd asked that his sandwich be tossed, Tony flipped it toward him, only to see it pass high over the mans’ head and entirely out of reach, and strike against the opposite wall. The man himself stretched to catch the wrapped sandwich, and sat down again rubbing his arm, saying that he had almost throng his shoulder out of joint.

What a joyful cacophony of images: Ordinary human being experiencing weightlessness for the first time, and sharing that weightlessness not with paste glopped onto a tray and scraped out with a spoon, but with sandwiches wrapped in waxed paper. Maybe the authors appreciated the familiarity, the portability of the sandwich, recognizing that here is sustenance that can be manufactured in bulk using simple ingredients, ingredients that can be cooked beforehand and thus not require fancy, open-flamed preparation on a great space ship. Or maybe they just like sandwiches. Either way, bravo, gentlemen.

The rest of the book, too, is most excellent, with the ubiquitous love story only getting in the way marginally. Politically-correct folk will notice the treatment of the main character’s valet, referred to in innocent passing as a “Jap” and identified as “inscrutable.” He does not, however, supply the sandwiches, but the coffee, so perhaps that can be forgiven.

I think the Fourth Earl of Sandwich would be pleased that his namesake food item is a mainstay in science fiction.

Gozer the Contrarian? Good Evening.

Yes, it's time once again to advise people not to follow the lemmings, be they flocking to buy an iPad or flocking to do a news story on a doctor who told Obama supporters to seek urologic care elsewhere. It's good to see there are contrarians, like Uncle Jay, in high places. Or at least people who urge others to think independently and to consider why they're doing things and at least ahve a reason to follow the crowd other than just to follow the crowd.

Better Globish than Gibberish, I Guess

Robert McCrum, writing for the Guardian, has an interesting column on the rise (though I have a hard time calling it a rise since it's most likely one of those media-manufactured phenomena) of something called Globish, which, simply put, is a pidgin English spoken by non-native English speakers. Apparently, it's all the rage with the international journalists and others who like to manufacture bogus trends and write about them (McCrum is going as far as to (surprise) write a book about Globish).

I have to wonder how seriously to take him, though, when he describes his book premise thusly:

For the past four years, I've been working on a Book, Globish: How the English Language Became the World's Language, which argues that a seismic shift in the foundations of our lingua franca has transformed it from an expression of Anglo-American cultural sovereignty into a supra-national phenomenon, with its own powerful inner dynamic.

Globish I can handle, standard Anglo-American gibberish, I'm not sure I've got the patience for.

At least he doesn't accept the blame for the "Globish" phraseology, though he ought to accept the blame for all the cliches that riddle his book description. The blame for Globish is assigned to a former IBM executive in Japan who noticed non-native English speakers communicating in a simpler form of Englihs, less gramatically structured. In other words, improper English.

I applaud people who work to learn another language. I know firsthand, after spending several years studying and trying to speak French, that learning a new language is difficult. I'm not sure, however, that such learning attempts need to devolve into pidginizing a language for the sake of easier comprehension. One of my favorite examples of what I could possibly call Globish French came several years ago when some friends and I encountered another individual new to the Francophone world. We disc ussed our struggles in learning the language and he said he took some linguistic shortcuts, similar to what Globish is doing with English. He memorized the pidgin phrase "Je voudrais ca," meaning, "I'd like that." "And if I want two of them," he said, "I say 'Je voudrais ca ca.'" It gets the point across, but it's hardly proper French.

Globish is a logical stepping stone for those learning English, but I hardly regard it as a final destination. And I say this not to be snobby, nor to insist that proper English is the only way to communicate in English. I just think that we, as learners of language ought not to sell our educations short.

Back Home, but Why Did We Return?

We're back now from a quick trip south, so you burglars who were watching this blog in order to do your burgling as soon as we were gone, neener-neener.

But we came back to about two inches of snow. Now, it wasn't exactly tropical where we went (we voyaged as far south as Payson, Utah) but there's no snow there, the grass is greening and my sister-in-law's daffodils and crocuses were blooming. Heck, even the grain outside of Pocatello is greening. Here, all is white and I had to start a fire in the fireplace because it's just too durned cold here. Oh well. So our return wasn't as greatly anticipated as was Bilbo's return to Hobbiton. It wasn't snowy when he got back. He did have to deal with the Sackville-Bagginses, however.

So you can probably tell I'm not even going to try to match March's all-time record for Blog droppings. Just got a bit enthusiastic. Time will tell if such enthusiasm will continue.

You Know You're In Utah When . . .

. . . you can take an hour walk and see three LDS chapels, another under construction, and the site for a new temple . . .

Malad Pass and General Tsao's Chicken

A brief note for people suffering from a sinus cold:

First, travel over Malad pass, I-15, in southern Idaho. Did so today and my right sinus, blocked all day, suddenly popped open due to the change in altitude.

Second, stop at the Chinese Gourmet restaurant at 4500 South and State Street. Eat some of General Tsao's chicken. It was spicy enough that it also caused that pesky right sinus to open. Done both in a day, I'm now feeling pretty good about things. Of course, that's an expensive and time-consuming way to treat a balky sinus, but it certainly does work.

Face Reality, Bear World

Yellowstone Bear World, it seems, is having a hard time facing reality.

First, they asked the state for permission to pay their part-time workers less than the federal minimum wage -- a concession they say they need in order to stay open this summer.

Because the bill the park's lobbyist wrote didn't get out of committee -- where it's being held hostage there by State Rep. Mike Moyle because a bill he sponsored that would have given tax rebates on repair parts used for business airplanes owned by out-of-state residents, died in the same committee considering the bill -- the park now says they'll hire fewer part-time employees. Seems more fair than cutting wages for more workers. They resisted the temptation, however, of raising entry fees, which is a good thing, since at $16.95 for a single adult entry, their fees are already pretty steep.

I still think they could lower their entry fees and make up in volume what they're missing in sales, but I'm not the genius businessman with a lobbyist in Boise.

I don't know what's worse: Big businesses who are for Truth, Apple Pie and the American Way until business gets bad and they run to the state legislature for special laws to make it all better or to the county commission for waived property taxes, or the state legislators and county commissioners who bow to their whims, kowtowing out of fear that the businessmen Might Close Their Business (cue thunder and lightning).

Who Needs the Internet for Memes?

So i have to confess. I still find the Singing Russian Guy funny. It helps tremendously that he has such a catchy tune.

And another confession: Scott Meyer may inadvertently be writing one of the best comic strips on marriage out there. I mean, look at Missy. Soooo verrrry tiiiiiired. Yet not tired enough to turn the tables on her husband to get revenge. Revenge -- at least the quiet kind -- is a staple of a good, solid, sustainable marriage. As is an open willingness to annoy the partner in a way that incites more annoyance but does not cross the line into axe-murdering territory.

This is how my wife gets revenge on me: If I ever say or repeat or annoy her with something, she just starts humming this tune:

It immediately embeds itself in my frontal lobes and will not leave. She shows no remorse in instigating her revenge, Nor should she, because, like Scott and Rick here (panel three) I can be damned annoying at times and I deserve every shred of revenge my wife dispenses. I've even awoken the morning after having had this tune planted in my head and it's still there, happily churning away, just as soon as the alarm shuts off.

Exciting News

This morning, I received in the mail an exciting description of the new upgrades being placed on the credit card I cancelled a few weeks ago. I thought it was a letter of regret, saying in effect we're sorry you cancelled your card, but we fulfilled your wishes.

But no. They're trying to re-fuel my wildest dreams.

Now, I'm not concerned about the right hand here not knowing what the left has done; I've seen enough big-company tomfoolery to know that marketing doesn't get weekly updates from the failures in the retention department. What makes me laugh about this particular card -- side from its ruinous rate of interest, which is why it got cancelled -- is the breathless way in which the upgrades are being touted.

To avoid confusion, I'll come out and say it's for Amazon.com. Up until a few weeks ago, I had two Amazon.com credit lines. Both are now dead. Oh, I've read the arguments against cancelling credit lines like this, the "risks" such a move can pose to credit scores and such. I'm not all that worried about it. If our available credit has dipped by a few thousand dollars, that's good news for me, because that's less interest we're paying down the road. We don't carry excessive consumer debt anyway, but getting rid of the cards just ensures that satus quo remains the status quo.

The big news is that if I used said cancelled card for purchases at gas stations, dining establishments and drugstores, I could earn more Amazon points. Let me pause and say right now: Whoop-dee-doo. I've been earning Amazon points all along the way, friends. But because I made so damn few purchases -- not the average $500 every three months Amazon encourages in this amazing upgrade offer, and that's just for Amazon purchases and does not include the average $1,200 every three months they predict I could spend on gas, food and Band-Aids, nor the $1,100 I could spend "everywhere else [major credit cards] are accepted." I mean, wow, I could earn 5,000 points every three months, 20,000 a year. That's almost enough to earn me one round-trip plane ticket via the valuable Amazon points, nevermind that I can't afford to go anywhere because I'm too busy paying off the $11,200 I put on the card to earn those points.

Who comes up with these averages? Who in their right mind would do this kind of spending every three months? Not us, and certainly not at 19.9 percent interest, which is the fabulous rate I got even when I was a customer in good standing on this card. See why I cancelled? And the points argument -- getting something of value in return for my purchases, even if balances are paid off every month -- doesn't float with me, because it would take us years to rack up the points. And, no, we're not going to use a credit card just to earn points. Funny thing about us, we pay cash for most of the things we buy. Less interest paid that way, you know. So I say "ptoo" to your upgraded rewards points program.

No April Fool

There will be no April tomfoolery on this blog. Among the many traditions that deserve death, April Fool is at the top of my list, which looks like this, if you're interested:

1) April Fool
2) St. Patrick's Day
3) Furniture store sales revolving around any holiday, but particularly around Presidents Day and Memorial Day
4) Furniture store sales in general
5) Furniture stores