Those Amish...I tell ya...they're a pretty shady crew as far as I'm concerned. Did you know that there were almost a quarter of a million Amish people in North America in 2010? There numbers have been growing for decades, and this puts them at an all time high. Is anyone else concerned about this?
Let's look at the facts for a moment. Amish people have consciously chosen to embrace a lifestyle that shuns modern technology, is not subject to pay taxes, limits the education of their young people to graduation of Grade 8 (no high school, no college), treats women as second class citizens, and proliferate large families during periods of global food shortages and recession. On the other hand, their highest values are family and community. Ok, I can live with that part.
What really troubles me is the possibility that the Amish are planning world domination right under our noses and no one is batting an eye. Let me lay it out for you...
First off, have you ever visited the Lancaster, Pennsylvania? This area of North America is a hotbed for Amish activity. As a keystone of the Pennsylvania tourism product, you can visit all sorts of Amish communities, farms, shops, etc. and purchase a wide range of Amish made goods. The Amish are hiding in plain site! Creating an image of themselves as a peaceful people, yet a novelty nonetheless. This makes you take your guard down. Just as no one believes that happy little mouse in Orlando will one day raise an army and attack our cities, no one believes those peaceful farmers selling the nice wood furniture will ever turn out to be hiding nuclear reactors in all those silos!
Secondly, what are they doing with all the profits from furniture sales? As mentioned, the Amish are not subject to most taxes, they grow most of their own food and build everything else they need. So where is this huge stockpile of cash hidden and for what purpose. The optimist in me will suggest that maybe they are hoarding it to eventually pay off the huge debt the US owes China just prior to China invading. However, the realist in me says that will just begin their ascension as overlords of North America.
The Amish cannot be trusted because you never know when they might turn on you. Despite placing family and community first and foremost in their culture, social groups have been known to split over the most trivial of differences such as the width of a hat brim or the colour of a horsedrawn carriage. Sounds pretty fickle to me! Fickle: Quick to change one's opinion or allegiance; insincere; not loyal or reliable. If there was a reason not to trust the Amish, there it is.
Here's another question for you...If you had to choose any time period throughout history to build entire culture around and blindly follow without question for the rest of your days, why choose a mid-1800 agrarian one? Why not something more exciting, like gladiators, medieval times or even pirates? Can you picture an Amish Pirate?
Friday, January 21, 2011
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Why my unnatural love for bacon is totally acceptable.
Is there anything more delicious than bacon? I ask you seriously, imaginary blog readers! Is there?
I can remember homemade Bacon, Lettuce and Tomato sammiches (yes that is the correct spelling) on Saturday afternoons growing up. Being called into the kitchen from a vigourous game of Star Wars, "riding bikes", working a lemonade stand, or just plain old "let's play guns". All of these activities took place outdoors, by the way, regardless of weather (did I just inadvertantly demonstrate I am old?). I don't recall being more excited for a Saturday lunch than when my mom made those BLTs. Fresh tomato, crisp lettuce, a thin layer of mayonnaise, all on toast, but nothing was more important than those delicious strips of porky goodness. BACON!
Flash forward several years and bacon is still an important staple of the refridgerator stable. House rule: There must be, at all times, a minimum of one unopened package of bacon in the fridge. You never know when it may be needed. Whenever you sit down to have yourself a delicious breakfast, bacon MUST be there. Whenever you're struggling for ideas on what to have for lunch, throw some bacon on a sammich, it's delicious! Whenever you're not sure how to make dinner a little more flavourful, put some bacon on top! Bacon is so versatile as a food, that it may be necessary to redefine it as a condiment in this new century.
Think of it this way; remember when Chuck Norris jokes were all the rage? Chuck Norris doesn't do push ups, he does "earth downs". Chuck Norris doesn't breathe, he holds air hostage. Chuck Norris counted to infinity - twice! And so on...take a look around the intrawebs and you will quickly notice that bacon is the Chuck Norris of food! There are thousands of products made from, or made to resemble bacon; wallets, bandaids, belts, hats, watches, everything! You'll find entire websites dedicated to bacon. Recently friends have sent me links to; A) a video of some guys wrapping a thanksgiving turkey in bacon (after stuffing a chicken inside and filling it with beef) and B) a photo from a diner in the United States where you can actually order "A Cup of Bacon - $1.99", which I'm assured goes down smooth with a big plate of syrupy waffles! Bacon is an internet meme on the level of Chuck Norris! This another reason why it is a great time and totally acceptable to be a lover of bacon! You can find it everywhere! Ah, what marvelous times we live in! Of course, the only downside about this bacon cultural coup is it's highjacking by hipsters. (shakes fist at the sky) "Grahhh Hipsters!!!!"
More often than not, my bacon of choice is Maple smoked bacon. Most of the time, once it's cooked, you can't really taste the maple, but it's during that cooking phase that the aroma of delicious wafts throughout the house and embeds itself in the drywall pores for future enjoyment. Recently I found some peppercorn wrapped bacon at the grocery store. I saved that special for Christmas Day, and it was glorious!
House Rule: Never let a slice of bacon go uncooked, it ruins it for later. When a package of bacon is opened, the whole package must be cooked at that time, and preferably eaten while watching football. While, it is slightly less acceptable to refridgerate cooked bacon for future use, it is allowed because bacon is delicious anytime.
Did you know that bacon is a great way to convert vegetarians back to eating meat? Yes, this is true. Anecdotally, many ex-vegetarian friends have indicated that the smell of cooking bacon is what eventually made them cave in to eating the flesh of animals once more. In fact, my ex-partner who had been a vegetarian for 16 years, began eating bacon after having smelled it cooking in our house every Sunday for 4 years. While this was extremely exciting, it did create a new problem as she then began to share my package of bacon every Sunday, limiting my socially acceptable weekly bacon binge. Although at the same time, it made my unnatural love for bacon even more socially acceptable in the household circle.
As alluded, I tend to reserve my bacon binges for Sunday mornings. I have yet to find anything better than cooking up a package of bacon, adding some eggs, maybe some toast and a tall glass of juice and sitting down to watch a day of football on television. As we roll into the weekend of NFC and AFC NFL Championship games, I have a fresh, unopened package of Maple Smoked Bacon sitting in the fridge, just waiting to be cracked open and fried Sunday morning. Delicious.
Reflecting on this post, and the points noted within, perhaps my love for bacon, which is totally acceptable, is not so unnatural after all. Perhaps it is the most natural love that exists. Perhaps if more of the world embraced a love for bacon, we would be able to avert all wars and disagreements and just share in the savoury flavour of a finely fried strip of bacon. That's why dreamers refuse to stop dreaming. Imagine, imaginary readers, a world of bacon. Yum.
I can remember homemade Bacon, Lettuce and Tomato sammiches (yes that is the correct spelling) on Saturday afternoons growing up. Being called into the kitchen from a vigourous game of Star Wars, "riding bikes", working a lemonade stand, or just plain old "let's play guns". All of these activities took place outdoors, by the way, regardless of weather (did I just inadvertantly demonstrate I am old?). I don't recall being more excited for a Saturday lunch than when my mom made those BLTs. Fresh tomato, crisp lettuce, a thin layer of mayonnaise, all on toast, but nothing was more important than those delicious strips of porky goodness. BACON!
Flash forward several years and bacon is still an important staple of the refridgerator stable. House rule: There must be, at all times, a minimum of one unopened package of bacon in the fridge. You never know when it may be needed. Whenever you sit down to have yourself a delicious breakfast, bacon MUST be there. Whenever you're struggling for ideas on what to have for lunch, throw some bacon on a sammich, it's delicious! Whenever you're not sure how to make dinner a little more flavourful, put some bacon on top! Bacon is so versatile as a food, that it may be necessary to redefine it as a condiment in this new century.
Think of it this way; remember when Chuck Norris jokes were all the rage? Chuck Norris doesn't do push ups, he does "earth downs". Chuck Norris doesn't breathe, he holds air hostage. Chuck Norris counted to infinity - twice! And so on...take a look around the intrawebs and you will quickly notice that bacon is the Chuck Norris of food! There are thousands of products made from, or made to resemble bacon; wallets, bandaids, belts, hats, watches, everything! You'll find entire websites dedicated to bacon. Recently friends have sent me links to; A) a video of some guys wrapping a thanksgiving turkey in bacon (after stuffing a chicken inside and filling it with beef) and B) a photo from a diner in the United States where you can actually order "A Cup of Bacon - $1.99", which I'm assured goes down smooth with a big plate of syrupy waffles! Bacon is an internet meme on the level of Chuck Norris! This another reason why it is a great time and totally acceptable to be a lover of bacon! You can find it everywhere! Ah, what marvelous times we live in! Of course, the only downside about this bacon cultural coup is it's highjacking by hipsters. (shakes fist at the sky) "Grahhh Hipsters!!!!"
More often than not, my bacon of choice is Maple smoked bacon. Most of the time, once it's cooked, you can't really taste the maple, but it's during that cooking phase that the aroma of delicious wafts throughout the house and embeds itself in the drywall pores for future enjoyment. Recently I found some peppercorn wrapped bacon at the grocery store. I saved that special for Christmas Day, and it was glorious!
House Rule: Never let a slice of bacon go uncooked, it ruins it for later. When a package of bacon is opened, the whole package must be cooked at that time, and preferably eaten while watching football. While, it is slightly less acceptable to refridgerate cooked bacon for future use, it is allowed because bacon is delicious anytime.
Did you know that bacon is a great way to convert vegetarians back to eating meat? Yes, this is true. Anecdotally, many ex-vegetarian friends have indicated that the smell of cooking bacon is what eventually made them cave in to eating the flesh of animals once more. In fact, my ex-partner who had been a vegetarian for 16 years, began eating bacon after having smelled it cooking in our house every Sunday for 4 years. While this was extremely exciting, it did create a new problem as she then began to share my package of bacon every Sunday, limiting my socially acceptable weekly bacon binge. Although at the same time, it made my unnatural love for bacon even more socially acceptable in the household circle.
As alluded, I tend to reserve my bacon binges for Sunday mornings. I have yet to find anything better than cooking up a package of bacon, adding some eggs, maybe some toast and a tall glass of juice and sitting down to watch a day of football on television. As we roll into the weekend of NFC and AFC NFL Championship games, I have a fresh, unopened package of Maple Smoked Bacon sitting in the fridge, just waiting to be cracked open and fried Sunday morning. Delicious.
Reflecting on this post, and the points noted within, perhaps my love for bacon, which is totally acceptable, is not so unnatural after all. Perhaps it is the most natural love that exists. Perhaps if more of the world embraced a love for bacon, we would be able to avert all wars and disagreements and just share in the savoury flavour of a finely fried strip of bacon. That's why dreamers refuse to stop dreaming. Imagine, imaginary readers, a world of bacon. Yum.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Why Powder Snow is Epically Gnartastic
As many of my imaginary blog readers are likely aware, my adopted home town of Revelstoke, British Columbia is getting absolutely dumped on by an epic snowfall right this moment. In the past 48 hours there has been 55centimetres of fresh, dry, champagne powder snow to fall in town and at our ski hill; Revelstoke Mountain Resort. This doesn't include the fact that it has been casually snowing since Monday (today being Friday) and the national weather office is predicting another 15 cms of snow today, plus 5 more on Saturday! This means almost one full METRE of powder snow within about 4 days or so. Epic!!!
So why is powder snow so epically gnartastic? Well, first I need to qualify this post by stating that there is no place more epic for powder snow than right here in Revelstoke. I may be slightly biased, but I doubt it. Ask anyone. They will tell you this is the place to be and this is the winter to be here. Is the powder epic because it's so dry, so fluffy, so soft, so plentiful, all of the above? Is it because everyone in town closes their businesses for the day and shreds sick pillowly lines at the resort? Is it because you can skid around town in your car and drift gracefully into the giant snow mounds? Is it because it's winter, and hey, if it's going to be winter it might as well snow, and snow buckets? Is it because gliding on 50cms of fresh pow with some nice big fat skis is akin to flying? Yes, yes to all counts, it is most definitely.
Yesterday was incrediballs. I too, closed the door to my office and took the morning to rip my skis into all the fresh powder. Even with a sprained ankle and sprained knee (the result of a "skiing" injury, see: post christmas party accident) I was not going to be sidelined on a day like that. Now that I think about it some more though, TODAY is also a "day like that" and I am, in fact, back in my office writing a blog post....I really need to rethink my priorities...
There's nothing better than floating your way through some pristine powder. You feel almost weightless as the snow splashes up in your face. Bouncing over pillows into deeper and deeper powder, it flows over you almost like smoke. There is no sound except for the sliding of your skis and the soft "fwump" of the snow hitting your chest. Transcendental.
So as you are imagarily reading this in an imaginary location not bless with epic amounts of gnartastic powder snow. Try to imagine what it's like to visit nirvana in the form of white fluffy stuff. There is nothing better.
So why is powder snow so epically gnartastic? Well, first I need to qualify this post by stating that there is no place more epic for powder snow than right here in Revelstoke. I may be slightly biased, but I doubt it. Ask anyone. They will tell you this is the place to be and this is the winter to be here. Is the powder epic because it's so dry, so fluffy, so soft, so plentiful, all of the above? Is it because everyone in town closes their businesses for the day and shreds sick pillowly lines at the resort? Is it because you can skid around town in your car and drift gracefully into the giant snow mounds? Is it because it's winter, and hey, if it's going to be winter it might as well snow, and snow buckets? Is it because gliding on 50cms of fresh pow with some nice big fat skis is akin to flying? Yes, yes to all counts, it is most definitely.
Yesterday was incrediballs. I too, closed the door to my office and took the morning to rip my skis into all the fresh powder. Even with a sprained ankle and sprained knee (the result of a "skiing" injury, see: post christmas party accident) I was not going to be sidelined on a day like that. Now that I think about it some more though, TODAY is also a "day like that" and I am, in fact, back in my office writing a blog post....I really need to rethink my priorities...
There's nothing better than floating your way through some pristine powder. You feel almost weightless as the snow splashes up in your face. Bouncing over pillows into deeper and deeper powder, it flows over you almost like smoke. There is no sound except for the sliding of your skis and the soft "fwump" of the snow hitting your chest. Transcendental.
So as you are imagarily reading this in an imaginary location not bless with epic amounts of gnartastic powder snow. Try to imagine what it's like to visit nirvana in the form of white fluffy stuff. There is nothing better.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Why Icebergs give me a feeling of peace and calm
Behind my desk in my office at work, I have an 8x10 inkjet printout of an iceberg. Recently, I also changed the main photo on this blog to that of an iceberg. For some reason, icebergs give me a feeling of peace and calm and so I've decided to explore that today.
As I recall, it started in a moment of frustration at work a couple of years ago. It seems to me, that there are lots of those moments of frustration, at what point do moments stop being moments, and are just "the way"? Anyhow, I was joking (78% joking, 22% serious) that instead of working, I'd prefer to just float away on an iceberg for awhile. Eureka moment! That was where it began.
The idea of floating away on an iceberg gave me those relaxing, electrical goosebumps like what you get when someone gently kisses your neck. My eyelids drooped a bit; suddenly I was visualizing myself on that iceberg and it wasn't nearly as cold as you'd think!
About the size of half a soccer field, there are enough peaks, crevices, crooks and crannies to explore and become familiar with, but it's not so big that I could permanently lose my toothbrush somewhere. Like all things, it would eventually be found and my oral hygiene would continue to be somewhere between mediocre and fine. There is a nice flat section were I can pitch my tent and set up a small camp area. Obviously, I carve a nice bench for myself into the iceberg for reclining. There's a nice little ice cave that I determine to be my bathroom for the duration of my trip, and since so much of an iceberg is underwater, all my waste will be collected far from my camp and frozen in a lower chamber of the cave without entering the ocean. Pretty smart huh? I picked a good iceberg and with that, I flowt away onto the mysterious ocean tides, letting myself drift where fate takes me.
I imagine that the iceberg, is cool but comfortable. It's quiet, there would be no other life on it except for myself and the occassional penguin that drops by for a visit. All I would hear is the creaking and gentle cracking of the ice shifting itself around, the odd pop of an air bubble in the substructure of the berg. The gentle lapping of waves is a peaceful and soothing sound that helps me fall asleep every night, as they delicately break against the iceberg under a limitless sky of ink black night airbrushed with more stars than you have ever seen before.
I will admit, I do not know much about ocean currents or "icebergology", but that doesn't really matter, does it? The ocean currents will take my iceberg where it needs to go, affording me views of magical coastlines and the occassional stop near a beach. The ocean will provide food, I can always drink pieces of my iceberg for hydration needs, and it will be, by far, a much cheaper option of sailing around the world over the purchase and maintenance of an actual boat.
So during a "moment" of frustration at work, I stare at the picture of my iceberg and I allow myself to imagine where I might float to and whether or not there will be a place to hang my hammock.
I think I will name my iceberg: Delilah.
As I recall, it started in a moment of frustration at work a couple of years ago. It seems to me, that there are lots of those moments of frustration, at what point do moments stop being moments, and are just "the way"? Anyhow, I was joking (78% joking, 22% serious) that instead of working, I'd prefer to just float away on an iceberg for awhile. Eureka moment! That was where it began.
The idea of floating away on an iceberg gave me those relaxing, electrical goosebumps like what you get when someone gently kisses your neck. My eyelids drooped a bit; suddenly I was visualizing myself on that iceberg and it wasn't nearly as cold as you'd think!
About the size of half a soccer field, there are enough peaks, crevices, crooks and crannies to explore and become familiar with, but it's not so big that I could permanently lose my toothbrush somewhere. Like all things, it would eventually be found and my oral hygiene would continue to be somewhere between mediocre and fine. There is a nice flat section were I can pitch my tent and set up a small camp area. Obviously, I carve a nice bench for myself into the iceberg for reclining. There's a nice little ice cave that I determine to be my bathroom for the duration of my trip, and since so much of an iceberg is underwater, all my waste will be collected far from my camp and frozen in a lower chamber of the cave without entering the ocean. Pretty smart huh? I picked a good iceberg and with that, I flowt away onto the mysterious ocean tides, letting myself drift where fate takes me.
I imagine that the iceberg, is cool but comfortable. It's quiet, there would be no other life on it except for myself and the occassional penguin that drops by for a visit. All I would hear is the creaking and gentle cracking of the ice shifting itself around, the odd pop of an air bubble in the substructure of the berg. The gentle lapping of waves is a peaceful and soothing sound that helps me fall asleep every night, as they delicately break against the iceberg under a limitless sky of ink black night airbrushed with more stars than you have ever seen before.
I will admit, I do not know much about ocean currents or "icebergology", but that doesn't really matter, does it? The ocean currents will take my iceberg where it needs to go, affording me views of magical coastlines and the occassional stop near a beach. The ocean will provide food, I can always drink pieces of my iceberg for hydration needs, and it will be, by far, a much cheaper option of sailing around the world over the purchase and maintenance of an actual boat.
So during a "moment" of frustration at work, I stare at the picture of my iceberg and I allow myself to imagine where I might float to and whether or not there will be a place to hang my hammock.
I think I will name my iceberg: Delilah.
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