PETA + KFC = ESI opportunity

Yesterday's papers were all clucking over the news that PETA - People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals - has finally twisted Kentucky Fried Chicken of Canada's drumsticks painfully enough that the company has pledged to: a) buy only what PETA deems to be humanely scragged poultry (which apparently means gassing it); and b) introduce what the Petfinder called "a vegan, faux-chicken flavoured menu item". How droll.

PETA and point-person Pamela Anderson, who by virtue of having surgically crammed her chest full of dangerously gratuitous plastic products, twice, is an ideal spokes-Barbie for the cause of cruelty to animals, have been after KFC for years on this.

Pam, sweetie: Without even going in to the mental images I see when I hear the term "gassing chickens", for your own good I advise you to plan never to be around when I knock off a pheasant or partridge for tiffin. Not pretty. Yum. I mean, ummmm, now 'scuze me, I have to wipe the drool off of this keyboard thingie, so my claws stop skidding... Ahem. I digress. All better now.

Anyway, with this announcement, I believe I smell a toothsome business opportunity for ESI Global PLC. The Mumumelon® line is doing very nicely, and our new lingerie is taking off... so it's time to diversify. The Globe and Mail reports that KFC's vegan menu option will apparently be some sort of soy-based product, generically labelled 'unchicken'. Sounds inhumane to me, but I'm willing to roll with the market: a contract to supply KFC with this stuff could be worth a little scratch. So here's to dee-lishus ESI ChickUn®, served up on a foam platter with sides of fries, gravy and three-bean salad. By the time we finish breading it with eleven secret herbs and spices and deep-frying it, it'll be almost as healthy as the real thing.

Now. Somebody explain to me: why the hell would vegans want to go to KFC anyway....?

ESI Emergency Meeting Minutes

In Attendance: Coyote, Independent Observer, Agatha, Conch Shell,Fourth Dwarf (late, with justification). Guests: Crazy Hat (left early), Painted Stick (arrived shortly before end)

Conch Shell offers to take minutes. 4D and others laugh and mention how she never posted the last time she took the minutes. Coyote says CS will have to offer up assurances. CS offers to pay for a round of alcoholic drinks at the next Emergency Meeting if she doesn't post the minutes. It's agreed.

Agatha asks that the minutes reflect that Coyote brought red marshmallow hearts for the group, expressing love toward us all.

Meeting items begin.

IO presents his [redacted] to 4D for the [redacted]. Others are given a deadline extension of a week.

CS inquires if Z is a [redacted.] 4D explains she's too nice. Coyote mentions she called the cover band by the wrong name when she linked to them, further evidence that she isn't one of them.

Move ahead to the main item: the Appearance and Disappearance of [redacted]. CS wonders about the timing of it all, considering that it existed for months when we didn't know about it, but when we find it (Thanks, Aggie!) and begin to enjoy it, within two weeks it's gone.

Aggie: "Is it a Conspiracy?"

All ESIs insist that none of them did anything this time to ruin it for the others. Coyote points out that [redacted] showed her more readers were seeing it, plus she had friends warning her. This makes sense to us. 4D comments that he liked the message of [redacted] being [redacted].

IO puts on Larry King persona and asks: "What is her frame of mind, in one word?"

CS: "Consistent".

ESIs agree that it was enjoyable while it lasted.

Coyote comments that in his experience every woman calls her ex a narcissist. When ESIs attempt to draw personal examples from Coyote's own past, he refuses to indulge. Coyote adds that his canine nose sniffed out that this was an inappropriate relationship from the start, and he didn't think she should go on dates with [redacted] in the first place. 4D says that we all knew it was going to be a disaster, therefore Coyote doesn't deserve a bone. Aggie says she didn't know it would end so fast. Coyote blathers on generally about the rebound/needing time phenomenon. Everybody ignores him, as is usual when he gets onto this topic.

CS asks about whether [redacted] might become a lesbian now, considering all these disappointments. 4D says a lesbian fling is a possibility because all modern women are bisexual. He then asks CS and Aggie to comment on this. They don't.

4D returns tiresomely to the narcissism discussion and points out that narcissism can be relation-based. For instance, if a man is not that into his partner of the moment, he won't be that focused on her, but on himself -- classic narcissism. Coyote furthers that when a man plays a musical instrument or other entertainment tool for a long time, he should pay attention to when his audience gets bored.

Meeting digression: Clinton/Obama? Ann Coulter, Yuck. Is the U.S. anti-English monarchy or just anti-taxation? No decision taken.

[Redacted]: Sorry or Not?
Coyote says [redacted]. Aggie says [redacted]. 4D says it was a facebook problem, not a blog one.

Ethical Discussion of the Day: [Redacted] . . . can we metablog her? 4D points out that we periodically metablog others like Zoom and Megan. Aggie wonders if she'll get scared and delete her blog? It's pointed out that she's writing a book on her blog subject(!!!!) ESIs agree that it's about balance. Anyway, only the Fifth Muse has inspired us as obsessively, and that's unlikely to change. ESIs agree to test-metablog her through these minutes. All feel her date wasn't very successful, and think it good that Three Date Man was honest with her.

Aggie says online dating is depressing and degrading: suggests instead that all hopefuls go to Venus Envy, get some good electronics, and adopt cats. She insists this is what she'd do, if she were [redacted].

CS interrupts: "Let the minutes reveal that IO is blackberrying"

Some Hon. ESIs: "Bad form!!!" IO asks when that was decided.

Group discusses Rebecca Eckler's blog and the finer points of emotional voyeurism. ESIs then congratulate Zoom over her best blog posting awards. 4D states that the knitting bloggers had a lock on the awards, that it was a conspiracy, and a future blog entry will be dedicated to this.

Aggie wants to discuss the Bank Street Irrelevants. "They're trying hard."
IO: "Why?"

It's declared that they're like a [redacted] cover-band, are having a good time, and some ESIs are happy for them.

This brings the conversation around to music, the nature of compliments and insults, and their relativity. It's revealed that IO is a fan of the [redacted] without having ever heard them. CS thinks one can't be a fan in such a scenario. 4D believes IO can be a true fan, just by understanding the concept. CS comments that this is as hollow as an empty shell. Others ignore CS and comment that IO should look the part of [redacted] when he's their [redacted].

Aggie points out that she deleted [redacted] because it revealed [redacted] about [redacted ].

Next Agenda Item: status of our blog & Google search hits. 4D says it's a good blog and he's happy with the postings lately. He likes the Word Cop part, because [redacted] loves it. Coyote states that our #1 Google search hit is for "high maintenance women". 4D loudly takes credit for the posting, and reveals Google ranking tricks: the posting is titled "high maintenance women" and it links to other sites about "high maintenance women". Coyote states that "Mumumelon" is our second mopst popular Google hit, and yoga booty ballet is a distant third. We used to get more hits for yoga.

With all topics covered, we move to Action Items:

Aggie states the next meeting should involve discussion on how to make ESI the most popular blog ever, so we can make money and retire. 4D mentions that CS needs to write up the minutes.

Resolved: That at some point in the future we will discuss creating the Elgin Street Institute, as another moneymaker.

Meeting Adjourned.

Mumumelon® biz model: down the ol' flusher?

Aggie reports this just in from the CBC: Lululemon stocks appear to be taking a bath after an investor's private lab analysis discovered that a new line of clothing purported to contain beneficial health-inducing seaweed additives, turns out to be, ummm, maybe, less than likely to carry this enhancement. Could the venture be (fish?)tanking on the market?

Loyal ESI readers will recall that our nascent Mumumelon® venture was closely modelled on lululemon® -- in a matter/antimatter kinda way, since we're using many of the same marketing ideas to corner the exercise-wear market for the exact opposite somatotype. (That'd be the 'endomorphs', or to us new-age, workout-challenged lay-types, the potentially-lucrative Pillsbury Doughboy® contingent...)

To head off any financially-ruinous speculation among our main investors, I, as Mumumelon's® chief spokescoyote, just want to take this opportunity to assure the market (Huh? Whaddaya whispering at me? Oh! Them...) ...and our valued family of customers... that every mu'umu'u we produce is absolutely guaranteed to be factory-drenched in lime Jell-O®. If you start feeling a blood sugar emergency, say, after climbing the stairs or something, you can just suck on the hem until your head stops spinning and your glucose levels return to normal...

After all, the well-being of our bank accou... uh, customers, is paramount. Thank you.

Image: Toiletology.com

Introducing Mumumelon

Okay, the business pages these past months have been full of stories about Canadian sportswear manufacturer/marketing powerhouse/success story Lululemon™: Lululemon™ founder sells out for a gazillion bux! Lululemon™ goes public with a monster IPO! And just yesterday: LuluLemon™ snags a former Starbux™ CFO for its board! Omigawd!

Lululemon™ purveys yoga wear featuring built-in "butt bras". These are purported to make any woman's ass look great. No, great!

Quibbles re: jawdropping prices, and non-yogis wearing the ultra-casual gear in inappropriate business & formal situations are summarily thrust aside by acolytes worshipping at the lululemon™ altar, because their asses look great. No, great!

There are, of course, flies in the lemonade. There always are. The trademark completely-synthetic nylon-spandex pants themselves are said to be prone to pilling faster than cheap 70s leisure suits. Hey, they're synthetic. The fashion police are starting to realize that fashion-impaired teens are stuffing themselves into low-rise lululemons™ five sizes too small, for that winsome plumbers' butt look. And (gasp!) obese people are buying and wearing lululemon™ stuff hoping the pants will whittle 10-odd cheeseburgers from their thighs. These poseurs are driving the brand's cachet downmarket. Unlike, say, all the poseurs I see every day, running around downtown, dressed in lululemons™ and carrying yoga mats™, but for some reason never actually attending any actual yoga™ classes.

But anytime life hands you a sackful of bagged-out, overstretched lululemons™, hey, it's a chance to make us some lemonade. I'm pretty sure no less an authority than Ann Landers herself said it.

So here's the scam: Aggie is becoming a crafter. Who sews quilts. Who is buying a sewing machine. Who can teach the ESIs to sew in conditions that, when we get up to speed, will echo East Asian sweatshops. All perfect for crafting stylish mu'umu'us. Ya heard it here first: Mumumelon™!!!!: exercise wear for all the people who shouldn't wear lululemon™. Given North American obesity rates, I'm pretty sure our target market ain't trivial. We are so going to make a killin'....

Muumuu Cam

Here am I floating in a tin can...

I'm not sure how far I'll get in this world. But I know my name has travelled widely in outer space.

When my spyglass is trained just right on a clear night I can see a special little speck in the sky: the Stardust spacecraft.

On board are two tiny microchips with more than a million names, including mine, engraved on them. I signed up many moons ago and recently remembered that I had climbed aboard the mission.

Stardust hurtled into space in early February 1999, bound for Comet Wild 2, which hangs out 390 kilometres from Earth.

It scooped up some cometary materials and plenty of interesting dust particles in a sample capsule, which returned to Earth last year. But the rest of the Stardust craft will remain in space, forever orbiting the sun.

It's good to be along for the ride.

ADD at the GGGS

Scenes from the Great Glebe Garage Sale...

8:30 a.m: Dame Aggie, on a mission to buy fresh dark roast, finds Coyote confused and wandering in traffic. She takes him in hand, warning him firmly that after the Research Director's experiences a few weeks back, he's not even going to get to sniff the grounds. And if he tries to actually drink any, he will be summarily whacked on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper.

8:50: 4th Dwarf arrives, grumpy that coffee is not yet served. Coffee is served. Coyote pouts.

9:05: The coffee hits. Aggie, suddenly aware that there's a garage sale going on, starts hauling stuff out of her house. Much of it is pretty nice, because she's compacting her possessions before she moves out. A dishevelled, sleepy waiter is among the items ejected. Coyote & the Dwarf witness this latter event with some interest.

9:10: Aggie staggers out of the house laden under a gigantic pressure cooker, saying, "I used it a couple of times, but I never really wrapped my head around the idea of a bomb on top of my stove. How much should I charge for it?"

9:10:30: Gleams of covetousness, lust and avarice alight in several eyes at once, because you just never know when you're going to need a good pressure cooker. The Dwarf & Coyote simultaneously attempt to glom it. One inconclusive tug-o-war later, they agree to flip a coin for possession. Then the sleepy waiter, rousing, offers to buy it, too. Lacking three-sided coins, the trio begin a spirited bidding war. Nobody remarks on the fact that the Dwarf, somehow, is both auctioneer and bidder.

9:15: The Dwarf, caught up in a fast-talking frenzy, accidentally sells the pressure cooker to Coyote.

9:20: Consumer hordes descend upon Aggie's driveway and run amok amid her stuff. Nobody remarks on the fact that, brown-paper-and-string-wrapped purchase in paw, Coyote has wandered off in search of Aggie's sizable cat...

Mid-term Review for the Award

With the cancellation of the Emergency Meeting due to the failed quorum count, and the impending arrival of the Amazon, the Chair and I decided it would be a good time to have a Most Improved Person mid-term review.

You might say that as the prize is awarded in September, we should have had our mid-term review in March, but if we were the sort of people who managed to do everything we ought to do when we should, we wouldn't be competing with each other for a Most Improved Person award.

The Amazon wins most years. I won the year I started pirate school. You might have thought my graduating would have given me the award, but I didn't finish in the top 10% of the class and the Amazon went through a home renovation without losing her boyfriend.

"We were talking," the Chair told me before the Amazon arrived, "and for you to win this year, you're going to need a show-stopper."

I shrugged. Since the Chair has never won, I'd probably have given it to him if he filed his taxes on time. Of course, the Amazon isn't going to let it go to one of us that easily.

And that's what she told us when she arrived. Before she sat down she announced, "I've got Most Improved Person in the bag."

She asked if we wanted to know why and we said we did.

"I've hired a life coach. We met for the first time today and I've already got a set of objectives."

"We're going to need to see those objectives," I said.

"What are they?" asked the Chair.

"I don't remember," she said. "I think one was that I need to not be so swayed by what other people think, I need to be more self-directed."

"You need to be more self-directed? That would be like me saying, I need to eat more Mars bars," I said.

"Or do you mean it would be like you saying you need to know how to tell people 'you are wrong!'" she said to me.

"You are wrong," I said, "okay, maybe it would be like that."

The Amazon then promised to bring her objectives to our next meeting and we moved on to quizzing the Chair about the progress we'll need to see from him. This is always the fun part of the mid-term review.

Caribou! A progress report on Canada's new national toast

It has been almost a year since I christened Caribou! as Canada's national toast. So it seems time for a refreshing update.

With the exception of some initial encouragement from the lovely Aggie, my proposal was met with skepticism on the part of most of the ESIs.

So after generating some summer buzz at Bluesfest, I took the concept on the road. After all, sometimes Canadians honour their own only after people abroad have given their blessing. (Katrina and the Waves are still virtual demigods among the Jarawa of India's Andaman Islands.)

A frothy cappuccino at Heathrow Airport's Caffe Nero in late July marked the first international Caribou! cheer. Only two problems: I am alone. The coffee sets me back £4.30.

On to Morocco, a land renowned for its hospitality and therefore the perfect launching point for the African Caribou! craze. With Audrey as my witness, I raise a Casablanca beer to introduce Canada's national toast the Dark Continent.

However, it soon occurs to us that in a largely Muslim country alcohol is somewhat difficult to find. So the next cry of Caribou! is heard over milkshakes at a rather exotic Marrakech luncheon spot that serves something called the McArabia.

Three continents down. Four to go.

Introducing the Metasexual

Metrosexuals are so last decade. Now, apparently, the übersexual tag is jostling for alpha-male position among social pundits. This intelligence from no less an authority than Guy Stuff, appearing on Global TV at the flagship time of 2 a.m. weeknights, not too long before something called Booty Boat, about which I'm sure 4th Dwarf knows.

Large, distracting moving CGI greenscreened into the set design help them to do wonders with their $1.95 production budget, and the nine guys in the tiny audience corral look rapt -- probably because their bug-eyed insomnia is worse than mine.

Anyway, we know that pundits propound these kindsa social labels because if they can coin one, write a very thin book about it, and hook it into the prevailing American zeitgeist, even for a nanosecond, well! The route to wealth via the lecture circuit, bookstore self-help sections and guest appearances on Oprah, The View and Dr. Phil is assured. (Extra points if ya can crack CNN or Fox News. And Canadian channels, sadly, count for nothing. Market's too small.) You know, explaining that metrosexuals are narcissists who pluck their eyebrows and wax their backs (very good reason why coyotes don't go that route...), whereas übersexuals are less sexually-ambiguous "guys' guys" types, say, like George Clooney or George Clinton.

Since ESI: The Sock Puppet Movie seems to have stalled in pre-development, and a dog's gotta eat, this scam interests me. As more of a punster than a pundit, I propose we create the Metasexual category: Just off the top of my (unwaxed) head, those of any gender who are not back-waxers, are totally into self-referental wanking in Emergency Meetings, are more concerned with quasi-analysing the relationships of others than their own, and are given to lengthy circular theorizing, at least when their collective Attention Deficit Disorder is properly medicated. And obsessive-compulsive about blogging. Did I mention blogging?

Metasexual. Ya read it here first. A meta category so fresh, even Wikipedia doesn't have it yet. But we can fix that...

Image: BBC North Yorkshire

Emergency Meeting: Monday, April 2

Called by: Eigga
Venue: The Usual Spot
Present: The Independent Observer, Eigga, Coyote, Fourth Dwarf, The Chair, Conch Shell
Guest: Painted Stick
Food: Soup, Burger
Beverages: Beer, Coke, {redacted}
Major Topics Discussed: New directions for the blog, Post-traumatic unbloggability, A special project
Major Topics Neglected: Shortlist of names for new Rideau Canal pedestrian bridge
Overall: A dreary start to the meeting, but then candid and vigorous exchanges about sex
Minutes by: The IO

Discussion ensues as to whether the meeting should a. even be taking place b. be moved to a different venue.

There is much intermittent debate about whether the blog should take on a new direction.

The Chair: This blog is always trying to find a new direction!

Dissection of gathering Saturday at a different venue where The Chair, in the company of his mother and Fourth Dwarf, witnesses a disturbing incident. The same evening, a barfly hits on his mother, which he finds only mildly disconcerting.

4D chides The Chair for not blogging the episode.

I was too traumatized! The Chair insists. Besides, he adds, I can't blog when I'm hanging with {redacted}.

How are the readership numbers? The blog is drawing 35 visitors a day, says The Chair.

Someone notes that we probably collectively account for the 35 daily hits.

No, says The Chair, these are visits by people other than the ESIs and their virtual posse.

Dwarf notes that a certain local blogger, {redacted}, is doing much better.

An eyebrow or two arch upwards.

Coyote raises the question of SRW tags.

Dwarf: I don't even know what you're talking about.

It turns out SRW stands for Self-referential wanking.

Ideas to help the blog: More revealing titles, more frequent posts, swapping of posting days.

Conch Shell's absence is noted. The IO says the attendance of CS and PS is a 51 to 49 per cent possibility. The Chair puts the possibility at 10 per cent. Fourth Dwarf pegs it at zero.

Conch Shell and Painted Stick arrive.

Other ideas to help the blog: Animated profiles of the ESIs a la Rocket Robin Hood, more sex, theme weeks, adhering to the one-screen rule, sensitively metablogging the {redacted} who is about to begin a blog.

Digressions:

(*) It is observed that tambourines make good tip bowls.

(*) Fourth Dwarf, whose employment prospects appear uncertain, announces he is investigating the colour of his parachute.

(*) Eigga asks about a previous gathering, and whether anyone picked up a vibe that {redacted} was {redacted} the {redacted} woman.

CS: Yes

4D: He was trying to work his mojo.

CS: Do {redacted} people tend to just naturally put their arms around one another?

There is no consensus.

(*) There is, however, agreement that holding the Junos in Saskatchewan was a grave mistake.

(*) PS asks to be completely redacted. His request is denied.

It is decided there will be ESI Theme Weeks, each with the prefix Dysfunctional. For instance, Dysfunctional Ottawa Culture Week.

There is subsequently much talk of a special ESI project, which raises the following questions:

(*) Do we need a lawyer?

(*) Should it be a {redacted} or a {redacted}?

(*) When should we tell {redacted}?

(*) Should the project simply focus on CB Radio culture?

Additional digressions:

(*) Each of the ESIs should have MySpace and Facebook pages.

(*) The new gmail sign-in procedure is a major pain.

Final thoughts on the special project:

(*) Should Will Ferrell be involved? Scarlett Johansson? Colin Firth?

(*) Agreed: First, we need a {redacted}.