I’ve never tasted milk that contained the corpse of a dead mouse, so I can’t say whether or not it would be noticeable, but a couple in Kentucky claim they drank three days’ worth of moused-up milk they’d purchased at Sam’s Club before ever noticing the rotting rodent inside. Now, as happens in these situations, they have filed a lawsuit.
The suit, which was filed earlier this week against Sam’s Club’s parent company Walmart, says the couple purchased the jug of milk at Sam’s and then, with the help of their 23-month-old granddaughter, spent the next three days drinking from it.
On the third day, the woman involved went to pour some milk and “discovered a dead mouse” in the jug.
The gallon of milk — along with the rodent — was taken to the Kentucky Department of Public Health where the couple filed a written complaint.
According to the suit, the family “suffered embarrassment, humiliation and emotional distress.”
The plaintiffs also claim that their granddaughter had blood in her stool after consuming the allegedly contaminated milk.
“This has been a traumatic experience for the Grants,” says their lawyer. “They were completely shocked.”
In addition to Walmart, the suit names Superior Dairy Inc., of Ohio, as a defendant. The family is seeking non-economic and punitive damages through a trial by jury.
Without having much to go on here, what’s your gut instinct on the plaintiffs’ allegations — scam or the real deal?
Louisville KY Injury News: Family Sues Walmart After Finding Dead Mouse In Milk [JusticeNewsflash.com]
What you see here are coprolites—a fancy name for fossilized poops, which allows paleontologists to seriously discuss something that could otherwise end up eliciting a lot of immature giggles. Notice, if you will, the giant teeth marks in the coprolite on the left. Those were likely made by either a Physogaleus or a Galeocerdo, ancient, extinct sharks related to the modern Tiger Shark.
And, while it’s pretty awesome that paleontologists can match tooth marks well enough to fossil anatomy to narrow the biter down to one of two species, the real thing we all want to know is, “Why the heck was a shark biting poop?”
Tiger Sharks have not been documented as poop-eaters. Plus, if the ancient sharks were trying to eat poop, you'd think they'd have succeeded. Instead, we have coporolites—un-eaten, but still bitten. It's a mystery. But, according to science blogger Brian Switek, researchers from Maryland's Calvert Marine Museum and the American Institutes for Research, have a theory. An awesome theory.
The pattern of the bite marks and the fact that the feces were not ingested is consistent with a reconstruction in which, during an attack on another animal, the shark either bit through the body wall and guts to leave the tooth impressions or bit the intestines after disemboweling its prey. Such an attack would have left tooth marks on the feces, which probably fell out of the intestine shortly afterward, hence “In this scenario, the shark chose not to eat the feces, which drifted away, settled out of sight, or otherwise avoided attention.”
Brian Switek: Unique fossils record the dining habits of ancient sharks
Image from “Shark-bitten vertebrate coprolites from the Miocene of Maryland” in the journal Naturwissenschaften
Behold the perplexing multi-media underground electropop darlings of Tokyo, Trippple Nippple. Their stage show sounds like a J-Pop version of out-there 70s performance artists, The Kipper Kids, and features stuff like eggs, glitter, milk, blood and rotting food. From an interview posted today at the Dazed and Confused blog:
Dazed Digital: Is there symbolism behind your costumes and performances?
Qrea Nippple: Last time we were doing some guillotine things, and we cut so many heads off balloons. The helium goes to the ceiling. Yuka was crying like, “Oh I feel so guilty for killing so many balloon heads, so I drew some really wicked, bad faces on the balloons, so she wouldn’t feel guilty for cutting their heads off. ”
Dazed Digital: What were some of your most memorable performances?
Yuka Nippple: We have a lot of stories about making a mess. We played club Asia in Tokyo and our costumes were mud, just that. And we put on some blonde hair ponytails. We were just mud and blonde hair ponytail. That was our costume. It was a lot of fun as always. But in the morning when the lights turned on, the whole club was covered in dry mud. And everyone went mad, and everyone had to clean up until about 9am in the morning. We made a lot of people really upset. We didn’t mean to of course, but my bad, but I’d like to announce that we can do “Not dirty one” too! People sometimes misunderstand what we are, but we are musicians!
Dazed Digital: So where did you acquire all this mud?
Yuka Nippple: Amazing, amazing store called Tokyu Hands in Shibuya. It’s a department store with 21 floors of DIY stuff. We get everything from there. You can spend a day just looking for things. We found rice-field mud in a packet.
Read the entire article at Dazed Digital: TOKYO’S TRIPPPLE NIPPPLES: Insane electro popstresses hailing from the fine land of Tokyo talk fake tits and their milky alcohol
Connection with nature
The ofuro (お風呂), or Japanese bath, is an integral part of Japanese life. Just as the meaning of Japanese cuisine goes far beyond sustenance, the significance of the bath goes far beyond merely washing. For generations the sentō (銭湯) or “bath house” was a focal point in residential areas and a gathering place not just for bathing but for chatting, meeting friends, and generally feeling connected to others in the neighborhood. Today there are fewer sentō as all modern homes have a private bath, but the significance of the bathing ritual — whether at home, visiting an onsen, or at the local sentō — runs deep in the Japanese approach to life, which traditionally is closely tied to nature.
It may not seem like it sometimes in the ultra modern, fast-paced urban centers like Tokyo or Osaka, but nature, or shizen (自然), also plays a central role in Japanese culture. For many, the bath is a time for relaxation and contemplation and connecting with the natural surroundings outside the ofuro. The famous Zen scholar Daisetz Suzuki (1870-1966) often discussed the deep affection Japanese have for nature and how the yearning for that connection was something deep in all of us. “However ‘civilized,’ however much brought up in an artificially contrived environment,” Suzuki-sensei said, “we all seem to have an innate longing for primitive simplicity, close to the natural state of living.” The bathing ritual is a chance, then, to take some time off the grid of daily life and reconnect to that simple, natural state of living.
ABOVE: An older style of sentō. Although the public bath in the cities usually lacked the beautiful natural surroundings of an onsen, attempts were made to help visitors at least feel a bit of nature through large wall paintings. Fuji-san is a popular subject. (Photo source.)
ABOVE: The water in an onsen is extremely hot. Notice the washing area in the background. You sit on the wooden stools and use a bucket or shower with soap and a washcloth to thoroughly wash before entering the the large bath. The changing area is separate from the shower and bathing area.
ABOVE: The outdoor bath — rotenburo — is a particularly popular style of onsen bath. Here one feels the closest connection with nature.
Above: These are examples of private baths that came with our room at two onsens we visited in recently. The washing areas are just outside the photos. These type of onsen resorts also have large communal baths inside and outside for guests to use.
Above: It is not uncommon for brand new houses in Japan to have such a beautiful ofuro. Although most home bathrooms are not yet so beautifully designed, the basics of a shower/washing area and a deep bath which are both separate from the changing area is typical. It’s not uncommon for new houses and remodeled homes, however, to included such aesthetically pleasing bathrooms. The showrooms at interior design centers such as Panasonic are packed on weekends. Checkout samples here. (Bathrooms, remember, are just that: bath rooms. The toilet has its own room unattached to the bathing area, except in the case of very small apartments and hotels.)
(Keynote slide.)
Seven Lessons from the bath
So what can we learn from the Japanese bath as it relates to communication and presentation? How is a Japanese bath like a presentation. Here are just seven ways:
(1) You must first prepare.
One must take time to thoroughly wash *before* taking a bath. And one must fully prepare *before* taking the podium.
(2) You must go fully naked.
Shorts and swimming suits are not allowed. You must enter the washing area of an onsen or sentō fully nude (save for a small washcloth). Presenting naked is about removing the unnecessary to expose what is most important. Naked presenters do not try to hide but instead stand front and center and share their ideas in a way that connects with and engages the audience.
(3) Barriers and masks are removed.
Removing our clothes is symbolically removing the facade and the walls that separate us. In today’s presentations, visuals are sometimes used as a crutch rather than an amplifier of our message, thus becoming a distraction and a barrier themselves. Visuals in a naked presentation never obfuscate but instead illuminate and clarify. The naked presenter designs visuals that are simple with clear design priorities that contain elements which guide the viewer’s eye.
(4) You are now fully exposed.The best type of bathing is in the roten-buro, or the outside onsen, especially in Fall or Winter. The water is hot and the air may be cold, yet you feel alive. Presenting naked is about being free from worry and self-doubt. Gimmicks and tricks and deception are inconsistent with the naked style. You are now transparent, a bit vulnerable, but confident and in the moment.
(5) You are on the same level as others.
Hierarchy and status are not apparent or important naked. The best presentations are less like a lecture and at least feel more like an engaging conversation in a language that is clear, honest, and open. Don’t try to impress. Instead try to, share, help, inspire, teach, inform, guide, persuade, motivate, or make your audience a little bit better. No matter your rank, a presentation is a chance to make a contribution with fellow humans.
(6) You must be careful of the time. Moderation is key.
Nothing is better than soaking in the hot water, but do not over do it. Too much of a good thing can turn unhealthy. A good presenter also is mindful of time and aware that it is not his time but *their* time. Remember the concept of hara hachi bu. Give the audience greater quality than expected, but be respectful of their time. Never go over your allotted time. Leave the audience satisfied but not satiated (i.e., overwhelmed).
(7) Feels great after you’re done.
The bath will recharge you as it warms your body and it will energize your soul. After an important talk, if it goes well, you also feel invigorated and inspired. If we connect with an audience in a meaningful and passionate way that leaves them with something of value — knowledge, insight, inspiration, even a bit of ourselves — then we feel a sense of joy that comes from making an honest contribution. (Photo: with friends at TEDxTokyo after the bath at the Odaiba Onsen, their website is wild.)
Going naked and going natural are the key takeaways from the Japanese bath that, with a little creativity, we can apply to many aspects of our work and daily lives. In this time of ubiquitous digital presentation and other media tools, the tenets of nakedness and naturalness are more important than ever. At the end of the day, it still remains people connecting and forming relationships with other people. And that’s best done naked.
Related
• Photo essay of Japanese sentō by my buddy Markuz Wernli Saito
• Thoughts on presenting naked by some of my blog readers
• Photos from our most recent onsen trip in Japan.
Yesterday, we directed you to the intersection of dessert and dinner with the red velvet fried chicken. Today, we show you what happens when dinner fully invades the dessert realm with the savory layers of the Meat-Man Parfait.
This concoction of the Midstate Meat Co. layers alternating strata of meat (pulled pork, brisket… or both) and garlic mashed potatoes. And instead of hot fudge with a cherry on top, its got barbecue sauce with a cherry tomato for garnish.
You could just make one of these at home. Or you could really piss off the staff at your local barbecue joint by emptying out your water glass and filling it with your dinner. But the actual Meat-Man Parfait is currently on sale at the Illinois State Fair in Springfield until Aug. 22.
Meat-Man Parfait grabs Illinois State Fair’s heart [Chicago Tribune]
Dexter Gordon
Jazz photographer Herman Leonard has died. Leonard’s black and white photographs of jazz greats such as Billie Holiday, Frank Sinatra, Charlie Parker and Duke Ellington were masterpieces of lighting and mood. He captured moments in time that became an indelible part of jazz culture. Like the musicians his camera chronicled, his photographs sang.
Billie Holiday
Early in the pages of Eat, Pray, Love, on her way to India, author Elizabeth Gilbert drops an ominous talisman: she makes a Gandhi joke.
While dining on the intestines of a newborn lamb she observes Gandhi “never ate lamb intestines in his life.”
“But vegetarians can eat this,” responds her companion Luca. “Intestines aren’t even [...]
There's no intellectual property protection for food recipes. And everyone has access to the same ingredients as their local restaurants, at least for the most part. You might think that the gap between great cooking and merely competent cooking would shrink over time, as the recipes and methods of the greatest chefs leak into the mainstream. But that doesn't seem to be happening. There is enough art in cooking that you either have that skill or you don't. At the highest level, you're part psychologist, part visual artist, part explorer, and your sense of smell is freakish. Collectively, call it an x-factor.
A few years ago I went to an oddly named restaurant called The French Laundry. It's billed as one of the greatest restaurants in the world, and you need reservations months in advance. I'm no foodie, so I didn't expect much, frankly, beyond high prices. Instead, I experienced a euphoria that transcends words. There was something about the order and proximity of tastes that lit up my brain's pleasure centers in the most unexpected way. Calling whatever happened there "eating" would truly miss the point. The place is a mood enhancer masquerading as a restaurant. It borders on pharmacology.
I was thinking about this as an analogy to where the Internet is heading. Consider a web site like www.Newser.com that summarizes content from all over the Internet. They get away with it by quoting or rewording only the most interesting points from larger bodies of work, and providing a link if you'd like to see the rest. Apparently their business model conforms to copyright laws because they are still in business. Newser has borrowed from my blog, and that's okay with me because it drives traffic this way.
Consider that Newser has access to the same raw ingredients as anyone else. Newser's website design is little more than a grid of boxes. The photos – and this fascinates me – are nothing but stock photos that have at best a casual relationship to the story they are summarizing. I mention this site because I am psychologically addicted to it. I feel a need to check it twenty times a day. WTF?
Newser's business reminds me of cooking in the sense that there is no barrier to entry. Everyone has access to the same ingredients, which in this case is content from the Internet. Anyone can summarize that content and put it in little boxes on a website. Anyone can buy stock photos. But there's something else going on.
Editors are the chefs of the Internet. Newser works, I believe, because somewhere in their back kitchen is an editor who has an uncommon feel for what stories to highlight, how to summarize them in a folksy voice, and in what order and combination they should appear. There's some genius happening there. When I read news from other places, I often come away feeling deflated. When I read Newser, I always leave in a good mood. That's why I return so often. It's a mood enhancer masquerading as some sort of news site.
And that's your future of the Internet. The cost of content, such as this blog, and my comic strip, will continue to approach zero. The art will happen with the editing. Others have made the obvious point that editing will be important for the future of the Internet. All I'm adding is the notion that most editors have skill, but few are artists. The world of print publishing is driven by editors who are exceptionally skilled. But they aren't artists. Newser is edited by an artist. He or she isn't giving me information; he's adjusting my mood. That's art. That's the future.
I know my readers, and you're going to piss all over poor Newser for being simplistic in design, having annoying ads, dumbing down the news, and stretching the limits of copyright. We can agree on all of those points. I'm just saying the editor is an artist.
Speaking of Return of the Jedi, George Lucas showed the legendary deleted opening scene, with Vader reaching out to Luke via the Force, while Luke finishes constructing his new lightsaber on Tatooine. I remember reading about this in a magazine when I was 10; now it’s on YouTube. Amazing.
Abbey Lincoln, a singer whose dramatic vocal command and tersely poetic songs made her a singular figure in jazz, died on Saturday in Manhattan. She was 80 and lived on the Upper West Side.
Her death was announced by her brother David Wooldridge.
Ms. Lincoln’s career encompassed outspoken civil rights advocacy in the 1960s and fearless introspection in more recent years, and for a time in the 1960s she acted in films, including one with Sidney Poitier.
Long recognized as one of jazz’s most arresting and uncompromising singers, Ms. Lincoln gained similar stature as a songwriter only over the last two decades. Her songs, rich in metaphor and philosophical reflection, provide the substance of “Abbey Sings Abbey,” an album released on Verve in 2007. As a body of work, the songs formed the basis of a three-concert retrospective presented by Jazz at Lincoln Center in 2002.
