Top 10 Reasons I Love Orangina-- by Nate Winter

Orangina, the original sparkling citrus beverage with natural pulp, has fascinated my palate and stolen my heart. Here are the top 10 reasons why.






10. Shake Your Fruity

Orangina is the only carbonated beverage you are encouraged to shake. You shake it like juice, without the soda explosion! Marketing materials even use the phrase, "Shake it to wake it," to encourage shaking.


9. Octo-Gina

Orangina's recent "Naturally Juicy" campaign shows various members of the animal kingdom in sexy get-up while enjoying the famed beverage. Any soda that can put a string bikini and pumps on an octopus is okay by me.

8. Oranjargon

The word Orangina lends itself to clever portmanteau-style word blending similar to "Reaganomics" and "blaxploitation." New words in the Orangina vernacular include, but are not limited to:

• Orangenius-- discovering something new about Orangina
• Oranjealous-- coveting someone else's Orangina
• Orangenesis-- enjoying Orangina for the first time
• Orangenerous-- offering someone an Orangina
• Morangina-- additional Orangina
• Orangenital Herpes-- acquiring genital herpes from an Orangina bottle.
• OranJesus-- A savior who offers a refreshing Orangina to someone in a hell of thirst.

7. International Sensation

I'm tired of America's cultural imperialism. It's time for a new culture's music, movies, food, and beverage to take the world by storm-- like French colonial Algerian culture. Invented in Algeria under the yoke of French oppression, Orangina has had the moxie to endure hardship while maintaining its upbeat attitude. Today, France and Algeria are independent nations. Could the Democratic Republic of Orangina be far behind?


6. Art History

Like few other beverages, Orangina has real history and character to its brand. Professional artist Bernard Villemot created this and many other stylish poster advertisements for Orangina in the 1960s. Orangina is a classy drink with a fun side and a haut-couture pedigree.



5. The 10 oz. Orangina Bottle

This distinctive glass bottle is round at the bottom with a narrow neck and textured like an orange peel. This bottom-heavy container stays put securely in my car's shallow cup-holder, making it the only beverage container to EVER do this. If gripped upside down by the mouth, this bottle also makes a handy weapon to bludgeon (whole bottle) or stab (bottom of bottle broken off). It's refreshing how comfortably the mouth of the bottle fits in the palm of one's hand. Evidently, it also works as a projectile.

4. Justifies the Existence of Canada

Orangina is, in fact, produced in Canada, a country which has brought little to my life save the occasional Mike Meyers movie or Shania Twain desktop wallpaper (or the extremely rare use of the quote, "Would she go down on you in... a theatre?!"). Say what you will about the land of Molson, Mullets, and Morissette, they've got a good thing going with Orangina. While Orangina was created by the French, all Orangina found in America was produced by the cannucks. And for that alone, I'm proud to share North America with them (as long as it keeps distribution costs low). In fact, I feel Orangina is so important to Canada's identity that some changes should be made to reflect this most significant contribution to the world.

3. Pulp Fact

Orangina has real orange pulp in it, making it extremely unique, if not completely sui generis. Pulp is a polarizing topic, one toward which few people are indifferent. Orangina's 2% pulp status and the phrase "et sa pulpe," French for "and its pulp," are proudly displayed on its label, a clear statement that pulp-haters are not welcome. Orangina doesn't try to be everything to everyone, just a great tasting beverage to those who enjoy a bit of pulp.

2. Possible Sexual Enhancement

Drinking substantial volumes of Orangina on a Saturday night inexplicably made my penis substantially larger for a single sexual episode the next day. Yeah, it sounds strange (and it was), but I'm not complaining. (Neither is my girlfriend.) I would drink Orangina just for the taste, bizarre sexual side effects notwithstanding, so a bit more "size for the prize" is icing on the cake. The occasional sexual enhancement (although still creepy) is a welcome change of pace. Shake it to wake it, indeed!

1. The Screw-Gina

Everyone knows the screwdriver (vodka + orange juice). The Screw-Gina (also known as the "Giner") substitutes Orangina for OJ. It's lighter and the carbonation speeds the alcohol to one's blood stream, leading to a quicker buzz. It's the perfect drink for a summer afternoon or a Valentine's Day spent maddeningly alone. While the exact recipe is still being gleefully determined, the Vodka to Gina ratio is in the neighborhood of 1 to 3. So get mixing and enjoy!

-- Nate Winter

Karaoke Commandments-- by Nate Winter

Karaoke. Everyone's got an opinion on it-- the best thing since American Idol, refuge of pathetic wannabes, "i don't get it," or just a damn good time. Say what you want about Japan's most precious export, but one thing's for sure: it's an activity with many spoken words and few spoken rules-- a daunting prospect for new-comers. Karaoke Commando Nate Winter breaks the silence on how to sing more songs, win more applause, and generally be The Man on karaoke night.

PART I: THE PRELUDE

Step away from the microphone. The secret to a great karaoke night starts well before you set foot in the bar. Like any other type of performance, karaoke requires a bit of preparation.

Pick Your Songs
Start with music you like. You'll have more fun and greater confidence doing songs you already know and love. What you like is step one; what the crowd will like is step two. No matter how good your performance is, it's tough to win over a crowd with a song they hate or have never heard before. But the karaoke songs available are mostly popular stuff anyway, so your love of Bjork will have to take a back seat for the night. Hello, Avril Lavigne!

Practice In The Off-Season
Own a copy of all of the songs you want to sing. Make them into a karaoke play list. Keep it on your iPod and/or on CD in your car. Work on experimental stuff in the car or in the shower. Don't bring out unsure stuff at the bar unless you're very comfortable that it won't hurt your chances of getting up to do more songs.

You may even consider picking up a video karaoke system like the ones at LeadSinger.com for home. Key features include: great for parties, affordable, rates your singing, pisses of your neighbors.

Know Your Money Song
Like the money shot in porno, your money song is your absolutely most orgasmic, climax-tastic, kick-ass song. For me it's "Plush" by Stone Temple Pilots. It's my old stand-by, my ace in the hole, and the deus ex machina when my confidence needs an little boost. Yeah, my friends are sick of hearing it, but it never ceases to attract applause and high-fives from strangers. Test out some tracks, find your money song, and never leave home without it.

Know Your Vocal Range
Most guys should not attempt to sing Celine Dion (or even Freddy Mercury, for that matter) because it will sound like crap. Stuff like that is simply too high for the normal male vocal register. This is where practice comes into play. Test your voice with a song once in the car or the shower and you'll know if you can hit the notes. Once you've found some songs that fit your ability, look at more songs by those same artists. Generally, if you can sing one song by Boston, you can sing them all... and you have no testicles (in which case don't forget about Styx and The Darkness!).

Binder Beware
Every binder of available karaoke songs is different. I've seen karaoke books that let you sing an entire Slipknot album and books without classic favorites like "Faith" by George Michael. This is why your repertoire has to be deep. Be flexible and find something in your list.

Know Your Songs (...duh)
Know the songs you can sing. It sounds stupid, but it's remarkably easy to forget the name and artist of almost all of them when you're actually trying to pick one. Jamming to the karaoke playlist on your iPod is all fun and games, but when you get to the bar and can't remember more than a couple songs-- you're in trouble. Consider making a miniature print-out of your list to keep in your pocket or wallet. Laminate it for lasting use. If you see an attractive person with a laminated karaoke list, consider marrying them immediately or finish washing your hands and leave the bathroom.

Bring The Drama
Choose songs that have drama and emotion. You might do a dead-on rendition of Marcy Playground's 'Sex and Candy,' but the song is so quiet, slow, and monotone that it's basically musical wallpaper. Pick songs that will engage and entertain the crowd. Plus, the line, "I smell sex and candy" is nothing compared to "I'm into having sex; I ain't into makin' love" anyway.

PART II: THE ARRIVAL

(The following commandments about karaoke bars apply to karaoke establishments with a single system for the entire bar. Those with separate rooms for small groups have far fewer rules.)

Karaoke bars, like any social scene, function with certain understandings of etiquette, decorum, and idiocy. Any place will let you in the door on karaoke night; that's easy. What's tricky is actually getting to sing.

Karaoke Bar Basics
For those with zero karaoke bar experience, here's what you need to know to not look like a disoriented idiot:

• The lists of available songs are kept in binders organized either by song or by artist. If you don't see any song binders, ask the karaoke host.
• When you've picked a song, write the title, its karaoke code, and your name on a slip of paper. (Usually slips of paper and pens are in the binder's inside cover.)
• Hand the slip of paper to the karaoke host (the person who plays the songs for people).
• When it's your time to shine, the host will call you up by name over the mic. So pay attention.

Know The Business; Be The Business
Here's the karaoke night business model in a nut shell: the bar pays money to a karaoke company, who provides a host for karaoke night. The karaoke host's job is to bring in the gear (speakers, mics, mic stands, song discs, TVs, etc.) and get people singing. Karaoke night has to cover its expenses and bring in cash for the bar, otherwise the karaoke host loses his/her gig. Bars that have karaoke every night of the week probably own all the equipment themselves and hosts work directly for the bar. In either case, if you're not spending dough, you're working against the system-- not good. So appeal to both sides: sing the songs and drink the drinks. Then everybody’s happy and you’ll live to sing another day.

Roll Deep
You don't have to be a one-person party machine. (That's what Wii Sports and masturbating are for.) So bring an entourage and make them cheer. More people-->more singers-->more drinkers-->more money spent at the bar-->happy bartender-->employed karaoke host-->more songs for you and your crew. Reagan's trickle down theory finally found a home.

Know Your Rights
As a karaoke participant, you are considered drunk and awful until proven otherwise. Karaoke has a reputation as a sport for jackasses, but the only ones who find wasted people on the mic entertaining are their friends. Everyone else is annoyed, including the karaoke host. Do your part to make an entertaining experience for everyone and keep your own drunk friends at bay.

Sing Early
Karaoke hosts sometimes have a tough time getting the ball rolling on karaoke night. Everyone wants to hit their money song when the crowd is drunk and plentiful. But don't wait for that moment. Arrive close to when karaoke begins. Not everyone has arrived yet, the seats are empty, many people are still sober-- not your ideal circumstance. But if you've got the balls to put yourself out there early and can get the crowd psyched up, the host will be thankful and more likely to bring you up again for your next requests. Arriving early also prevents you from requesting a song that was done by someone else before you showed up.

Start With Your Money Song
If a crowd and karaoke host are seeing and hearing you for the first time, bring out your money song first. If you don't wow people the first time, the karaoke host might ignore you for the rest of the night with no shot at redemption.

Stroke The Host
Karaoke hosts are frequently called on to sing songs that will get the party started when things are slow. They love to sing, that's why they're karaoke hosts. But when the mic is busy, they can't justify making everyone else wait so they can impress the hot blondes in the corner with "Let's Get It On." So try this: pick a song that needs a second singing part your host can fill. Be the excuse for the host to work his pipes and you're golden. Also, if your host accepts tips, slipping in a couple bucks with your song request is a nice way to break the ice.

Stage Presence
Karaoke is an audio and a visual performance art. We've all been to a concert where the band sounds good, but looks as exciting as a meat locker on-stage. That's bad entertainment. Karaoke is no different. Stage presence can seem daunting, but don't fear. Since you're already singing someone else's song, you might as well copy their moves, too. Hit up YouTube and find some videos or live concert footage of some of the songs you sing. If you're singing Billy Idol, throw in that signature snarl. Guns n Roses? Axl's side-to-side head weave behind the mic stand. Creed? A mirror and a liquor bottle to throw at naysayers. And so on and so forth.

This commandment relates back to choosing songs that have drama and emotion. Dramatic songs with big climaxes command big moves-- hip thrusts, fist pumps, pointing the mic at the crowd. Everyone enjoys a karaoke performer who gets into a song and does it well. So set yourself up for success with good songs and the right moves. Do a lip snarl to "Sex and Candy" and people will think your mic got a dirty sanchez.

A Cheer For A Cheer
Cheer and be cheered for. Your likelihood of getting on stage again relies on the crowd's reaction to your song. Clap, whistle, and make train noises for others. If someone is really outstanding, offer them a post-performance high five or a quick compliment. They will notice and cheer you on in return. Plus, all your excitement helps generate a rowdier, more participatory atmosphere-- exactly what you want when you hit ‘em with your best shot.

To really ingratiate yourself, give quick shout-outs to previous performers on the mic immediately before or after your song. The most important thing is to be genuine. If someone is awful, give a few courtesy claps, but don’t go crazy. You’re trying to build cred here, don’t blow it on sloppy ass-kissing.

PART III: THE AFTERMATH

If you learned anything, write it down before your drunk ass forgets it. The same goes for interesting characters or karaoke regulars you may have met-- remembering their names might be important next time. All that aside, enjoy a(nother) cold one as your reward for a job well sung.

-- Nate Winter

Where Are Dough Bolts?-- by Nate Winter

Everyone knows doughnuts. Most of us even like them. In America, they’re unavoidable. Between grade school birthday treats, complimentary office snacks, and 7,000 Dunkin' Donuts locations worldwide, you’ve inevitably been exposed to the round, sugary baked goods. But, even with so much exposure, people don’t thinking intently about this classic food. And why should they? After all they’re just doughnuts, right?

The answer is, Yes. They are just doughnuts, but I think they could be so much more.

I was thinking about the name "doughnut" and I realized that the name actually describes quite accurately what the object is. It’s dough that is roughly shaped like a nut. We’re not talking about nuts like almonds and cashews, rather, nuts, the metal fasteners with a hole in the middle for a bolt.

There are some inconsistencies here, though. We accept doughnuts to be round, but one would never see a round fastener nut. Nuts are predominantly hexagonal so that the proper wrench can turn it around the shaft of the bolt. A round nut would be very difficult to grip and, thus, turn. Nuts also have screw threads around the inside of the nut’s central hole to screw onto a bolt. Doughnuts, of course, have no threads around their inner circle.

In some respects, today’s doughnut actually resembles a washer, which is always round and has no screw threads. However washers are flat with wide rings relative to their height and hole size. With these criteria in mind, doughnut is more appropriate than doughwasher.

The other popular doughnut form is the doughnut hole, an mostly inaccurate name. It is based on dough, but it’s not shaped like a nut and it isn’t a hole. (ASIDE: "Hole" is used as the presence of something existent. Example: I made a hold in the front yard. But hole actually refers to the absence of what is around it. Example: I dug out a bunch of dirt from a concentrated location in the front yard. Simply fascinating.)

Now, I understand that "hole" refers to the dough that would fill the hole in a regular doughnut, but I don’t think that’s actually what it is. To make regular doughnuts, I find it highly unlikely that a circular wad of dough is created and then a hole is cut out of its center. Rather, it makes more sense to form dough into a tube and then link the two ends to create a circle.

So called "doughnut holes" are really just "doughballs."

Filled doughnuts suffer from a similar misnomer. There is no hole in the middle as in a nut that fastens something. These are just filled dough.

The metal nut used to fasten is largely useless without its counterpart, the bolt. The screw threads around the inside of the nut’s central hole screw onto a bolt. The pressure placed on the central objects between the nut and bolt head is what fastens the two together.


So after all this discovery, why the nut? Was it really the closest existing shape? For centuries geometry has known the torus, which is exactly the same shape as a doughnut except for tiny imperfections of the dough. My guess is that the inventor of the doughnut was not very science-minded. Rather, he used the name of a shape he understood and one that would make the snack easy to remember and describe for his blue-collar clientele.

But if there are doughnuts, why not doughbolts? Or doughwashers, doughnails, doughhammers or anything else found in the average toolbox? The world may never know.

-- Nate Winter

The Official Drunk Dial Score Card (Vol. 1)-- by Nate Winter

The drunk dial has been around for decades, in theory. But it took the cellular phone to transform the rather rare, fringe activity of calling someone while drunk into a truly quotidian occurrence. Thanks to the pervasive reach of mobile technology today, every drunk with a cellie thinks he’s God’s gift to comedy.

It goes without saying that all drunk dials are not created equal. They range in quality and attitude from knee-slapping hilarity to spouse-slapping mundanity to bottle-slapping depravity. Sometimes all in the same message.

The sheer volume of today's drunk dials and their inconsistent quality presents a real problem for those of us with limited time and patience to dedicate to drunk dial entertainment. The world needs better drunk dials.

After intent analysis of drunken voicemails from my personal collection as well as drunk dial aggregator DrunkDial.org, I have created The Official Drunk Dial Score Card. This score card allows drunk dial recipients to objectively evaluate drunk dials and give constructive feedback to drunk dialers. It identifies common traits that lead to bad drunk dials, while suggesting more pleasing alternatives.

Through consistent reinforcement of certain Drunk Dial characteristics, we can rid ourselves of bad drunk dials and spend our valuable time listening to those that are legitimately funny, truly touching, and uniquely perverted.

Now, without further ado,

The Official Drunk Dial Score Card (Vol. 1)

The Reference To Something Blatantly Offensive And Sexual
The Cleveland Steamer or Dirty Sanchez: -5 points.
The Brain/Hairy Tongue: -2 points.
The Shocker: 0 points.
Roast Beef Curtains: +2 points.
Hymen Spring Break: +3 points.
Labia Menorah: +5 points.

The Creation of a Bizarre, New Metaphor or Theory Related to Drinking
The Health Benefits of Guinness: -5 points. (Alleged benefits include low carbohydrates, high in iron, and "pregnant women in Ireland drink it.")

The Shampoo Effect: -2 points. (A drinking session closely following a prior heavy drinking session will result in unusually intense intoxication. Similar to the way a second shampoo session in one shower results in significantly more lather.)

The Buffalo Theory: 0 points. (Alcohol kills weakest brain cells first resulting in a smarter brain overall. Similar to natural predators attacking the weakest buffalo first, leaving a smaller, but stronger herd.)

State Dependent Learning: +5 points. (Things done or learned while drunk are more likely to be remembered while drunk. Often used as justification for intoxicated studying and test taking.)

The Unusual Accent
British or Australian: -5 points.
Southern United States: -2 points.
Pan Asian: 0 points.
French: +3 points (-.5 points for every “Hawh Hawh hawh”).
Pan Eastern European or Russian: +5 points.

The '80s Rock Song Reference
Sweet Child of Mine, Pour Some Sugar On Me, or Livin’ On a Prayer: -5 points.
Jesse's Girl: -2 points.
Anything by U2: 0 points.
Girls Girls Girls or Hot For Teacher: +2 points.

The Pop Culture Movie Reference
Napoleon Dynamite: -5 points.
Quote from anything with Will Farrell in it: -2 points.
Billy Madison, Tommy Boy: 0 points.
Caddy Shack, Animal House, Christmas Vacation: +2 points.
Quote from the Farrell/Header collaboration Blades of Glory: I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul.

The Pop Culture Internet Reference
Any Homestar Runner character: -5 points.
Chuck Norris: -1 point.
SNL Lazy Sunday (Chronicles of Narnia Rap): 0 points.
SubservientChicken.com: +2 points.
Modified G.I. Joe Public Service Announcement Voice Overs: +5 points.

The Full Rap Verse Recitation
50 Cent: -5 points.
Ice Ice Baby: -2 points.
Ludacris or Eminem, Flawed Execution: 0 points.
Ludacris or Eminem, Flawless Execution: +2 points.
Biggie: +3 points.
An original flow: +5 points.
Nelly: Remove Caller From Phone Book.

Caller Self-Identification
Caller identifies self within first 5 seconds: -5 points.
Caller identifies self repeatedly throughout: 0 points.
Caller identifies self within last 5 seconds: +2.
Caller identifies self in barely discernible gibberish: +5 points.

The Impromptu Proposal Of Something That Ordinarily Requires Meticulous Forethought And Planning
Trip to local strip club: -5 points.
Trip to Las Vegas: -3 points.
Getting the Band Back Together: 0 points.
Marriage: +3 points.
Stealing or defacing a public monument: +5 points.

The Reference to Food or Hunger
Mexican food: -5 points.
Pizza: -2 points.
Sub sandwich: 0 points
Gyros: +3 points.
Sushi: + 5 points.

Please be advised, this score card is by no means complete. Additional volumes of score card items will be added as they become available.

-- Nate Winter

The Gatorade Hangover Science Institute-- by Nate Winter

I was in the grocery store the other day with Gatorade on my list. When I found the aisle for sports drinks, a startling truth bombarded me: there is a MASSIVE variety of Gatorade. Too massive, in fact. Here’s what the supermarket shelf contained:

Gatorade All-Stars
Gatorade A.M.
Gatorade Fierce
Gatorade Frost
Gatorade High Endurance
Gatorade Rain
Gatorade X-Factor
Gatorade Xtremo
Gatorade Special Victims Unit
Extreme Makeover: Gatorade Edition

Oh yeah, and there were a few bottles of original formula Gatorade, too.

So I pondered to myself, "What is that people are doing that requires all these different Gatorades? What am I doing that requires Gatorade?"

Gatorade commercials show muscular people on treadmills with electrodes sucked onto their sweaty skin to prove that the sports drink manufacturer does research with professional athletes. Why? So they can make Gatorade better for people who work out relentlessly, have no jobs, and don’t sleep. Okay, Gatorade. We get it. You’ve got the athletic thirst-quenching thing figured out. Now stop ignoring the 800-pound gorilla and just acknowledge that half of your retail sales are because of drunks.

The Gatorade Sports Science Institute is all well and good for true athletes, but let’s talk about reality here for a minute.

I go to the gym once a week and ride the bicycle machine for an hour. (It’s probably not actually called a “bicycle machine,” but how the hell should I know?) I have no clue what the difference is between all these Gatorades, but my exercise regimen is so lame it probably doesn’t matter.

Of course, the Gatorade Sports Science Institute will continue to research exercise and optimal athletic performance for hard-core athletes, but the rest of us are interested in hydration from a different standpoint—the hangover. Exercise accounts for roughly 20% of my Gatorade consumption. Alcohol makes up the rest.

There’s a lot of us out there. We’re the reason that Gatorade is sold in every gas station and convenience store in America. Not athletes.

How much better off would we all be if Gatorade created a Hangover Science Institute and invested millions of dollars in research on kicking the Friday hangover when we passed out drunk at 2:30 a.m.? This is an innovation that interests me slightly more than Gatorade Xtremo in Mango Electrico flavor.

Think big, Gatorade! Professional sports are small-time. Let’s talk about some big league factors like Gross National Product. So what if electrolytes add another 5 points to Kobe’s game? Show America a Gatorade that makes you feel like sunshine and rainbows after a Tuesday night bender, and the increase in worker productivity could pay off the national debt in a decade. Gatorade could be the next Haliburton.

The drinking world needs better formulas, like Gatorade Hangover Relief. It will be packaged in a non-descript stainless steel commuter mug to avoid the suspicion incurred by having a regular Gatorade bottle at work. It will basically work like a full-body enema, wiping your entire muscular and circulatory systems free of toxins left over from drinking. Ingredients will include caffeine, electrolytes, aspirin, EGCG, Airborne, vitamin C, and a smidge of alcohol to take the edge off. If they can make it taste like my favorite hangover food, the Egg McMuffin, even better. A version that sprinkles into coffee like sweetener? Double plus good!

Naturally, even the Gatorade Hangover Science Institute won’t cure the common hangover over night. But, in the mean time, they could set us Week Night Warriors straight on some classic hangover minimization tactics.

Like this age-old conundrum: when you’re drunk and about to go to sleep should you A) drink a lot of water? (This results in waking up every 90 minutes to pee and feeling severely tired the next morning.) or B) just crash? (This results in sleeping through the night and waking up severely dehydrated.) Unless you're a camel or a bed-wetter, you can only choose one. So which is less torturous? People want to know.

Or the classic question of whether to eat before you fall asleep. Does food A) “soak up” excess volume of alcohol in your body, reducing your hangover? or B) sit like a lump in your stomach undigested overnight resulting in nausea? Give us the answer.

And, if you have to eat food before you pass out (because, yes, sometimes you HAVE to eat before passing out), which drunk food options are best at minimizing the hangover? Mexican? Pizza? Sub sandwich? Burger and fries? Test them all, Gatorade Hangover Science Institute, and text message me the rankings by 1:30 A.M. this Friday.

These are the problems we need science to answer. Any idiot could tell you that kids will like Gatorade in small bottles with more sugar. Stop wasting our valuable scientific resources on worthless formulas like Gatorade All-Stars! It’s not like we’re facing an orange slice famine here.

-- Nate Winter

Non Text-Based Searches-- by Nate Winter

When I was in grade school, the first source I learned to consult for answers was a parent. For 99% of bizarre questions, parents could usually be counted on for a satisfactory response. But for annoying spelling questions, the heavy, dusty, printed dictionary was the faithful standby. Many of us know from personal experience that when it came to a spelling question, the dictionary always seemed like an inefficient resource. How are you supposed to find a word in the dictionary, a reference organized only by proper spelling, if you don’t know how to spell it in the first place? It’s really just a scientific, wild-ass guess. The circular logic of this predicament has frustrated kids and liberated parents for generations.

In the internet age, you can reference anything organized based on whatever information you have available… as long as it’s text. As amazing and complex as web-enabled search is, it’s still based on 26 characters, ten digits, and a handful of other symbols (in English anyway).

This situation is just as limiting in web-based search as looking in a printed dictionary for a word you don’t know how to spell. While the possibilities of text-based search are still being discovered, a next generation of search is inevitable—one that allows a user to submit queries that aren’t text to a search engine.

Think about something visual and abstract, like a painting by Jackson Pollack or Piet Mondrian. If you didn’t know who the artist was or even that it was art, how would you search to find out what it was? In a text-based search, it would be nearly impossible. But in an effective image-based search, you’d have a much better shot.

The same goes for an anonymous instrumental audio track or a mysterious video clip. If you don’t have specific words to describe it, text-based search is useless.

The process for a next generation search would go as follows. The user uploads their image, audio, or video file. The engine then compares advanced quantitative data such as file name, file size, creation date, etc. to it’s index of knows files to find matches. This type of technology already exists, too. Apple’s iTunes software looks at data from an audio CD and compares it to a database of artists, album titles, and song titles suggesting the correct information. Currently this technology only works for exact copies of full albums, so it will recognize Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon on CD, but not your Pink Floyd Party Mix. Although, this technology probably isn’t far off.

Admittedly this functionality is still text-based and the idea of uploading a file for the search engine to evaluate is not so far fetched either. The real challenge lies in a search engine having an index of images, audio clips, and video clips to compare with the user’s search file.

The next generation goes beyond text completely, into a realm where the search engine recognizes elements of the search file’s content.

Digital cameras already offer facial recognition technology, picking out human faces in the camera’s viewfinder and selecting them as auto-focus points. Now imagine what a search engine with advanced visual, and audio content matching could do when hooked up to a massive database. That’s essentially what government fingerprint scanners and facial feature matching systems can already do. It just needs to be repurposed to accommodate the infinite array of search files users would inevitably submit.

While it’s anyone’s guess as to how long it will take for search technology to get to this level, there’s little doubt it will do so. And probably in my lifetime. In the future, our children, when faced with a spelling question, will still probably ask their parents first. But when faced with the inevitable, "Look it up," they will simply speak the word they wish to spell into a microphone linked to an audio-driven search engine. There will be no guesswork, no frustration, no trial and error. The search results will be accurate and immediate, allowing our children to spend more time asking question and less time searching for answers. Great for our children, annoying for their parents.

-- Nate Winter

[This blog entry is not intended to be an entry in the Culture/Ed blog. It is posted for temporary purposes only as it is part of a blog on theoretical subjects.]

IKEA, Opiate of the Masses-- by Nate Winter

It’s big, it’s blue (and yellow), and it has filled the emptiness in my cerebral, hopelessly dependent, self-alienated, aimless soul. And probably yours, too.

In today’s world of remote, computerized interaction and corporate teamwork, where does one get the classically American, Marlboro Man-style satisfaction of rugged independence and hands-on self-sufficiency?

Different people will give you different answers: the army, country music, competitive eating, the list goes on.

For me, and I’m not alone on this one, it’s IKEA.

There are, of course, real men out there whose calloused hands, well-equipped with elbow grease and know-how, would rather spend almost as much money at Home Depot on raw supplies and build the furniture themselves. While I have no doubt that this experience is intensely more fulfilling, sadly the time and knowledge investment required for the rest of us to reach that level is too daunting. For the folks like me, IKEA meets us half way. It’s like camping at a campground instead of the real wilderness. Or going to Paris, the hotel in Las Vegas, instead of Paris, the hotel in Tokyo. It’s just enough of the real world to keep us grounded.

IKEA is more like a survival skill, like knowing how to stack logs in a camp fire. It’s a precursor to the “some assembly required” gauntlets we’ll endure in the name of parenthood on birthdays and holidays to come. That familiar soreness in the hands and mind that comes from a job well done. We dream of the glorious accolades showered upon us by mothers, children, and significant others. We tell ourselves, “No, it wasn’t the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, but I’m handier than the average American idiot.” We commend ourselves using Olympics-style criteria such as total time, number of steps properly accomplished without instruction manual consultation, number of lifeline calls to the handy friend who builds custom furniture, and a few other factors.

As with any truly profound insight, there are unbelievers. But faith in IKEA’s reinforcement of self-sufficiency notwithstanding, the truth about IKEA is that everyone has a take on it. There’s always an opinion, never the dismissive, “Meh, whatevs.”*

There are “IKEA People” just like there are “Morning People,” “Hallmark People,” and “Save the Starving Navajo Children People.” My cousin Steve is 1 of those 4, and only because his wife puts the Navajo children donations under his name as a joke.

The major prohibiting factor for Steve with IKEA is his lack of patience. He is too easily frustrated by the metal parts that look the same and the wooden parts that all look too different. At age 27 he is so intimidated by IKEA that he won’t even open the box except under his father-in-law’s direct supervision. Thank goodness for Steve and his IKEA handicap. It’s guys like him that give value to the basic pre-fab assembly skills of the rest of us.

My hair stylist, Lisa, on the other hand, professes a satisfying love/hate relationship with IKEA assemblage. She’ll spend a couple hours cursing the furniture with its copious bags of parts and tiny allen wrenches, storming away in frustration 4 or 5 steps shy of completion. Just like after a bad date, the next steps are a hot bath, a glass or six of cabernet, and a thick shea butter for her particleboard-ravaged hands. The next day Lisa returns, ambition restored, ready to tackle the remaining pictographic steps and assert her dominance over Swedish engineering once and for all. IKEA: 1. Bad first dates: 0.

In college I witnessed a construction team of two University of Michigan Business School students and their father, a top securities analyst, tackle an IKEA project. I suspect that a spirit of male bonding persuaded them to venture outside their knowledge-based economic comfort zones into the situation characterized by uncustomary manual labor.

Over the course of witnessing roughly 2 hours of their head scratching, misplaced wood glue adhering, and vulgar expressions of frustration, I offered help once or twice, but was turned down. Rather than watch the rest of this degenerative assemblage, I excused myself to read on campus. I returned some time later to find them just wrapping up the project.

It took these three geniuses 6 hours to assemble a particleboard desk from IKEA with 3 drawers and a hutch. Six hours! My thought process goes like this: Have I ever built this desk or one like it? No. For no logical reason in particular, am I confident in my ability to build that IKEA set up in half the time, on my own, with no breaks? Hell, yes.

Few of us seem to be proud of it, but let’s face it. We’ve all had our moments with IKEA. We know it’s cheap. (If you’ve ever referred to it as “the Forever 21 of furniture,” you’re doubly guilty.) The magazines we read remind us that it’s not that stylish. So what’s the catch? Why do people love IKEA?

I blame the almighty dollar. Specialization drives our economy. Whether you’re an assembly line monkey hoping for a humane retirement before you die, or a knowledge-based economy inmate hoping for the occasional office scandal or pornographic pop-up window—specialization is stealing your sanity. It has you asking crazy questions like, “Does the term ‘renaissance man’ apply to a guy who can change my break pads and replace my air filter?” or “If it weren’t for a mouse and keyboard would we even need hands?”

With the complexity of career specialization, it’s increasingly difficult to know where we stand in the greater scheme of things. Are we just a cog in the big machine: functional as part of a large system, but useless on our own? How can we tell?

IKEA helps relieve the concerns caused by a specialized business economy in a number of ways. Self-sufficiency is the biggest one. Sure, you could share the credit for building your LEKSVIK buffet with top cabinet, but why? Do it yourself and show the universe what you are capable of: handling up to ten steps all by yourself instead of just one. You find yourself feeling handier with thoughts like, “When I get my hands on some wooden dowels and rotating cam locks, that leaky pipe is history!”

The physical nature of assembly is another important feature. For those of us chained to a computer all day and Grey’s Anatomy fan blogs all night, it feels good to do something physical for once. It goes without saying that your atrophied hand muscles will be sore. Curse the pygmy-sized allen wrench all you want, but that dexterity counts for a lot if all technological and civilized aspects of our culture collapse overnight. It could happen, so why not be ready? (And delightfully well furnished!)

This all important physical factor is the same reason some people rebuild the engines in their Trans-Ams or the reason my mother hard-boils her own eggs instead of telling the housekeeper to do it. We want to feel invested and physically connected to the things around us.

The third key factor is that IKEA happens to be one of the few common experiences left in our culture. Fragmentation has boiled the foundation of America down to McDonald’s, the super bowl, and IKEA (Wal Mart and Tickle-Me Elmo are on that list somewhere, too). Why is this important? Because it allows for an apples-to-apples comparison that determines one person’s superiority in pre-fabricated furniture assembly and, by extension, life in general. Bragging rights are vital.

Maybe I can’t change the oil in my Mazda hatchback, but I can whip out 2 chests of drawers from IKEA’s ANEBODA collection before my Franz Ferdinand/Modest Mouse playlist starts over. (That’s one chest of 5 drawers and one chest of 3 drawers. Not two chests of three, girly man!) Affirmation like that is better than a truckload of Sominex.

Those are the main features that make IKEA such a big hit for disenfranchised corporate types from coast to coast. It doesn’t hurt that the behemoth stores peppering the earth are from Sweden, relieving Americans of any globalization guilt. And the in-store experience is truly inspiring. It’s that same sense of unadulterated wonderment at something so much bigger than yourself: like Mount Everest, or a Humvee.

To look at it one way, the popularity of IKEA and the cultural work it does are a sad commentary on the state of our society desperately looking for evidence that we’re not totally helpless. We might be assembling deck chairs on society’s Titanic, but at least we’re not panicking.

On the upside, IKEA’s reign of terrifically-priced home furnishings will run its course and another equally embarrassing cultural icon will take its place (I smell a coup from Nutella). But, in the grand scheme of things, it’s only embarrassing, and not legitimately harmful like gambling, chemical dependency, or sudoku. Say what you will, at least we’ve found a pacifier. And the meatballs are good, too.

-- Nate Winter
Names used in this piece were changed to protect the identities of the incompetent. * “Meh, whatevs” has been used courtesy of Greg Rutter at whatevs.net

The Legend of Old Lobelto, A Heavy Metal Confession-- by Nate Winter

I have a heavy metal secret. Of course, everyone has secrets. Smart ones, stupid ones, little white ones. But how many heavy metal secrets are out there? Not many. So here's one for the books.

It's a secret so seemingly obscure that it's origin eluded me for over a decade. And yet its effects have profoundly shaken the way I approach music since. It can no longer be ignored.

Shameful as it might be, the world deserves to know the truth about The Legend of Old Lobelto.

It was summer 1992. Metallica’s self-titled CD, commonly known as “The Black Album”, had been released a year earlier. The chart-topping opus’ first single, “Enter Sandman” became insanely popular on the radio as well as MTV. Other singles such as “The Unforgiven,” “Sad But True,” and “Nothing Else Matters” were cementing Metallica’s reputation as a heavy, but also soulful and well-rounded musical force. However, as a sixth grader, my exposure to the likes of Metallica were thwarted as much by my over-protective mother as my own obliviousness.

My friend Matt on the other hand, the third of four brothers, had nearly unlimited access to the rated R movies, junk food, nudie magazines, violent video games, MTV, and heavy metal music from which I had been so successfully sheltered at home. It was Matt’s oldest brother, Vince, who introduced Matt and I to Metallica.

But by summer 1992, I had my own copy of The Black Album on cassette tape and was a verified Metallica fan. MTV and Chicago’s 103.5 FM “The Blaze” played Metallica's Black Album hits exclusively, causing me to conclude that The Black Album was Metallica's debut.

With this in mind, you can imagine my utter disbelief the day Vince told Matt and I that he had a Metallica CD from before The Black Album.

Before? BEFORE!? Had there even been heavy metal before the Black Album? Not that I could imagine. This new, old Metallica album was a life-changing discovery. Finally the world could celebrate this rare heavy metal artifact. It was like Indiana Jones finding the ancient map leading to one of the world’s most significant historical treasures. Except with long hair and a minor, albeit chronic, case of whiplash.

The album in question was 1984’s “Ride The Lightning,” Metallica’s second album.

Showing Matt and I Ride The Lightning’s CD cover in which the Metallica logo conducts lightning toward an electric chair, Vince asked us if we wanted to listen to some of it. There was no question. The answer was obvious.

So he popped open the vertically-tilting CD door on top of his Sony boombox and stuck in the disk. Vince identified track one as, "Fight Fire With Fire," a perfect name for a ripping heavy metal tune. It began oddly with a slow, melodic introduction that sounded more like entertainment for a medieval court than hundreds of drunken head bangers. But 42 seconds into the track, the speakers exploded into full-scale thrash metal. So far so good.

Inexplicably, track three played next, a listening not introduced with the song’s title. The track began ominously with the ringing of a bell that faded out with the onset of heavy rhythm guitar and high-pitch solo licks. The song wasn't especially fast, but very heavy and very kick ass. Another masterpiece.

While I could make out only a few intelligible phrases, the lyrics seemed to describe some sort of battle or other violence—sensible subject matter for a metal song. After my first listening, the only words of the song that really seemed to stick were those of the chorus: “Oooooold Lobelllltoooooo! Time Marches On!”

Now, had the title of the song, “For Whom The Bell Tolls,” been mentioned to me before this initial listening, I undoubtedly would have realized that the lyric “Oooooold Lobelllltoooooo!” was in fact “For Whoooooom the Bell Toooooolls!” and continued my metal career a bit wiser. However, in the absence of this information there was no check on this mistranslation and my mind ran wild with thoughts of what Old Lobelto could mean.

So my interpretation of Old Lobelto became this:

The ringing bell at the song's opening reminded me of a mission bell in a Spanish-style bell tower, the kind typically found in America's southwest. Couple that with the most intelligible lyric in the whole song, “Time marches on!” and the mental picture of a bell tower with a clock on it in the midst of a dusty wild west village like something out of Zorro starts to make perfect sense.

Next was the term “Old Lobelto” itself. Through some process of deliberation, I resolved that Old Lobelto was a person-- an important figure or otherwise infamous character whose name and very identity relied heavily on the adjective “old.” American culture maintains a precedent for this with legends like Old Yeller, Old Man Winter, and Old Susanna, to name a few.

Given that the name “Lobelto” ended with the letter “o,” as many Spanish words do (or as they are perceived to by an eleven year old destined to never study Spanish), and my existing association with the American southwest, Old Lobelto’s Mexican heritage presented itself quite naturally.

Finally the song lyrics, with their inferences to battle and violence, cemented Old Lobelto as a bona fide southwestern menace. The line “Make his fight on the hills in the early day” sounds like a description of an Old Lobelto ambush at dawn—a predictably dishonorable tactic. Then “Shouting gun, on they run” sounds like a quote from Old Lobelto himself laughing gleefully at his own pillage and massacre. And then the lyric of clarity “Time marches on!” seems to suggest that even time, the universal healer, has abandoned the attacked villagers. It marches with Old Lobelto and his posse on to the next unsuspecting village.

Naturally, with all this well-reasoned interpretation came a vision of Old Lobelto’s appearance. As a heartless and savage Mexican thief, the obvious visual association was Frito Bandito, the animated mascot for Fritos corn chips from the late 1960s. He was definitely Mexican and undoubtedly a thief. The heartless and savage qualities were trickier to prove.

But mix Frito Bandito’s Mexican ancestry with Yosemite Sam, an impulsive, trigger-happy loud mouth with a ridiculously large hat and an even larger ego. Now there's a villain that's larger than life. Large enough to terrorize the southwest, anyway.

I must admit that I held this misguided vision of Old Lobelto for almost five years. When I was 16, the other guitarist in the band I had joined suggested we cover Metallica’s “For Whom the Bell Tolls” at our next gig.

I responded quizzically, “Never heard of it.”

So he played the classic tune for me and I recognized it immediately. “What’s the name of this song again?” I asked.

“For Whom the Bell Tolls,” he reminded me.

“Hmmm. Funny name,” I observed, thinking it came from an obscure lyric I’d never noticed.

But as the first chorus blasted in, the age old lyric “Oooooold Lobelllltoooooo!” suddenly sounded different. And I realized, Metallica's vocalist James Hetfield hadn’t been saying “Old Lobelto” at all, but “For Whom the Bell Tolls.” When the bell sound effect returned at the end of the track, the fullness of my error sunk in.

Suddenly the holes in my Old Lobelto theory became glaringly evident. Why would Metallica write a song about a Mexican thief? Look at Metallica’s album art for the Black Album and Ride the Lightning. Then compare that to illustrations of Frito Bandito and Yosemite Sam. Which ones seem likely to be associated with a modern metal band and which would be associated with the childhood of a baby boomer?

The Metallica I had known and loved as a pre-teen turned out to be shamefully over my head. I used to think I was a true Metallica fan, but what was I now? Humiliated.

But embarrassed as I was, I never let on to my bandmates the pathetic lengths to which my mind had taken this minor misunderstanding. Although I was five years older, the certainty of ridicule remained the same if I admitted this to any of my high school friends. The truth was too ridiculous to face, so I kept mouth shut.

Years later, the burden of this secret has proven toxic, undermining my confidence in musical interpretation and ravaging my peace of mind. I can stand it no longer.

This composition represents my confession, and the true birth of The Legend of Old Lobelto. Listening to For Whom The Bell Tolls no longer evokes shame or remorse for me. Time has mostly healed the wound. The song and I are at peace with one another. However, hearing that ominous ringing bell still reminds me of Old Lobelto: ambushing, pillaging and, like time, forever marching on.

-- Nate Winter