Restaurant Review: Nu Skin's 'The Spoon'. Provo, Utah.

To paraphrase Lincoln Steffens, "I have seen the future of restaurants, and it is Nu Skin."

Their weirdly-shaped headquarters on Center Street melds with the new LDS City Center Temple next to it to create a mildly hallucinatory sensation in the hungry stroller.

The Spoon is in a vast hallway, where this day an army of employees is wheeling gaily wrapped presents to and fro on dollies to stoke the numerous giant Christmas trees that rear up three stories.

As I gaze about at the industrial Holiday decorations I wonder what would happen if companies like Nu Skin ran out of poor people to give presents to at Christmas time. Corporations love to find poor families to load with toys and warm coats and turkeys -- it gives their accountants a warm and fuzzy feeling in their ledgers. But supposing the world suddenly did right by everyone and grinding poverty disappeared like the dodo; companies would have to do something with all that excess cash they mulct from consumers. Maybe they would invest in the next flight to Mars. But I guess that's not a realistic worry. As it says in Mathew 26:11 -- "For ye have the poor always with you . . . "  I personally have dedicated my life to poverty, and certainly would resent suddenly having to put on the bourgeoisie straight jacket if I finally succeeded at my chosen profession of limerick mongering.

You don't place your order with a live person; you do it on a computer screen. And pay for it by sliding your card through like any convenience store. This is the future of food service. It's fast and impersonal and nobody has to smile at anybody or remember names or worry about a tip. No wonder George Jetson was such a happy guy.

I punched in an order for the 3 egg omelet with bacon and spinach, and a side of 2-potato hash browns. Fountain drinks are free, but funky -- featuring such things as sugarless lemonade with basil, and peach tea. It cost $7.86. The portions are not huge, but it's all well-constructed.
I give the place Three Burps. This is where you want to take your out of town friends and family to impress the heck out of them. Especially if they live in some big snobby city like Chicago or Los Angeles -- this place will take the wind out of their sails.

Indian Police Arrest 12 Moviegoers Accused of Sitting During Anthem

NEW DELHI — The police in southern India have arrested 12 moviegoers accused of failing to stand during the playing of the national anthem, something required in all of the country’s theaters after a November ruling by India’s Supreme Court.

from the New York Times 

It's hard at attention to stand

while grasping popcorn in your hand.

And it is no joke

if you spill your Coke

by marching in place to the band. 

A patriot out in Missouri

". . .  I am tired of being told by him and others that I am not quite a genuine American because I did not vote for Trump or because I live on one of the coasts"

by Richard Cohen in the Washington Post

A patriot out in Missouri 

spoke of the East coast with fury:

"Those folks are elite

and ought to be beat

into a compliant Trump slurry!" 

Let your loins be girded about, and your lights burning

"Let your loins be girded about, and your lights burning"
Luke 12:35 

The lights are burning in the homes of all who worship Christ.
They glow a warmer welcome for the hallowed Sacrificed.
No dozy fireside for dotards is this choicest flame,
but a sturdy blaze a savage world to clearly tame!

So let our loins be girded as we take this Light without
to all the earth that nations may rejoice and sing and shout.
For such a Light cannot remain within our hearts today;
it must be shared with others, making darkness flee away! 

Like the lightning bolt that rips across the purple sky
is Salvation come to all who heed the soft reply:
"Rejected and exploited though my light may often be --
it shines to lead the unmixed heart directly back to me!" 

En Strengen av Perler: Why it's important to remember the difference between Anusol and Ambusol

In 2003 I took an eight week course at TEFL International in Thailand to become certified as an ESL teacher. The class went well and I had a good time with my fellow students, although a certain amount of confusion occurred on one occasion, as noted below in a blog I posted at the time: 


I ran out of hemorrhoid creme this week, so went to the local Ban Phe drug store for some. The only brand they sell is called Anusol. At the same time I was bothered something fierce by mosquito bites. Cat, the Aussie gal who up and left her apartment in Peking when she saw the concertina wire going up around the apartment building next door, and on whom I'm rather sweet, gave me some Australian mosquito repellent, called Ambusol. 

The sun being out in full force the last few days, I haven't gone out much, so I forgot all about the mosquito repellent. But the hemorrhoid creme has been very helpful. 

At breakfast this morning Cat sat next to me while I was wolfing down some rice porridge. 

"How did it work, luv?" she asked me. 

"Whah?" I sputtered, hastily wiping gruel off my chin. 

"Y'know, the Ambusol." 

"Oh, that. Well, I used it this morning after my shower and haven't had a bit of itching since." 

"Yeah, it's wunnerful stuff. I use it when I go to the beach, put it on right there." 

"Are there bathrooms down at the beach?" 

"What for? I slap it on as I'm walkin' along." 

I worked a piece of cilantro loose with my tongue that was caught between my teeth while I considered her statement. 

" I suppose you could actually put it on while you're in the water?" I hazarded weakly. 

"No, luv. I just sit in the shade of a gingko tree and slather away -- sometimes I 'ave one of the other girls from school put it on me backside." 

"That seems rather . . ." I stopped; my mind jumped away from any further conjecture. 

"The bugs still show up, of course, but they just lay there kicking their bloody legs." 

I pivoted uneasily in my chair several times. My face must've shown some distaste. 

"What's the matter, Tim? Stone in the porridge? Those buggers never are very careful when they cook the rice. Why don't you come down to the beach with me before class today -- we'll 'ave a nice swim. Water's as warm as milk, y'know. I've got some Ambusol with me -- you grease me up and I'll grease you up!" 

She gave me a winsome look. But I only managed to blanche and stammer out something about homework and writing to my grandmother's paisley shawl before fleeing to my room. Where I remembered the difference between Anusol and Ambusol. 

From now on I'm only buying Preparation H.

Restaurant Review: El Gallo Giro. Provo, Utah.

Located at 346 North University Avenue, I liked everything about this place except the incessant Christmas muzak they blared out at hungry patrons -- all of it in Spanish. You haven't lived until you've heard a mariachi band doing Silent Night . . .
So let me just get it off my chest right here and now: Holiday music should be confined to funeral homes, churches, and kindergartens. Anyplace else that plays it should be fined and the owners should have their ears cropped.

The service is sure friendly enough. I like being kowtowed to; it warms the cockles of my heart when the peasantry genuflect in my presence. I ordered the pork enchilada special, with fountain drink, for $9.84. Their menu, which is up above the cash register, offers specials for BYU students at $6.00 a plate. This is the only place in Provo so far that I've seen doing this. I wonder why?

The food came fast, was hot, and very filling. There were no culinary surprises or improvisations -- and I'm thinking in just a few more years we can get this same exact quality from a microwave frozen dinner -- so I hope places like El Gallo Giro can come up with something more intriguing so they don't go out of business. Plus, they have a good salsa bar. So I rate it Three Burps. It's a good place to bring the family for Family Home Evening, or to bring a date.

The Spotlight

Don't wish upon the spotlight;
renown is just a sweet.
No nourishment it offers;
tis not a healthy meat.

The light we should be seeking
from Christ the Lord proceeds;
it warms our understanding
and answers all our needs.

My breakfast for Sunday morning

I opened a can of Bush's Baked Beans, added two cut up wieners and a long pour of maple syrup, then simmered for an hour. I'll eat it with some Triskets and goat cheese. Only bachelors get to do this.

There was a young man who would fritter

 "But as soon he'd get the cash in his pocket he'd fritter it away . . . "

Nurith Aizenman on NPR 



There was a young man who would fritter
all of his money on glitter.
Then came the sad day
when he had to say:
"There's nothing to fritter but litter!" 

Confronting Racist Objects

Millions of racist objects sit in the homes of everyday Americans. 

from the New York Times

This story apparently bugs
all those who believe only thugs
would keep cookie jars
or bottles in bars
that follow the old Toby mug.