Dysphemism - We all know euphemisms, those quaint words or expressions we use to lighten up something unpleasant or crude. “I have to go tinkle.” “I feel like I’m about to toss my cookies. Go on, then, go feed the fish!” Well, dysphemisms are the opposite, where you “downgrade” an expression into something more crude or vulgar. They don’t have to be so rude they are unprintable; for example, I believe “bureaucrat” would be considered a dysphemism for a government employee (gives it a negative spin), “pencil pusher” for an office worker (is that all you do?), and “bean counter” for an accountant (rumour has it they can count other things!). Calling Winnipeg “Winterpeg” would also qualify. Dysphemisms can also be a bit ruder, like calling television the “glass nipple”. And they can be much worse. Just think about some of the “unofficial” military terms for food, washrooms, prisoners, dead people, etc. I won’t mention them here, but I’m sure you get the idea.

Politicians and their “spin doctors” (hmm, another dysphemism, this time for “speech writer”) have to be masters of the euphemism and dysphemism. Unfortunately, often so do biased journalists (er, I mean: hacks) and editors…so keep an eye on your local “rag” for loaded words that pack more punch than just their literal definition.

Those of us fortunate enough to live in Montreal have, for years, been able to enjoy St. Denis’ Chu Chai, where you get delicious Thai dishes prepared using “fake” meat. (The same dishes are available with real meat at Chao Phraya on Laurier.) Chu Chai has, for example, chicken in peanut sauce with crispy spinach, red curry duck with pineapple, and tons of other favourites. The only “catch” is that the chicken, duck and all other meats are…artificial. Six-million-dollar-man-style, someone must have said: “We can build a better chicken.” (Would this be the other, other white meat?)

These vegetarian imitations are surprisingly delicious (speaking as one who has never quite been convinced of the pleasures of tofu’s quivering white flesh). Eating the Chu Chai duck, you’d never guess this was phony fowl — it even has crunchy “skin” like the real thing (real or otherwise, if you ask me this is the best part!).

Anyhow, I never would have even thought to search for such a thing, but a happy coincidence yesterday landed me at a place not far from my house (to be precise, at 279 Duluth E.) which sells those very meat-esque products, made of soya protein and gluten (seitan). This may sound like some weird food fetish, and committed carnivores everywhere may well ask: “What’s the point?” But let me tell you, it’s delicious and healthy…and while I’m no PETA-phile, it just so happens that the only things that died making these edible imposters were some soya beans or wheat stalks. (Phony fowl, edible imposters… How many more of these clever combos can I come up with?)

The place is called Tiende Santé & Végétarien, and used to be located in Chinatown. Tiende reportedly means “virtue of Heaven,” and also seems to be a religion. The little grocery store was a joyful discovery for me, and I promptly bought some sham shrimp with which to make a real curry. I also picked up some pre-seasoned “ribs” which I have yet to try, though many of the happy hippies shopping there promised me they were to die for. Granted, there may be some differences between what a hippie would die for and what I would die for, so I’ll reserve my judgement until I’ve tried them. The shrimp had nice taste and texture, though, and looked beautiful in my curry (see photo).

I don’t think the place makes buckets of money, so if you live in the area, stop in and give them some business so they don’t disappear. They sell other asian and vegetarian/vegan products, teas and even can serve you a quick hot meal in the store. I know that I, for one, will be back. And don’t even bother asking: no, they don’t accept knockoff twenties.

I came across a fun bit of research — from the University of St. Andrews in Scotland — into perception of faces. Thanks to GregG for pointing me that way! They have a little applet called “Face Transformer” which you can use to generate all kinds of variations on faces.

Here are a few select faces, then: two which predict how I might look thirty years down the road; three which imagine how I might have looked if painted by El Greco (I really like the “Don Quixote” one!); one which looks back to my infancy (to be honest, I didn’t have a goatee back then…still, good try ;-). I also had fun seeing how I’d look if I were Asian, African, or if I were a woman. You’ve got to keep an open mind about these things.

So without further ado…here are a few variations on the theme of “El Jardinero”:

A story that has to be read to be believed: The U.S. government was investigating claims of a top secret Canadian “spy coin” that we crafty Canadians were allegedly planting in the pockets of U.S. government contractors to track their locations, record their conversations, signal the extraterrestrials to commence invasion, devalue the American currency…or something like that. (I may have made up a few of those)

Well done, the game is up. You caught us!

The culprit to the American mystery was our top secret “Poppy Quarter“, a coin put into circulation in 2004 in commemoration of the 117,000 Canadians killed in World War I, WWII and other conflicts. The poppy is our symbol of Remembrance.

“So how did these advanced nanotechnology tracking devices get into my pocket?” they ask. Reports were written. Investigations launched. It’s a little something we like to call: “making change”…obviously a radical Canadian concept you’re not so familiar with.

Let me explain: we rely on your secret agents crossing the border to buy coffee and donuts at Tim Hortons. Our Tim’s operatives mix the tracking coins with regular ones when making change for your greenbacks (your agents are overwhelmed by the rainbow hues of our currency and don’t notice anything “amiss” until it’s too late). Coins embedded in your agents’ pockets, we can track their positions, so please…just tell them not to make any 25-cent pay phone calls, or to feel overly generous should they pass a wishing well. That would, uh, throw off our carefully-laid evil plans.

N.B.: Tim’s was the exclusive distributor to the coin when it initially launched — So go ahead and R-r-r-roll up the rim to be tracked by our supercoins, which are uplinked to a massive network (four) of Anik spy satellites. And get this: did you know that “Anik” means “little brother” in Inuit? That’s right…Little Canadian Brother is watching youuuuu… (cue paranoid Twilight Zone music)

But the 2004 Poppy Quarter is old news. In the spy world, things change fast. The Canadian Mint has just completed a top secret project (read all about it here) to create the largest gold coin ever! It has a face value of $1 million (though the solid gold is worth over $2 million at today’s prices, and will actually sell for about $3 million!), and weighs 100kg. (that’s 220lbs for our agent friends from down south) Just think of the spy technology we were able to pack into something the size of a very thick pizza! Think of it…and be afraid…

Late the other night, our building fire alarm went off. I’m sure I’ve heard it before, but I didn’t remember it being so LOUD! I went into the hall to investigate…out there it was so piercingly loud it made you cringe. I went down the stairs, and was met by another groggy-eyed neighbour in pyjamas coming out of his apartment.

We didn’t smell smoke or see anything amiss. We went to the front door to stare at the locked “control panel”, which had a red light on, but no indication of why that should be. Finally, after several ear-bleeding minutes, the alarm shut off on its own, having “silenced” itself (likely it just got tired of making that racket).

The door to the apartment next to the entrance opened, and a sheepish-looking neighbour told us she didn’t know how, but thought it might be her fault. She had a chair up under the heat alarm just inside her door, and the alarm itself was hanging from wires…she’d been trying to disconnect it.

She tells us she didn’t know what to do — she heard an alarm in her house and she tried to fiddle with the thing to get it to shut up. In the process of “tampering” with the alarm, the whole building’s system was triggered.

Though the loud bell had stopped, there was still something buzzing in her apartment. They have a home security system, and she had its control panel open, and had even removed the battery. “How could it still be buzzing?” she asked, waving the battery at us. It was intermittent, occasionally stopping for a few seconds and then restarting. My pyjama-clad neighbour started poking around the alarm system, and together we tried to pinpoint where the problem was coming from. I said it sounded like it was inside the wall, he thought it was inside the alarm closet, and she was sure it was the fire alarm by the door.

I guess we were all kind of groggy and out of it. Eventually, I noticed that the alarm would stop and start intermittently as we walked around, even when I stomped my feet. Strange! I finally picked up a big paper bag she had sitting near the door, and the alarm stopped. I set it down. The alarm started. I reached into the bag and discovered…a buzzer for the game “Taboo“! It was just a toy; in the bag, some books were resting on top of it in such a way that the buzzer button was depressed enough to sound.

Much embarrassment on her part (after all, having two strange men in your apartment late at night when your boyfriend is still out is pretty taboo, no?). Her home alarm system now had wires poking out of it, no battery, and the ceiling fire alarm was all but disconnected. She’d awakened the whole building and given most of us heart attacks. And all thanks to a harmless little toy buzzer. Her face red, she told us thanks for the help, but…please…just…get…out.

Good night! Bzzzzzzzzzzz….