So, after Cadillacking it for a week, let me bounce between the silly and the heavy — which, in today’s world, is awfully silly as well. [Actually, I haven’t been Cadillacking per se, I’ve been busy writing — just not for this global communications colossus.]
Now then, pizza.
And, hey, you decide for yourself whether pizza is silly or deadly serious. Me? My mind’s already made up.
Anyway, the intrepid reporters over at NPR’s Planet Money have determined that a huge pizza is one of the best bargains you’ll find this side of the generic aisle in your local grocery. Wait a minute: Generic aisle? Yeah. Remember that?
If you do, that’s prima facie evidence you lived (and grocery shopped) in the ’80s. Fossil.
But, pizza, yeah. Acc’d’g to the Planet Money people, the bigger you go, the better off you’ll be. Simple Euclidean geometry tells us that, for example, a 16-inch pizza is four times larger than an 8-inch pizza. Yet, nobody charges you four times as much for that 16-incher.
See for yourself — assume the pizza is a circle and use A=𝞹r 2, to wit:
Here’s a 16-inch pizza…
…its radius, r, is 8 inches.
Eight times 8 equals 64.
Sixty-four times 3.14159 equals 201.06176 square inches.
Or heaven, but I digress. Now compare to an 8-inch pizza:
Its radius is 4 inches.
Four times 4 equals 16.
Sixteen times 3.14159 equals 50.26544 sq. in.
Hell, we don’t need to make America great again — it’s already great!
Let ‘im Choke On Cake
Speaking of President Gag. I’ve been waiting for the quintessential L’il Duce moment and, lo and behold, it has arrived. What was Himself doing when the US launched some 59 cruise missiles against a Syrian airfield last week? Why, he was dining oh-so-genteelly with the Chinese Pres. Xi Jinping. And, here are the words, emanating from his own warthog’s maw, describing what he was doing and feeling at that very moment:
I was sitting at the table. We had finished dinner. We’re now having dessert. And we had the most beautiful piece of chocolate cake that you’ve ever seen.
No wringing of hands. No searching of his own conscience. No silent prayers. No communing with his military advisors as the missiles arced toward their explosive termini.
War? What War?
The porcine pathological narcissist was jamming pricey chocolate cake into his trap, loving it, and not thinking about anything else in this whole wide world.
That, my babies, is the moment that will define his presidency for all eternity.
[Image: Screengrab From the Indy Public Library YouTube Page]
Stirring The Pot
And speaking of Big Talk, here’s the link to yesterday’s Glab gab w/ Indiana University scientist and researcher Heather Bradshaw.
She swoons over fats. No, not like the rest of us — she digs the chemical and structural make-up of the things which, BTW, we’d die w/o. Fats fall under the technical umbrella of lipids, all of which she gazes lovingly at under her microscope. One of those lipids is Delta 9 THC, the thing that makes pot so…, well, nice.
Bradshaw talks about fats (and why we’d collapse in a heap without them) as well as — tada! — medical marijuana. Click on by, ‘kay?
Tying It All Together
Now, back to the Limestone Post. Next month’s entry in the Big Mike’s B-town series’ll be on Bloomington author Annette Oppenlander. Her latest novel is Surviving the Fatherland, a thinly veiled fictionalization of her own parents’ experiences in World War II Germany and the years immediately after. Powerful stuff.
Annette And Her Father, Günter
And remember, she was on Big Talk with me two weeks ago.
It’s called synergy, kiddies, and I got it comin’ outta my pores. I think I’d better see a dermatologist.