the good old days

I’m assuming you all listened to my advice and got potatoes for all the children on your shopping list this year. If there are any left over, you’ve got a head start on shopping for your New Year’s party! Celebrate the New Depression with this game from 1933.

The fun doesn’t stop until the host needs to take the toy down to make dinner.

Via Modern Mechanix.

Everyone who’s seen a medical drama is familiar with a defibrillator. It goes wheeeeEEEEEE as it powers up, somebody yells “CLEAR!“, there’s a brrrzap, and then beep-beep-beep as the patient’s heart starts up again. (In sadder dramas, there’s just a lot of brrrzaps until the doctor tosses the paddles aside in despair.)

Improvements in the technology mean that you too may someday have a chance to save a life through controlled application of electricity.

AEDs [automated external defibrillators] are designed to shock a heart that’s in ventricular fibrillation back into a healthy rhythm. The device is now so easy to use that even an untrained bystander can administer this time-critical and highly effective medical procedure. –IEEE Spectrum

That’s right — a defibrillator is almost as easy to find in public places as a first aid kit, and almost as simple to operate as a band-aid. (Well, a complicated electronic band-aid that costs $2000…) In one of those how-did-we-get-start-on-this conversations over the holidays, my EMT-certified brother mentioned that they were just as impressive as they sound.

Compare this modern technological marvel to the original defibrillator, first used on a human in 1947 (though various researchers were defibrillating animals as long ago as the 1890’s). It was literally two electrified spoons. Much of the development in the last 60 years appears to have been minor refinements in design to improve safety and efficacy (although using DC current rather than AC was a huge step in improving patient safety).

Via MedGadget.

“Horror of Fang Rock” is a Doctor Who story about an evil alien that stalks the Doctor and the other inhabitants of a fog-enshrouded lighthouse.  Somewhere on the English coast, around the year 1900, a scout ship from the Rutan empire crashes in the sea near Fang Rock.  It raises a strange fog, slides out of the water, and moves to electrocute the strange mix of locals and Monte Carlo socialites who have taken refuge in the tower.

I didn’t remember this story being that good, but I was actually pleasantly surprised.  “Horror of Fang Rock” was significantly better than I had remembered it from the first and only other time I watched it, about two decades ago now.  It wasn’t an outstanding example of Doctor Who by any means, but it definitely had its moments.  The acting was quite acceptable, and one of the themes of the episode was the way people from the British lower and upper classes behaved so differently when thrust into a difficult situation.  One member of the lighthouse crew, old Reuben, was from local fisherfolk stock–a Luddite and superstitious, but practical.  The rich lordling and his ilk were too self-obsessed to take adivce (or orders) from their social inferiors (which is, I grant, a stereotype).  Two of the Earthlings are actually quite effective, but they get relatively little screen time; each of them is killed by the alien invader soon after first appearing.

However, what I really liked about the episode was the alien.  The spaceship effects were really quite poor, just little blobs of light moving irrationally across still model shots.  However, the Rutan, which resembled a giant glowing green sphere, with tentacles dragging behind it, was wonderful.  Of course, it was just the sort of rubber alien that early Doctor Who was supposed to avoid, and I usually don’t like that kind of monster, but I guess I’m just a sucker for anything squid shaped.  As it slimed its way up the spiral steps of the lighthouse (not the easiest thing for a ball of green protoplams to do), I almost found myself rooting for it, despite its intention to wipe out all life on Earth.  When it spoke, however, I was a little disappointed.  Not having made a Dalek story in several years, the crew apparently thought it was a good idea to use the same ring modulators that produced the eerie Dalek voices to make the Rutan’s voice sound unusual.  I found the effect merely jarring, since the character of Dalek speech is too distinctive not to sound instantly familiar (although it did take me a couple lines of dialogue before I placed it).

I also liked the lighthouse keepers’ discussions of the merits and drawbacks of different kinds of lamps.  They were very natural sounding, and Reuben’s resistance to the use of electical arc lamps seemed very rational for a circa 1900 lighthouse worker.  The whole argument sounded to me (as somebody who is very interested in the history of technology) extremely authentic and interetsting.

The acting by the regular cast was mixed.  Tom Baker’s Doctor seemed much less all-knowing than usual.  More and more information about the Rutan piles up, but he remains unable to identify the monster’s species until he confronts it in person (even though Rutans are major players in the universe, apparently).  This is quite a contrast to the Time Lord who could identify his location (in “The Power or Kroll,” another squid episode) with little more than a glance around at the swamp.  Leela, on the other hand, behaved significantly more reasonably than she normally does.  Her recommendations that everyone find weapons and defensible positions (a common feature in many of her stories) were atypically apt.  She admonishes one nervous young man not to believe superstitions; although she once did, the Doctor has taught her about science, and, “It is better to believe in science.”  Finally, and this is probably why I liked Leela’s performance (I usually don’t care for her character)–her hair was not its usual, ridiculously straight and tidy self.  It got messed up and frizzed in the mist, like a real warrior’s should.

Speaking of Louise Jameson’s appearance, I am now reminded of the low point of the story, which came at the very end.  The alien mother ship is destroyed in a blast of brilliant light, which Leela, against instructions, looks back at.  She is temporarily blinded, and asks the Doctor to slay her, not wanting to live with such an infirmity.  This comes off as ridiculous, but it’s followed by her eyes changing color, which the Doctor explains away with some especially unconvincing sciency mumbo-jumbo.  Obviously, the real explanation was that Jameson didn’t want to wear lenses to darken her eyes any more.  It would have been better just to drop the lenses and act like nothing had happened (like they later did when Peter Davison abruptly stopped dyeing his hair before his last season as the Doctor).  I certainly wouldn’t have noticed, nor would I have rolled my eyes.

As you recover from holiday indulgence, you may wish to consider this advice before hurrying to start a diet.

Why Fat Women Are the Happiest

Fat women, especially those in middle age, are usually happier than thin women because they are better equipped to withstand the nervous strain brought on by the active pace now required of middle age women, according to Dr. McPhedran, of Toronto.

Women of 40 and 50 are expected to manage the household, take an active part in club and civic affairs, and still be fresh for parties in the evening.

All this is contrary to nature, and a reasonable degree of plumpness cushions the body against physical shocks and strain.

I am guessing the authority for that tidbit is Dr. Alexander McPhedran, who pops up in various medical literature in the early twentieth century. He appears to have been a cardiologist. He was head of the Canadian Medical Association for a while.

He also appears to be unable to understand that fat doesn’t function as a pillow for the soul. I must admit, it’s one of the more intriguing argument against having women involved in “club and civic affairs”, at least the skinny ones… but it still comes down to “Ahhh, feeble women!!”

In honor of the holiday, I am offering my clan’s recipe for egg nog. This may not be precisely the drink that was George Washington’s favorite (although he would have called it “egg flip”). However, this recipe has been in my family for sixty years at least.

6 eggs, separated
3/4 cup sugar, separated
1 pint cream
1 pint milk
3/4 cup rum
3/4 cup whiskey
nutmeg

Beat the egg whites with 1/4 cup sugar, until very stiff. Then beat together yolks, cream, milk, remaining sugar, and liquor. Fold in whites. (Rebeat the whites at the bottom of the bowl if necessary). Chill overnight, long enough for the froth to float to the top again. Serve the liquid and froth together, sprinkled with nutmeg.

When I first made this for my in-laws, they couldn’t get enough of it. It’s very popular. I offered to make it for the physics department Christmas party this year, and I was initially was given the go-ahead to do it. But later, I heard back that it probably wasn’t appropriate–not because it would have too much alcohol, but because of the raw eggs.

The alcohol is pretty significant though. Made as written, this egg not is very boozy. My grandfather liked it that way. My mother makes it a lot weaker, with just 1/2 cup of relatively low proof rum. I usually make it with the full allocation of rum and whiskey. However, this is partly a reaction to my father’s inability to simply follow the recipe. Once he decided it would be a good idea to mix the nutmeg into the liquid. It was a disaster. So as a reaction to his incessant meddling, I make the recipe exactly as my grandmother copied it down. And it’s good.

OK, any of you who are fans of my cooking disasters (and/or successes), you absolutely have to visit the Random Recipe Generator. I laughed so hard I hiccuped.

Bananas And Bananas Pudding
Serves 4
You will need:

• 5 bananas
• 2 apples
• 70g cornflour
• 150ml coffee

Instructions:

1. fry the bananas
2. fry the bananas
3. fold in the bananas
4. eat the cornflour
5. fry the bananas
6. eat the apples
7. defrost the coffee
8. go down the pub

Zingy Apple Sauce And Apple Sauce Soup
Serves 5
You will need:

• 130ml cream
• 90ml apple sauce

Instructions:

1. toast the cream
2. rinse the apple sauce
3. order out

In a similar vein, enjoy this morning’s Muppet clip — “To Morrow”. I’ve always liked it, though maybe that’s because I grew up near Morrow and remember wading in a big creek there during science field trips.

Since Donald Pleasance came up in last week’s review, I thought I would devote this week to evaluating another role by the same actor.  Of course, Pleasance is best know for his portrayal of Ernst Blofeld in the James Bond stinker You Only Live Twice, which I will not be ever be reviewing.  Instead, I’d like to talk about a Twilight Zone episode that Pleasance starred in:  “The Changing of the Guard.”

Some of the best episodes of The Twilight Zone are actually extremely sentimental; in less skilled hands, they would have undoubtedly seemed mawkish, but Serling and his team manage to pull them off.  Art Carney’s famous performance as an alcoholic department store Santa who gets to experience the true spirit of Christmas is the most famous example of this.  “The Changing of the Guard” falls into the same category.  The story is rather predictable, and the moral is obvious from the beginning, but still it works.

Pleasance plays Ellis Fowler, an English teacher at the prestigious Rock Spring School for Boys.  The episode opens with him in class; after affectionately ribbing his bored students for their lack of preparedness, he reads from A. E. Housman’s A Shropshire Lad, including the famous lines:  “But I was one-and-twenty,/ No use to talk to me,” which, we will shortly learn, is emblematic of Fowler’s own thinking about his youthful students.

The fall semester is at an end.  Fowler has been teaching for fifty-one years.  He is a small fellow and, as Rod Serling puts it, “bookish.”  He is in a hurry to get home to listen to Handel’s Messiah on the radio, but the headmaster calls him into his office for a chat, in the course of which Fowler learns that the school wants him to retire.  Yet retirement is something Fowler had never considered; he has nowhere to go, nothing to do without his job.  So he returns home in dejection and raises a gun to his head.

But he doesn’t kill himself immediately, and as the evening wears on, he bemoans his uselessness to his housekeeper.  Here Pleasance gives a really remarkable performance.  He begins reminiscing about his students, then grows disgusted when he remembers that one of his favorites had been killed at Iwo Jima.  What use was nineteenth-century poetry to a lad killed at Iwo Jima?  What use was it to any of them, even if they had been listening?

With the pistol in his pocket, he heads out into the snow, meaning to kill himself in front of a statue, engraved with a quotation that he once found meaningful, but which he now feels marks him as a failure.  Yet before he can fire, he has a vision.  He stumbles into his classroom, where the ghosts of seven dead pupils greet him.  They remind him that the poetry he taught them, and the noble sentiments behind it, had remained with them and had bouyed them in their own trials.  I find this scene extremely moving, in spite of its predictability.  The acting is quite effective all around–Pleasance as the confused, depressed, but well-meaning old man and his students, who are mature beyond the young years that Fowler’s memory accords them, earnest in their desires to remind him how he had taught them to be men.

As a final comment, it was interesting to see how large in the cultural consciousness the World Wars loomed.  Many of the young men had died in these wars, and it seemed that a large part of Fowler’s feeling that he hadn’t contributed anything to the world was based on the fact that he himself had not fought.  He stayed behind as a teacher, whereas these boys had risked and lost their lives fighting to preserve freedom.  For me, the first half of the twentieth century is a time to be remembered as the most evil era in all human history.  Yet for those who lived through the World Wars, it had been a time when millions of men had pledged their utmost for something that they knew really mattered.

If you’re not going by primary sources when researching your family tree, there’s always a risk that there was a transcription error, or somebody connected the wrong facts to people.

This is actually the eighth ancestor of mine who is listed in various records as being buried alive — she’s probably the longest underground survivor, though. Well done, Miriam.

Here’s a gift for any young ones on your holiday shopping list:

I know, I know… you’re all thinking, “What sort of horrible person would you have to be to give a child potatoes as a present? That’s a step up from coal, but only because potatoes are edible!”

Well, you’re forgetting the second part of the gift:

When Mr. Potato Head first came to market in 1952, it was sold as a set of parts (eyes, ears, noses, etc.) that could be stuck onto a real potato. And you could also make Mr. Apple Head, Ms. Turnip Head, and so on — any fruit or vegetable that was large and sturdy enough to hold the plastic bits.

I rather prefer that to the modern Mr. Potato Head, even if the big brown plastic potato doubles as storage for all the body parts. There’s more creativity — you have to pick the best-shaped potato, or choose a vegetable variety that looks most (or least) human. Or maybe I’m assigning a sense of whimsy to this that it never had… there’s also something sad about playing with your food this way.

The admittedly strange Potato Gift Box is via Kitchen Retro; original Mr. Potato Head picture is via the NIH (yes, that NIH); hint that Mr. Potato Head was a real potato is via my dad.