Lyrics, below the fold.

TheTundra Rap

Ice floe, no where to go,
ice floe, no where to go,
lost in the blinding whiteness of the tundra!

[Check him out!]

They call him the shrew,
arms in short, in with the claw!

I’m little Johnny Frostbite,
movin’ around,
freezing you up,
freezing you down like an icicle,
coming in your tent in the pink light scissor bite.
Arctic death,
infinite night.

Call me tundra boy,
because I move like an arctic lizard,
when the blizzard strikes,
I disappear like a pipe dream.
All that’s left is a gleam,
on a tent peg.

Boosh, Boosh,
stronger than a moose,
don’t lock your door, or we’ll come through your rooftop.
Stop, look round, take your mind off the floor,
cos the Boosh is loose and we’re a little bit raw!

Ice floe, no where to go,
ice floe, no where to go,
lost in the blinding whiteness of the tundra!

The many faces (not phases) of the moon as we journey through time and space, to the world of The Mighty Boosh!

Shep supports self on 2-tone T-700 Goggomobil

We floo back in time to revisit Jean Shepherd’s WOR radio broadcasts on the Goggomobil, one of the earliest line of microcars of which the present day Smart Car is a descendant.

The wikipedia entry about Shep lists some of his favorite modes of transport: “At the time of the WOR radio show, Shepherd rode a Vespa motor scooter and parked it in the lobby of the WOR building, while at other periods during his WOR years, he drove a Morgan, a Rover, a Goggomobil*, a motorcycle, and a variety of other vehicles.” The picture above is from an advert in a 1959 issue of the literary magazine, Evergreen Review. Audio of his Goggomania phase will be available here, soon. Meanwhile take a look at how one 1957 model leaves the Smart Car in the dust.

More Goggomobils, in a family way.

Update: Audio of Shep’s May 1959 Goggo pitches have been added to the caption above.

Further Update 10/01/11: Daimler’s Smart Car Sputters in Size-Obsessed U.S.

If you’ve ever saved recyclable plastics for delivery to recycling drop points you’ve probably experienced the problem of accumulating plastic gallon milk containers in a limited space. They have this annoying tendency to take up quite a lot of space in a short space of time.

Go north!

It turns out that, in Canada, people get their milk in plastic bags rather than in the containers made of plastic suitable for guitar picks that Americans find in their local High St moo juice shoppes. It’s very counter-intuitive, to be sure, if you consider the implications for shipping and handling, not to mention, end-use. Well, people in Canada have managed quite well with this type of milk packaging for years, thank you very much.

Bagged milk comes in a 3 litre size as opposed to the 1 gallon size Americans are accustomed to. You see, Canada is a more advanced society than America. They use the metric system, for one thing. People in America, albeit less anglophilic, prefer the barbaric, English units of measurement (length, weight, volume). So, straightaway, they are going to need a way to understand how much 3 litres yield in terms of English units. A litre is about a quart. So, a bag of milk is about 3/4 of a gallon at sea level.

Now if you’re going to measure the milk at sea level to verify that my estimate is indeed correct, be careful not to allow the bag to take on marine salt water and other possibly equally unsavory things, as that would undoubtedly have a qualitatively negative effect on the taste and bouquet of the milk. Instead of going to so much trouble, you might just take my word for it, unless you happen to live in a seaside villa, in which case, knock yourself out!

There’s a web site devoted to the subject of bagged milk here. If I may just quote from it:

I think the most irritating thing of all time (next to maybe Adam Sandler) is when you’re in the middle of a conversation and you happen to mention milk bags, and the other person is like “WHAT IS A MILK BAG?”, and you try to explain what it is, and how exactly it works but the concept is still a very hard one for them to grasp.

The reason for including this particular quote is, of course, to diss Adam Sandler.

This page, on the aforementioned website, shows you what a bag of milk looks like and how it’s served and stored. The image above is just one of several views that will help the curious become more acquainted and perhaps comfortable with the unfamiliar, yea, the downright strange concept of bagged milk.

What to do with the bag of milk

You figure if you open the bag of milk it’s going to be rather difficult to keep the liquid inside the bag or, otherwise, stop it from leaving the bag involuntarily. The way it works, actually, is that you place the bag in a pitcher (or ewer, as American crossword solvers would call it), cut a corner of the bag (preferably at the top) using something like the very handy Snippit plastic bag opener that conveniently doubles as a fridge magnet/conversation piece, and with that, you are ready to decant the milk simply by tipping the pitcher. Of course, there should be something nearby to decant the milk into, otherwise you might as well dispense with the pitcher.

But how do you close the bag?

Okay, so you’ve done all the decanting you can manage in one day. How do you close the bag? Well, that’s a good question, and a lot of people are asking that question, and it’s a question that deserves an answer, as a lot of questions do.

Typical Canadian

The thing is, the honest to goodness truth of the matter is that the Canadians are not as concerned about germs as Americans are. It’s well-known that they rarely bathe, after all. So, you know they just leave the bag unsealed in the pitcher (or ewer) and chuck the whole lot in the fridge, without a worry in the world.

As far as that goes, Americans have to put up with bottle caps that collect dry milk residue that winds up in your cereal or coffee or tea and no doubt carries a highly lethal dose of pathogens. Something to think about, eh? (Eh?, is Canadian for what?)

How can I drink straight from a bag?

Canadians wouldn’t even think of drinking from the bag even if they could. It’s really not their scene. It’s not their bag, even if it comes in a bag. On the other hand, it is inescapeable sociological fact that Americans compulsively drink milk straight from the bottle.

It’s a question of lifestyle which type of milk container is right for you. If you’ve cast your lot with the Canadians, then you must enjoy your milk from a bag carefully placed in a loudly-decorated ewer. If, on the other hand, you’ve chosen to be on the “right side,” then you must have a sturdy container that can be tipped back and chugged down without making too much of a mess. Above all, it’s your call.

More space!

Consider, though, all the space saved when storing the bags for recycling. I’m not sure of the type of plastic used for bagging milk and whether it is recyclable or not, but it probably is far more environmentally friendly and less burdensome than the rigid plastic bottles.

In conclusion

If and when the day ever arrives when Americans can partake of this innovation in milk storage, it won’t be nanosecond too soon, I must say.

This blog and its domain are dedicated to Ignatia Wildsmith, a character from the wizarding world of J.K. Rowling’s remarkable series of Harry Potter books. According to the HP-Lexicon, she invented floo powder in the 1200s:

This silvery powder…when thrown in the fire, allows magical travel and magical communication between fireplaces connected to the Floo Network. The powder is thrown into the flames, which burst up emerald green. To travel, a witch or wizard steps into the flames and states her or his destination (another fireplace on the network). To communicate, the witch or wizard throws the powder into the flames and inserts only her or his head, again stating ther fireplace to which a connection is desired.

It is managed by the Dept. of Magical Transportation in the Ministry of Magic.

Floo networking is a rather hair-raising method of travel and communication, not to mention the possibilities it holds for getting singed, but it is a proven system that has been adopted here for purposes of travel on the Internetsâ„¢.

Although there is little known about the inventor and she only figures as one of the wizard cards that comes with each chocolate frog, her singular contribution to modes of travel has been enormous. We raise our glasses of Madam Rosmerta’s butterbeer in her honor: To Ignatia Wildsmith, who gave us an alternative way to travel great distances in the shortest amount of time without risk of falling from a great height or being splinched. Cheers!

Incidentally, the likeness of Ignatia was lifted from Jo Rowling’s own website and modified without permission.