Monday, June 29, 2009

Adventures in Toothbrushing

I was brushing my teeth the other night, and the multitude of little squeaks going off in my mouth from all the tiny rubber wiggly spikes on the perimeter of my toothbrush's bristles got me thinking about all the crazy swoopy hyper-ergonomic toothbrushes we have these days. The toothbrush of my childhood bears little resemblance to these sleek anti-plaque frigates. The old brush was a simple thing; an unadorned hard plastic bar - translucent like a Jolly Rancher, and some nylon bristles - gray if it's new and soft and white once worn. Now there's all manner of leverage improving angles, embedded rubber sticky gripping points, multi-faceted arrays of bristles for reaching in, around, and under all the places plaque likes to perch. Frequently these days my toothbrushes have those supple little squeaky gum massagers.

It got me wondering about the toothbrush, and where it was invented in it's current manifestation, and all of that. I knew some people had used fuzzy wood, and bark or something, but I realized I had no idea what people did before there were toothbrushes. Statues have teeth right? Some of them? Old paintings? I mean they had to do something right? I couldn't really picture an old 18th century noble sucking on a frazzled bark chunk like some kind of savage.

So - time for some research.

I did what anyone would do. I powered up my internet, and navigated to google.com. I typed in "toothbrush", clicked Image search, set a filter to line drawings, and searched until I found a penis.

First row, four in. Turns out, a search for almost anything in line drawings will eventually return a penis one way or another.

In this case, some happy looking little paunchy dude has got the waistband of his sweatpants held out in front of him, and is rubbing the the bristles of his(?) toothbrush against the skin of his uncut man-meat. He's demonstrably happy about this, and in fact goes on in latter pages to rub one off with off with a cringe-inducing array of household objects. The site is called I Love My Toothbrush, and it's all about Homemade Sex Toys. I never really thought about it, but I can easily imagine such a topic having quite the avid DIY online community. I'll bet it's also a decent sized category of reasons while people were admitted to hospitals for injuries involving orifices and doctors that have to take 15 because they just can't stop laughing.

This is just one of those Laws of the Internet, i guess. Penis pictures are to be found everywhere*. I'd like to blame Superbad, but I can't.

Further research revealed some interesting things. Apparently Europeans used to clean their teeth by wiping them with a rag that was dipped in salt and or sulfur oil. Now, I don't know what kind of sulfur their talking about, but all the forms of sulfur I'm familiar with smell like utter shit. I guess the theory there is that everyone smells fucking atrocious in the first place, because it's Europe, 1780 and no one will take any freaking baths, so what does matter if your mouth smells like death? Later, your teeth will rot off and smell worse, so really what's the point of it all anyway.

So, some clever soul (one William Addis of Clerkenwall, England) clued in that this wasn't working and, armed with an idea, grabbed the first two things he found in his basement: A sharp knife, and the severed hindquarters of a cow.

In short order he had whittled the cow's thighbone into a suitable stick shaped handle, and set about mounting clusters of cow-tail hair bristles into one end the head. After that, he presumably proudly presented his breakthrough to his wife who responded to his suggestion that she stick the accursed thing in her mouth by beating him out of the kitchen with a rolling pin so she could have her baby in peace.

That was, however, the first real ancestor of our modern dental savior. People went on making them out of bone all the way up to World War 1, when apparently all the bone was co-opted for to make soup for the soldiers. Mmmmm. Celluloid soon took the place of the thighbone.

The bristle of choice all this time was Boar's hair. A sub-optimal solution due to it's tendency to hold moisture and host bacteria, and due to it being nasty, chunky brown hair from the back of a giant wild pig-beast.

In the 1920s, DuPont cast its nylon magic towards the toothbrush. Nylon bristles were cheap to produce, easy to shape, and nice and white and clean. The modern toothbrush was born.
Regular usage of such a device was still not all that common it seems, until returning soldiers from WWII came parading home with their pearly white victory smiles - polished by long months of militarily enforced tooth-brushing regimen. Since then, the habit has taken hold quite firmly.

My girlfriend suggested that perhaps this was responsible for the baby boom. A young soldier fresh from the war merely had to stroll down main street, letting his gleaming chompers dazzle in the sun, and all the eligible young ladies who would come running towards him, uterus-first. Hence, she would claim, the advent of regular dental hygiene is directly responsible for our current entitlement program financial fiasco. I pointed out that this was idiotic conjecture, and proof that thinking is best left for the men-folk.


Also, here is a little cautionary tale about making the most of a bottle of toothpaste. You know how it gets reaaaaaly hard to get the last bit out of the bottle? Well give up - this isn't the Great Depression. Just crack open another tube, you peasant.




*Genitals in general actually. The next line of search results shows a woman vigorously scrubbing her toothbrush against her vajayjay like it was the cure for AIDS.

- CC

Monday, June 22, 2009

Spurious Rotational Fanning During Wilderness Combustion Efforts

Came across this little gem the other day.

A simple 90 degree shift in rotational position by the paddle-wielder's companion could have rendered his considerable efforts helpful towards the cause at hand.

But then it wouldn't be art now, would it.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Recipe of the Week: Rhino Fries

These tasty fried meat-snacks make a perfect appetizer at any summer BBQ or dinner. I like to make a little Chilean Sea-bass-blood aoili to dip them in, but any ketchup works just fine.

Ingredients:

  • Cut strips of Rhino Meat* (pref. skin on)
  • Frying oil (high temp)
  • Safari Sam's Endangered Game Seasoning Rub

Directions:

Coat the meat/skin slices in the seasoning rub. Deep-fry until the ends curl up and start to lightly smoke. There will be a slight odor of burning hair when you remove them from the oil.

*About those slices:

There are many cuts of meat on the rhinoceros that are suitable for frying. Ideally you want to choose something close to the skin, such as the Chuck, Frank, or Shank. See the following picture for details.

Important Notice: Apparently a lot of people are killing rhinos and taking just their horns, leaving a nasty bloody carcass lying around to piss off all the people in Africa concerned with Endangered Something or other. Now, I was taught in school that brown people use every part of the animal, so I don't know what's going on there. I'm told that the ground horn is used in potions and is somehow involved in all that penis-enlarging spam we all get. Weird.

So anyway, if you go out there to kill a Rhino, DO NOT just cut off the bits you want out in the field and shove off for home and the deep-fryer. This will be a sure sign to the local authorities that you are a huge asshole, and they can probably shoot at you, like, legally.

No, you're going to have to take the whole damn thing back with you. You'll get looks and questions from customs and whatnot, but you just tell them the sonofabitch charged you is all. Not a damn thing you could do. Self Defense. Nothing to do but take steady aim on that big, beautiful head and silently will for the mighty beast to veer his course, to stay his thundering tread and cease the murderous charge towards you, and your wife and children - trapped in the jeep behind you, screaming in terror, screaming for you. Not a lot of choice there, mister. Endangered or not, no son-of-a-fucking White Rhinoceros is going to take your family from you, not now, not on your vacation you hulking, gorgeous sonofabitch. Stop goddammit! Stop this insane show of desperate grandstanding before we both do something we can never take back!

Massive gray feet crush the dry brush beneath them. The meters tick off. A vast and voluminous cloud of ochre dust has risen behind the charging giant. It rolls and boils across the brush like a sandstorm rising.

"It doesn't have to be this way. I beg of you."

You take aim, just off center of his lowered skull, just inside the bony occipital ridge where the skull is thin and a bullet fired true and straight might punch through, and be-still the brain of this ancient juggernaut.

"Damn you for making me do this"

Eye to the iron sights, you exhale slowly. Mind blank, the internal accountant plots out the speed of the creature, the distance, the gust of hot equatorial wind. You lay your finger on the trigger and wait one last, eternal second.

"Last chance, Rhino"

CRACK the butt kicks, you work the bolt CRACK the monster stumbles a step, but rushes onward CRACK he finally, mercifully, topples forward into a spray of dirt, rocks, dust, and blood. You lower the rifle and drop to your knees. As the hot rush of blood leaves your ears, you become aware of your children behind you, still trapped in the burning jeep and gather the strength to save them again.

Most of the park rangers and airport ladies aren't really going to question you there. Nobody wants a pissed off American suing all over the place for his burnt to death trampled and ate by rhino wife and kids.

Oh, and don't take any of those deals where you wait a flight and get a voucher. That thing will spoil, and smell.

Leftovers can be frozen and re-heated in a toaster oven. Microwaving is discouraged.

I'll try and get a recipe up for that aoili later.

*edit: If you are thinking about a White Rhino Burger to go with these fries, you might want to check here first.

-CC

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Drunken Poem #17

If love was a bum
I'd build him a home
I'd buy him a cheeseburger
And leave him alone.

If art was lady
with sparkling smiles
I'd pick up my pencil
to stab in her eyes

If earth was a basket
with all of us eggs
All pissing and living
in all the same place
I'd build it a cable,
I'd grow it some legs
I'd yell to "get out, gotta save all the brains"
I'd yell to get with it, to give up the games
while I just watch the crawling, the creeping of days.

Or maybe I'd kick it
all over the yard
Stomp them all flat, to little white shards
and eat them for breakfast
blades of grass in my teeth
bits of dirt in the pan
like fish on a beach

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Summer BBQ

Ok Episode 1A First Blog evar. heh.


Had an awesome summer BBQ today. Salmon and all the rest. It wasn't actually sunny out. Yesterday it was. Sunny, that is. And really freakin hot. But today? Warm enough, but a low cloud cover most of the day. Food and friends was great though.

Sposed to get hotter tomorrow.....BORING why I am writing a blog?.

Here's a haiku about today:


The Cow Chamber clear
if you feed the cow or not
it is full of shit

-CC