Iggernance doesn't sell

Why is it that advertisers seem to think we're all ignorant schmucks who missed out on all the major advances of the twentieth century?

I'm talking, today, about a certain automobile manufacturer which, in its ads run during the tennis matches today, touts the "new" safety feature, wherein the vehicle's frame has some sections collapse on impact, while other parts of the frame remain rigid.

Well, now, I suppose that would be novel, if safety engineers hadn't invented the crumple zone for cars back in the 1950s!

So, now, I'm supposed to be impressed at this "innovation". Ooooh. Ahhh. Lookit me I'm dancin' with excitement.

Sheesh.

In one of those investment companies' advertisements, the voice-over guy says, "some things need to be percise..."

Apparently, proper enunciation isn't one of them.

So, let me get this straight...

Am I to understand that it's okay for the government to tell me what I should and shouldn't eat (sody-pop, Big Mag, or whatever), even though it really affects only my own comfort; and the government can tell us what medical treatments are appropriate for hospice care (disallowing heroin, e.g. to those with pain which can only be treated with opiates and opioids); and the government can force private companies to fire employees, redistribute the proceeds from shares -- taking them from honest shareholders (many of them pensioners whose shares are part of their 401(k) ) and handing the money and controls to democrat pals in the unions; and the federal government thinks it can require private doctors and hospitals to perform operations which are, in their view, immoral, indecent and homicidal, and require private insurance companies to pay for the same; and the federal government thinks it can tell us what, where, and how to teach our children; and the federal government thinks it can put a knee-jerk ban on exploring and drilling for much-needed fossil fuels in the Gulf of Mexico, regardless of the safety records of those other companies whose drilling rights had already been federally- and state-approved; and the federal government is attempting to tell us what and how we can communicate via electronic media; and the local government has denied permission for a Greek Orthodox church which had stood near Ground Zero and was forced to move due to 9/11-related damage, to return to their original site, and we're told that's an appropriate decision; but when a bunch of in-your-face anti-U.S.-Constitution asshats who support terrorism and terrorists (and has the support of terrorist groups like Hamas) wants to build a middle-finger-flipped-at-decency, dance-on-the-graves-of-3000-murder-victims, "victory"-advertising mosque on hallowed ground in NYC while giving political lip-service to "tolerance", the administration says it's none of their business, or, more importantly, none of ours?

Tell me I'm just confused.

A little more Fra Hubbard on Unions...

As I posted yesterday, I bought a lovely pamphlet at auction. The document is a century old, and, startlingly enough, the more things change over such time, the more they stay the same... Elbert Hubbard had quite a moment expressing himself on the subject of labor union demands.

I posted the first section of that pamphlet on my Friday's Klips blog.

I have now posted part two of that same document, here, at Friday's Klips.

Here's another sample, to whet your appetite:

We long ago decided not to be ruled by a person in England, or a man in Italy. The Anglo-Saxon is a transplanted Teuton, with a dash of hardy Norse in his fiber that makes slavery for him out of the question. In every land upon which he has placed his foot, he has found either a throne or a grave. ¶ When those Norsemen with their yellow hair flying in the breeze sailed up the Seine, the people on the shore called to them in amazement and asked, "Where are you from and who are your masters?"

And the defiant answer rang out over the waters, "We are from round the world, and we call no man master !"

To these men we trace a pedigree. And think you we are to trade the freedom for which we have fought, for the rule of a Business Agent graduated from a cigar factory?

Excuse this smile––I really can't help it.

Tell us, what do you think of Unions, Fra Hubbard?

I do my Sunday stint at auction here in my little corner of the universe, and today, I think I struck gold. Aside from a first-edition Twain "Tramp Abroad" (not in terribly good condition, but Mom doesn't mind, as long as the text is all there), I also picked up a set of three Fra Elbert Hubbard pamphlets published by the Roycrofters in AD 1910. The one I wanted most, I looked up to see if I could find a copy online, &, well, it wasn't listed except as something I might want to spend $7.95 (plus S&H) if I had it, and, well, this was too good to make people fork over cash to share an idea or two.

And so, today, I have posted the first half of Fra Hubbard's "The Closed or Open Shop?" over at Friday's Klips. I've done my best to copy it out faithfully, including his own paragraph markers (¶) (and any errors in spelling or typing are mine), but other details I have no way to copy save scanner and much more time on my hands. Still, I offer this lovely segment as enticement to those who would read a bold thinker's words:

When Unionism gets to a point where it dictates to the employer whom he shall hire, and decides who shall have the right to labor and who not, then Unionism has become un-American –– a menace too great to overlook. Unlimited power is always dangerous when centered in the hands of a few men.

The American Federation of Labor is controlled by eleven men.

These men are not working men. They may have been once, but now they live in the labor of others.

They undertake to manipulate and regulate the lives of those who toil, and take toll for their service. The result is that, being humans, they are drunk –– power-crazed by success –– and are attempting to run an engine fitted for fifty miles an hour at a speed of one hundred. It is the working out of the Law of Diminishing Returns. From being a benefit, the Labor-Union has become a burden. the few men who control the Labor-Unions have created a phantom in their minds called "Capital," which they think is after them and is going to shunt them into the ditch. They have frightened the laborers so long with ghost-stories that they have come to believe their own fabrications.

What shall be done about this insane clutch for power? Must we forever endure the rule of the Demagog?

Who is right in this question of "Labor versus Capital"?

I'll tell you : both sides are right and both sides are wrong. The capitalists of this country, for the most part, were once working men, and many are working men now.

And any laborer who owns a home and has a savings-bank account is a capitalist.

Solving a problem the old-fashioned way

Anybody who ever looks at me knows I like food. I like to cook. I like to eat. I like to eat what I cook. And, as a result, I like to get recipes and ideas from all over the place, for the day when I can afford to buy really good ingredients, instead of ramen noodles and the like.

It seems that most of the cooking sites I surf through (and a few of those who send me stuff in my e-mail) have decided that the summer heat has prompted everybody to want to make ice cream. Of course, not everybody has an ice cream maker. I have three different ones, of two distinct types, one of which is completely useless (the electric crank puppy I bought at auction is older than I am, and I wouldn't feel safe plugging it in to a d-cell). The others are the sorts for which you put a canister in the freezer and, when you're inclined, dig it out and occasionally give its paddles a crank. They're easy to use, a pain to clean up if you want to make multiple batches.

But I kept looking at all these bizarre solutions for ice cream making coming from people who think the only answer is a blend of ice cube trays and blenders or food processors. Nuh. Too much mess, not enough pleasure. And, I'm actually too darned cheap to invest in an effective food processor, when I could (and did) pick up a heavy-duty blender and a batch of very nice knives at auction for under $10. Sadly, I have no electrical outlet into which I can plug the blender, so I've had to lend it to somebody until I can afford to get an electrician to... heck, let's be real, until I win the lottery.

On the other hand, nearly every kitchen -- even my ill-equipped one -- has a set of inexpensive nesting metal mixing bowls, or a bunch of bowls that can serve the same purpose. Or, if you don't have a set, you can pick them up at a dollar store or some discount shop, dirt cheap. And they can be used for more than just this task, which makes them desirable, no?

So, anyway, as they used to do a century or more ago, one takes the largest bowl and fills it about an inch or so deep with ice and a little rock salt. Set in the center of this, the bowl a couple of inches in diameter smaller (you need a little room between the walls of the bowls), then start pouring in layers of ice and rock salt (be careful you don't dump salt, etc, into the inner bowl, or you'll have less-tasty ice cream), until you've made a good, icy nest...

Pour your ice cream concoction of choice into the little bowl, and then start to stir it slowly with a good wooden spoon, a heavy spatula, or whatever you have that's available (probably not so ideal to use a bamboo whisk, though). Stir the creamy mixture from the edges into the center, letting the stuff set at its own steady pace.

It's a helluva lot cheaper -- and easier to clean up -- than all those machines.

Still, I like my little Donvier Half-Pint when I crave my yoplait deeply-chilled and in a cone.