The New Dews, Pt. 1: “Revolution” or “Mountain Dewl-Aid”

As you may have heard, dear reader, Mountain Dew has released three new versions of itself this summer for public consumption. This is part of their “Dewmocracy” campaign, which sounds more like a travishamockery to me. In any case, since I was recently on a lengthy drive and I needed caffeine, I thought I’d try one of the flavors; since I did that, thought I, I might as well try them all and review them for you. We drink experimental pop so you don’t have to!

Let us begin with nomenclature. Judging by the names for these three new flavors, the folks over at the Pepsi marketing department are fools. Our new flavors are “Revolution,” “Supernova,” and “Voltage.” Using only those names, anybody can tell what the pop tastes like, right? Right? I have never said to myself, “I’m thirsty. I could really go for something that tastes like a supernova.” Also, drinking Voltage sounds quite perilous.

That little rant aside, I purchased “Revolution,” which should be called “Blue Raspberry Mountain Dew” because that’s what it tastes like. For me, it tastes like Kool-Aid mixed with watered-down Mountain Dew; thus, J dubbed it “Mountain Dewl-Aid.” To be fair, I must point out that when I drank this soda-pop, I had previously imbibed a slushie from Sonic (yum). Consequently, this beta version of Mt. Dew had a lot to live up to in addition to its already iffy status, not to mention I didn’t feel like drinking anything sugary at the time. I just needed the caffeine.

Still, “Revolution” is not good. Unlike red Mt. Dew, there isn’t a lot of flavor here. You can tell that blue raspberry exists in the drink, but it’s not strong on the palate. Interestingly, the regular Mt. Dew taste is even less present in this pop, so I felt like both the Mt. Dew and the raspberry aspects of the drink were watered-down. In order to remedy this situation, Pepsi Bottling Co. has thrown in plenty of sugar. Sugary, semi-raspberryish, and barely Mt. Dew-y: such is Mountain Dew Revolution.

Perhaps it is called “Revolution” because it’s going to upset the public so much that they’ll revolt. All right, it’s not that bad, but you’d be better served to buy some regular Mountain Dew and mix in some raspberry Kool-Aid. That way, you could control the porportions of each. It’s certainly not worth your hard-earned money. Skip it. 5/10, C. The AQ editorial staff will review the other two flavors later this summer.

Did I forget to mention that this flavor has ginseng in it! GINSENG! Who wouldn’t buy anything that sounds as if it may contain some ingredient which may or may not be reputedly related to better health?

 

Flight

Pressed against the curved wall, I see the ground going by through my round portal. We pass another orange sign with a random letter that means something I’m sure, and make a final turn. The earth moves more swiftly now–plants and patches of grass flit through my field of vision ever more rapidly. Then the sudden rush that thrusts my body back and into my seat. The runway and landscape blur. Then the bump bump bump, a sudden gasp, and up. My stomach drops. The world out my window falls away quickly and becomes miniature. A few seconds more and the landscape arranges itself before my eyes into circles and squares of green and tan, with winding streams cutting through the man-made layout. A few more moments and the white puffs that were so lofty only moments ago drop beneath me; they seem suspended in a glass case for anyone to examine. Flight.

Perhaps it is because I don’t fly very often that I cannot help but be overwhelmed by flying every time I board a plane. I admit that there are many inconveniences to flying–lines, security checkpoints, money, small cabins, etc.–but how did these become the focus of our attention? We are among the minuscule number of individuals who have seen the ground beneath our feet with nothing to support us. Think of the thousands of years of ground travel and the billions of people who have looked up at the sky and wondered what it would be like. It’s barely been 100 years since Kittyhawk, and we think flying is a chore!

Airports are fascinating places. A few hundred years ago, an airport was high science fiction. A place near your house that will transport you anywhere in the world. Walking down a terminal is almost surreal for me. Here are some people going to Miami. Ten steps later, here’s a group bound for Pittsburgh, L.A., Washington, D.C., Seattle. There are others going even farther: London, Paris, Moscow, Sydney, Tokyo, Beijing, Madrid, Rome. Right now they’re feet from me; in a few hours, they’ll be thousands of miles away and thousands of feet up heading for a culture I cannot imagine.

I suppose that if flight were part of my job and I spent weeks away from home each year, I would grow tired of flying. We are very good at getting used to the extraordinary if given enough time. I long to travel more, and someday I’ll experience the headaches that accompany such trips. But for me, it’s still a miracle that a heavy metal object carrying dozens of people easily traverses thousands of miles at great speeds. I hope I never lose the thrill and amazement at takeoff.

 

“Pork and Beans” Music Video

I’m usually not a big fan of the music video. A song’s merit is measured in its sound alone; the music video is the parsley on the plate. However, Weezer’s latest release “Pork and Beans” has a hilarious video that is well worth your attention. If you’re like me and have spent far too much time watching YouTube, this one’s for you.

There are a lot of jokes I’m missing here, but the ones I do get are priceless. Love it.

 

Bring Back the Boo Birds?

Our culture is overly critical by default, so perhaps it seems odd that I’m even considering the idea of returning booing to the public performance arena. Truthfully, it feels a little mean to suggest it. We are never grateful for the many blessings we have. Why should we be more critical at theaters, sporting events, speeches, and concerts? My answer is two-fold: too many poor-quality performances are applauded and booing has an important function.

Before we get to the argument, let me begin with qualifiers. This is usually a bad way to begin, but I think we need to be careful in matters like these. Booing is a power negative statement, and it should be used sparingly. No one should ever boo at youth events, no matter how poor. Crappy high school plays, bad band concerts, poorly performing little league teams are not boo-worthy. The folks involved are young and trying their best (probably), and whatever they’re performing or doing is not their profession. I suppose you could boo referees in high school events, but be careful there, too. These refs are engineers or construction workers most of the time.

Onto the poor performances. I’ve been to professional events that were quite bad, yet the audience applauded one everything concluded. This sort of applause is counterproductive. Booing, when used well, can be a useful tool in letting the organizers of a given event know that the product put forth is recognizably bad. Hopefully, these folks will take steps to ensure future events will be better. And, though I hate talking about money, at professional events we the audience pay to see the performance. If I buy a car that doesn’t work, then I’m justifiably upset; the same should be true of paying to see a good show and watching a bad one instead. Additionally, if we’re discussing opera, ballet, theater, concerts, or sports, the event can be very expensive. If I spend $50+ on my ticket, I expect a lot and should receive it.

Secondly, booing will restore applause to its appropriate fuction, namely that of a reward for a good performance. An accurate gauge of audience opinion is the goal. We reward excellent performances with standing ovations, we clap for average ones–why shouldn’t the worst sort receive boos? In this way, the performers could measure the audience’s collective opinion. A “thanks for trying” ovation is a misrepresentation. If the given event sucks, why not say so?

Now we come to my reservations about this idea. First, there is the matter of taste. Lots of people have bad taste, though I suppose they could say the same of me. Thus, I do not trust the public’s opinion for most matters. These leads me to my second hesistation: given permission to boo, it is quite possible that we would abuse the privilege. I do not advocate frequent booing; save it for obviously and unusually bad performances! Refraining from clapping is another option.* Lastly, booing should never NEVER become violent under any circumstances at any event. If you’re displeased, let the performers know and go home safely.

If this post seems divided to you, dear reader, it’s because I’m divided on this one. I like the idea of being able to show your opinion of a public event regardless of what it may be, and I’m certain that applause has become an empty gesture sometimes (though not always). But if feeling like one can boo leads to further disruptions and hooliganism, I would much prefer the current system. Additionally, I distrust public opinion–call me an elitist if you must. In any case, booing, if used, should be used in small amounts and only for extremely bad performances. How’s that for a vague conclusion?

*On a related note, please save your standing ovations for amazing performances. I have and will refuse to stand if I think it’s not called for. Let applause be the expected outcome and use the other two judiciously.

 

“And/or Sugar?”

Yesterday as my wife and I were eating another yummy dinner complete with a refreshing glass of Squirt, I happened to glance over at the ingredients list of said soda pop. I think what drew my attention was the “Less than 1% real juice.” Naturally, I wondered of what the more than 99% consisted. First on the list was good ol’ water. Second was: “High fructose corn syrup and/or sugar.”

And/or sugar? How is it that the fine folks who bottle Squirt do not know what is in their beverage? Isn’t the entire purpose of the ingredients list to know exactly what is in the foodstuff or drink I’m consuming? What if it read, “High fructose corn syrup and/or cyanide?”

I am simply stumped about how Squirt employees don’t know what’s in their drink. Is there a giant vat into which corn syrup and sugar are poured indiscriminately? Maybe there are two vats, one for each ingredient, but no one knows which is poured into the bottle of Squirt as it passes by. Perhaps they received a shipment of high fructose syrup and sugar, but the containers came sans labels.

In any case, the “and/or” quasi-conjunction in a list of ingredients was most unsettling. One should try to avoid using “and/or” too often in any circumstance, but when it comes to telling me what’s in my drink, I’d like to be able to say for certain. Even so, Squirt remains one of my top five pops*.

*In no order: Cherry Jones Soda, Vault, Squirt, Cherry Coke, and Welch’s Grape. At least, that’s the list today.

 

Sebald’s The Emigrants

The question of what writers from the current time period have written lasting works always faces scholars of literature. However, this issue is impossible to resolve. Most critics think that the best judge of a writer’s work is whether it survives its generation. Since we are in our generation, we’ll never know what lives on. Still, one likes to think that certain texts and authors are at least worthy of immortal consideration, and for me, one such writer is W. G. Sebald. I first read Sebald a year and a half ago in my postmodern class when  we read Austerlitz. It is fascinating. Thus, I was excited to read more Sebald last semester when I encounterd The Emigrants (Die Ausgewanderten).

Sebald is a German writer born just after the second world war. Fascinatingly, his topic is inevitably the Holocaust. Sebald himself emigrated to England to get away from what he saw as the widespread denial of the German people. One can say (and others have) that his obsession with the atrocities of World War II is a kind of penance. I don’t know about that, but his treatment of the subject is ever poignant, sensitive, attentive and powerful. In The Emigrants is divided into four sections, each named for the central character in that section: Dr. Henry Selwyn, Paul Bereyter, Ambros Adelwarth, and Max Ferber.

With Sebald one always finds gravitas, beautiful prose, and haunting pictures. The gravitas is an extension of the subject matter, but it’s also more than that. Sebald is so careful in presenting portraits of those who have been destroyed by the after-effects of the war. All sections are told through “Max”*, a narrator who is and isn’t Sebald. He is compelled to track down the victims of the Holocaust and hear their stories. He seems so desperate for traces of understanding, and he seeks it in the lives of those who were overwhelmed by horror and loss.

The stories are fascinating and moving. These are people who loved, lived and then lost everything. All the characters are forever altered by the Nazi’s genocide. Though the sections are focused on their title characters, there are other characters whose lives the reader hears about also. Sebald plunges the reader into the past, moving from memory to memory–layers upon layers of reminiscence. The longest section (Adelwarth) has so many points of view that the reader gets lost; every character’s story merges into one flowing and compelling tale.

Sebald’s prose is uncompromisingly beautiful. One must also credit the translator of my volume, Michael Hulse. Sebald is masterful at portraying events and scenes vivdly and emotionally. As your eyes take in the words one sinks deeply into the lives and minds of the emigrants and those who know them. There are so many beautiful passages I could cite, but these two will serve. First, from the Ambros Adelwarth section:

Memory [...] often strikes me as a kind of dumbness. It makes one’s head heavy and giddy, as if one were not looking back down the receding perspectives of time but rather down on the earth from a great height, from one of those towers whose tops are lost to view in the clouds (145).

and another from the Max Ferber section, describing shipyards in Manchester:

[The ships] would slip slowly by, and as they approached the port they passed amidst houses, looming high above the black slate roofs. And in winter, said Ferber, if a ship suddenly appeared out of the mist when one least expected it, passed by soundlessly, and vanished once more in the white air, then for me, every time, it was an utterly incomprehensible spectacle which moved me deeply (166).

These moments of pure and tragic beauty are everywhere in Sebald. These are passages one feels.

Of course, I must mention the photographs for which Sebald’s prose is famous. Due to copyright reasons, I do not reproduce any here (you can get an idea from this post). The pictures are black and white, and usually feature objects rather than people: a curving railway, and tree in a cemetary, a journal, rafters in an enormous building, an empty drawing room, a polluted canal. The photos featuring people are also fascinating. From where Sebald got the pictures is a controversial issue, but it seems many came from pictures he found and purchased at random. The pictures alway appear in the midst of the text and usually pertain to the story or evoke a mood. To me, they further engross the reader in the world of the book.

The Emigrants is a wonderful piece of literature. It is a downer, as you may have surmised, but there are sporadic spots of humor that lighten the mood for a moment. I’m looking forward to reading more Sebald and definitely will return to this book and Austerlitz with zeal. 9.1/10, A.**

*”Max” was Sebald’s nickname. His use of it in the book, therefore, both unites (it’s his nickname) and distances him (it’s not his real name) from the narrator.

**In my journal I gave this book an 8.5 and an A-, which seems incomprehensibly low to me now.

 

Extreme Makeover, Lucy Edition

A week ago we took Lu-dog to get her first haircut. We had become very used to her appearance, which was mop-like in hindsight. The transformation is truly astounding, as you can see below. See if you can guess which picture is before and which is after…

Crazy, huh? She’s a pretty girl now. Plus, she’s much softer to pet. I think she likes it better, too, but it’s hard to get a direct answer from her.

 

Where Politics Meet Doggie Toys

The wife and I made a trip to our local PetSmart the other day to get some supplies for our canine*. On the way in, I noticed political dog toys in the shape of an elephant or donkey–take your pick. I can’t help but feel a little confused about which toy a strong feeling political person should buy.

There are advantages and disadvantages for either. On the one hand, buying the toy that’s representative of my party makes me feel like I’m supporting my party–akin to buying a t-shirt. I will also enjoy having the toy around my house because it reminds me of my party loyalty. Plus, by playing with the toy, I can pretend that if my dog could vote, squi would choose the candidates I would.

Of course I’m buying the toy so my dog can eventually destroy it. In time my party’s logo will be tattered, torn, filled with spittle (perhaps urine if one’s dog is poorly trained–mine is well trained), and will become garbage. I will have to throw the logo of my beloved party away. How shall I then feel? Perhaps it is better to buy the other party’s toy to sadistically enjoy watching my dog destroy it little by little. But then, I will have paid money to buy something emblematic of the party I dislike.

Since I generally try to keep politics out of my home and I don’t want to waste money, I wouldn’t have purchased such a toy anyway. But if I had wanted to, I don’t know which I would have chosen: support my party and watch my dog kill it, or enjoy the destruction while daily having the other party’s logo in my own home. What is a politically-minded dog-toy-buying person to do?

*We bought the coolest whale squeaky toy ever, which Lu subsequently ruined by Monday night. Grrr.

Non sequitur: While searching for in search of an image of the toys discussed above, I found a funny website: To which party does your dog belong?

 

Flatirons Plays DMB

I didn’t need any further proof that my church is really cool, but last week Flatirons gave me some anyway. While J and I were taking a much needed mini-break in Breckenridge, the Flatirons worship team played Dave Matthews Band’s “Where Are You Going?” for the weekend services. How cool is that? This isn’t the first time our church has used contemporary songs to highlight a theme* in the service. We’ve heard “Rocket Man” and “How to Save a Life” among others, but nothing is as cool as going to church and hearing your favorite band! That is, it would have been cool had I been there.

You can watch the video of the service here. The message was good as well, if you feel like listening to it. If you want to watch the DMB cover, it’s a couple songs in immediately past the announcements video. My church is awesome!

*In case you wondered, they used the lyrics “where you are is where I want to be” as an echo of our desire to do God’s work and be wherever he is.

 

Cinnamon Bun Coffee-Mate

Here at Ahab’s Quest we pride ourselves on staying abreast of the latest in Coffee-Mate flavorology. Naturally, when we saw a the new Cinnamon Bun flavor at our local Super Target, we couldn’t say no. I should begin by saying that I’m not a huge cinnamon guy. I do enjoy cinnamon-flavored food stuffs on occasions, but despite Jerry’s great line in “The Dinner Party,”* I haven’t found cinnamon all that great. However, I do love cinnamon rolls, so I was ready for anything.

What really intrigued me about this flavor was the “bun” aspect. Anybody can make something taste like cinnamon, but to make something liquid taste like something cinnamon, sweet and and made of dough? I had my doubts. When I first tried it, I thought it nothing extraordinary. It tasted like cinnamon with a little undefinable something else thrown in. The next day, though, I added more ‘Mate to my morning coffee and–lo and behold!–it tasted like a cinnamon bun.

How they accomplished this feat, I know not. With the Cinnamon Bun CM in my coffee, it tastes somewhat like I just dunked a cinnamon roll into my coffee, which is something I love to do anyway. One tastes the cinnamon bunny-ness, but it’s never overwhelming. If I liked cinnamon in general, I’m sure I would love this flavor. As it is I still enjoy it, though it’s not one of my favorites. The flavor of the ‘Mate is fine, but I wish I didn’t have to put so much into my morning brew. The best flavors are yummy whether the amount of creamer is large or small. Still, I’m planning to add it to my general rotation. 7.2/10, B.

Take my word on it, reader: it’s worth a try, even if you buy only one bottle.

*Jerry: I beg your pardon? Cinnamon takes a back seat to no babka. People love cinnamon. It should be on tables at restaurants along with salt and pepper. Anytime anyone says, “Oh This is so good. What’s in it?” The answer invariably comes back, “Cinnamon”. “Cinnamon”. Again and again. Lesser babka - I think not.