Will Fred survive this burger?

The current CEO of McDonald's, Christopher Kempczinski, made internet infamy a couple of weeks back with what seems to be an ill-considered video of him trying the company's Big Arch, their most enormous hamburger to date, I believe. From most accounts (such as this one) it did not go too well. Mr. Kempczinski seems to be a man in good shape, one who does a lot of aerobic activity -- for all I know he rides a bike to work. He does not, in fact, look like someone who has ever set foot in a McDonald's restaurant. 

By contrast, when Donald Trump took a turn making fries and working the window of a McDonald's in 2024, he looked like he fit right in. 

But while Kempczinski was battered with many jests and parody videos, if his intention was to get people to hear about the Big Arch, he did succeed. The large burger is decribed thus: "two quarter-pound beef patties, three slices of white cheddar cheese, crispy onions, slivered onions, pickles, and a tangy new 'Big Arch sauce' on a sesame-and-poppy-seed bun." Available for a limited time.

Well, on Monday, because we had no time to cook, and we were out later than hoped, the mrs. and I decided to pick up a quick dinner to go from McD's. Even though I was not ravenous, I was curious, and I felt a little bad for the CEO, so I decided to try the monster sandwich. 

Buckle up! 

 

We start right off with the weird hybrid bun -- an holy marriage of sesame and poppy seeds. As neither of these provide much flavor, it seems like McDonald's is just showing off here. Julia Child once complained that the Big Mac had too much bread, and the Big Arch is also bread heavy (although lacking the center slice of the Mac). But I love bread, so no complaints on that score. 

As we take a much more considerable bite than the CEO did, we note that the "Arch Sauce" is not related to the "Dijonaisse" sauce from the failed Arch Deluxe of thirty years gone. This has a more orange look, a bit darker than the Special Sauce of the Big Mac but with a similar flavor. Maybe a little paprika makes the difference. 

(Notice I got the small fries with this burger rather than my usual medium fries; got to watch my figure, you know.)

I would say that if you like the way McDonald's makes hamburgers, this is that but more of it. I could have used more pickles to brighten it up, but that may have been an assembly line error. The crispy onions were tasty but kinda soggy. Since they were cooked, though, they were less gassy than raw onions.

So, I give the Big Arch the conditional thumb's-up.

The CEO claimed he was going to eat his Big Arch for lunch, but I would doubt that even if he had taken a real, manly bite instead of a nibble. I would never get a Big Arch for a meal if I had to be alert afterward. With a reported caloric load of 1,020–1,057 kcal, I would be much more inclined to take a nap.

I did feel afterward like I had consumed the tire off a city bus, and in fact still felt that way in the morning. But I'm no hungry teen -- and I knew some teen athletes in my youth who probably could have eaten two of these with fries and a shake, then wanted dessert. I'm well past that kind of chowhoundery. 

For the record, as hefty as the Big Arch is, it contains fewer calories than Five Guys' Bacon Cheeseburger (1,060), Wendy's Triple (1,195), or Applebee's O-M-Cheese Burger (1,900). That last one is in a class by itself, I think. So while large, and too much for lunch, the Big Arch is hardly the Godzilla-size sandwich it's made out to be. But it ain't health food, and the American Heart Association is probably devoting a page to it on its website as I write.

HELLO?

A dear friend called me the other day, which is always nice, but he called me from the gym. Gym noise, combined with the toll that time and Meniere's syndrome have taken on me, made for a good deal of trouble hearing him. 

I'm no gym rat. I'm not even a gym flea. I've gone to some gyms, like the ones they provide in hotels, and if those have music it's usually gentle stuff, suitable to climbing steps at a reasonable pace or knotting yourself up in yoga or dying in a cable TV drama. But his gym had a lot of peppy music blaring. Combined with the sound of weights smashing and machines whirring and people yapping, it sounded like an entire Chuck E. Cheese -- with birthday party -- rolling down a hill. The only thing missing was the screaming of children (which you'd hear even if the party was stationary). 

 

"WHAT'D YA SAY? YOUR WIFE WANTS A TEA COURSE?"

Sometimes I think the apogee of the telephone was in the 1990s, when we had caller ID and few people were running around with mobile phones. This era was the peak because: 

• You knew who was calling. 
• You could answer or let it go to the machine. 
• If you didn't know who was calling, and it turned out to be someone you wanted to speak to, you could pick up when they started to leave the message and pretend you just got in. 
• If someone was calling you from the gym or Chuck E. Cheese, it was probably from a payphone near the door and not near the speakers. 
• No spoof, spam, robot, or other modern annoyances of the telephonic variety. 

Sure, having a cellie on you all the time is convenient for making calls. But if it's so great, why does everyone want to text now? 

Well, to answer my own question, texting is convenient. You don't have to connect with the other person to get your message across. You can text right on the toilet, something people would not like to know and don't have to -- but would if you were calling. ("What's that echo?") And it's noncommittal -- you can drop out of a text conversation without warning and pick it up later (or block the other texter if things went sour). 

There is, however, the problem of multiple topics breaking out in a text chat, but that's an issue for another time. If there's a takeaway to this blog entry -- and why should this one be different from the others? -- it's to remember the irritation of background noise when making calls. It does your callee no good to hear your voice through construction machines, bowling alley pins, or the cop telling you to recite the alphabet backward. That is all.  

Death or taxes?

I'm thinking, I'm thinking. 

Does anyone ever get pleasantly surprised by his or her income tax calculation? I certainly don't. 

As a freelancer, my income fluctuates annually. Last year I worked almost every single day and managed to have a good year. Not that it felt good, with car trouble and the withering failures of the dishwasher, A/C, water heater, and smaller appliances. The only appliance in the house that has not been replaced at least once is the oven, and I'm keeping an eye on that in case it gets any ideas. 

The upshot of my earned income, of course, is that I have to pay an enormous amount of taxes. I like to think it's going toward missiles to finally end the 50-year war Iran declared on us, but it's probably going to a Minnesotan learing center. 

The comic strip Cathy used to have a running bit where her accountant could tell the heroine where her tax money was actually being used, and it was always some stupid, frivolous thing, like color-coded staplers for the Department of Agriculture. It was funny, but I would take stupid and frivolous over the fraud that has been consuming vast amounts of American citizens' pay.

This year it was recommended to me that, as there had been some changes to the tax code, that it might be wise to let a professional run the numbers rather than taxpaying software, as I have used the past few tax seasons. That brought me to the door of a local branch of a well-known financial service that I will call McTax's (with apologies to McDonald's). 

I do not want to go through the ensuing confusion, delays, and frustrations, but I will say:

1) What has taken weeks could have been resolved in hours for far less than the $500 I got soaked;

2) It is possible that my tax software might have gotten me the same painful result, but I guarantee it would not have been worse; and

3) I have gotten takeout from a sandwich shop that had cockroaches, been in bars where I thought I might die, and been at the mercy of a crazy, nervous dentist, but none of these made me feel less confident in an establishment than the four "professionals" staffing the office of McTax's.

Well, lesson learned, I guess, or leared as they say in Minneapolis. Now we have another reason to push hard to sell the house, as I am going to have a hard time paying taxes from last year and no way to put down an advance on taxes for this year. Selling the house would solve that issue.

But the oven had better not get any funny ideas. 

It's not?

 

Coffee achievers!

Last month the Journal of the American Medical Association, also known as JAMA LAMA BING BONG BOO, ran an excellent study entitled "Coffee and Tea Intake, Dementia Risk, and Cognitive Function." Why is this so important? Because: 

Greater consumption of caffeinated coffee and tea was associated with lower risk of dementia and modestly better cognitive function, with the most pronounced association at moderate intake levels.

There it is! Just what I've been saying all along. Coffee makes your brain work better, and keep at it longer! 

health food

"But, Fred," you say, "surely you just agree with this because you like coffee and becase you are hopelessly addicted to caffeine." 

To which I counter: Ha! And: Maybe! But don't just take my word for it. Take the word of me looking back at my younger days. 

In my house, you started drinking coffee as soon as you could stand it, usually a drop of coffee in a cup of milk. By the time I was in my early teens, I was drinking it with Mom and Dad as is. Did it make me smarter? Well, probably not, but it got me out the door in time for school.

Since then I have relied heavily on caffeine, but except in small Pepsi Zero type doses or the occasional black tea, I rely on coffee to get my moving. No No-Doz or Red Bull. (I'll bet that Red Bull stuff actually causes more dementia, just going by the ads.) 

How do I know that these so-called scentists aren't just in the pocket of Big Coffee? Well, for one thing the names include Zhang, Liu, Li, Gu, Kang, Wang, and Hu. They all are affiliated with American institutions, but if they were on the take you'd think Big Tea would have been a more natural cultural connection. So I think they are 100% trustworthy on this important issue.  

So drink that coffee! Fight that dementia! And don't worry about the "moderate intake levels" stuff. I mean, it just stands to reason that two pots of coffee are twice as good as one pot of coffee. It's science! 

Flaming deer.

One of the curious things that happened while this blog was on hiatus was the bear invasion. A black bear was seen multiple times, and his explosive assaults on garbage cans were also seen multiple times. 

Have not seen him in a bit, but it's March. He may still be around in the neighborhood, sleeping it off. 

I avoided him by putting my garbage out after sunrise, but my neighbors did not always follow this strategy. 

Racoons will make a huge mess, tipping over the can and scattering food debris, but for a real trash-saster you need a bear. Because when they get to the bag they want, they drag the ripped bag hither and yon, spreading joy where'er they go. 

Which brings up the deer. 

At one point the bear grabbed a trash bag from across the street and dragged it along my nextdoor neighbor's yard. There's no fence, so bits got on my side, but the bulk stayed over yonder. However, I was out there with the dog that day and came face to face with a large deer. 

Normally deer might bound away, or freeze, hoping to be invisible. But not this deer. He was licking the wrapper of some product and was so intent that he didn't budge when we were within five feet. He was obsessed. I mentioned to him that he should remove himself, but he did not care. He was going to town on this wrapper and did not care who knew it. So we let him be. 

I was very surprised later when I found out what the food was that had him so entranced: 

Spicy hot hispanic snack food?

Sabritias, which makes Turbos, is a Mexican snack company owned by Pepsi. I've never tried any of their products, but if this is sold in Mexico and claims to be hot, I believe them. And yet the deer just thought it was the bee's knees. The bee's flamas knees. 

Critters need salt too, which is why mineral licks are used, so I could see the attraction of the deer to the saltiness of the snack. But the hot pepper is what surprises me. It's taken me a while to get my Scoville tolerance up, and that's after a lifetime of exposure; this deer took to the Turbos like a duck to water. I expected to see cartoon smoke coming out his ears. 

Who knows. Deer are nutty. 

This ends today's episodes of Animals Are Weirder Than We Think. I'm sure we'll have some more fun and games if the bear shows up in spring, so stay tuned.  

Thrilling adventure!

(With apologies to the late great Mike Maltese.)
 

Memory full.

No matter how advanced computers get, we still find ways to fill them up with so much running crap that they wind up lagging and lollygagging. Then we have to get new computers that can run that crap properly, until we fill them up again. 

Unfortunately this is not an option with my brain, which resists all upgrades. 

During the stressful period in which I am slogging, I have found my dreams to be unreasonably detailed. Not clever or smart, but loaded with data. I might be traveling down a quiet road and find myself without warning in a rural neighborhood; the neighborhood is fully populated with people and their dogs, and I'm invited to have a look at someone's vast library (of course I can read none of the titles but the books are in all kinds of colors and conditions). Or I am trying to ride the subway along with enough people to make up the cast of Ghandi, and every grotty detail is visible but not the stations or where we're going. 

All this leaves me as tired when I wake up as when I went to sleep. I'm running new software on my old hardware, you see, and something has to slow down somewhere. 

Why do we go through all these mental gymnastics anyway, when all we want is rest? These days most scientists from which I've heard think that the purpose of dreaming has to do with learning and memory, a way of sorting out the data. It's possible, but my dreams seldom deal with anything in my life at present. I dream about commuting more that you'd think possible, and I haven't had to do that in years. Still, who really knows? 

Compounding the riddle of dreaming is that we smarty-pants humans are not the only ones who do it. We know for certain that dogs dream, always running with li'l paws or boofing out barks in their sleep. It's really cute. Less cute is that, according to a piece in the Smithsonian, lots of animals are dreaming: 

Young jumping spiders dangle by a thread through the night, in a box, in a lab. Every so often, their legs curl and their spinnerets twitch—and the retinas of their eyes, visible through their translucent exoskeletons, shift back and forth.

“What these spiders are doing seems to be resembling—very closely—REM sleep,” says Daniela Rößler, a behavioral ecologist at the University of Konstanz in Germany. 

I feel worse for knowing that spiders dream. ABOUT WHAT? 

The article does note that we still don't know dreaming is about, whether we're man, dog, bug, or eucalyptus plant. (NB: Nothing about dreaming vegetables in that article.) It's mysterious, and it wears me out.  

I'm with the late great Mitch Hedberg on this topic: 

Dreaming is work, you know - there I am in a comfortable bed, the next thing you know I have to build a go-kart with my ex-landlord. I want a dream of me watching myself sleep.

Right on, sleepy brother. 

The rock.

I've been watching some of the Winter Olympics this year. My wife had them on, and we like to see some of the amazing things people can do. I swear, freestyle ski jumps, skeleton sledding, speed skating, and so on -- if you'd never seen anything like it until you were an adult, you wouldn't believe the human body could perform such actions. 

Of course, cheating -- anyone above the age of three could believe that. 

 

It's tempting to pile on Canada because of the apparent dishonor their men's curling team has brought to the nation. Once thou hast let go of thy rock, thou cans't touch it no longer! The Eleventh Commandment, at least in the Olympics. 

One commenter said that in practical play, curling is like golf, in which honor is expected and demonstrated in friendly matches. I play neither sport, but I have always heard that golfers are notoriously untrustworthy. There's more to a lie in golf than the spot of the ball.

For some, the real scandal of curling is that it is an Olympic sport at all. To them, it is like having darts or bowling at the Olympics. 

I don't know. Archery has been a regular Olympic sport since 1972, and what is darts but fun-size archery? Bowling requires more effort than darts, but bowling does not allow sweepers as in curling -- and those sweepers are always out there working like the boss's boss just walked in. In any event, golf has been back in the Olympics since 2016 (after a 112-year absence), so you tell me what counts as a sport.

I still like the pancake test, heard a few years back on a Wall Street Journal podcast: If you can eat a stack of pancakes and go out and not have it affect your play, you are playing a game, not a sport. Golfers, curlers, bowlers, and so on may ask themselves that deep question. 

As for me, a stack of pancakes would make me want to nap, so it would even affect me playing Clue or some Pop-O-Matic game. I guess in the shape I'm in, everything is a sport. 

Cellar dweller.

It's been very cold for several weeks now -- really, since winter began. Usually we get a few warm spells in the winter here in the Hudson Valley. We'll have a couple of wind-blasted days of misery, ice and snow, the usual, but then a few days in the forties to kind of reset, melt some of the snirt, and wash off some salt with a little rain, before it's back to the cooler. Not this winter. One below-freezing day after another. Regularly colder here than in Anchorage. 

So my basement, which I never finished nor cared to, remains chilly. 

Unfortunately I have a lot to do down there. 

Artist's depiction of my cellar

As the Great Lileks is doing, we are aiming to get the house ready to show. This has meant a number of steps, all challenging, like:

• Paint the porch -- a frantic job done in late October before winter hit
• Spray wash the siding -- reluctantly accepted this recommendation, but it made the house look like new
• Dumpster rental -- frantic tossing of decades of old stuff
• Large item removal -- old fridge in cellar, book shelves
• New carpeting -- another great idea, painfully expensive, and made for one exceptionally stressful day for us and the dog
• Professional deep clean -- this also was nice, but I'm not used to strangers cleaning up after me
• Prepare for real estate photographer -- frantic removal of all personal effects and making rooms look like hotel rooms

And now:

YOU ARE HERE →🞋←

And here means getting ready for showtime. 

The problem is that all those other steps resulted in box after box of things going into the cellar, with no time to arrange them. That was okay to this point, as the photographer wasn't going to bother with pictures of the basement or garage. But NOW, we have to make the clutter neat. And this is where I am today. 

It's all for the good, but man, I am tired, and I am cold down in the cellar. I hear it's warmer down south, and they don't bother putting cellars in houses. I think that's where we'll go. Any suggestions? 

Foodball!

You may have heard there is a large football game going on tonight.

Big bin of these in the store Friday:

As you probably also have heard, Glad Take-Alongs are helpful food-safe plastic containers that are as airtight as Tupperware but cheaper and not expected to last for generations. They are often used for party situations -- if you're bringing food to a party, you don't want to demand your Tupperware back before you go home; you also don't want to demand your host do the dishes for you and return it clean at some point. With a Take-Along, the thing can be chucked or washed and reused or returned and no one feels like he or she has been taken advantage of. You see them around a lot for Christmas, but this is the first time I have seen sports-shaped containers -- here, American footballs with the classic brown.

I'm not going anywhere tonight, or I might have been tempted to pick up a pack. But why? As I considered through my aisle wandering, it occurred to me that the individual containers are not that large -- too small for, say, a party-size serving of wings or Swedish meatballs. (Sorry, Vikings.) Also, while the containers are heatsafe and microwaveable, they are not great for transporting hot foods, and they have no natural insulation. You might be riding in the car with a lap full of really hot beanie weenies. 

Further, they're too small for chips, too large for dips, too small for salads, too funny shaped for desserts . . . In fact, I can't think of any party foods that would work well in these containers. Maybe that's why there were so many of them in the bin with two days to go until the Super Bowl. 

Will unsold units be sold at a discount? Will they be returned to Glad? I'd be interested to know. But I think that either these things will be used for leftovers, or they will be leftovers. 

Good luck, Glad. Maybe basketball-shaped bowls for NCAA March Madness would work better? 

Is this thing on?

Hello, out there in Internet land! After a long absence I have returned! 

Don't all go crazy, now!

No? Not even a little crazy?

Fine, be that way. 

Anyway, yes, due mostly to work obligations, I have been unable to post for some time. I have come somewhat out from under the pile of said obligations, but my main reason for priortizing my online presence is this: 

Some of you may know that the fine folks at Raconteur Press have published my YA novel I've Got This, and it was put to me that my readers (who are all tasteful and good looking) might want to find a way to contact me. So here I am. Come at me, bro! 

The book is available from the typical sources (like Amazon, Books-a-Million, maybe the dumpster at Publishers Weekly) and my contact email remains the same:  frederick_key@yahoo.com. Someone has to give Yahoo something to do, after all. 

I hope to post regularly, but have not figured out a schedule yet. For those just peeking in for the first time, the general topics are books, comics, food, work, home ownership, what my dog did, the perils of modern living, and everything else. The last file, oddly, is the smallest. Maybe I should get out more. 

Thanks for stopping by, and I hope to see you again soon!

-Fred