Yeast and Caffeine

To the left is a picture of USP grade "Anhydrous" caffeine. According to Wikipedia, "it may be synthesized from dimethyl urea and malonic acid."


UREA.


There are 3 achievements that every culture on the planet acquired so early in their development that one might be tempted to think that they are the prerequisites for civilization. They are Caffeine, Ethanol, and Bread (with an emphasis on sandwiches.)

Historical accounts and academic speculation suggests that ancient man woke up every morning, bleary-eyed and confused, and wandered around the campsite chewing on the landscaping in hopes that something would wake them up.

According to one popular Chinese legend, the Emperor of China Shennong, reputed to have reigned in about 3000 BC, accidentally discovered that when some leaves fell into boiling water, a fragrant and restorative drink resulted.

It is not revealed in the story why he was boiling water under a rapidly balding tree, but the British are certainly happy that he did.

An Ethiopian guy named Kaldi discovered that when goats ate coffee berries they got hyper. Most ancient culinary discoveries started with the phrase, "What are those goats eating?"

The west Africans gnawed on Kola nuts. Mayans had chocolate, which was probably the greatest reason for declaring war on them and taking all their stuff. North American Aboriginal Native American Indians boiled the leaves of a species of holly to make something they referred to as "The Black Drink." Awesome.

On to ethanol, the active ingredient in booze. Archaeologists have discovered evidence that quaffing was occurring as far back as 9000 years ago. This is not surprising, since it's just juice that's gone off. Really, all that was required for the discovery of alcohol was one really thirsty guy and a lack of options. Man, but once it was discovered, people pursued it.

Step 1: Try this on every other form of fruit juice.
Step 2: We ran out of fruit (note: get more grapes) Let's try um... how about grass seeds?
Step 3: Ok, now what? Think people! Um, potatoes? Cactus? Pine trees?!

Practically every form of food has had the, "It's good, but it doesn't make me loopy," test applied to it, and has come out the other side as an adult beverage. Mankind has yet to produce a true meat-based fermented beverage yet, but we are trying.

Bread, Tortilla, Naan, Pita, Matza, Roti, Bing (snrk).
Sandwiches, Burritos, Moo shu, Gyro, Shawarma.

Bread comes in many forms, all of them consisting primarily of ground seeds, liquid, and fat. Yeast was added early on, probably as a result of the above 3 step plan. (It's good, but did you try leaving it out for several days uncovered? It worked for the grape juice.)

And then the pinnacle of Lunch-science research (cue Also sprach Zarathustra) humanity across all continents considered moving the meat from beside the bread to inside the bread. The Sandwich was born, and was subsequently named after the guy who was probably the last person to think of it. Some guy in tights and breeches proclaims "I just thought about putting meat in bread!" while some middle eastern shepherds are wrapping drippy chunks of lamb in flatbread and saying, "yeah, way to be ahead of the curve there, Einstein."

Anyway, what I'm really trying to say is that I'm nearly done with story #1 of my 52 story New Year Resolution, except that it's actually a single chapter of a larger story. I decided to expand my definition to include chapters. Just so long as it is a complete chapter. No reason to get sloppy or lazy just because you can change the rules.

Something Yellow

Well the day went OK, apparently. According to Dear Wife, both teachers are about 12, but with cutbacks and budgeting concerns etc... and of course we're talking kindergarten and second grade. I'm sure by middle school the teachers are 18 or 19. Oldest Daughter made 3 friends whose names she listed off for me, and she somehow organized a play date for tomorrow.

Middle Daughter played with some kids.

Still, that's better than I expected. I hope that by the summer she will know their names and have some friends that are just hers.

She just reported to me that Youngest Daughter threw a thing at something yellow. I will fill in the blanks as my imagination sees fit.

I suppose it beats the textile factory.

The two oldest girls are starting school today. They are both very excited. It's a perfect real world example of the "ignorance is bliss" principle. Did you ever watch Firefly? Remember the Reavers? In my experience, kids in school are just like that, but without the cannibalism and psychotic murder. The teachers were at least attentive enough to disallow those. Of course, the kids I went to middle school with were notorious for being the biggest bunch of proto-felons to ever walk the halls. The teacher's were actually afraid of many of them. So were the students, and presumably their parents. I suspect that today their parole officers are a bit nervous around them too. I think the oldest will be fine. She's a lot like my brother, who never had trouble making friends. The younger one takes after me, however. People tended to raise one eyebrow at me, as a sort of standard greeting. I used to talk to my hand. My younger oldest daughter walks around in a cocoon of her own imagination, just like I did, and it is certainly not conducive to making friends. Or listening to teachers. I shall cross my fingers and hope that her experience is better than mine. Or at least that she's good at building character.

Low Resolution

I ought to resolve to write one story a week this year, but then I might feel obligated to do it. Sigh. I really should. I need the practice. Also, I need someone with a roasting fork standing behind me telling me to write. Most essays written by writers about writing agree on two things:

- There will be a gap of between 7 to 10 years from the time you begin writing and the time you begin writing stuff that people will pay to read

- Practically everything that writers write in essays about writing is crap.

The problem is, I figure if I don't spend those 7 to 10 years actually writing, they don't count.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not forcing myself to do something I hate to do. Writing is not like cleaning the toilet. Well, actually it sort of is. I love telling stories. Writing, however, is not telling stories. Writing is the work you do to tell a story. I like having a clean toilet, but cleaning the toilet is not having a clean toilet. It is the work you do to have a clean toilet.

Ok. Here goes. One short story a week. I should have 52 by this time next year.

Interestingly Evil

What makes a villain interesting? I can give you several good examples of interesting villains, or at least villains that I find fun to read:

Walter from the Gunslinger Heptalogy.

Zabulon (or Zavulon if you drink your vodka neat) from the Night Watch Tetralogy. (They're not words you get to use everyday, ok) Jubal Early from Firefly.

There are other villains who are just as, or even more famous, who are missing something that these guys have. For instance:

Sauron (need I even say from where?) Emperor Palpatine (some movie or another)

The one thing I see that each of the first three characters have in common is that they are all likable in some way. Walter is carefree and full of laughs, even if those laughs can drive a man to madness. Zabulon comes across like a kindly grandfather who just wants you to have a nice time and not worry so much about how the world is falling apart. Jubal Early is a dry comedian, who had the best lines in the entire tragically short lived show. They each have a certain charisma. We wouldn't want to be the victim of their evil intents, but it might be fun to have a drink with them.

The other two: just not nice at all. They are just plain evil and nasty and unpleasant.

So, why do we like the first three more. I don't just mean, why do we like the kind of person they are portrayed as. That's obvious. But why do they read better? This isn't a rhetorical question. I'm puzzling it out as I write. Any of those top three could carry a story by himself. The bottom two are simply a foil to the heroes. Is it just that they are more interesting? Ok, but what makes them interesting? Perhaps the contrast between characteristics. Charismatic and jolly combined with cold-hearted and evil is certainly an odd combination. Or is their a deeper psychological reason for our preference for this kind of character. Perhaps we like to see evil portrayed in a light-hearted manner. As Ralph the Creepy Lift Operator would say, Evil is mostly ok! That says something not so nice about the way my mind works, which lends it a bit of validity.

Then there's the other side of the coin. We like our heroes a bit Anti-Hero. Whose cooler, Han Solo or Obi-wan Kenobi? You might say Obi-wan, but what if Han Solo could open a beer with his mind? See? Just as we like our villains with a smile and a bounce in their step, we like our heroes full of angst, pouty frowns, and cruelty. Or at least harmlessly wicked.

Batman(DC)/Punisher(Marvel)
Captain Jack Sparrow
Riddick
Max Rockatansky, Mad

Is it because we relate better to heroes who aren't perfect? Is it because we think good is boring? Both?

Have I ruined your favorite book for you? I hope not.

My Air Has a Flavr

I'm still on the topic of dogs. When beginning any relationship, there are things you get to know about each other, and issues are uncovered. My dog has issues, some more serious than the others. Currently the most serious issue is comprised of aspects auditory, olfactory, and infernal.
It is late at night. My wife and I are quietly typing and/or reading and enjoying the peace, and Jack is asleep on the other side of the room, launching an assault on that peace. The sound is like 20 dinner guests eating jello out of champagne flutes. The smell is pungent and vigorous. It changes its character slightly with each iteration so that there is never any hope of acclimation. I fear he might be seriously ill, or possibly dead. I'm going to go poke him. Be right back


He's alive. He's also out of my bedroom. This is a move I support wholeheartedly.

Old Yeller should have pled insanity

At some point in history, men began the process of domesticating wolves. It is one of a long list of things that we are grateful for even though we haven't the foggiest idea what possessed him to do it in the first place. It's like Jello. Jello is great, but it started out something like this:

Researcher #1: When we boil all these cow hides and bones we get this wobbly clear goo.

Researcher #2: Yes, but can we eat it?

I can only imagine a similarly bizarre conversation at the opening of the canine domestication project.

Man: Hey, you know those big, hairy, toothy things that travel around in packs and kill just about anything they come across?

Woman: You mean the ones that ate my brother Carl?

Man: Yeah, those. How would you like one in our tent?

Somehow though, it worked. We gave the wolf floppy ears and a waggly tail and shame, and it gave us a pile of poo at the foot of our bed every morning, and unconditional devotion. We also made it absolutely puddle-drooling, pants-eating, nose-licking insane. Perhaps there is some fundamental rule at work: The closer a wild creature comes to being civilized, the higher the probability it will fall off its rocker.

My dog ate a plum tree this morning. We don't know why. I don't know if the dog knows why. If it could speak we might ask it why. I suspect the answer would be something like, "Bugs! Covered in Bugs!" or perhaps, "When is it time for pudding, nurse?"

The dog of my teenage years liked to eat rocks. The dog my wife had in college had obsessive compulsive disorder and was addicted to things that went "squeak." Attempting carnal acts on legs or pieces of furniture has become so common among dogs that we accept it as normal, without ever once asking why it would be normal. I have seen a lot of nature shows and Animal Planet specials, but have never once seen a video of a timber wolf romancing a tree stump.

Perhaps they were doomed from the beginning. I mean, it's got to be hard to catch a wolf and try to tame it. Perhaps these ancient geneticists were forced to work with the materials they were able to gather.

Wolf Breeder 1: So, which one do we grab?

Wolf Breeder 2: Well, that one looks pretty mean. I just saw him rip the throat out of a mountain lion. Those two over there all covered in scars and snarling; I wouldn't want to mess with them.

Wolf Breeder 1: Hey, that one just ate 5 pine cones and then shagged a porcupine.

Wolf Breeder 2: Grab him.