What's in a name?

It's widely acknowledged that Germans are truly great at two things. They're probably quite good at a number of other things, but they are recognized as the world's best engineers, and the world's best bakers.

Which makes sense, when you consider that baking is just chemical engineering with frosting added on.

In my travels, I recently chanced to spend n evening in the company of a .. company of German engineers.

They were here in this country trying to sell their product. Good as it is, I really think they won't sell a damn thing until they change the name.

To begin with, according to Dr. Schmidt, in 1998 they deliberately set out to break into the American breakfast food market. Again. That obviously set some stringent parameters on their proposed product: it had to be obviously suited to breakfast (Hot Dogs and the like are simply out of the question).

Other demands were that the finished product had to have wide – very wide – demographic appeal. That is, everybody from 3 year old girls to 97 year old geezers would have to like it. It would also have to be very easy to prepare – so that those same 3 year old girls and 97 year old geezers could prepare it without effort. So simple that even politicians could fix breakfast without adult supervision.

Oh, they'd not just up and decided to get into the food buisiness on the spur of the moment. These guys have been at it for quite a few years. Some 50 or so years ago this same company came up with a thin, fruit-filled pastry. It took a few years, but they solved the problem of the finished pastry exploding as it flew up out of the toaster. They sold the rights to Kellog's, who kept the name, not knowing the history of the prototypes.

As the night grew, Dr Schmidt began to show a little evidence of an inner ear problem. Of course it had nothing to do with the truly prodigious quantities of beer he was recycling.

The rest of the crowd wasn't feeling much pain, either, but did manage to stay awake and (mostly) upright. I was regaled with tales of pies that exploded, cakes that demonstrated rapid exothermic expansion, donuts that produced more energy than it took to cook them, tarts that are now used to boot parking violator's cars.

In short, the imaginations of these fine engineers were fertile and rife with seemingly endless possibilities. Some of the products have obvious uses and marketability. I mean, I can totally get behind the idea of a cream-puff that reacts to a fire by exploding and producing enough flame-retardant foam to douse an entire room.

Then again, I don't really think there's a market for a mobile pancake that will crawl all over the outside of a building cleaning the windows. Not until they solve the problem of the trail of melted butter it leaves, any way.

It wasn't until the wee hours of the morning that Johan staggered with me to the back of the trailer where they kept all the demonstration models. It was there I saw their crowning achievement; the product they'd been working toward for all these years.

Breakfast food it is, no doubt at all. Mixed properly and poured onto a doubly corugated griddle, with a similarly sculptured griddle pressed down on top, the result is a delightful golden-brown pastry. The contour of the griddle results in cavities in the finished product that are perfect for holding melted butter, fruit spread, and or liquid sugar.

You've seen something similar, I know. But these engineers were after not only a breakfast food, but one that would appeal overwhelmingly to individuals who feel they need to lose weight. So these pastries would be considered “lite” in this country.

As usual, though, the Germans had over-engineered the thing. The finnished pastry certainly qualifies as 'lite'. In fact, the things actually fly. Yes, fly. If you have a properly tuned transmitter, you can guide the flying breakfast through any number of arial stunts.

It's a great thing. Really.

I just don't think they should insist on the name “Luftwaffel”

Where's the Beef?

How about a brand new conspiracy for all you conspiracy... buffs?

I'm not going to point fingers at any given government, but it's a little known fact that the world's cattle population completely died off in the late 1920's as a result of an immunization project that went terribly awry.

Think about this: When was the last time, while driving down the highway, you saw a cow actually move? And if you did see one move, how many were moving with it?

In fact, you can spot the more successful ranchers this way.. if one or more head of cattle is moving, the rancher can afford the latest in animatronics. Next time you see cattle moving, either stick around, or come back in an hour – you'll see them loop around and reset, performing the same motions over and over again.

What, you thought Disney made his millions drawing cartoons? Get real. He was merely the only contractor to succeed when the governments of the world were frantically looking for a way to hide their boo-boo. He used the money from his secret patents on the animatronic cows to finance his cartoon empire (and, to a lesser extent, the Disney theme parks).

“Aha!” you say, “ I just had a Mcburger, and it's guaranteed 100% beef.” Yes, this is so. More or less. In fact, all “beef” in the world today comes from one of six ginormous cultures, the result of further government frantic research, which, unfortunately, didn't bear... fruit, until after WWII. Ask your parents about all the meatless days back when they were kids.

It wasn't because the meat was being sent overseas to our gallant soldiers, they ate shoe leather and twigs, just as they do now. No, there was no meat to eat at all. The 'save it for the soldiers' bit was just another cover up, along with the great depression (I know I'd be depressed without the occasional burger, and I bet you would be, too), the dust bowl, and the rise of professional football.

Fortunately, Ray Croc found a way to clone buffalo meat, then – we'd call it gene engineering today – converted the stuff in the vat to something kinda indistinguishable from beef. And you thought he made his money by being a brilliant marketeer? Ha! He was almost the sole source for 'beef', even after his secrets were stolen by .. well, you know. Once the secret was out, Croc sold the secret to the Government (yes, Governments are that stupid) and they set up the big vat farms that now produce all of the beef sold in stores around the world.

Of course, you can go ask the ranchers and whatnot about it. Being in on it, of course they'll deny it all. They might even offer to let you pet a cow or two. That won't prove an darn thing, as the animatronic system has improved to the point where the devices are virtually indistinguishable from the real thing unless you know what to look for. Even if the rancher offers to butcher one for you, there is no proof: he's already prepped that one with special packages of the vat-meat, just for such emergencies.

There you have it. And I am NOT going to tell you where milk comes from.