Hell’s Canteen

The pandemic has been relentless for mothers, many of whom have been stuck in an endless cycle of work and child care.
I thought the endless cycle of work and child care was the normal state for mothers.

Haven’t you heathens heard of mayonnaise? Ham and swiss with mayo, or better yet ham and swiss and bacon with mayo and lettuce, on a good French bread.

Mayonnaise makes a ham sandwich with butter sound heavenly.

Mayonnaise makes a ham sandwich with butter sound heavenly.
[ Jots note to Cardinal Fang. ]

A world where we are learning together how to tune into our incredibly wise bodies and listen to them for the guides that they are.
Not a cult! No. No. No.
And I can think of plenty of times when my body had me do some not so wise things.

I find the most effective way to ruin such childhood memories is to try the various foodstuffs again in later life
At least in Canada, that’s often because the formula actually changes. Canadian “chocolate” bars, for instance, have been composed of increasingly large proportions of soy-based fillers and flavourings over the years. One (probably apocryphal) reason I’ve heard for why Canadians call them “chocolate bars” and Americans call them “candy bars” is that legally American candy bars aren’t chocolate and can’t be advertised that way. Regardless, I recall being asked to bring “Canadian candy bars” with me on deployment trips to the US in the 1990s because they were allegedly better quality.
No, “our bodies” are not “wise”
There’s also the fact that “primal scream therapy” was found to be ineffective long ago. It makes the problem worse by elevating the aggression/fight-or-flight hormone levels. The screaming is all about lookatmelookatmelookatme, not therapy.
I recall certain gay science fiction writers/critics who claimed to find “obvious” homoeroticism in various novels
The last time I was at a con in Atlanta, I ended up with a free copy of a book written by a member of the gay science fiction club in that city. The book presents itself as supernatural detective noir, which before being eaten alive by the romance novel industry was a tiny but interesting genre. The book’s protagonist flip-flops between being a fairly stereotypical Chandler-esque hardboiled detective type and a squealing, effeminate caricature of a gay man. It’s possibly the most hamfisted, cringe-inducing treatment of the concept I could imagine. You could get whiplash from the character’s bipolar shifts.
As an aside I’m quite enjoying the Legend of Eli Monpress series by Rachel Aaron. Although I can see exactly where she’s swiping all of her ideas from, unlike Wheel of Time she’s fusing them nicely into something greater than the sum of its parts. And the books don’t try to be anything more than what they are, a fun romp with a Shawn Spencer-esque protagonist and just enough danger to provide some suspense.

“Squealing, effeminate caricature”
I always prefer the classical gay.
Lord, that singer was ghastly. He doesn’t need anyone now; just wait until he loses his looks.

Many foods only exist because people were desperately trying to preserve them before refrigeration, canning, and preservatives. Pickled fish for example. Pickles in general. Green olives because when you harvest the ripe (black) ones a lot of green fall off too. Smoked meats and sausage. Some of these turned out great and we still eat them. Some, only locals will eat out of tradition (lutefisk). I understand that Spam is big in Hawaii because fresh meat is so expensive. I’ve had it and it is ok if you are broke…

I remember Bar Six from my youth but I’m having a hard time remembering what it was like. I seem to recall it being a little like a KitKat Bar. It was in six segments (thus the name) and I think it was wafers and hazelnut cream covered in chocolate. Maybe someone can refresh my memory. We definitely didn’t have Penguin Bars that I recall.

I remember liking something called Sandwich Spread, which was a sort of tangy cabbage and pickle thing.
It still occasionally makes its way into my cheese sandwiches when I just can’t be bothered.
If I ever feel ashamed I take comfort that there are no Pot Noodles in the house.
One should always have someone else’s tastes to look down on.

One should always have someone else’s tastes to look down on.
…and brother, a cabbage pickle spread on cheese certainly fits that bill…

…and brother, a cabbage pickle spread on cheese certainly fits that bill…
*takes offence*
At least it was made with plenty of butter on the bread.

At least it was made with plenty of butter on the bread.
You are not helping your case…

Spam Musubi is unironically delicious
Includes “1 tablespoon sugar”, which would worry me: High-fat AND high-sugar diet = diabetes.

Pumpernickel
Mmmmm. Fresh baked pumpernickel from a neighborhood German bakery. Best with thick slices of stronger-flavored meats or cheeses. Or just a slice of bread slathered with fresh butter. Lots of great traditional bread recipes in Germany. Poland too.

They will pull the jar of Branston Pickle from my cold, dead hands.

…the key ingredients in Branston pickle are salt, sugar and vinegar to preserve the food. It also includes cucumbers, cauliflower, onions, rutabagas, tomatoes, apples, and dates, with a tangy sauce that typically has mustard, pepper, nutmeg, garlic, coriander, cinnamon, cayenne, and cloves…

Great googly moogly, I hope Mr. Branston got a good exorcist after coming up with that unholy combo.

“Perfect in a cheese sandwich”

No one not wearing a canvas camisole with wraparound sleeves in a room in Bellevue ever said rutabega and cheese was “perfect”.

Spam is big in Hawaii
And in Scandinavia where they sing songs about it. Much better than lutefisk, after all.

The book’s protagonist flip-flops between being a fairly stereotypical Chandler-esque hardboiled detective type and a squealing, effeminate caricature of a gay man.
A Mary Sue?
My disengagement from professional science fiction publications began when I noticed how book reviews tended to be based not on the quality of the writing but on how many political checkboxes were ticked. Some reviewers and writers seemed to never praise anything unless it fit one or more of the politically correct categories, but without ever telling you this.

And butter, good grass fed cow derived butter goes on every sandwich worthy of the name.
Godless scientists say ‘not so fast’:

“You will live to see horrors beyond your comprehension.”

A Mary Sue?
Ehh. I suspect the hardboiled parts were just copy paste genre emulation and the shrieking, mincing queen parts were author insert, but I never met the author.
Some reviewers and writers seemed to never praise anything unless it fit one or more of the politically correct categories
Yeah, well, Sad Puppies and Noah Ward and all that. It’s just all so petty, and honestly on both sides by this point. I may be wrong as I long ago stopped paying attention to the industry side but my impression is that SF publishing was always a tiny niche market with very little money going around – most of the top-tier Canadian SF authors I know personally seem to make a comfortable middle class income at best. The Kindle marketplace is flooded with people self-publishing SF. Admittedly a lot of it is A Billionaire Dinosaur Forced Me Gay levels of quality, but when authors like Larry Correia and Sarah Hoyt can sell directly to their readers none of the rest of it matters any more.

Turtle McTurtleface: “Hold my beer.”
Am I the only one who pictured a Mr. Tom Cruise at the beginning of the MI:II hearing those Schifrin-esque chords while watching that little turtle?

If I ever feel ashamed I take comfort that there are no Pot Noodles in the house. One should always have someone else’s tastes to look down on.

As all God-fearing people know, these are far superior to the lowly Pot Noodle.

Foreign writing and all. Must be classy!
It’s totally reinvented the “can’t be arsed to cook” lifestyle scenario.

We live in neurotic times.

Meanwhile, ordering pizza somewhere in the UK.

Neil Young, MD, PhD in Virology and Immunology, weighs in on Joe Rogan
The sixties was a long time ago so my memory may be inaccurate, but as I recall Neil Young was always a hippie fool whose sympathies were with commies.