Stump'd Notes

I was reading this excellent A.V. Club piece about the significance of the ’80s cartoon DuckTales (which I remember enjoying as a kid, though I was a bigger fan of its spin-off Darkwing Duck), which got me thinking about another favorite duck-based cartoon from my childhood, the British series Count Duckula. 

Duckula was one of many Cosgrove Hall cartoons I loved as a kid — Danger Mouse, Avenger Penguins, Victor and Hugo. I would go so far as to say that my cartoon watching was — at certain points, anyway, unless I was getting up early on Saturday mornings where things were heavily skewed to the States — about a 50/50 US/UK split. The only Australian cartoon I can remember watching was Blinky Bill.

I doubt old Blinky holds up very well for adult viewers (I prefer the original flavor these days), but I just looked up Duckula and was happy to find it’s as good as it ever was. 

So, for those who’ve not had the pleasure, here is the first ever episode* of Count Duckula:

* Technically Duckula was a spin-off from Danger Mouse, but the character was significantly different on that show (and, I would argue, not as good).

This is a really pretty map of everyone in the 2010 US Census represented as a dot.

I spent a while last year learning to use the horror that is American Fact Finder (and subsequently the equally/possible more horrible Fact Finder 2) and making maps with all the data you can extract (I don’t think I eventually did anything professionally with mapping Census data — or nothing I published, anyway — but it was good practise mashing up data sets and making online maps and it’s the kind of thing I enjoy doing in my spare time because I’m lame*) and I still really enjoy seeing what other people do with that data. 

But it’s also interesting to me because I often forget how much of the U.S. lives over this side of the country.

In Portland, everyone seemed pretty cognisant of what was going on on the East coast. Over here, I have already met a lot of people who don’t seem to know anything about the country west of Texas — other than L.A. (No one on either side seems to care what happens in the Midwest, other than Chicago; attitudes to the South are… complicated).

But this puts it in some perspective:

I guess it’s how people from Perth feel? 

* If this interests you at all, I got started with this tutorial, which employs a mapping program that automates a lot of the process for you (GeoCommons, which I still sometimes use to quickly visualise things just for myself, but I don’t think the embeddable versions of the maps are very user-friendly for news sites), and built up to writing the databases myself and using better mapping programs — now I usually use QGIS and, increasingly, TileMill, which is fabulous and I recommend every journalist — even those who are only mildy tech-savvy — check out, but I need to learn better.)

Oh sorry, I forget this blog exists.

Since we last talked, I’ve started working full-time at Willamette Week (I have been on-again-off-again there in various roles basically since I moved here, but this is the first time it’s a full-time, on salary kinda deal). Amongst other things, this means I’m now the editor a bunch of the special sections. One of those editions, Best of Portland, just came out on Wednesday:

Best of Portland was already one of my favorite editions to write for — I keep an Evernote all year of ideas I have and things I see that won’t quite work as stories in and of themselves, but I think are fascinating and worthy of publication. Editing it is even better, because you get to see the lists and ideas everyone else has been keeping all year, and then craft it into one (sort of) cohesive piece. 

Also, how good is that cover? 

I find Americans’ “Summer Camp” fascinating. My childhood school holidays were typically spent at the beach with my family, hanging out with my friends, or in later years, on the internet. 

Here are some things that kids from New York will apparently do this summer:

I’ve written about Kickstarter before. The Boy pledges to a lot of projects. I pledge to some. Usually when there’s something on offer that I want. Very occasionally out of the goodness of my heart.

Matt Haughey recently wrote a good post about a bad experience he had with the site. I haven’t had anything bad happen (though I acknowledge there’s always a risk), but I have had a really good one, so let’s talk about that.

I rarely pledge to food-based projects. Even though I am obviously a confirmed fan of food, most of them tend to be people trying to start businesses without enough money. Food businesses don’t just need money to begin, they need excess money. Relying on donated funds just to open your business means you have no wiggle room if you don’t break even or make a profit straight away. Others just seem to be unoriginal ideas — you wanna make cookies or brew beer? Great, but there is basically no incentive for me to support you, as good bakeries and craft breweries are hardly in short supply here (though The Boy did help fund one micro brewery in return for a tshirt, and displaying the name of a brewery no one has heard seems to earn him kudos with beer nerds). 

But here’s a food project I did pledge to, and I’m really glad. Lofty Pursuits is an old school soda fountain (apparently THE old school soda fountain; check out the graph pr0n here) in Tallahassee, Florida (no, I have no idea where that is) which also specialises in “Victorian era candy”. When I first saw it, I though, “Hmmph, just looks like boiled lollies to me.” And that’s because it is. Some backstory:

When public primary school kids from my home state of Victoria went on school camps, we’d inevitably go to some dinky little former gold (if you’re lucky) or coal (if you’re not) mining town where we’d spend a few days sleeping in cold dorms and eating terrible food and teasing the kid who has to bring plastic sheets. The one thing these towns usually have going for them is an “olde lolly shop” that sells traditional boiled sweets—humbugs, barley sugars, lemon acid drops (my favourite) and maybe some Castlemaine Rock if you happened to be in that part of the state. Our parents were allowed to give us a maximum of $5 to spend at this store. 

I thought these sweets were all pretty standard. Apparently not. It turns out that Australia is one of the last places in the world that still practises this kind of lolly making.

So there’s this lolly store in Lake Mary, Florida (also have no idea where that is), with owners who learned to make boiled lollies in Australia. Then this kid ends up learning the trade from them, and eventually ends up working at Lofty Pursuits, where he now makes them as a sort of performance (and, of course, to sell and eat; because boiled lollies are delicious).

So the owner has been buying Victorian candy making equipment and restoring it to use in the store. And that was the point of the Kickstarter campaign. 

This is one reason the campaign was cool (to me, at least). They have a successful business. They are experts at what they do (also, being an expert at soda drinks and candy making are such cool things to be an expert at). But they wanted to use both of these things on an unnecessary, but totally awesome project. It would be hard to read about what they wanted to and not want to help them do it.

So that’s part of it. But they also went about it in all the right ways. 

• They made a video. It’s not a great video, but it helps you see who they are and what they’re doing. When I wrote a story about Kickstarter a while back, Kickstarter’s former CTO told me that projects with videos are far, far more likely to succeed. 
  
  
• The rewards were really good. I’d have usually argued that there should have been another reward between the $5 and $25 mark — because $25 is a big commitment for many people — but basically anyone supporting this project probably wanted candy out of it, and that is not an unreasonable amount for rare, hand-made candy plus shipping, especially as a quick look at the donor list shows many people don’t live anywhere near the store.
  
  
• They were asking for a reasonable amount of money. I have seen some projects in the tens of thousands get funded, but I instinctively ignore projects asking for huge amounts, because they seem unlikely to succeed. And again, if you’re asking for THAT much, I tend to question how viable your project is.
   
• The page outlined exactly what the money would be used for. If I see a sizeable figure, but no breakdown of what it’s going to, I assume the person hasn’t actually done the maths on what they really need, and has just pulled a random figure out of their arse that sounds “about right”.
  
  
• As soon as I pledged money, the store owner sent me a personal thank you message, and a detailed response to my reply, telling me some more historical info about the candy.
  
  
• They provided regular, interesting updates as the project went on. Not just “hey thanks, we’re almost near our goal” updates, either — pictures and videos of machines they were working on, candy they were making, and other bits and pieces. These updates get sent as emails too, which really kept me following and rooting for the campaign to succeed, instead of just pledging and forgetting as I usually do. 
  
  
• They kept going once they met their goal. Once it became likely they would succeed, they offered to up the rewards if they hit an even higher goal, and detailed what they would do with that extra money.

The Kickstarter campaign ended today, raising $7,172 — $1,322 above their goal — amongst 180 backers.

If you’re lucky, I will share my boiled lollies with you. 

It has been a while, hasn’t it? 

Reading

Townie by Andre Dubus III

Reading about other people’s dysfunctional childhoods makes me realise how easy and white bred mine was.

The Monthly magazine

My folks got me a subscription for my birthday. I try to keep up generally with shit that’s going on in Australia, but it’s pretty hard when you’re not there to live it. Sitting back with a magazine every month is easier than trying to navigate the trainwreck that is The Age’s website every day.

Watching

The Slap
I, er, legally acquired the ABC TV series of the Christos Tsiolkas novel (which I never actually read). I thought it was generally excellent — great acting and script writing, the people and dialogue ran really true (though I did enjoy this Chaser parody — even if it dragged up a 10-year-old Big Brother joke — do middle class, inner city Melburnites use more cocaine than I realise?). Though I wasn’t entirely satisfied with the ending. Should there not have been more consequences for the girl lying about being raped?

Spy
Hulu is putting up new episodes of this great UK comedy series every Friday. Darren Boyd is brilliant. Everyone else seems to hate the kid, but I love him. 

Playing

Boxing
I have started boxing. Again. This time more seriously at a real fight gym. After months of inaction, it kicked my arse doing exercise, but just three weeks in, I’m already seeing pretty big improvements in technique, speed and strength. Now I just have to start running again…

Cycling
It’s that time of year again, when the weather turns to shit, and all the fairweather cyclists leave the road. Not that I’m oh-so-hardcore, but I just have no other transportation method than my bike, so I cover myself in rain gear and get on with it.

Hearing

Kyuss Lives
Kyuss is probably one of my favourite bands — it certainly was when I was a teenager — and Kyuss Lives is Kyuss reunited minus lead guitarist Josh Homme. It played in Portland on Monday, so I felt I should go, even though I have mixed feelings about reunion shows. Most non-local bands I liked as a teenager were from before my time, and now every band that ever released an album is reuniting, I always feel I should go for the sake of it. But they’re often not quite… right. It feels like a tribute show rather than the real thing. I enjoyed Kyuss Lives, but I couldn’t say I loved it.

We’ve been in Mexico the past 10 days. First Oaxaca and now Mexico City. Today is our last day. I’ll do a full post eventually, but in the mean time here are some photos:

There’s a bunch of cafes in Melbourne’s CBD called Blue Bag, several of which are close to my old office at Crikey. I used to call it “blue balls” because I’m 12. It sells pre-packed sandwiches, salads, soups and coffee (and by “coffee”, Americans, I mean “espresso”). At some point, the owners created these reusable plastic coffee cups called KeepCups that were shaped like paper coffee cups, so they fit under the espresso grouphead and kept your coffee warm. This was a good thing, because we went through an embarrassing amount of paper cups. So we all bought one, and every day, we would send the intern off to get coffee with our KeepCups, smug with non-Earth-destroying satisfaction.

Like most of my things, I left my KeepCup behind in Melbourne. And for a long time, I didn’t think of it, because I was mostly drinking coffee in cafes.

Then when I went to London, I stopped for coffee in an Aussie/New Zealand-run cafe called Flat White (it’s named after an espresso drink in Australia and New Zealand; it’s kind of a cross between a latte and a cappuccino) and, lo and behold, it was selling KeepCups. “Wouldn’t it be funny to have a cup with ‘Flat White’ written on it?” I thought, because smart arse baristas in the US are always saying, “Aha, do you want a flat white?” (No, I want the drink I ordered….) So I bought one and brought it back.

Then like a week later I lost it.

I was annoyed but didn’t really think much about it until three things happened: 1. I started working in an office 2. There are no decent coffee shops within walking distance of my office so I was often riding to work with one hand on the handlebars and the other holding a coffee, so one of my workmates bought me a coffee-cup holder for my bike, but it was too big for the average sized espresso cup, and 3. Some friends from Melbourne came to Portland and brought their KeepCups with them and used them everywhere and I was jealous.

By that point, just two years after that little Melbourne cafe started selling colourful plastic coffee cups, they were being sold all over the world. You could buy them at the Whole Foods across the road from our apartment and you could buy them on Amazon. But I wanted my Flat White one. Fortunately, The Boy was going to London for work, so I wrote down the address and gave him instructions. 

A few weeks later, he returned home with a Flat White cup. Even better, he had told the barista the story, and they’d thrown in a free coffee next time I’m in London. Even better, it fits perfectly in my bike’s coffee cup holder.

Now I can buy a good coffee in the morning and carry it on my handlebars to work. Like a total wanker.

Playing
Doodle or DieThis game is so freaking addictive. It’s like Chinese whispers, but with drawings. It’s annoying when people interrupt the flow of the game with pictures of cocks, but other than that: massive time suck. Beware.  Watching
AuntieI thought all the ABC’s online content was geolocked, but recently discovered the ABC 24 stuff isn’t, so I’m eating that up because I feel stupid and ignorant over here.
GleeUgh, I know. I avoided it so long, too. Then I got bored and watched the whole first two seasons in one weekend. I was actually looking forward to the start of season 3 the other day. Lame.
Drinking
Too MuchThe Boy’s cousin was in town this past week and we went drinking almost every night. Good times, but ouch. I had something good with tequila at Kask and something else with spicy vodka at a new joint called Dig a Pony, which I reviewed here. Really nice place; brought a pretty eclectic group in and everyone liked it.
Eating
Banh Mi OpThere’s a new banh mi place near my work, Lela’s Bistro. It’s far from the best banh mi around, but it’s easily the best around this side of town. It does one with a sunnyside-up egg which I seem to crave for lunch multiple times a week. It’s $4 and the egg splooshes out everywhere.

About a year ago, I bought a box of 50 garbage bags. I remember buying them, because I usually buy small amounts of things at a time (one tube of toothpaste, one can of beans), even when it’s clear we will run out eventually and I’ll just need to buy more. I don’t know why I do this. But this time, I talked myself into buying the 50 bag box of garbage bags and I was inordinately pleased with myself, because there’s nothing worse than when you run out of garbage bags but have something stinky to throw away (yes, nothing worse; war, disease, famine—these things are all secondary), and I knew this would not come for some time. 

And finally it has come, a year later. That seems a pretty long time to go through 50 garbage bags. It’s less than one a week, and we have a pretty small bin. I’d like to think it’s because we’re not wasteful, but that can’t be true. I think we are more wasteful in America than we were in Australia. Things come in more packaging. We buy food more often than make it. We definitely do more than one bag of recycling a week: cans, bottles, newspapers, boxes, junk mail, food containers. I guess recycling is better than trash.  

I hate a lot of things about living in an apartment building, but one I like is the trash shoot. When the bin gets full, I take the bag to the trash shoot and drop it into a black hole and, I assume, someone else takes care of it. I don’t have to sneak garbage bags into the neighbours’ bins after forgetting to put our bins out for the garbage man and running out of space. I used to do that a lot. 

Recycling here is separated into glass in one bin and paper and plastic in the other. In Melbourne, it all went into one bin. Houses also get a bin for green waste and in November, they will also get a composting bin. I think that’s neat. 

Less neat is the lack of bins on Portland’s streets, especially recycling bins. There’s a pod of about 40 food carts near our building and a park next to that pod where everyone eats their meals when the sun is out. That park has two bins and no recycling bins, even though many of the food containers and utensils are recyclable. The bins fill up quickly and overflow. The City is otherwise obsessive about cleanliness. People clean the downtown streets in the middle of the night and it’s pretty much spotless by morning. There is almost no graffiti (which is a shame, in my opinion, but that’s a post for another time). But there is a serious lack of bins, and every Australian friend and family member who has come to visit us here has commented on it. 

Today I bought a box of 78 garbage bags.