MEATING NEW PRODUCT DEMANDS!

I’m okay with artificial flowers. I don’t mind artificial turf. Who can argue with artificial intelligence? (Apparently, not even the people on Jeopardy.)  Honestly, some of my friends are kind of artificial so it would be wrong for me to object to anything that had that label.

However, this headline did catch my attention: ARTIFICIAL MEAT IS SIX MONTHS AWAY. I almost choked on my reduced-fat Hebrew National Hot Dog. This announcement comes from research at the University of Maastricht in the Netherlands. The institution used to be called Rijksuniversiteit Limburg, but even the Dutch couldn’t pronounce that so now they’ve shortened it to UM. You hear a lot of students saying, “I’m going to UM, a really cool college.” Which is what every undergrad says when you, um, ask them where they are studying. By the way, Holland is an odd place for this kind of research. The Dutch make their shoes out of wood when they could have chosen leather. Is this who we want developing a tasty substitute for meat? 

The article reports that scientists are growing synthetic sausages from “pig cells fed by horse serum,” and what a catchy phrase that will make on the package. It has a better ring to it than Johnsonville Fakes. This is obviously not an option for vegans or vegetarians. It’s for people who enjoy meat, but prefer that what they eat has spent its entire life in a test tube, not chewing its cud and emitting greenhouse gasses. I have been informed that these gasses come mostly from the cows burping. Somehow, I thought you’d be relieved to hear this.

Savvy marketers are gearing up for a media blitz to embarrass real carnivores into trying what they plan to call a Vitro Burger.  The ad agency has already started spreading rumors that the most popular McDonald’s menu choice has dead cow in it. This approach was persuasive in focus groups, especially with people who still question the President’s birth certificate and the moon landing.

One scientist admits that right now the meat they are making is generic looking, but in his words, “I’m hopeful we can have an actual hamburger in less than a year,” which is also a commonly heard phrase from people in line at the Burger King drive-thru.  Creating this first artificial burger will cost about $350,000, but that does include a soft drink and a small order of fries.

Apparently, the color of the “meat” is kind of a pasty white due to the lack of blood. The result is the product doesn’t look very appetizing. I could see where that might hinder sales. I totally lose my appetite when my food doesn’t look bloody.

The corporate chefs promoting this new creation are suggesting the faux burger be served on a gluten-free, low-carb, no-sodium bun. Is there any actual food in this sandwich? I’ll eat anything, but it does have to be something.

If my friends want to go to a restaurant that offers bogus beef, I’ll simply refuse to eat that artificial stuff.  I’ll just have a Diet Coke, thank you. 

BREAKING BAD

My family has been attending a new place of worship on Sunday mornings, and we think we have found the perfect spot. The Unitarian minister is engaging. The congregation is warm and welcoming. Even the coffee is good after the service. In fact, I wouldn’t fix a thing.

More to the point, I can’t fix a thing, yet that’s exactly what they asked me to do. Last week, there was a sign-up sheet posted for some terrific social networking opportunities, like movie nights and a pitch-in-dinner.  My wife and I wanted to be involved in several of these activities, but while jotting down our names on a sheet, I noticed a man in a beige sweater motioning me over to his table. He was inquiring about who had certain skills to assist in some projects to spiff up the church grounds.

“Say, Dick, can you help us replace some broken windows?”

“Sorry, I don’t have a clue how to do that.”

“Any experience with electricity?”

“Bulbs. I can change bulbs.”

“How about plumbing? Can you assist with that?”

“I don’t have a prayer.”

I had to be careful. I used to belong to a temple back in New York. Jewish people have a blessing for everything and I didn’t want to find out that I did have a prayer for plumbing.

“How about just cleaning?” he asked.

My wife was on my side with this one. “He doesn’t even know how to do that at home,” she volunteered. Mary Ellen loves to volunteer. What a trouper.

I know that the Lord works in mysterious ways. But why did he have to make repairing things such a mystery to me?  Growing up, everyone in my family was more adept at this kind of stuff. My father, for example, could fix anything. He’d go downstairs to his workshop with the broken cuckoo clock or an electric can opener on the fritz and an hour later emerge from the basement to flaunt his success. How about some credit for me? Where would Dad have gotten his glory if I hadn’t busted this stuff to begin with?

My mother was also skillful at repairing things. After all, she fixed dinner every night for 30 years. I had a sleazy uncle who coached football and bet on his own games. He fixed most of them.  My brother was always in some kind of a fix. And my sister? Well, she spent most of her free time fixing up her unattractive friends. Even our dogs were fixed. Fixing is in the Wolfsie blood. The problem is I don’t have the patience to address repair issues and then I get very down on myself.  My blood must be Type A… and negative.

I used to have a great handyman.  He installed our ceiling fan, rescreened the porch and patched up the leak in our roof.  He charged $50.00 an hour “…unless you help me,” he’d say, “then it’s $65.00.”  Now that he’s gone, my wife’s favorite expression is, “You need to call somebody.” So I call the plumber, the electrician, the roofer, the computer repairman. I can’t fix anything. That’s why I’m broke.

My Life Saving

Would you like to save $14,450? You can, claims the Entertainment book, chock-full of good deals, brimming with coupons, awash in discounts. For a cheap person like me, it’s my savior.

My wife advised me not to pay $25.00 for the annual publication. She claimed we’d never use the coupons—and if we did, we’d either go on the wrong night, end up at the wrong place, or the coupon would have expired. I consider this user error and decided that with proper management of my discounts, the result would be monumental savings.

A few months ago I said, “Here’s the plan, Mary Ellen. For the next few months we are going to try to go to every place in this book, all 569 of them. Think of the money we’ll save. Think of the fun we’ll have. It will be like a second honeymoon, only this time we’ll get two one-topping pizzas for the price of one…as long as we buy a liter of Pepsi and we don’t have it delivered.”

With that, I laid out on the kitchen table an elaborate chart detailing the itinerary—our cost-saving journey through Central Indiana. My wife was not impressed. “I don’t mind dinner at the DQ, but do we have to play a game of Laser Tag the same night?”

“First of all, it’s not one game, it’s two. So don’t poop out on me. It’s the second game that’s free.”

“According to this, Dick, you also want to get up early Sunday morning and go duck pin bowling.”

“Do I know how to plan a vacation, or what?”

“I do think we’ll be tuckered out from the two hours of paintball on Saturday night.”

Mary Ellen had a point. The first couple of weeks were exhausting. Morgan’s River Rentals in Brookville may have been an especially bad choice. To get the discount you had to rent two boats, and I think we’d have had more fun and been less tired if we were in the same canoe.

We were like kids: trampolining, wall climbing, go-karting and miniature golfing. It was a little disconcerting watching Mary Ellen swing at 100 mph fast balls, but what else are you supposed to do with 50 free tokens at a batting cage?

When it came to dining, we had hundreds of restaurants to choose from. Most were fast food locations. Mary Ellen was burgered out. “Didn’t we already eat at White Castle four times this week?”

“We still have six coupons left for sliders.”

“But, Dick, it’s nine o’clock in the morning.”

“I know, that’s why the line is so long.”

We did have some relaxing days: two for one at the Muncie Children’s Museum, the Basketball Hall of Fame Museum, and the Indianapolis Zoo. At the aquarium in Newport, Kentucky, we were offered a free kid’s ticket if we bought two adult tickets. The problem was, we forgot to bring a kid. Later that day, we also got three Big Macs for the price of two. One of them is still in the glove compartment.

Overall, we had a great summer. We saved about $1,200. And it only cost us $3,000.