I, like most Americans, cheered the technological breakthrough that brought us squeeze mayonnaise. Thanks to the squeeze bottle, I would never again face the horror of sticking a knife into a jar of mayo, only to discover a six-week-old fragment of chunk light tuna that used to be swimming in natural spring water.
But here's the problem: Squeeze mayonnaise is a diabolical plot, masterminded by Hellmann's (and probably Halliburton) to increase mayonnaise sales.
They make it look legitimate with words like "E-Z Squeeze" and a label that's applied so as to be upright when the bottle rests on its cap. And at first, one little squeeze delivers a perfect portion of mayo. Don't be fooled! This condimentary utopia is a swiftly fading mirage.
Even though it may be resting on its lid in the fridge for a month, the mayo inside refuses to yield to gravity after less than half the bottle has been emptied. First, you try to shake it. But that mayo has stronger adhesive properties than colon polyps. Sometimes a stray dollop shakes loose, only to be ejected from the bottle by your violent shaking. This projectile mayonnaise (or "projectaise") is inexplicably drawn to trousers and/or mail. At this point, you think there's enough near the bottle exit to squeeze on your burger. But after only a fraction of an ounce crawls out, an air bubble is released with the escape velocity of a Saturn V rocket, spraying a fine mist of mayonnaise (or "mistaise") over a six square foot area.
Angry and in need of new pants, you figure you'll just take the lid off and use a knife. HA! That lid is harder to remove than a truck bumper. It's designed with a locking latch and secured with Krazy Glue, solder and carpet tacks. It's the exact same lid mechanism they use for spent uranium rods. You're not getting inside that bottle without the jaws of life.
Eventually, you give up and throw out 40% to 60% of the mayonnaise you bought, then run out and buy more. Meanwhile, the fiends at Hellmann's (and probably Goldman Sachs) laugh all the way to the bank.
But I'm on to your sinister game, Mr. Hellmann (and probably Mr. Bin Laden). I'm going back to the jar, tuna be damned.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Monday, November 2, 2009
Note to MLB: HURRY UP!!!
If there's one thing this year's World Series is long on, it's length. Each game has been nearly three and a half hours long, regardless of the final score:
Yes, there have been a couple of high-scoring affairs there, but even game two which totaled only four runs was nearly 3.5 hours long. Compare that to this:
There is one category, however, where this year's games all come up short: drama. On October 13, 1960, there was barely time to breathe between twists and turns. This year, there's time to visit the fridge, check email, tuck in the kids, run to the store and take part in a webinar. No wonder America is tuning out in droves.
A bigger problem that MLB seems unable to comprehend much less address is that the next generation of fans can't watch the games because they start so late and last so painfully long. On school nights. IN THE SECOND MARKING PERIOD.
In 1960, game seven started at one o'clock in the afternoon. So loved was the game of baseball that kids skipped school to watch it or smuggled transistor radios into school to catch the action as it happened. Now, they're lucky to be awake when the second inning starts, much less for the final out.
If kids never see the final act of the baseball season, eventually (and this is already happening) they're not going to follow Major League Baseball at all during the summer. The only reason you follow a story is to see how it ends. And baseball's story ends too late in the year and too late at night for kids to get that satisfaction. Which, down the road already being traveled, might end baseball's story altogether.
GAME 1: Phillies 6, Yankees 1
Hits: 15
Pitchers: 7
Time: 3 hours 27 minutes
GAME 2: Yankees 3, Phillies 1
Hits: 14
Pitchers: 6
Time: 3 hours 25 minutes
GAME 3: Yankees 8, Phillies 5
Hits: 14
Pitchers: 10
Time: 3 hours 25 minutes
GAME 4: Yankees 7, Phillies 4
Hits: 17
Pitchers: 8
Time: 3 hours 25 minutes
Yes, there have been a couple of high-scoring affairs there, but even game two which totaled only four runs was nearly 3.5 hours long. Compare that to this:
1960 World Series Game 7: Pirates 10, Yankees 9A game that featured 19 runs, seven pitching changes, 24 hits, five walks, one error and a timeout to drag Tony Kubek off the field was 49 to 51 minutes shorter than any series game played so far this year.
Hits: 24
Pitchers 9
Time: 2 hours 36 minutes
There is one category, however, where this year's games all come up short: drama. On October 13, 1960, there was barely time to breathe between twists and turns. This year, there's time to visit the fridge, check email, tuck in the kids, run to the store and take part in a webinar. No wonder America is tuning out in droves.
A bigger problem that MLB seems unable to comprehend much less address is that the next generation of fans can't watch the games because they start so late and last so painfully long. On school nights. IN THE SECOND MARKING PERIOD.
In 1960, game seven started at one o'clock in the afternoon. So loved was the game of baseball that kids skipped school to watch it or smuggled transistor radios into school to catch the action as it happened. Now, they're lucky to be awake when the second inning starts, much less for the final out.
If kids never see the final act of the baseball season, eventually (and this is already happening) they're not going to follow Major League Baseball at all during the summer. The only reason you follow a story is to see how it ends. And baseball's story ends too late in the year and too late at night for kids to get that satisfaction. Which, down the road already being traveled, might end baseball's story altogether.
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