Tales from Easement Acres
I haven’t shot my bow all winter. So on a whim, I fired some arrows off.
How about that?
I guess my muscle memory ultimately outlasts the mental aspects of a given task – not exactly a profound revelation. I mean, this is why training routines focus of repetition. It was just interesting to see firsthand. Stop thinking and just act. Go figure.
–Simon
I am obviously not a very faithful practician of Christianity. That much should be inferred from this site. I employ more secular forms of ethics, which deviate from the religious system of absolutes.
So what is this edict of giving something up for a few weeks to demonstrate piety about? Is it a moral reset to prevent personal decadence? The practice doesn’t make me feel like a better person. Would I give up caffeine and explain to my coworkers that I’m incredibly cranky and late to meetings because I’m currently trying to appreciate Jesus’ suffering? I fail to see the net gain for anyone in that scenario.
But as it is, Christians eat fish on Friday during Lent for this reason – because it’s giving up “meat” for one day a week and therefore a personal sacrifice. I don’t think this lesson is very effective, given the ubiquitous excitement for Friday Fish Frys and the restaurant deals that run during this time. Eat a fillet of fried cod instead of a burger? Oh darn. Such a demonstration of faith! Such self-inflicted suffering!
Whatever the reason, it’s also tradition. I like fried fish, any my in-laws like Catholic customs. So here we can align on the end goal, if not the reasoning. Fish fry it is!
Plus onion rings. Yum!
But wait! It gets better.
If we’re going to eat fish and “suffer” for Jesus, let’s actually suffer. This can, gifted to my by my sister several years ago, contains Surströmming! Dun dun dunnnnnnnn. Frequenting the top of many a lazy blogger’s “stinkiest foods in the world list”, this funky fish hails from Sweden. What begins as an already stinky fish – herring – becomes enhanced through years of fermentation. I thought shrimp paste and fish sauce were bad. Oh no, Asians got nothin’ on the Scandinavians.
Having passed this can back and forth with my mother-in-law who talked a big game but then chickened out, it made a fitting appearance at our annual Catholic fish fry. And, ignoring cautions from my sister about opening it under water, I dug in a can opener with conviction and promptly sprayed the deck with primordial marinade. But at least I opened it outside.
Imagine a sweaty foot stepping on a washed up dead fish in a saltwater marsh. Apply that visual imagery to your sense of smell and you’d be close. Then think of that bag of greens you left sealed in the bag in the fridge until they got slimy, combined with a raw fillet of fish that you didn’t get to in time but wondered upon discovery if it wasn’t too late too cook and opened to find out. That would be how it tasted – as well as how it felt.
Traditionally, it’s meant to be served in very small portions upon other strong foods – somewhat in concept to a solid version of the aforementioned fish sauce and shrimp paste. Sensing a lack of group interest, however, I decided to dive right in and get the experience over with.
I could sort of comprehend a culinary use. My conclusion, however, was that this was invented by an old Swede who couldn’t taste anymore and kept yelling at his kids to feed him something nice and fishy like he remembered.
Points for bravery at least. Perhaps the Vikings of old, and Jesus, would be proud.
–Simon
Fast food occupies an interesting niche in American cuisine. Supplanting street food vendors and pre-made automat-type meals, it promised quick calories with consistent taste and a guarantee of food safety. Indeed, the OG of fast food is White Castle, because in a time of questionable food quality, no one trusted the hamburger – a skepticism that should be continued into present times, I might add. But White Castle ground their own meat on-site and in view of the customer (originally, anyway). Sanitation was prioritized, with everything from the wall paint to the employee uniforms being bright white so as to convey this. And to top it off, they pioneered the first version of the fast food assembly-line system adapted for use by all modern fast food. McDonald’s made it famous, but White Castle started it.
So fast food is clean and quick. But wait, there’s more: all kids love fast food because it’s food that mom didn’t make. And it’s food that a male figure usually promoted for consumption when mom wasn’t around, because it was easy to procure and relatively cheap (also food that mom wouldn’t approve of). What does this lead to? Nostalgia. My own Grandpa said that when McDonald’s first started, their burgers were terrible. But he loved shoveling his grandkids into that giant farm truck for a McDonald’s run anyway.
My point being: fast food is inherently American because it checks all the boxes that Americans value: quick, affordable, reliable, and nostalgic.
The internet would have you believe that fast food prices have not significantly outpaced inflation. And that’s because the internet lies. AI simply aggregates data and forms conclusions, but it’s not very good yet at vetting sources of that data. Yes, flagship menu items follow this rule, but value menu items do not. In 2005 I could get a .39-cent Taco Bell taco, which equates to .66-cents today. The cheapest option currently on offer? $1.29.
Still, fast food has cornered the market of the young and lazy, because: quick, affordable, reliable. Also the young haven’t figured out how to cook yet, or make good financial decisions. And they don’t suffer yet the digestive problems that fast food causes their elders. But this doesn’t stop fast food from continually trying to expand their customer base to older people. Because, as the one American value criteria not being satisfied by the young and lazy: nostalgia.
I admit – it’s satisfying to be pandered to. No wonder the boomers are so self-important, having received this most of their lives! And now it’s my turn. And in this case of nostalgia and fast food, I will call out two products from my time which have been rebooted recently: The Arch Deluxe, by McDonald’s; and the Chicken Twister, by KFC.
The Arch Deluxe was a failed burger from an attempted premium line of menu items. It included additional ingredients that I’d consider pretty basic for a bacon cheeseburger with lettuce and tomato, but that was enough for me to desperately want to try one. But even if mom were willing to buy one, they were never in our select market. Ultimately it died out, but I did manage to grab one once on a Boy Scout trip once. I remember the commercials for it being weirdly hostile towards kids, which might have had something to doom it when being offered from a company whose mascot was a clown encouraging kids to have a little fun. The Arch Deluxe is now the Big Arch, but I’d consider them more or less the same thing, aside from marketing. The former was meant to be a luxury option, the latter just a bigger option. As this is fast food, I say whatever. Same crap ingredients. (If they ever bring back the Angus Mushroom Swiss burger, however, then we’re on a different level.)
The Chicken Twister was just a couple boneless chicken tenders in a wrap with lettuce and some spicy sauce. It was great at the time because it was slightly cheaper than a sandwich and easy to eat while walking – perfect college requirements. I never did understand why it was discontinued, so it must have been company economics in this case rather than consumer perception. I had often declared that I’d get one the moment they were brought back.
So, how did they stack up to expectations? First, a bit of internet meme-ing is required. I encourage you to find the Chris Kempczinski video.
Found it? Good. Because that led to an additional experiment on top of whether these products were any good or not: Big Arch vs Whopper. Because that was Burger King’s response: at least pretend that you as a company executive actually enjoy eating the company offerings. We would take this opportunity to make a comparison ourselves.
The last time I had a McDonald’s burger, it was a quick grab on the road. It was the first time I used one of those kiosks they have now inside. Apparently, that wasn’t the standard procedure, as I received some weird looks from the staff. I’m uncertain as to why, but I’m guessing their usual demographic prefers to order via their mobile app, because…apps are cooler? Maybe coupons? Dunno. Whatever. The burger was the expected sponge-beef on a puffed cardboard bun. The Big Arch was, however, surprisingly good. A little heavy on the sauce, but they had apparently replaced the sponge and cardboard with actual bread and griddle beef like I remember from the old days. Of course, inflation-adjusted, it’s still overpriced, but it actually tasted like good ol’ McDonald’s.
The Whopper, however, was a bland and dry basic burger. McDonald’s “wins”. I then spent the evening groaning and massaging my gut.
Would I buy the Big Arch again? Probably not. If I were in my 20s then yes, but if I were in my 20s it wouldn’t hold any nostalgic value. So, I call this a fail.
Moving on, the Chicken Twister. These things were so damn good and I couldn’t wait to try one!
Okay, so apparently someone failed to explain to staff that the tenders are supposed to be lined up the length of the tortilla, not thrown into one end. That, or whatever stoner assembled this just didn’t care. What’s wrong there, Chad? Overdue for your vape break?
In any case, some reassembly was required, negating the product’s convenience. As in, half the tortilla needed removing.
There we go. Once that part was corrected, it once again resembled two chicken tenders in a tortilla with some sauce and lettuce. It was…okay I guess. Even if it had been flawlessly presented at a reasonable price by a Chad without attitude, it still would have remained a lackluster attempt at a millennial throwback. Another fail.
There’s a few lessons from this experience:
Conclusion: attempting to use nostalgia for marketing purposes in the fast food industry is dumb. You’ll get us to try things once, then we’ll laugh, poop, and never buy them again. But at least I had a fun time going down memory lane. You sold me that much at least.
–Simon
“I don’t know” is the most common response to any query in this house. Here are some examples of questions that would elicit such a response:
“Why is there trash on the floor?”
“Why is this dish broken?”
“Why is there a giant scratch on the car?”
“What is this mysterious substance smeared across the sink?”
“Why is the couch on fire?”
“Why is there a decapitated squirrel inside a blood-drawn pentagram on the basement floor?”
You get the idea. No one in this house, occupied by three people, ever knows anything about anything. I’m sure family men everywhere can relate.
So it was of little surprise to me when a drinking glass, which I’ve never seen before, and which doesn’t match any set of glasses we own, apparated mysteriously upon the counter.
I inquired, naturally. I’m sure you can guess the response.
Maybe it was a jelly or yogurt jar? Is it important to anyone? Does anyone want to keep it? The answer, obviously, was much simpler.
Yes, that’s right. Its unexplained appearance and humble design can only lead to one explanation, and I should notify The Vatican. Eventually. For now, though, it sits untouched. No one has moved it, and no one has used it. It waits for the penitent man, one who must choose wisely.
Who will be the first?
–Simon
An old cowpoke went riding out one dark and windy day/
COVID meds laced through the sky ’cause liberals got their way!
I have a neighbor who insists that jet contrails are COVID vaccines. Or experimental medical seeding. Or most recently – Masonic symbols being surreptitiously scrawled on high for all to see.
I’d normally consider such conclusions to be based in paranoia, with little tangible evidence. But as Boomers don’t like to be contradicted, I choose these moments to disengage from conversation rather than inquire further. Some part of me remains curious as to why someone might make such unhinged conclusions, but not enough to encourage the conspiracy theory rhetoric that would inevitably ensue.
So instead, I asked AI – an odd usage of modern technology, but why not? Let’s see what aggregated generative data can give us to help understand unhinged thinking.
Its conclusion, greatly abbreviated, was that people recognize anomalies in predictable patterns, and that the process by which jet contrails are created can be difficult to understand. A distrusting mind then tries to associate such a phenomenon with an already-mistrusted system: in this case, the government. And the government objectively handled the COVID pandemic response poorly. Ergo: confusing chemical/physical phenomenon = government doing suspicious things, possibly COVID-related. Or the Free Masons – because they’re secretive. Or Voldemort.
But I find it confusing that one would spend the mental energy to fabricate an outlandish conclusion rather than simply look up the scientific process that created the anomaly in the first place.
So as a service to the paranoid, here’s what’s going on:
Jet fuel is kerosene, for the most part. A combustible hydrocarbon. When burned, it reacts with oxygen to generate heat – the expanding volume of which produces thrust – with the byproducts: carbon dioxide and water.
The carbon dioxide dissipates into the atmosphere. The water, owing to the exothermic reaction, is released it its vaporous state. This water vapor, then exposed to high-altitude atmospheric conditions (low air pressure and temperature), condenses into visible water.
Jet exhaust creates a damn cloud! Sheesh.
I’m not sure why that’s harder to believe than clandestine government-sponsored aerosol-dispersed COVID vaccines.
People are weird.
–Simon