Summer fun food and drink - Breastfeeding in the upside down Universe · Thursday August 7, 2008 by colin newell
If you watch as much TV as I do (and it isn’t really that much…), what do you see?
Murder, mayhem, carnage, chaos, sadness, hunger, and death…
And that’s just what’s on Food TV’s popular, Chef Ramsay.
Tune around ABC, NBC, CBS or Fox… and CNN and you are assured of seeing a never ending body-count; kidnapping, gun shot fatalities, homicide, serial killers… all in mind boggling detail.
And yet when a woman feeds her baby, in public no less, the reaction from the surrounding public can vary from casual indifference to self-righteous indignation and utter contempt.
I mean, I would understand someone reacting with unbridled horror and revulsion if I pulled a Canada goose out of a giant paper bag and slit its throat with a K-Bar knife, tossing it onto a Hibachi on a busy street corner and serving it up with a tossed salad. That I would understand. A Canada goose, after all, is a sacred creature.
Breastfeeding, next to stopping at Starbuck’s for a double-tall decaf latte, is one of natures original methods of infant nourishment. So what is the big deal? Sure, breasts are sexualized on women – so what? It takes a deeply disturbed psyche to be perturbed by a new mom and her un-weaned young’in taking in a few dozen sips of Planet Earth’s first beverage.
So. It is with no surprise to me whatsoever that protests are popping up (or out) all over the place – At the H&M Store in Vancouver for example, where a young Mom was hustled into the back of the store by a brace of apoplectic staffers – shortly thereafter a coven of lactating mom’s showed up for a protest or circle squirt of sorts. God bless ‘em!
And Hey – Having worked at a University for over 20 years seeing virtually every square inch of male or female flesh exposed (especially this time of year…) all I can say (or feel) now when I see a mom and baby feeding is: “There is a happy baby and at least it isn’t crying…”
Maybe these weird folk suffering from breast aversion need to spend some flying from here to there on a jumbo jet filled with implacable babies screaming their heads off – if only to appreciate the simple joy, simplicity and honesty of that one moment – One mom, one breast, one baby… in perfect harmony and silence.
Summer fun food and drink - Starbucks in decline chapter three · Tuesday July 29, 2008 by colin newell
In the race to win a large slice of the Australian coffee market, Starbucks acknowledged experiencing the business equivalent of a blown head gasket. 61 “under-performing” stores to be shuttered out of its total Aussie portfolio of 84.
Starbucks ambitions to be Aussie’s caffeinated Billabong of choice and its subsequent yewey have left investors and speculators saying hooroo to share value.
Buggah. Explanation of some of the words above? Aussie Slang
With 15,000 coffee shops globally and 600 stores in the US heading to the long paddock one has to ask: Where does it all end? 12,000 employees in the U.S. could be flipping pages in the help wanted section – so what’s next?
In my opinion, I see this more as a stage of healthy weight loss – kind of like Marlon Brando shedding a few pounds… at least… while he was alive.
Ok. Maybe not a really good example.
Starbucks can afford to shrink a little when you think about it for a moment. What other business can you name, that when you look down your main street in your town… you see a Starbucks… and when you move your head ever so slightly to the left or right… you see another Starbucks. I dare say you would not find that with a McDonalds… or a Subway… or… whatever. You get the point.
Heck. Starbucks is more ubiquitous than Vitreous Floaters – and more common than the Head Cold – There is so much Starbucks coffee consumed in Seattle, Washington alone that the caffeine levels in Puget Sound spike measurably at 10:20 AM and 3:20 PM every weekday.
So they can shrink a little. Sure their share price is falling faster than a gray squirrel base jumping from the penthouse level of my apartment building. This will be a golden opportunity at some point in the near future. After all, we are talking about coffee here – a infinitely renewable resource – with a captive audience… hopelessly addicted… I mean dependent on a healthful beverage rich in… antioxidants… yea.
One other thing – Starbucks would be well served to abort the gut-bomb breakfast items – The TurboChef, a malfunctioning Star-Trek replicator type device that reconstitutes breakfast sandwiches made several light years from here is not a great addition to a place that is supposed to smell like coffee. If I want a Sausage McMuffin (made fresh and on the spot…) you know where I am going to get it from!
And the squirrel. He is fine. Terminal velocity for a squirrel is about 3 miles an hour. He dusted himself off, threw back a quad espresso and got back to the serious task of getting his nuts together.
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Summer fun food and drink - Pemberton Music Festival afterglow · Monday July 28, 2008 by colin newell
How is (was) the day after Pemberton Music Festival like Beijing (a mere 2 weeks before the Olympics)?
Answer: Pollution. Garbage. Clutter. Rubbish. Discards.
There are a handful of things that really get my goat… and one of them are the people that get all Enviro on the World, all Hippied out in their split-window VW’s (one of the most polluting vehicles on the planet) along with virtually anything else made by Volkswagen… girls who eschew shaving their armpits and dudes who eschew personal hygiene for a weekend… who espouse Groovy, Peace and Love all over the place…
And then litter the f*cking crap out of our pristine countryside.
What is wrong with you people?
A news clip showed the absolutely astounding detritus, flotsam and jetsam; $300 dollar tents used once. Camp stoves, still warm. Coffee percolators, still warm. Clothing. Sleeping bags. Un-opened bags of food. Discarded without a thought.
Begs the question: What is wrong with you people?
I am no saint, but these huge music festivals are quite literally the last places I would want to be on Earth – and one of the reasons has been illustrated above.
Yea. If I want to hang out with pigs, I will go to the farm for an afternoon…
And pick up after myself.
So. You do the same please.
Peace out.
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Summer fun food and drink - Let`s name the babies - that would be fun · Saturday July 26, 2008 by colin newell
A family court judge in New Zealand has had enough with parents giving their children bizarre names and did something about it.
Ok. Let’s get into it shall we.
I am, for all intents and purposes the product of the seventies. And for those of you, just joining us (quite literally… in the last twenty years or so…) let me just explain what I mean.
I think my mother and father are two of the World’s oldest hippies. And I dig that. I really do. They had the good sense to name me Colin… at a time when the name Colin was totally cool. And I am still good with that name. Like, totally.
But what the heck is with parents who have 3 sons and they name them Caelin, Coban and Calum? Hello. The last time I checked, there were more than one or two letters in the alphabet. And what is with this Celtic name shit anyway? My great grandparents, I think, were from Cork, Ireland – my folks and their folks grew up in Eastern Canada so I think I earned the right to have a cool Irish name… So go ahead, challenge my logic. I dare you.
Anyway. Anyone, I mean any two parents… so fuzzy brained to have 3 boys and give them all imaginary pseudo-Celtic names (starting with the letter C no less) need to have my Tony Lama encased leather boot firmly up their ass. Grr. Are we having summer fun yet?
Back to the lead story. People that name their children Sun Flower or God is my Judge (actual name from the seventies…) need to get off the Ganja and get with the program. Thankfully when most of us become adults, we can legally change our names to something that we really like – sadly, when we are kids (and we are generally merciless to each other between the ages of 4 to 16…) the damage is generally done.
So. I am Colin. And I am pretty well balanced. And I have never spent more than a few hundred dollars on therapy (in the 80’s… I mean who wasn’t!?) Who knows what that bill would have been if I had been named Amber Rose Tamara, Saffron Sahara or Tallulah Pine (Simon Le Bon spawn…), Fifi Trixibelle, Peaches Honeyblossom and Pixie (Poli-Eco-Idiot Bob Geldof) and the all time worse picks – Dweezil, Ahmet Emuukha Rodan, Moon Unit and Diva Muffin from music loon Frank Zappa.
Thanks Mom. Thanks Dad. You freaking old hippies rock! Thank-you!
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