Better cheating through chemistry.

I'm sure everyone's heard about the melamine scandal in China right now. At first, milk, then eggs, and now it seems to be in livestock feed, as well. I wondered, though: what is melamine, and why is it added? To increase the amount of protein reported, apparently. Ah, so it's a protein substitute?

Not quite. You see, the way many labs test for protein is to look for the total amount of nitrogen. Almost any type of nitrogen.

Now, behold the chemical structure of melamine.



This may be a bit gauche of me, but I find that vastly amusing. It's like Homer Simpson is running the feed lot:

"Dad, marbles won't work. The food inspectors test for nitrogen."

"Nitrogen, eh?" (dials up chemical company) Y'ello. I'm looking to purchase (reads notes) ... nitrogen."

"Certainly, sir. What sort?"

"Um... nitrogen."

"...nitrogen?"

"Yes."

"... all right. You mean, something with a lot of nitrogen?"

"...Yes. As much nitrogen as possible per... chemical."

"Hm. Well, how about melamine?"

"Does it have nitrogen?"

"Oh, yeah, plenty."

"Excellent. I'll take your melamine."

"But, sir! We have over 20,000 tonnes of it... hey, he hung up already."

And so was born a worldwide product recall, as people poured an industrial byproduct into their food, in order to inflate the quantity of their product in a market that only knows how to buy in bulk.

D'oh.

Minty Fresh.

According to some people at the greenhouse, "commemorative coins" are made up with team logos, and when two teams work together on some sort of exercise, they swap coins. I honestly have no idea if this is true or not -- all I know is that yes, I do have a couple such coins in my possession.

I don't feel all that great about it, though -- I mean, I never gave anything back in return. How could I? No one told me I'd have to start bringing fake currency to work with me.

On the other hand, no one told me I couldn't start.

"But wait!", you say, and rightly so. "You can't just decide to represent your entire team!"

I couldn't agree more. But conversely, no one on my team can tell me not to represent myself. That's right: In what is easily the vainest plan I have ever had, I am seriously considering minting coins with my own face stamped on them, and handing them out like business cards.

There would certainly be a Pi symbol on there somewhere as well, and maybe a moose... But more importantly, I know exactly what motto is going to be printed inside the rim:

"To Coin A Froese."

Honestly, this idea wasn't even half-baked until I thought of that. Now, I don't know if I have any option besides going through with this.

Why I like Big Turks.

At the convenience store yesterday, I saw another "limited edition" chocolate bar. You know the sort: Cinnamon KitKats, Vanilla Reese Cups, Orange Crunchies, etc. I always think of a bunch of executives in Pennsylvania, slowly coming to the sad realisation that whether it's chocolate with crispy rice, or chocolate with crispy wafers, it's still pretty close to the same stuff they sold last year. They desperately need something new (although I'm not sure why, since kids + chocolate is the gold standard for demographic appeal), and this is the result.

Does anyone think that they'll somehow discover that the only thing missing from a Twix these last fifty years was a dash of Pumpkin Pie artificial flavouring? Or does it make more sense to think that they're terrified of how much money it would cost to create a new snack bar?

Or, more specifically, how much it would cost to market a new snack bar. Look a few years into the past: A new bar was invented, called "Wunderbar". Its ad campaign consisted of a bunch of vikings opening a pirate chest (huh?) and shouting, "Wunderbar!" And it worked. And now, Wunderbar has enough recognition that it sells itself (and its minty-fresh counterpart). A brand new bar, on the other hand, will require millions, just to get people to notice it, and it'll cost millions putting it into mass production. Wunderbar, on the other hand, didn't require as much startup, so it didn't have to be a miracle of confection to turn a profit. Trying something new just isn't worth it, no matter how badly they crave a new audience.

The end result? Short of a new company trying to enter the market and stay cost-competitive against Willy Wonka, the candy racks aren't going to change any time soon.

And as soon as you realise that, it becomes somewhat insulting that they're still trying to peddle Charleston Chews and Baby Ruths. Even Oh!Henrys... when was the last time "Henry" was a modern name?

Despite that all, I was still curious to see the following chocolate bar for sale:

After all, it's not like maple is a bad flavour... and it does kind of tug at the ol' patriotism... but wait, what's that in the top left? "Red and White in Every Bite"? Okay, this I've got to see.

Hm. What do you know... it's slim, it's brown, it's crunchy, it's about the size of a banana, it's full of peanuts, and it's filled with gooey, chewy, blood-red nougat.

Am I really the only person who thinks it's like biting a squirrel's head off?

Like I said earlier, this is what passes for innovation nowadays. Welcome to the dark side of the long tail: the companies which already enjoy blockbuster success have optimised their production to the extent that now they can't manufacture anything except for their blockbuster items. At best, they can only manage baby steps away from their established brand, which results in curiousities like this.

The real problem, though, is that I like squirrels. Ah, well... I guess it's high time that I ditched the sweet tooth.