Tag: peanut butter

FC78 – Chewing Invisible Meat

FC78 - Chewing Invisible Meat

Hello, and welcome to FlashCast 78.

Prepare yourself for: Mini Kiss, respecting the ’70s, human library books, peanut butter gore, Frankenberries, and Mulligan Smith.

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Huge thanks to:

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Unpacking Peanuts

Peanut Butter and Bacon Sandwich, from wikimedia.org/You can’t swing a fourth-grader these days without being warned about peanut allergies in schools, and I wanted to share a brief thought on the situation.

First, an overview:

New research indicates that early exposure to peanuts—most commonly peanut butter—and increasing consumption of it may be contributing to the prevalence of the allergy. Although there are no hard statistics in Canada, most agree the allergy is on the rise. – calgaryallergy.ca

Now, I don’t mean to be morbid, and I certainly don’t have any hard data to back the wild postulation I’m about to make, but, consider this:

There were 112 deaths associated with the construction of the [Hoover] dam. Included in that total was J. G. Tierney, a surveyor who drowned on December 20, 1922, while looking for an ideal spot for the dam. He is generally counted as the first man to die in the construction of Hoover Dam. His son, Patrick W. Tierney, was the last man to die working on the dam’s construction, 13 years to the day later. – wikipedia

Hoover Dam, from wikimedia.org/That factoid may seem unrelated to peanuts, but I mention it as an example – one of thousands – regarding how cheaply death came, even just 90 years ago.

(These days any construction project that cost the lives of over a hundred workers would be easily spotted from the air, as the lines of approaching lawyers would stretch well over the surrounding horizon.)

What if it’s not the case that peanut allergies are on the rise, but, instead, that better care taking, and science, are simply keeping those at risk alive long enough for us to notice the need to take precautions?


Banana Ripening Chart found at http://postharvest.ucdavis.eduIt’s 2002, and I’m up far later than my 9am class would encourage. I’m feeling a little lost and alone, suffering the dramas only a young man can conjure. My roommate, a fellow sitting about twenty feet away, behind his own closed door, sends me a link.

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It’s 2008, and the conversation has found itself in an awkward pause. My wife suddenly asks the pixie on the couch a question, to which she receives a negative response.

“What,” she asks again, “you’ve never seen it?”

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It’s last Tuesday, and I’m walking the autumn streets with the seven year olds. Their faces are sullen; they’ve just finished extravagantly explaining the opera that was their school day, which, unfortunately, concluded upon the rotten treachery of a classmate. It’s been a great walkabout until the tangent, and my mind moves quickly to save the moment.

“Hey, that reminds me, I wanted to show you something.”

It is Peanut Butter Jelly Time.