Went to the ’burbs for a relative’s birthday party. It was in a golf course in an office building. The name of the place - get this - is Office Golf. They have 18 simulators, and promise a precise and immersive simulation of the Golfing Experience. I do not know how this works. I mean, I do, but the essential elements of golf seem to be “balls struck and traveling a great distance, except for the times when it is a small distance,” and “being outside.” I suppose everyone who does this for fun is aware of the distinction. You go to play Simulated Golf thinking “this is not actually golf.”
I have no analogues in my hobbies. There is no Office Scanning and Cropping, where I can sit at a desk with VR goggles and wave my hands around and pretend to scan old magazines, straighten them, color correct, and remove artifacts and blemishes, then curse: dang it, a piece of the old brittle paper flaked off and covered some words, I’ll have to scan it again.
Not much of a hobby, I suppose. Anything else qualify as a hobby? The gym, I guess. There’s no such thing as a simulated weight. I have a hobby of studying commercials old and new, and that can only be done for real. Speaking of which: I just saw an ad for a new upscale mustard.
New to me, I should say. Not new to France, since the company is 270 years old. The ad, however, says that the mustard is Inspired by France. Hmm. Le gougelle:
Maille is a brand of condiments, which originated as a vinegar manufactury in Marseille, France, in 1723. Today it is a subsidiary of multinational consumer goods company Unilever, which produces the brand's mustard at plants globally
Ah. So they can’t say it’s French.
In North America, the Maille mustard distributed in America is made in Canada while the Maille mustard distributed in Canada is exported from France
Of course there’s a noble and honorable backstory:
In 1747, second generation vinegar-maker Antoine-Claude Maille opened a boutique called La Maison Maille on the rue Saint-André des Arts in Paris and became supplier to the court of Louis XV. His father, also named Antoine-Claude, had become famous during the 1720s for recommending vinegar as a treatment for the plague.
To be specific: “His advice was to swallow a teaspoonful in a glass of water and rub it into the temples and palms of the hand.”
Which, of course, didn’t work at all. Never does. You never read of anyone getting a bad reputation because their father was that idiot who thought you could banish buboes with this one weird trick. BACILLUS IS NOT THE CAUSE OF BLACK DEATH (Meet the real enemy) (Do this tonight)
I love the official company history, because the Revolution just never happens. One day they’re supplying mustard to Madame Pompadour, and the next they’re cheerfully waving the stamp of approval of the post-Republic king. You wonder if there were a few years in between in which they wore Phrygian Caps and hung the Tricolor and backed the Reign of Terror because Robespierre was a customer, and always cast a sharp eye when he started humming Le Marseillaise and noted who didn’t join in. All that went in the bin when Boney took over.
If you’re thinking “I knew nothing of Maille, and now I know something. Thank you! I shall try it, because for too long I have casually and unthinkingly let Grey Poupon occupy the French-Inspired Moutard space in my brain.” Good. But:
In 1885, Maille was purchased by Maurice Grey of Grey-Poupon.
Augh! you say. Le Grande Moutard! Consolidation, with the false overlay of choice! Mais non:
In 1930, Maille was purchased by entrepreneur Baron Philippe de Rothschild.
Augh! Tu dis encore, now it’s in the hands of a secretive clan that controls the world! Mais:
In 1952, Rothschild sold the brand to André Ricard and Joseph Poupon,
Poupin? You mean of . . . you know?
Maille and Grey Poupon then joined forces and began marketing in supermarkets.
I love that: joined forces. Like they’re teaming up, Avengers-style.
Anyway. Went to a birthday party, and they served wings and little hamburgers. The latter had a unique European consistency, and you know what I just remembered? They really went heavy on the mustard.
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It’s 1923.
You won't find another! It's the only paper. Has the whole market to itself.
Attention, citizens: we are no longer an independent political entity.
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You’d think “Local control is over” would deserve a banner headline, but it’s all rather low key. |
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PROMINENT WOMAN IRRITATED |
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None of these slogans make any sense to me, but no doubt referred to issues that drove the issue?
Tujunga is a neighborhood, I know that much. |
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Uh oh
This, it seems, would be a firing offense.
I couldn't find any reviews. I found a few for the Thursday performance.
Also, "Aduiecne." |
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Do you not long for the days when such things were done, and reported on in this fashion?
Such prizes! Eskimo pies. You have to wonder what Master Philip Nash did to deserve what he got, though. |
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That could mean they ended up with a lot of sandwiches, no? Thirty ladies show up with Their Sandwiches and there’s no way they’re getting through all that.
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Thanks to his obit, I found the house.
Unique it certainly was. |
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That will do for today. Except, of course, for the Decades Project update, and the Miscellany and Outtakes at the Substack. We're burning through the rest of the 40s kitchen update, because I can't bear to string it out any more. It starts with the one you saw last week, because it sets up a joke.
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