Tag Archives: random

489. Trump Predictions

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This is not a Serious Post. I wrote a Serious Post last time. Nah, today’s post is silly. These days of strife and political uncertainty call for a little comic relief, and TMTF is ready to answer that clarion call. Silliness is my beat.

Today I’ll share nine predictions of what Donald Trump will do as President of the United States. Please note that my jabs at Mr. Trump are all in good fun, and not meant to be taken as serious political commentary. I believe it’s important to respect our leaders whether or not we agree with them. That said, I also believe in the importance of humor, especially in difficult times. I found some cheer in writing this post, and I hope you find some cheer in reading it.

Cheers.

Here are my predictions for Donald Trump’s first actions as President of the United States.

(If you’re reading this, Mr. President, please don’t deport me.)

  • In addition to building a wall along the Mexican border, Trump will build a wall between the US and Canada, “just to be safe.”
  • Trump will make Official Donald Trump Wigs™ not only available to the American public, but mandatory. Now you can sport Trump’s iconic hairdo! What a privilege!
  • Trump will ban anime: “I love Japan—nobody loves Japan more than me—but anime is taking away jobs from our American animators. We make the best animation in the world. We don’t need anime. Anime is watering down America. We need to make animation great again. And anime is just weird, just really weird. Those Pokémonsters and giant robots—unhinged, really unhinged. No more anime. Let’s keep America safe.”

Unlike President Obama, Trump is probably not an anime fan. (For the record, President Obama isn’t actually an anime fan, which is a shame.)

  • As compensation for C.S. Lewis’s blatant plagiarism of the Trump name for one of his own characters, Trumpkin the dwarf, Trump will demand royalties for all copies sold of The Chronicles of Narnia.
  • Trump’s likeness will replace the current pictures of famous Americans on all existing denominations of US currency.
  • By decree of Trump, all American manuscripts of historical significance will be subjected to a barrage of painstaking examinations and scientific tests: “There’s a map hidden on the back of the Declaration of Independence. I know there is; I saw it in a documentary this one time. There’s a treasure map, and that treasure belongs to the American people. It’s a travesty, a total travesty, that nobody’s found it yet.”

National Treasure is a great, um, documentary?

  • Trump will decree that all seasonal autumn flavors must be renamed Trumpkin Spice. (I must give due credit to Lauren Faust on Twitter for this one.)
  • Trump will deport everyone except himself, his family, and his personal staff, reducing the US population to dozens. Overpopulation solved, baby.
  • Trump will commission the construction of a national monument for himself. It will be orange.

God bless America. We’re going to need it.

476. Let’s Think of Better Fall Flavors than Pumpkin Spice

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Summer is fading into autumn, and we all know what that means: pumpkin-flavored everything.

brace-yourselves

More specifically, autumn brings pumpkin spice-flavored everything. The difference is important. As certified snackologist Mike Fahey points out, pumpkin spice is generally a mixture of cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, and allspice. These spices are carefully blended in order to mask the taste of actual pumpkin. Mr. Fahey puts it bluntly: “Pumpkin spice is the name for a combination of spices used to make pumpkin taste less horrible.”

I live in the United States, where the fall season happens every single year. It’s awful. The chilly weather, drab colors, and gaudy Halloween merchandise are bad enough; the pumpkin spice craze just adds insult to injury. Every year, as the weather turns painfully cold and Americans celebrate strange pumpkin rituals, I wonder why I ever left the tropics. Ecuador, my homeland, isn’t flooded by freezing temperatures and pumpkin spice-flavored products year after year. What self-destructive, Lovecraftian madness brought me back to Indiana four years ago?

What even started America’s obsession with pumpkin spice? I don’t know, but there are theories. Wikipedia tells me it started in the early aughts, and that Starbucks is to blame.

My favorite theory comes from Nerd Rage, a webcomic about angry nerds.

Seriously, though, this pumpkin spice craze needs to stop. It tinges everything from candles to Oreos to coffee—and when coffee is at stake, I can’t just sit and do nothing.

(For the record, I don’t dislike the pumpkin spice flavor. I’m just tired of it. We need something new!)

Here, then, are some suggestions for alternatives to pumpkin spice. Here are other autumn-appropriate flavors for candy, cookies, coffee drinks, and everything else.

Apple cinnamon

Apples are amazing. Since they’re gathered in the fall, and popular ingredients for cold-weather treats such as pies and dumplings, apples are a perfect flavor for autumn. Just add cinnamon for touch of spicy warmth, and lo! Not only is the apple cinnamon flavor delicious, but evocative of cozy kitchens and fall harvests.

S’more

Autumn is the perfect season for bonfires, which also makes it perfect for toasting marshmallows. As I grew up in Ecuador, marshmallows were a rare and delectable treat. (I speak of genuine, toastable marshmallows, mind you, not of the fake, dissolve-into-pink-syrup-upon-contact-with-heat “marshmallows” on Ecuadorian store shelves.) Yes, I love marshmallows. Add chocolate and graham crackers, two hearty ingredients ideal for chilly weather, and you have the s’more.

Nothing says autumn like s’mores.

Marshmallows and chocolate have the added advantages of melting in heat, making them perfect for cookies, brownies, and other baked treats. In cold weather, nothing beats a hot, gooey mess of marshmallows and chocolate.

Gingerbread

The taste of gingerbread is basically identical to the pumpkin spice flavor, but with a hint of molasses and no clichéd association with pumpkins. It’s a win-win!

Maple sugar

Maple is a strong, sweet, distinct flavor that lends itself beautifully to baking and confectionery. Since the leaves of the maple tree are famous for their stunning autumn colors, maple sugar (or maple syrup; take your pick) seems like a great taste for the fall season. And on the subject of maples….

Maple leaves

Maybe Japan has the right idea.

These actually look pretty tasty. I would eat them! (Of course, I’ve eaten such odd things as fried leafcutter ants, but that’s not the point.)

Fried leaves can’t possibly be worse than pumpkin, right?

Nuts

For some reason, nuts remind me of autumn. Is that a rational association, or am I just nuts? (Pun intended. I’m so, so sorry.) Maybe I’m weird, but in my mind, nuts evoke images of baked treats and fall colors. Nuts are not only terrific for baking, but underutilized for coffee beverages. Almonds, walnuts, or pecans complement coffee very nicely!

Fruitcake

Nah, I’m just kidding. Fruitcake is gross.

Colada morada

All right, I admit it: I just really want to drink this seasonal Ecuadorian beverage here in the United States. It’s tasty, and I miss it so much. My parents recently brought me back a bottle of the stuff from Ecuador, and I intend to cherish the heck out of it—and then to drink it, of course.

What are your suggestions for alternatives to pumpkin spice? Let us know in the comments!

The Cultural History of Sneezing

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There comes a time in the life of every blogger when he must write about sneezing. If you’re a blogger and haven’t yet reached this point, trust me, you’ll get there.

Sneezing has a rich and varied cultural history. In ancient Greece, sneezes were considered divine omens. (Of course, in those days, all kinds of odd things were interpreted as prophetic signs, such as animal guts and the flights of birds.) A timely sneeze was believed to be a thumbs-up from the gods.

Centuries later in medieval Europe, sneezes were regarded as potentially fatal. A person’s life was believed to depend on her breath. Since sneezing expels a lot of breath from the lungs, a person could sneeze herself to death, or so it was believed.

Calvin sneezing

Bill Watterson clearly understands the dangers of sneezing.

Superstitions linger around sneezing to this day. In Japan, for example, a tradition claims that talking behind someone’s back will cause that person to sneeze.

Although no one knows why “God bless you” is the standard response to a sneeze, theories abound. I’ve already mentioned the superstition that a person can sneeze himself to death; invoking God’s blessing may have been a safeguard against such a danger. Another theory claims the blessing was meant to prevent any sickness of which sneezes were an early symptom. According to yet another theory, sneezes were thought to exorcise unclean spirits, and the blessing was intended to keep them at bay.

In my twenty-something years, I have heard some truly thunderous sneezes. For example, a student I knew in high school—I’ll call him, say, Socrates—sneezed with the noise and abruptness of a gunshot. There was never any warning before his sneezes: no changes of expression, no sharp intakes of breath, nothing. Sitting near Socrates was like sitting on a landmine. You suspected an explosion might happen, but you never knew when.

Calvin sneezing again

In fact, Mr. Watterson seems a bit preoccupied with sneezing. God bless him.

My grandfather is a great man, and also the greatest sneezer I have ever known. His sneezes shake the very foundations of his house. They probably measure on the Richter scale. All jokes aside, his sneezes have made children cry.

Am I the only one to notice that looking up, especially toward bright lights, causes a person to sneeze? Why is this? Seriously, I’m curious and I want to know. Is it the light? Is it airborne irritants entering the nose at a particular angle? Someone should research this. For science.

This post was originally published on January 29, 2016. TMTF shall return with new posts on Monday, September 5!

427. Give Me Your Best Coffee Tips!

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I recently decided that I want to visit Seattle. By all accounts, this rain-drenched city is populated largely by coffee-obsessed hipsters. It sounds like my kind of place.

Seattle

Yes, I drink a lot of coffee. Anyone who has known me for more than five minutes is aware of this. For all of my jokes about it, the truth is that I do really love the stuff.

That said, I don’t know much about it. This is a little odd, especially considering that I’m something of an amateur expert on tea, my other liquid addiction. I even wrote a post sharing my best tea tips. When I considered writing a similar guide for coffee, I quickly realized I don’t actually know much about it.

Latte artAt some point, when I’ve shaved a mile or two off my reading list, I’ll find a good coffee guide. For now, dear reader, I invite you to share whatever tips, tricks, and techniques you have for brewing coffee. Give me your best advice. Enlighten me. I won’t guarantee that I’ll accept every piece of advice, but I’ll certainly consider all of it!

Now, dear reader, I humbly yield the stage to you.

What are your best tips for choosing, brewing, or flavoring coffee? Let us know in the comments, or tweet at me!

In Case of Fire, Send Email

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I have to work an extra day this week, so instead of writing a long Geeky Wednesday post, I’ve leave you in the capable hands of Maurice Moss from The IT Crowd, a superb British comedy series.

Here’s a safety tip: If there’s a fire in your building, email is probably not the best way to contact the fire department. (Trust me on this one. When you’ve worked with my typewriter monkeys for as long as I have, you learn a lot about fire safety.)

Stay safe!

Sandwiches

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There comes a time in the life of every blogger when he must blog about sandwiches. That day has come. This, dear reader, is my destiny.

I consider sandwiches the crowning achievement of humankind, surpassing such modest inventions as the printing press, the steam engine, and the Internet. The sandwich was bestowed upon the human race by John Montagu, an eighteenth-century British statesman. Montagu was the fourth Earl of Sandwich, and possibly the greatest man of his millennium.

I salute you, Lord Montagu. Long may your name be remembered and your namesake be relished!

I salute you, Lord Montagu. Long may your name be remembered and your namesake relished!

As the story goes, the Earl of Sandwich wanted to eat while working without making a mess. (A popular version of the story suggests Montagu didn’t want meals to divert him from playing cards.) He asked his servants to bring him meat between pieces of bread so that he could eat without using silverware or getting his hands dirty. Montagu’s culinary triumph was eventually named after him, and the rest is history—shining, glorious history.

I have had the privilege and pleasure of sampling many sandwiches in my twenty-something years. (Heck, I ate a sandwich just an hour or two ago.) The possibilities are endless. There are hundreds of varieties of bread, and thousands of ingredients to mix and match. Whether you prefer a simple turkey and Swiss on whole wheat, a sweet honey and butter on white, a robust blend of meats and vegetables on an Italian sub, or any other of the millions of combinations out there, there is a sandwich for you.

My personal favorite is the chivito.

As it is written, "Man shall not live by bread alone." I'm certain this ancient Scripture refers specifically to this sandwich.

It is written, “Man shall not live by bread alone.” I’m pretty certain this ancient Scripture refers specifically to this sandwich.

The chivito is a sandwich popular in Uruguay, where my parents live and work. In Spanish, the literal meaning of chivito is small male goat, which is a misnomer in the case of the sandwich: the Uruguayan chivito contains beef, eggs, lettuce, tomatoes, and occasionally mayonnaise, bacon, onions, peppers, olives, or cheese.

Chivitos are the best sandwiches I’ve ever tasted, and I spent three and a half years in college working part-time in a sandwich shop. I know sandwiches. The chivito is by far my favorite sandwich, and possibly my favorite food.

While visiting my parents in Montevideo, I dissected a chivito prior to eating it. For science.

While visiting my parents, I dissected this chivito prior to eating it. For science.

I haven’t tasted a chivito in years: my quiet corner of Indiana boasts no such exotic sandwiches. All the same, I continue to enjoy old favorites such as turkey and cheddar, peanut butter and jam, grilled cheese, and a variety of subs from local Subway restaurants.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need a sandwich.

This post was originally published on March 13, 2015. TMTF shall return with new content on February 22, 2016!

418. The Cultural History of Sneezing

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There comes a time in the life of every blogger when he must write about sneezing. If you’re a blogger and haven’t yet reached this point, trust me, you’ll get there.

Sneezing has a rich and varied cultural history. In ancient Greece, sneezes were considered divine omens. (Of course, in those days, all kinds of odd things were interpreted as prophetic signs, such as animal guts and the flights of birds.) A timely sneeze was believed to be a thumbs-up from the gods.

Centuries later in medieval Europe, sneezes were regarded as potentially fatal. A person’s life was believed to depend on her breath. Since sneezing expels a lot of breath from the lungs, a person could sneeze herself to death, or so it was believed.

Calvin sneezing

Bill Watterson clearly understands the dangers of sneezing.

Superstitions linger around sneezing to this day. In Japan, for example, a tradition claims that talking behind someone’s back will cause that person to sneeze.

Although no one knows why “God bless you” is the standard response to a sneeze, theories abound. I’ve already mentioned the superstition that a person can sneeze himself to death; invoking God’s blessing may have been a safeguard against such a danger. Another theory claims the blessing was meant to prevent any sickness of which sneezes were an early symptom. According to yet another theory, sneezes were thought to exorcise unclean spirits, and the blessing was intended to keep them at bay.

In my twenty-something years, I have heard some truly thunderous sneezes. For example, a student I knew in high school—I’ll call him, say, Socrates—sneezed with the noise and abruptness of a gunshot. There was never any warning before his sneezes: no changes of expression, no sharp intakes of breath, nothing. Sitting near Socrates was like sitting on a landmine. You suspected an explosion might happen, but you never knew when.

Calvin sneezing again

In fact, Mr. Watterson seems a bit preoccupied with sneezing. God bless him.

My grandfather is a great man, and also the greatest sneezer I have ever known. His sneezes shake the very foundations of his house. They probably measure on the Richter scale. All jokes aside, his sneezes have made children cry.

Am I the only one to notice that looking up, especially toward bright lights, causes a person to sneeze? Why is this? Seriously, I’m curious and I want to know. Is it the light? Is it airborne irritants entering the nose at a particular angle? Someone should research this. For science.

Zen and the Art of Baking Muffins

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Today’s post was written by my dear dad. When he’s not being an awesome missionary or drawing pictures of monkeys, he spends a fair bit of time in the kitchen… on occasion, actually cooking. Following is a list of practical tips á la Steve Smith (of Red Green fame) compiled during my dad’s first attempt at baking zucchini muffins.

1. It’s always good to find a recipe that includes instructions as well as ingredients, unless you’re really good at culinary improvisation.

2. Whatever your temperament, stress can be avoided by removing the battery from the smoke detector before starting.

3. It saves time to search for ingredients where you’d least expect to find them first.

4. If, like myself, you hate washing muffin pans, use small cake pans instead. A muffin is a muffin, irrespective of size or shape.

5. They may look the same and share a first name, but baking powder and baking soda are not interchangeable. Also, if you end up (through no fault of your own) dumping in a whole teaspoon instead of the requisite half, you can skim most of the baking soda (or powder, as the case may be) off the top of the mix with a teaspoon. This maneuver grows steadily more complicated in direct proportion to the amount of time it takes for you to notice your mistake.

6. Throw in some raisins. That way, if your muffins turn out really gooey, you can always pass them off as bread pudding.

7. Mixing the batter by hand (i.e. with your fingers) guarantees a smooth blend, saves wear-and-tear on kitchen utensils, and makes for less washing up later. Another small economy: After dealing with the zucchini, keep the vegetable grater handy. You can use it to scrape the finished product out of the pans at the end and save yourself the trouble of messing with a spatula.

8. If your kitchen, like mine, doesn’t boast hot running water and you happen to be boiling broccoli while you bake, drain the vegetable water into the mixing bowl with a little detergent (after removing the batter, of course) for effective pre-wash, grease-removing action.

9. Some gas ovens refuse to light unless you hold the control knob down for a bit. (Contentious old buzzards, what?) Apparently, this information can be found in the “manual,” whatever that is.

10. If your oven isn’t spacious, your pans may tilt. This transforms the contents into something akin to the windswept dunes of the Sahara Desert. Caught in time, however, a judicious readjustment will return your muffin batter to the smooth, flat Death Valley it was meant to be—a strictly topographical reference, naturally.

11. Dish towels double very nicely as hot-pads as long as (a) your wife is well out of range, (b) you can take second-degree burns like a man and (c) you’ve remembered to remove the smoke-alarm battery as per Step 2.

12. Muffins in the oven can bubble like the Ugbischú Tar Pits. How cool is that?

13. If the recipe neglects to elucidate upon the precise temperature of your oven or the exact baking time, dial the knob around to about eight o’clock and then shut the blighted thing down when the finish goes from glossy to matte—I refer to the muffins, of course, not the paint on the stove.

14. If you’re out of toothpicks, a sliver from the wicker basket in the laundry room works just as well… especially if you haven’t the foggiest idea what the point of sticking it in the muffins is anyway.

15. There are very few baking errors that can’t be effectively masked by the generous application of melted butter, brown sugar and cinnamon before giving away your baked goods—or in the less fortunate cases, baked bads—to neighbors.

And remember that you’ll always have recourse to the admirable advice enshrined in the official motto of the Possum Lodge:

QUANDO OMNI FLUNKUS MORITATI

When all else fails play dead

This post was originally published on March 21, 2014. TMTF shall return with new content on August 24, 2015!

353. Apples

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In the past few years, apples have gradually taken over my life. It began innocently enough. I began buying apples as a healthy snack. The next thing I knew, I was eating applesauce every morning with breakfast, drinking apple cider most evenings, and occasionally snacking on apple pie. Just as the first Adam was enticed by the fruit of Eden, so this Adam seems to have ensnared by apples.

Honestly, I never meant to become an apple aficionado. The fruit crept stealthily into my diet, and it was only a month or two ago that I realized how much of my daily intake was apple-based. I suppose there are worse vices.

My kitchen is perpetually stocked with apples.

This is basically what my kitchen counter looks like. (I may be exaggerating just a bit.)

After realizing my fondness for apples, I resolved to find the perfect variety. I had favored Gala apples for a couple of years, having chosen them over other varieties simply because I liked the name. It was time for me to abandon old habits and explore new possibilities. It was a journey—the Quest for the Perfect Apple.

From the start, I shunned Red Delicious apples. These deceptively-named fruits are disgusting. Their thick, bitter skins cover fruit with the texture of wet cardboard and no particular flavor. I also avoided Granny Smith apples. These emerald-green fruits are perfect for baking, but too sour to eat raw.

Thus my quest began with Jazz apples, which were tart but tough. I moved on to Pink Lady apples. These were more yellow than pink, and not particularly tasty. As much as I wanted to try Fuji apples, which are renowned for their sweetness and crispness, I couldn’t find any at the local grocery store.

In the end, I returned to Gala apples. These crisp, sweet, nice-smelling fruits are tasty, healthy, and relatively inexpensive. I average about one apple daily. “An apple a day keeps the doctor away,” and doctors have kept their distance so far. (There is one Doctor I wouldn’t mind meeting, but he once claimed that “apples are rubbish,” so I’m not sure we would get along.)

I’ve already mentioned my liking for applesauce and pie; I also enjoy apple butter, fritters, and dumplings. For a few wonderful, all-too-short weeks every year, a nearby Amish market sells fresh-pressed apple cider by the gallon. There are a ridiculous number of ways to enjoy this delicious fruit.

In conclusion, apples have really grown on me. (Pun intended. I’m sorry.) I am an apple fanatic to the core. (I’m so sorry.) In this case, the phrase “Adam’s apple” is perfectly apple-poe—I mean, apropos. (I’m so, so sorry.) If you disbelieve my fondness for the fruit, this blog post is full of examples—just check out them apples! (I’m so, so, so sorry.) I hope these puns haven’t left any of my readers upset or apple-plectic—apoplectic, I mean. (I’m so… never mind.)

For the record, bananas and avocados are also pretty good.