Also The First Youtube Video

People are working on a method to transmit smells over the internet, and more shockingly, think it’s a good idea

Contrary to what you may be thinking, it's called Digital Olfacation, and it is absolutely a real thing.  There's even a conference on it this coming December in Japan.  The keynote speaker will be Doctor Nakamoto, who is the world's foremost expert on the topic. 

There already exists a prototype device to reproduce many smells, using a combination of 13 odor components sealed in tubes.  Combinations of these elements can apparently reproduce just about any olfactory sense possible to humans.  People are actually working on ways to make these things accessible over the internet so people can reproduce smells from around the world.  Because that's a good thing, for some reason.  

Here's the problem.  We're talking about the internet here.  Home of trolls, and Rickrolling, and Rule 34, and Youtube commenters.  I don't see any way that within hours, nay minutes, of this technology being made available to the public, that somebody doesn't spam their friends with farts.  

This is exactly what happened with the advent of the telephone.  Everyone knows that the first message ever sent via telephone was the iconic "Mr. Watson, come here; I want you," as spoken by A.G. Bell.  Fewer people know that moments later, the second audio message was sent along the same telephone line, and it was Watson passing gas into the microphone to Dr. Bell's amusement.  It's the natural progression of technology. 

Now I Want Chicken

In a bit of revisionist history, Cap’n Crunch teamed up with one of his sailors, Popeye, to make a chicken-flavored breakfast cereal.  It was terrible

Well, at least this time, Revisionist History is about fictional characters, so we won't get sued.  I still can't condone this.

The loyal readers have a right to know.  

They have a right to no further nonsense, is what I think you mean.

So anyway...everyone knows Horatio Magellan "Cap'n" Crunch, of breakfast cereal fame.  Everyone also knows the lovable Popeye the Sailor Man, who later went on to start his own chain of Fried Chicken Restaurants.  Did you know that Popeye was one of the crew of the S.S Guppy led by the Good Cap'n?  Well, these two astute sailors worked together for a number of years spreading their love of fine cuisine all over the world.  Not to be outdone by the cook of the ship "Hispanola" who's name escapes me at the moment, who had long since opened his own chain of fried chicken/fish/hush puppies restaurants, Popeye and Cap'n Crunch worked together on a number of culinary projects.  

Part of this expansion into the epicurean realm, Quaker Oats, the company already mass-producing the Good Cap'n's breakfast cereal commissioned Popeye to be the mascot for their own product, as seen in This Commercial From 1990.  While sales of Quaker Oatmeal weren't hurt by the nautical endorsement, it wasn't a boon for sales as Quaker was hoping for.  They decided to discontinue using Popeye as merely an advertisement, and to actively create a new breakfast product themed around the already successful Cap'n (who's product is also produced by Quaker).  The combination of Horatio Crunch's cereal expertise and Popeye's chicken talents resulted in "Popeye's Poultry Puffs," a crunchy corn-based ball cereal similar to Kix, but with the taste of chicken.  Really, it was mostly salt-flavored, like Ramen noodles, but was also available in honey barbecue.  

The only problem is that they were awful.  Unfortunately for Popeye (and his friendship with Horatio), the cereal tested miserably with the focus groups and never made it to the shelves.  Quaker offered Horatio Crunch a new long-term breakfast contract and a promotion to Admiral on the condition that he sever his working relationship with Popeye.  This resulted in a heated physical altercation between the Cap'n and the Sailor Man in which Popeye's right eye was permanently damaged (you can still see him squinting in every picture), and the two were never seen together again. 

Horatio Crunch was subsequently demoted back to Cap'n, given command of the Guppy again and sailed off into breakfast fame.  Popeye joined the long list of military-based chicken success stories (General Tso, Colonel Sanders, that guy from the Hispanola, etc.) by settling in Louisiana and devoting his life to his new restaurant.  The rest, as they say...is history. 

Now Who Do We Mess Around With?

In a bit of Revisionist History, Jim Walker and Leroy Brown teamed together to go back and beat up Willie “Slim” McCoy

Wow!  Theme Week last week, and this week starts off with a new Revisionist History?  Are you dying or something?

Nope.  I actually just had this idea for a Sametime Status quite some time ago.  I put it in the queue, but couldn't run it last week due to Theme Week, so you get it today.  Yes, one of the more popular features of the Blag here...

Popular with the lawyers, anyway...

...is the Revisionist History series, where we look behind the scenes at some of the more popular historical events and learn about what really happened. 

Or, Jeremy just makes up a bunch of crap.  Deciding which is left as an exercise for the reader.  Here's a hint...it's made-up crap.  

In this week's episode, we look at the aftermath of two of strangely similar songs both written by a man with one of the premier mustaches of all time, Jim Croce, "You Don't Mess Around With Jim" and "Bad Bad Leroy Brown."  In both songs, the main character is a notorious tough-guy with a fondness for gambling and getting in trouble.  Both guys end up getting in a little too much trouble and end up with a good old-fashioned butt-whooping courtesy of a guy named Willie "Slim" McCoy.  Sure, the lyrics of "Bad Bad Leroy Brown" don't actually specify who the other guy was, but trusted sources assure me that it was Willie.  

Usually your "Trusted Sources" are Wikipedia.  I can't even imagine where you heard this.

So, in the aftermath of the songs, both "Bad Bad" Leroy Brown and "Big" Jim Walker felt that they no longer had the respect of the patrons of their local bars and pool halls, so something had to be done.  They realized that while neither of them were able to do much about "Slim" (to the point where people were told that you don't mess around with Slim), that if they combined their efforts, they could successfully rid the town of their nemesis.  The plan worked to a T, and Willie "Slim" McCoy was driven from the town, never to be heard from again. 

Go Ahead...Ask About The Great Pumpkin. I Dare You.

In a bit of Revisionist History, the Pilgrims were never invited to Thanksgiving, but simply crashed the Native Americans’ harvest party

Awe geeze....this is how you're spending our Friday?

Through fun and whimsical education?  Yes it is.

Nobody's learning anything, other than how to get sued.  

Many of you know the story of Thanksgiving as it's taught in schools.  Of course, you've also been told the story of Christopher Columbus as it's taught in schools, and that's total nonsense, too.  (Aristotle had discovered that the world was round 2000 years before Columbus sailed.  That's exacerbated by the fact that 1492 was the year the Globe was invented, so that whole "proving the world was round thing is complete and total bunk.)  So, we all "know" the story of how the Patuxet tribe of Native Americans helped the pilgrims through their first winter in the new world, showed them how to plant corn and shovel snow off the driveway and celebrated the first Thanksgiving.  

Well, the real story of that particular Harvest Festival goes back a few more years to 1601, when the Patuxet tribe celebrated the first "Cornapalooza."  This festival, incidentally, is where all of the "___apalooza" festivals get their name to this day.  It was a big party where people would eat stupid amounts of food and carve their faces into pumpkins.  A quintessential American holiday if there ever was one. 

Shortly after the first Pilgrims landed at Plymouth, the first colonial college was set up so the more grown-up boys (Sorry, girls) could learn crafts like leather-working, metal-working, and cow-working.  With every college comes the inevitable fraternity presence, and the first Frat in the new world, "Alpha Alpha Alpha," was chartered within 2 months.  One day, several of the fraternity brothers were out in the woods and saw a Native American named "Tisquantum" walking around with a carved pumpkin face over his head.  They called out to him "Hey Squanto!" (which is where the Americanized version of his name comes from), and proceeded to beat him up and take his pumpkin for the purpose of putting it over their own heads, filling it with mead and drinking their way out.  

A great many gourdfulls of mead later, the frat brothers found their way to the Patuxet Cornapalooza tables.  They barged their way in, sat down, and devoured enough food to make themselves a little sick, watched the football game, then passed out in the turkey coop with feathers drawn on their faces in Sharpie.  When they awake the following morning, they immediately told the rest of the Pilgrim settlement of the giant party they were missing over at the Patuxet's house.  Both peoples celebrated Cornapalooza together, and the Native Americans gave Thanks when the Pilgrims finally left. Every year after that, the Native Americans celebrated the day that the Pilgrims finally left them alone and stopped eating all their food.  The day was made a national holiday somewhere in the 1870s. 

Now that's taken care of, Jeremy Is In The Office will be out of the office all next week while Jeremy does some ridiculous great circle tour of the Northeast US.  We hope everyone has a safe and happy Thanksgiving and we'll return on monday, November 26th with all new crap.  We know you're looking forward to it. 

It Was Baroque, And He Fixed It

In a bit of Revisionist History, Leopold Mozart wanted his son to become a nice, quiet lawyer

Well, at least this time, all the people involved in your Revisionist History are dead, so we won't get sued.  

Long ago, in a quiet little town in Austria...

Salzberg was a pretty large city, and was part of the Holy Roman Empire at the time, but go on.

A father was hard at work quietly preparing lesson plans for his position as a teacher.  This man's name was Leopold Mozart, whose son Wolfgang, had shown a particular affinity for music.  Like all parents, Leopold disapproved of young Wolfgang's musical choices, having been known to shout "Wolfgang, will you turn down that blasted orchestra?" at all hours of the night.  Little did he know that what he was listening to, the "noise" of its day, would be later known as "Symphony No 1 in E Flat Major," the first symphonic composition in Wolfgang's long career as a classical composer.  This near-constant battle began when the younger Mozart was a mere 8 years old. 

Over the next 7 years, Wolfgang would compose 12 more symphonies, each drawing more and more ire from his father, who promised to take his son's clavier away, later proved to be an idle threat.  Leopold would often try to draw young Wolfgang's attention away from music towards what he claimed to be a more noble pursuit, the rule of law.  His motives were misguided, of course, merely trying to have a quiet night at home without, what he called, "all that racket" coming from the child's room. 

Fortunately for us all, Leopold's methods were for naught, and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart went on to become one of the greatest classical composers of all time.  Sadly, Wolfgang never did gain the respect of his father, who for years to come, would occasionally bring a handful of Baroque musicians to the house to play Bach compositions for his son, claiming "See, son...now THAT'S what real music sounds like." 

       

Then we blew stuff up

In a bit of Revisionist History, the Declaration of Independence was actually signed on August 2, 1776, not July 4


Oh for the love of all things good and plenty. Again with these Revisionist Histories? You're going to get us...wait...this one's actually true.


Indeed. So, this coming week is the big Independence Day weekend, (Canada Day for our friends to the North) during which we celebrate everything that represents America. Among those things being alcohol, over consumption, and explosions. While you're blowing up your grill, then lighting fireworks, it's important to remember why we celebrate July 4th. The day we voted to declare independence...the day we signed the Declaration of Independence...the day Congress approved the wording of the Declaration of Independence!

It's quite widely known that the Declaration of Independence was approved by the Second Continental Congress in 1776. This was an entirely symbolic gesture, since the Colonies were under British control at the time, and Great Britain did not recognize America's authority to just decide they were a separate country. A whole war ensued, and the United States was not formally recognized as a sovereign nation until May of 1784.

That said, the Declaration of Independence is one of the most important documents in American History, since it was basically America's first foray into the "Up Yours" attitude that makes it what it is today. In fact, the largest section of text in the Declaration is Congress calling out King George III, specifically listing 18 different ways in which he was a jerk (One of them was broken down into 9 sub-sections). We celebrate Independence Day on July 4, but the actual Congressional vote to declare independence took place on July 2 (12 of 13 colonies approved, New York abstained). It took a full 2 extra days after the vote to complete the final wording of the Declaration of Independence, which was printed and distributed on July 4th. This is the last time the United States congress managed to do anything in a mere 2 days.

The actual signing of the document (including the famous "John Hancock" signature) took place after July 4, and historians seem to disagree on the exact date all of the signatures were finally in place. Some of the people who signed were not present at the July 4 Continental Congress, and some hadn't even been elected yet. All that aside, on August 2, 1776, all 56 delegates had signed the Declaration of Independence, and America was born. Happy Independence Month, everybody!


Jeremy Is In The Office will be out of the office from July 1 through July 4. We'll return on Tuesday, July 5 with all new Blaggy Goodness. Have a safe and explosive 4th of July, everyone!

Now "Hush"

In a bit of Revisionist History, "Smoke On The Water" was a deeply divisive song between Deep Purple members Ian Gillan and Roger Glover


Say, Jeremy...there's a lawyer on the phone...something about libel?


You know, you really shouldn't get so upset over Revisionist History. In fact, I'm Not Alone In Butchering Historical Facts.


It scares me how often I have to admit that you have a point.


Anyway...today's Revisionist History lesson is actually based on a true story. There is a radio station around here that seems to be great at Screwing Up Words In Commercials, and they're at it again. The classic Rock band Deep Purple is going to be playing a concert somewhere in their listening area, so they're promoting it, using the song "Smoke On The Water" as a draw. The commercial starts out with the line "One of the greatest RIFTS in rock history" as the intro to the song plays.

Who exactly confused the words "Rift" and "Riff" remains a mystery, but somewhere along the line of writing, recording, engineering, producing, editing, and airing this commercial, somebody should have caught it.

So, having heard this commercial for about the 3000th time...


NOW who's reinventing history?


...I got fed up with this little grammatical snafu, and decided to fight back the only way I know how. Through sarcasm and snarky comedy writing on a website. Take THAT, radio station!

It's True!

In a bit of revisionist history, the handkerchief was invented by John A Kimberly


Okay seriously, Jeremy...one of these days, we're going to get sued over these Revisionist History bits.


I'm just providing some amusing history facts for people who may not be aware.


Your use of the word "facts" is troubling.


Didn't Napoleon once say, "History is a myth men agree to believe?"


Didn't he also say he made all of his Generals out of mud?


Yes, but that's beside the point entirely. The primary point of today's Sametime Status comes from the fact that I watched some movies recently...and more than one of them involved the use of a handkerchief. It seemed a little out of the ordinary that these things would show up as often as they did because frankly, nobody uses them anymore. The reason for that being, of course, that handkerchiefs are pretty gross.

Think about it, but not in great detail. You need to wipe something up or blow your nose...so you pull a piece of cloth out of your pocket, take care of your business, then promptly return it to your pocket. Whatever's now in your handkerchief is now oozing out into your pants and onto your leg. Why was this a good idea?

Also suppose later in the same day, you needed a repeat action. You pull out the already sullied cloth, open it to hopefully some portion that was not directly used, and still end up spreading your previously-expelled sputum all over some other surface or face. Eww.

Or was this all part of some dastardly plot? Could this have been another cutthroat self-fulfilling business prophecy? As it turns out, the inventor of the portable handkerchief was none other than John A. Kimberly, who went into business with his long-time friend Charles B. Clark to create the Kimberly-Clark corporation, inventor of Kleenex disposable facial tissues.

That's right. The handkerchief was invented to display to the world the need for disposable tissues. Once diseases started spreading, the world was first made aware of Bird Flu, people started demanding a more sanitary solution. Mr. Kimberly to the rescue with his facial tissue company, and the rest...as they say...is history.


Once the court papers start coming in over this, we're all history.

More than just scratching!

Happy Vinyl Record Day, everybody!


What's a Vinyl Record?


The World Record for Vinyl was set by England's Archibald Smithson in 1993, when he wore a coat of vinyl that weighed 148 pounds. It really was quite impressive.

So anyway, short Blag for you all today, but a quick announcement that I'll be on vacation tomorrow. I'm trading in the cubicle for a roller coaster.


Oh...so here's where I do my bit, right?

Jeremy Is In The Office will be Out Of The Office tomorrow, 8/13...wait...you're going to ride roller coasters on Friday the 13th? Is this really wise?


Perhaps not...but I'll keep an eye out for ladders, mirrors, and cats while I'm there.


We'll be back on monday with more Sametimey goodness, and a whole new week of great stuff.


Actually, it's not even a whole week...I'll be out next Friday too.


When do you actually do any work?

Robert Wuhl told me so

In a bit of Revisionist History, Stuffed Cabbage was invented not by a Chef, but by a really bored Engineer


I love Revisionist Histories. You always learn something new...mostly because they're made-up nonsense.


History is always "Based On A True Story." So here's the true story behind this delicacy.


Shouldn't you have True in quotation marks up there?


Some time ago, Nautical Engineer Stanley Krawczyk was studying Cole's Law of Thermodynamics as it relates to pressure build-up in an airlock system. Krawczyk was redesigning airlocks for Polish submarines, because apparently, the original design had a leak for some reason. While doing his research, he had a sudden and unexplained hankering for cabbage. After seeing the outrageous price for cabbage stew at the university's commissary and buying an apple instead, he decided to go across the street to buy a cabbage in order to make his own stew that night.


That was a really long way to go for a joke. Most readers probably won't get either of the jokes you embedded in that paragraph.


Krawczyk sat in his office working on his new airlock design, and as engineers often do, he became bored and started playing with the head of cabbage on his desk. He was particularly intrigued by the way the leaves were all very tightly wrapped and interweaved. Due to the inexplicable urge embedded in all engineers to take stuff apart to see how it works, he began to unwrap the cabbage head leaf by leaf to examine the inner workings...which most people would know is simply more leaves...but he was curious. After 3 full hours, his former cabbage had been reduced to a giant pile of individual leaves strewn about his desk...completely unfit for stew-making. A new dinner solution was required.

After he went home, he wrapped his individual cabbage leaves around some ground meat he had laying around, (since that's what you do with vegetables to make them taste better) and baked them with some tomato sauce. With that, the famous Polish delicacy Golumpki (stuffed cabbage) was born. It has to be true...because, seriously...why the frig would anybody ever think to do this?


So what did you make for dinner last night?


Stuffed cabbage, why?

I like them too

In a bit of Revisionist History, Sam I Am merely used Green Food Coloring to pull a mildly elaborate prank


What ever happened to the Son of Sam I Am?


So today's Sametime Status is pretty self-explanatory, and I'm running late because it's a busy day. So that's all I've got for you. See you tomorrow!

They ran a Creperie

In a bit of Revisionist History, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern pulled a MacGyver-like escape and happily lived out their lives in Saint Malo


Fascinating. We were always led to believe they died. There was even a movie about it.


That's very true, and the movie sucked mightily. I was forced to pretend to like it at one point, but that's hardly worth mentioning. What's important to know is that Rosencrantz was a Kung Fu master and Guildenstern was an expert engineer. Between the two of them, they were basically a cross between MacGyver and The A-Team, without the cool theme music. Their unique skill set is why they were chosen by Claudius for the Hamlet Mission in the first place.

Little did Hamlet know that upon sending them to their supposed deaths in England, he was merely setting the stage for a 16th century version of "Kill Bill" with mayhem and bloodshed all over the countryside.

The two later captured a pirate ship and sailed to France where they chose to let the crew live and gave command back to The Dread Pirate Frank, and lived in relative exclusion, catering to the tourists in the tiny walled town of Saint Malo. It really is a heart-warming story.

Fiesta!

In a bit of Revisionist History, the Polish actually settled Mexico, thus making Pierogi an appropriate meal for Cinco de Mayo.


Interesting...I had always thought it was the Spanish and French that settled that area.


Most people do think that, and given the Spanish language, cultural influences, and history books, it's pretty easy to understand why. However, the real story is one of bravery and heroism from Poland leading to the settling of Central America. I'll leave the research as an exercise for the reader.


So this has nothing to do with you forgetting to go to Taco Bell yesterday and eating pierogi instead?


Not a thing. Why do you ask?

Sit...Stay

In a bit of Revisionist History, Ubu had to be put down after attacking the mailman.


This is horrifying. I will have no part in this.


We all know Ubu, the lovable Frisbee-playing scamp of a chocolate lab who popped up at the end of our favourite sitcoms in the 90s:


What you may not know is the more tragic tale of Ubu's puppyhood fame and subsequent downward spiral due to an alleged catnip addiction. The end came in an unfortunate series of events, as our hero was going through what one might describe as withdrawal symptoms, and the mailman was more ornery than usual...it was Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue Day. The ensuing scuffle cost the mailman the use of his left pinky, and poor Ubu his life.


I'll prepare the court papers...


Here's a fun bit of trivia. The voice you hear in the above video is in fact not Ubu.


Your use of the word "fact" is troubling.


The bark is actually supplied by famous voice-actor Phydeaux LeBlanc, a Golden Retriever from Quebec most renowned for his performance on that Christmas Barking Dogs CD you see on Infomercials around the holidays.

If Josh Towers were pitching, Casey hits a walk-off HR

In a bit of revisionist history, it turns out that Mighty Casey was batting against Roy Halladay. He never actually had a chance.


So today is basically opening day.


That's right. Even though there was a silly little 2-game set over in Japan last week, and the Washington Nationals opened their new park last night, today is the day that the rest of baseball catches up and starts their season.


So what's the deal with this Halladay character?


Roy Halladay is a pitcher for the Toronto Blue Jays, and widely regarded as one of the best pitchers in the game today. He's got one Cy Young award to his credit, and could easily contend for another this year.


And this Casey guy?


For those who have been living in a cave for the last 120 years, "Casey At The Bat" is the most widely recognized poem about baseball in history. First published in 1888 and written by Ernest Lawrence Thayer, the poem tells the story of the Mudville baseball team and their quest for victory, despite being a miserable bunch of players.


The poem doesn't say anything about the team being bad...


Well, here's the problem. We should assume that Casey, being the renowned heavy hitter on the Mudville roster, is batting clean-up, or 4th in the lineup. Normally, a good baseball manager will put his best hitter (at least as far as batting average is concerned) in the #3 hole, so that the odds of somebody being on base for the clean-up hitter are better. The #2 hitter is usually also a high batting average person, typically with good enough speed to run the bases effectively ahead of the #3 and 4 hitters.


And how does this apply to Mudville?


Well, as you can clearly see from the poem, Jimmy Blake is the #3 hitter, and he is described as "a cake", clearly implying that he is not a good hitter. Also the fact that the crowd started to leave before the "much despis-ed" Blake or Flynn bat shows how little faith the Mudville fans have in either of their abilities.

Add to that the fact that after Flynn's single, Blake "tore the cover off the ball" for a double. Any good #2 hitter (Flynn, in this case) should have easily been able to score from first on a hard-hit double, especially with 2 outs. As soon as Blake made contact, he should have been running with all he had. That didn't happen here, as there were runners on second and third after that double. Clearly, bad baserunning.


Okay, you've thought about this way too much.


Perhaps. But the fact remains, you have a free-swinging clean-up hitter prone to strikeouts (For those who have not read the poem, the previous line contains a spoiler, so don't read it.), a "lulu" with no baserunning skills as a #2 hitter, and a much despis-ed cake hitting 3rd (meaning you probably also have a bad manager for cobbling together a lineup like this), and you wind up with one bad baseball team. I hope they enjoy their time in the bus leagues, since none of them is ever going to make it to The Show.


The poem is also 120 years old. The players are dead.


There's also that. On another, lighter, baseball note, please enjoy the 1986 LA Dodger Baseball Boogie Bunch!