The Holy Grail Press
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Word of the Every So Often
pieta: (noun) (pronounced: pee-ay-tah) a picture or statue of the Virgin Mary with the dead body of Jesus on her lap or in her arms. Of all the creepy depictions in a Catholic church, the pieta is perhaps one of the most creepiest. But there’s a lot to pick from.
Everyday History
On October 8, 1945, the first microwave – not an oven, just the microwave – was patented by the Raytheon Company, which made everything from household products to weapons. And if you have microwaves, then you can have a microwave oven. A guy named Percy Spencer, who worked for Raytheon, actually invented the microwave, quite by accident.
As the story goes, Percy was working with a live radar set that was sending out microwaves, and he nuked a candy bar in his pocket. He deduced that the compact cavity magnetron tube, which creates the microwaves, was responsible. And as we all know, the compact cavity magnetron tube was invented in 1940 at Birmingham University in England as a way to detect enemy aircraft. If you’ve ever been on a naval ship that uses microwaves (or seen a microwave tower), there’s a reason why they put the equipment way up there. And pity the poor seagull that just happens to be sitting there when they fire that baby up.
The first microwave ovens – Radar Ranges – appeared in 1946. The first ovens for the public followed in 1955, marketed by the Tappan Stove Company. At the time they sold for $1295, which today would be worth around $15,000. The price alone kept microwaves from becoming immediately popular. On top of that, they were really big, and really scary. You could microwave the frozen peas… and your entire family while you were at it. They got better, and, like most technology, they got cheaper. Microwaves today start at around $75, which would've been $6.37 in 1955. Percy Spencer, by the way, in appreciation for his invention, was awarded a grand total of $2.00 from Raytheon, which was the standard award given to any of the company’s inventors. That $2.00 today would be right at $35.00 -- a case of cheap beer. For those of you who are complaining about inflation, that's pretty much what a case of cheap beer cost in 1945 -- $2.00.
Cartoon of the Week
“’Amazing Navigational Skills’ my ass! Admit it. We’re lost."
Stuff
History of the Future: Tagging
It was on December 4th, 2028, that Seattle shop owner Felix MacGoogan, tired of the nightly “tagging” of his business’s outer walls by rival street gangs, just left cans of spray paint outside for them to use. Said MacGoogan, “What’s the point of even trying? I paint over their graffiti in the morning so they can put graffiti over my paint at night. Besides, what do I care what colour it’s painted? Paint is paint. And this way, I don’t have to do it anymore.”
Soon neighboring businesses joined MacGoogan and left paint out as well. Shortly thereafter, the entire city stopped trying. Seeing shop owners set out paint cans at closing became a common sight during the winter of 2029. It wasn’t long, though, before the gangs couldn’t tell their graffiti from even their own. Said one gang member, “It never really made much sense, anyway, but this is ridiculous.” The only way they found to stake out their territory was to completely paint the businesses in solid colours with tastefully coordinated trim. The practice quickly spread, and before long every gang in the city spent their evenings painting local businesses.
Said a former shop owner, “You never knew what colour the shop was going to be each morning. Sometimes it would be red, sometimes blue. You never knew. But they always cleaned up after themselves.” Indeed, it became a sign of power to have the best looking blocks. Soon roving bands of youth were brazenly planting shrubberies along the sidewalks. The sound of a weed eater was common at night.
In the spring of 2030 officials from other cities began arriving, trying to recruit Seattle’s gangs to come to their towns and wreck all the havoc they wished. Chicago and Indianapolis had limited success, but it never quite caught on.
Then, just as suddenly as it began, it stopped. Said one gang member, “Hell, that’s work.” It wasn’t long afterwards that the city fell into disrepair. Having gotten used to not having to do any maintenance on their property, nobody did. Pleas were made to the city gangs, who had all moved to the suburbs and bought homes of their own. Perhaps DJ Weeder, the head of the Toro gang summed it up best, “Man, nobody wants to hang out in the city. That place is a dump. Besides, who’s got time? I’ve got a yard to mow.”
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