Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 642

How Swedish Fish got their name

I brought a bag of Swedish Fish to the Patriots final regular season game two weeks ago.  New England was playing the Miami Dolphins, and the symbolism behind eating fish while the Patriots pummeled the Dolphins appealed to me.

We dined on mahi mahi (commonly known as the dolphin fish) in the parking lot prior to the game for similar reasons. 

In discussing how my strategic consumption of the Swedish Fish undoubtedly contributed to the Patriots' victory, a friend contended that the candy was so named because the words Swedish and fish rhyme. 

I did not think the words Swedish and fish rhymed well enough to warrant the name choice and claimed that there was probably some amusing, anecdotal reason for the name.

So I looked it up.

Turns out that Swedish Fish are so named because they are made by a Swedish company named Malaco and exported to the United States.

Swedish Fish are actually Swedish.  Not only that, but they are first generation Swedish, each one coming right off the boat. 

Literally. 

Swedish Fish therefore appears to be an apropos name, but still, it seems a little odd.  Right?

Imagine if your Toyota Corolla was named Japanese car. 

Or your bottle of Guinness was called Irish Beer. 

Of if Coco Cola was called Empty American Calories.

Did the marketers at Malaco really believe that it was the Swedish aspect of their candied fish that they should promote the most?

It's hard to imagine a group of marketing executives making this decision, but apparently it happened. 

Best of all, in Sweden, Swedish Fish is marketed under the name pastellfiskar, which translates to pastel colored fishes.

At least the company is consistent in its odd naming of products.

We might need to back off the praise a bit

Clara:  Kitty cat cute!

Elysha:  Do you know who is the cutest of all?

Clara:  Clara cutest!

Elysha:  That's right!

I cannot do business with someone who exhibits such questionable decision making

I was approached by a guy at the bridal show today who was wearing a New York Yankees cap.  He wanted to know a little bit more about my DJ company. 

"I'm a Yankees fan too," I proclaimed, pointing to his cap, hoping to win him over.  "what do you think about the Soriano signing?"

"Oh, I'm not a Yankees fan," he said.  "I don't watch sports.  Someone gave this to me as a gift."

Huh?

Who gives a guy who doesn't watch sports a team-specific baseball hat?

And more importantly, who walks around with a Yankees cap on his head if he doesn't like the team or baseball in general?

Who wears the logo of any organization that he cannot claim a modicum of allegiance?  

I instantly proceeded to undersell myself to him.  Based upon his inexplicable and possibly insane decision making regarding his hat, I was concerned that his decisions related to the wedding would be equally atrocious.  

Teddy bear killers

Last night's apocalyptic dream took an interesting turn:

A previously unknown stuffed animal contagion jumped species, went airborne and infected human beings, killing anyone coming in exposed to a stuffed animal within a day. 

Pretty horrible as diseases and dreams go. 

Parents and small children died first, followed by preschool workers, hoarders, toy store employees and the sentimental type. 

The only survivors of the apocalypse were nerdy, loners who had never found love and angry drill sergeants.

All this according to the rapidly deteriorating news anchor who I was watching on television as I raided the food stores of a local daycare facility.

Another thrilling night of survival.

Love this

A demanding girl

As we were putting Clara to bed last night, she requested her first official hug from Daddy. 

Though we've hugged one another several thousand times, including the glorious hugs and kisses that I receive every day upon arriving home from work, this was the first verbal command for a squeeze. 

A few seconds after receiving it, she followed up her request with another for "More kisses!"

Also a first. 

Several times during the night, I felt the urge to wake her up in hopes that I could put her to bed all over again, just to hear those wonderful demands once again. 

 

A day late, a couple of marbles short

This is Rush Limbaugh's Tucson, Arizona billboard, taken down at 9:30 AM on Monday morning. 

Similar to Sarah Palin's attempt to expunge her much maligned gun sight website (much maligned long before the shooting), the removal of this billboard would seem to imply that Limbaugh changed his mind about the wisdom of bullet holes on a billboard in light of the tragedy this past weekend. 

Too bad it takes a gun-toting psychopath to convince these two bastions of conservative ideals that the use of firearm imagery in order to promote their brand is not advisable, even if neither led to the attack.

A call to arms

Ladies, you must do something to soon to change the world in which my daughter is growing up.  I am willing to do my part, but frankly, it needs to come from you. 

In preparing for this week's dreadful bridal show, I stumbled upon this New York Times article from two years ago about the recent trends in bride and bridesmaid wedding preparations.

Brides providing Botox to their bridesmaids.

Women asking their friends to get breast enhancement surgery prior to the wedding.

Microdermabrasion parties.

Teeth whitening.

Professional spray-on tans.

Wrinkle filler injections.

Chemical peels.

Liposuction.

And all this for the bridal party, as well as the bride.

What has happened to female self confidence?

From the article, one bride said:

As you get older, everyone is more conscientious about their skin and appearance.

Really?  I was under the impression that the older you became, the greater your degree of self worth.  The less you care about peer pressure.  The more perspective you have in terms of what is truly important in life.

Please don't get me wrong. I am not attempting to portray every woman in this light.  Not even most women.  However, the article clearly states that these ridiculous, superficial, and shallow treatments are on the rise.

But I must ask:

Where are the women protesting these insane procedures?

Where are the women who will stand against the insanity?

Where are the women who will rally large groups of women in order to boycott fashion magazines, Barbie dolls, and other mass media portrayals of women in an unreasonable light?

Consider this:

For fifty years, the most popular doll in the world has been Barbie, a doll whose proportions are universally acknowledged to be physically impossible. According to research by the University Central Hospital in Helsinki, Finland, Barbie would lack the 17 to 22 percent body fat required for a woman to menstruate. And the history behind this doll is disgusting.

In 1965 Slumber Party Barbie came with a book entitled How to Lose Weight which advised: "Don't eat."

In July 1992 Mattel released Teen Talk Barbie, which spoke a number of phrases including "Will we ever have enough clothes?", "I love shopping!", and "Math is tough."

This doll is a statuesque representation of anorexia and breast enlargement, yet it is found in nearly every little girl's hands.  And year after year, this doll remains the most popular girl's toy, regardless of the body image issues and eating disorders that plague girls and young women at ever increasing rates.

Where are the boycotts of this toy in favor of a doll that portrays a more positive and realistic body image? Why aren't women rising up, standing on my often-referenced proverbial rock, and rejecting this objectification?

Remember Madonna's song Material Girl? Hugely popular with women in the 1980's and still requested at weddings today, yet this song paints women in a superficial, materialistic light.

Yet they dance on.

In an update to this song, today's women are blessed with Gold Digger, another #1 hit in 2006. Brides still ask me to play this song at weddings, regardless of the materialistic, objectifying implications of the lyrics.

And how about Good Charlotte's song Girls and Boys, with its chorus declaring that "Girls don't like boys. Girls like cars and money."

Another song that portrays women in a terrible light, yet where is the outrage? The protest? The boycotting of concerts and CD sales?

Instead, the song was used on Nickelodeon as a promotion for Slime Time Live.

And now pole dancing has become the newest form of aerobic activity in gyms across America. Touted for its aerobic, strength, and flexibility training, this activity, once relegated to the confines of strip clubs, is now touted as fun, energizing, and an excellent form of exercise.

In a perfect world, one not dominated by Angeline Jolie's lips, People Magazine, and bridal party liposuction, perhaps I could accept this alternative form of exercise. But honestly, haven't women been objectified enough? Must we accept pole dancing, a traditionally erotic and arguably demeaning activity, into our fitness centers. Some may say that women are "taking pole dancing back" and "owning it," but frankly, some things aren't worth owning. I argued this point with friend recently, pointing out that this activity sends a terrible message to little girls, who will inevitably discover what mommy is doing.

I was told that they would not.

Not only was I right, but it turns out that not too long ago, you could purchase a pole dancing kit for your little girl. 

It's time to climb my proverbial rock, ladies. Turn off your Madonna tunes, stop the plastic surgery insanity, melt down your Barbie dolls, tell the bride to go to hell when she asks you to get a spray-on tan, and recognize that you are contributing to the objectification of women that big business, mass media, men and women perpetrate every day.

Not through your actions.  But through your inaction, compliance, and silence.

Misunderstood palate

I recently learned that my wife purchased Chef BoBo's Good Food Cookbook: Smart Recipes for Happy Healthy Children.

She did not purchase it for Clara. 

She bought it for me. 

Not nice.

Only idiots on the roads

When I left at 7:30 this morning, my street was not plowed. 

The cross street was not plowed. 

I had to drive to three different McDonald's and two Dunkin Donuts to find the requisite Egg McMuffin for me and coffee for my wife. 

The first two McDonald's and first Dunkin' Donuts that I came upon were closed.

The gym was closed.

I was on the roads for 45 minutes, including a brief, three exit stint on Interstate 84, and other than snow plows, I saw a total of six vehicles that were not spun out or otherwise disabled by accident. 

Six. 

Two did not belong on the road and were probably buried in snow banks shortly after I left them in my wake.

I usually enjoy driving in the snow despite an accident that nearly took my life.  There are few people on the roads during a storm, and my willingness to drive in hazardous conditions increases the self-perception of my manhood.

But today was the exception. 

It was not good.

With that said, I am off again in a few minutes.  Hopefully the bank and the gym are open by now even though the snow continues to fall at a surprisingly rapid clip.

I've had my snow day already.  This seems like overkill.