Tetherd Cow Ahead

Oh my God! Don’t put your hand in there!

A couple o’ weeks back I was visiting Radioactive Jam as I am wont to do, and through some freakish collision of cosmic particles I happened to make the 2000th comment on RaJ’s blog.

Of course, I doubt I would have ever noticed this unless there had been a big flashing red light, sirens, dancing girls and a prize associated with the event.

Anyway, the prize arrived in the post the other day and I saw with delight that it was a little 1992 book called ‘Sign Language’ by Ann Sanfedele. It’s a collection of photos of odd signs and strange confluences of signage and reality. Right up my alley.

Thanks Jam, I love it.

I notice you can still buy the book on Amazon, and that Ann herself runs a Cafe Press shop where you can buy her pictures on calendars, mugs and shirts and so forth. You folks mosey on over and buy something from her. Tell her The Cow sent you.

The guys over at Patently Silly have uncovered the work of heretofore unknown beverage genius Kineo Okado. Mr Okado has filed a US patent for ‘Alcoholic beverages derived from animal extract, and methods for the production thereof‘.

Yes, that’s right sports fans, we’re talking meat alcohol. Alcoholic beverages made from meat. And when we’re talking meat, we’re talking chicken and fish as well. The sky is the limit for Mr Okada who is proposing that his concept would be applicable to any animal protein.

(I can just see him enthusiastically explaining the idea to his lab assistant: “Just think Yamada-san – alcohol made from ostriches! Alcohol made from prawns! Alcohol made from water buffalo! Mwahahaha! This will turn the tables on those barbarian gaijin who shunned my Sea Cucumber Custard!)

Examining the patent (it’s a pretty good read, but make sure you’ve some Stemetil handy) we find Okada-san buttressing his pitch with precedents:

Various techniques are well known in the art for the preparation of yeast-fermented beverages such as wine, beer, ale, sake, and the like, which may be applied to the yeast fermentation phases of the production process according to the present invention.

… in Europe and America, various processed meat products, for example fermented sausage, are consumed.

Mmmm. Next time you order the Meat Lover’s Special Pizza, you might consider an accompanying glass of Pepperoni Pinot, Bacon Beaujolais or Cabanossi Cabernet for the Complete Meat Experience.

Of the fermentation process he informs us that:

The resulting product has a distinctive flavor.

Oh, yes, I’m sure he’s right on that aspect.

Skimming through further, one may find some truly nauseating suggestions accompanying the basic concept. Consider:

Carbonated water and flavoring materials such as fruit juice and honey may be added to the resulting fermented beverage according to an aspect of the invention.

Mmmm. Honey flavoured beef schnapps! Lamb & orange vodka! And not just sweet alcoholic meat beverages, but carbonated sweet alcoholic meat beverages as well! Forget Coq au vin: bring on the Coq au Cola!

The alcoholic beverage may also be used in subsequent processes to produce composite beverages (e.g., cocktails)

Here Mr Okado opens up the entire field of mixed drinks and cocktails. What a bonanza. You want to be really careful from now on when you order a Moscow Mule, a Salty Dog or a Fluffy Duck.

The comprehensive patent is wonderfully detailed, colourful and, I’m sure, technically precise, and yet, after all is said and done there still remains one weighty and impatient question on the matter of the Alcoholic Meat Beverage:

Why?

If I leave my house and head east, in about ten minutes of walking I come to the grounds of Sydney University. It’s a pretty big campus, but the best part by far is the old building that makes up the original uni.

It’s decorated with hundreds of stone gargoyles. I’ve photographed many of them, and I thought I might post a few of them here for you to see from time to time.

Every year there is a tournament in which countries from Albania to Turkey, from Russia to the United Kingdom, from France to the Ukraine battle for honours of the highest accord. The fight for the prize is seldom pretty. The playoffs last for many months, and supporters display a fanaticism that would test the mettle of fully armed Middle Ages Crusaders.

Countries compete fiecely to have the finals held on their turf, and it is no exaggeration to say that the machinations to secure the prize, including full televisual rights for the subsequent year’s event, would put even Ted Turner to the test.

Yes, I am of course talking about the Eurovision Song Contest.

Every Spring since 1956, countries from all across Europe (including, bizarrely, Israel and Turkey, countries that are by most other international reckoning in the Middle East) have competed in the arena of Song and Extreme Tackiness in order to take home the Eurovision title and the rights for next year’s telecast.

I’ve been a fan of Eurovision for many years since one memorable night at a friend’s house in which I was so overcome by emotion (or was it a fit of hysterical laughter?) that I could not stop the tears that streamed from my eyes. After picking myself up from the floor and pouring my fifteenth glass of Drambuie, the epiphany hit me, and I realised that Eurovision was not an embarrassing parade of badly dressed European pop tragics, but instead, a work of sheer comic genius.

OK. I’m reporting live from the telecast. Norway’s team takes the spotlight. The lead singer, an almost iconic cliché of a Norwegian blonde is supported by a dancing troupe of girls dressed in radioactive white. She warbles away at an instantly forgettable number. What is not forgettable is the dancing violin-wielding chicks who accompany her in the last chorus. Ah yes, once again I am reminded why I watch every year.

Malta is on. The singer is fairly belting it out, relentlessly hanging an exact semitone under the correct pitch. Tell me that someone does that in front of 300 million people by accident!

Germany’s entry Texas Lightning, flanked by illuminated saguerro cacti, delivers an insipid and quite confusingly American piece of country pop that has almost exactly nothing going for it. It even throws up the last resort of the desperate songwriter, a key change in the final verse. I am embarrassed to note that the lead singer (described, surely with irony, as an enchanting virtuoso) was born in Australia.

The Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia fronts up with a gorgeous woman with the most beautiful breasts who atonally tells us that “I wanna be with ya, I wanna give it to ya!” She is so energetic that I am very nearly convinced. She wants to give it to me! So what if she can’t hold a tune?

Lithuania scrapes to a new low with a lyric that says “We are the winners, we are the winners, of Eurovision, vote, vote, vote for the winners…” Guess what guys? Bzzzzzz.

Greece’s solo female performer has a lot of hair, and boy does she know how to use it.

The United Kingdom offers up some barely talented Cockney rapper supported by a half a dozen young women dressed as schoolgirls. Oh dear. Did I mention desperation a few sentences back? This bunch obviously remember the former Eurovision success of Russia’s pre-pubescent Tatu. I marvel that this time there is no lesbian tongue-kissing. (Yeah, see what you’ve been missing? Didn’t I tell you?)

Finland’s entry takes the stage. The… er… ‘hard’ rock band Lordi. Oh my oh my. What can I say? Remember the orcs in Lord of the Rings? Imagine them with guitars under a flashing disco lighting rig. Got that? I think the song is called ‘Hard Rock Hallelujah”. The lead singer is wearing demonic red contact lenses (unless that’s his real eyes) and… oh wait… he has an enormous pair of unfurling bat wings. Now there’s something you don’t see every day!

Oh my goodness. The Ukraine’s singer looks like Goldilocks all growed up. She keeps gesturing at her breasts. I have no idea what this means, because, unusually for the entries so far, she appears to be singing in her native tongue. She’s blowing kisses to the audience and her skirt is very short. Wow, if Ms Macedonia doesn’t deliver, I hope Ms Ukraine is up for a drink after the show.

France. Edith Piaf she ain’t. Don’t give up yer day job love.

The final entry swoops in from Armenia. Eeek! More hair action and some B&D Lite sets up an excruciatingly dull pop number that poses no threat to European political stability.

Oh, the thrills, the spills and the big hair!

But there has to be a winner and after the interminable Eurovision voting process, where many millions of viewers phone in their votes to be tallied live in what is a pretty formidable feat of technology, the numbers are stacking up. I had my money on Romania, but what’s this…? It appears that the ersatz Minions of Darkness, the prosthetically virtuosic Lordi seem to have romped in with the big prize.

It’s a shock result for Eurovision. The beautiful girls with the big hair, the short skirts and the amazing breasts have been left in the dust by a bunch of ugly trolls with bad teeth, bloodshot eyes and unintelligible lyrics (and they were singing in English).

More power to ya guys! That’s gonna look really impressive on a Heavy Metal resumé: Lordi: Satanic thrash metal rockers, worshippers of The Dark One, biters of the heads off chickens and winners of the 50th Eurovision Song Contest.

Talk about cred.

Pass me another Drambuie.

You will recall my intention to order a selection of the scents from the Demeter Fragrance Library that I mentioned a little while back.

Well the first thing that I can report to you is that the Demeter people are mighty speedy. No sooner had I placed my order than there was a knock at the door and a perfumed package was in my hands. Well, I exaggerate slightly. But I did have the delivery exactly one week after I ordered it, which is a record time from the US.

I ordered twelve scents in cologne form, eleven of which arrived (I was only charged for those eleven). The package also included a gratis bottle of ‘Basil’ Room Spray.

These are what I received:

• Ivy
• Holy Smoke
• Freesia
• Heather
• Fruitcake
• Rain
• Funeral Home
• Snow
• Firefly
• Thunderstorm
• Quince

I’ve had enough days to try them all now and for those who are interested, some potted reviews follow. All you others – I’m still looking for an online curse site. Off you go.

First thing to note as a generalization based on the sample I took, is that Demeter is much better at creating ‘impression’ style scents than evoking reality. Freesia, heather and quince, three highly individual and beautiful fragrances are not served well by their Demeter namesakes. In fact, not only are they unlike the real thing, they don’t even come close. Freesia, one of my favourite floral scents, has always proved notoriously difficult to capture, and although new technologies* may yet allow analogs to be developed there is nothing I’ve encountered so far that evokes anything but the ghostliest shadow of this delicate, pretty perfume. Consequently I didn’t really expect much of Demeter’s Freesia which is more like frangipani with some green apple top notes. In itself that’s not such a bad thing, but it ain’t freesia.

I thought they might make a rather better attempt at Quince. Sadly, not. Unless I’m mistaken, it’s just some kind of acetate-based pear analog. Which is a shame – quince is such a unique and wonderfully old-fashioned scent.†

I’m not sure how off the mark Heather is, having smelled real heather only once. My memory gives it a darker and more ‘daphne-like’ tone. This is far too South Sea Island, a little too much like jasmine. Or to be accurate, jasmine with a touch of frangipani and tiare. It might have been better to have called it Generic Exotic Pacific Flower.

Ivy is more pleasing. Real ivy doesn’t have any scent, so you have to assume that this is a metaphorical naming, and that the Demeter people are out to capture a concept rather than mimic nature. I don’t think I have the chops to describe this accurately, but it’s a sweetish green fragrance with an overtone of violets. I expected it to be earthier and woodier, but maybe they save that for their Poison Ivy…

Nearly all the Demeter scents I tried (with a couple of exceptions), and these floral scents in particular, don’t really last well. That’s not always a bad thing. Sometimes it suits me to have a scent just fade off into the day. It has to be said also, that most of those I tested are pretty much one-trick ponies. They start off with one or two pleasing notes and then fade gently over the course of a few hours. There’s not a lot of storyline going on here. Again, not necessarily a bad thing.

Well, this is proving to be a rather long post, so maybe I’ll continue the reviews down the track. But I know you all want to hear about Funeral Home, so just that before I finish.

This comes much closer to the Demeter website description. It’s a strong, almost cloying fragrance, in which chrysanthemum, jonquil, lily, wood, and waxiness feature heavily. It has overtones of carnation, furniture polish, flax and mould which really stomp heavily on any sweetness the white flowers might have. It does remind me awfully strongly of the Anglican church of my childhood – of old ladies and wooden pews and dusty carpets. It has to be said – it’s not really what you’d call a pleasant scent. Nevertheless, it’s quite fetching and eminently wearable in a severe gothic kinda way.

Very appropriate for a Reverend.

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*I think that counts as my first bit of techno-perfume geekery.

†Mediterranean peoples once used quinces to scent linen – they just placed a few quinces in the linen cupboard, and the rich heady smell permeated everything. For me, the smell of quinces is the smell of my maternal grandmother’s house.