Davauerdotcom

December 17th, 2007

Paging Dr. I. Chef

Posted by natdavauer in Uncategorized

I’m sitting with my niece in the hospital writing this post. To be more accurate, I’m sitting with my sister in whom my niece sits. I figure I’ll try to write something before I become a part-time babysitter and have even less time to do things like write vague essays to no one in particular. My niece is being coaxed out into our cold world by none other than the Iron Chef himself. He seems in quite a hurry to get his dish done by the deadline. We all watch anxiously, empathizing with his efforts. My sister also has something that needs to get done and the deadline is now. The oven is off and the bun is done. It’s just a few short hours before I’ll have one more loyal, related reader.

It won’t be long before the baby realizes she has mad cooking skillz. I’m already looking forward to Thanksgiving twenty odd years from now. That’s going to be good eatin’. So many of our best qualities are are inherited like a chicken breast inherits the flavor of the bay leaf. We stew in our families while young taking on all kinds of flavors. The final dish can be so subtle you don’t know why you do what you do and like what you like, but you know it has something to do with those years in the family crock pot.

The snow came down hard this week. It wasn’t so much the each-one-is-a-unique-individual type as it was the clump-together-and-git-r-done type. It was beautiful nonetheless. Huge globs covered our landing strip of a driveway. No less than eight cars share the tarmac between our house and our neighbor’s. My friends to the south think, “That must have been beautiful. All that snow piled up… just like a painting.” My stout and sturdy colleagues up north think, “You have a snowblower right?”

No, I don’t have a snowblower, but I do have my mitts. Like recognizing a flavor in the Iron Chef’s Porcini Crusted Beef Tenderloin with Red Wine Reduction Sauce, I recognize my grandpa in me while shoveling. It wasn’t so much that he taught me how to work hard when work needed to be done. It was more like I just existed around him and pretty soon it soaked in. He always worked harder than anyone I knew while complaining about working less than anyone I knew. The work wasn’t easy work either. It was backbreaking crack-o-dawn work.

As many people as there are running around the city doing things that make them money to pay the bills, there just isn’t that much hard work being done. Don’t get me wrong, there are a lot of people doing things that are hard and putting in long hours but it’s still not life on the farm. Sometimes, like when the snow piles up on the driveway, I can go back to the farm and life becomes clear for a while. It becomes a simple equation: Hard work/Time=Job Well Done. It’s a chance for me to see my grandpa again. I see him when I come back in and my back is killing me but I know it doesn’t matter. I see him when I wake up and there’s twice as much snow as the day before and I think, “Well, looks like that driveway needs shovelin’ again.” For the next couple hours, I know exactly what life holds.

My niece will be a whole new spin on the family recipe. I’m seeing an intelligent, well traveled, multi-lingual chef with a great smile. Hopefully I can get her out to shovel with me a couple times.

“She’s got some sugar on top and some really nice carmelization” That she does Iron Chef, that she does.

May 15th, 2007

Welcome to Dawn: Mirror Fish, the Coyote and Me

Posted by natdavauer in Uncategorized

I decided not to go to bed last night. It was late and getting later until the later turned to earlier. I decided not to because I could. I didn’t have anything to do in the morning or late morning… or early afternoon. Going to bed seemed more optional than usual so I chose the unusual option.

The sky was an amazing shade of blue-green. As if the world had sunk in the darkness of night and everyone would awake that morning looking out their windows to the eerie glow of the sun above a million gallons of water. I struggled with the choice of whether to follow the glow or not for some minutes until finally abandoning sleep for the mystery of light.

I left our house as if leaving an airport. A strange country awaited on the streets of Dawn. It was garbage day today so the highly manicured streets of Shorewood were lined with overflowing buckets, baskets and boxes of junk. It wasn’t so dissimilar for the world of Dusk of which I travel on a daily basis, but it was also foreign at same time. Maybe due to the fact the light was backwards. Or that there was not a single person in sight. It seems a fact that there is little travel between these two worlds. If you travel Dusk, you will rarely make the journey to Dawn.

I snaked through the streets on my bike like lanes on a board game imaging how may points I might get for turning this way or that. The green was turning to blue and the wind in my hair reassured me I would not drown riding a bike. I came to the edge of our world and watched the new light introduce itself to the cold, dark lake. “Hello old friend. I see you’re still here.”

The problem with photographing a sunrise is that you don’t know when it is at its best. You have to keep taking another picture just after the last. Alas, the effort is wasted as you know it won’t capture the glory of it no matter how many you take.

You are either predator or prey in Dawn, depending on your biology or perhaps your social persuasion. The stars cast a silence on the world that one could use to roam about with little worry of discovery. This same silence could be employed to help one sneak about with thoughts of mischief, deceit and even death. As the sun raises the stars from whatever possible tragedy or comedy they are background to, those who would set out to accomplish their silent deeds are for a moment revealed to one another. Who is friend? Who is foe?

First, it was I who saw the coyote. He trotted seemingly secure under his cloak of diamonds and hush. Then he caught notice of me. He did not figure me for friend nor figure me at all really. He wasted no time in disappearing because all to a coyote in the city of Milwaukee are safely assumed to be unfriendly. If he only knew how afraid I was of him. He may have seized the opportunity to press on me just to watch me cower for a bit. A fun story of Dawn to tell the wife and little ones.

pierIt seemed for the smaller part of a second that the world split in two. It seemed that for the shortest and all together longest period of time you had a choice of whether to believe you were standing on your feet or your head as the sun began to mix it’s colors for the morning masterpiece, the Lake explaining what went where or was it the other way around?

fish2The little silver fish were not flickering in delight as I did truly wish they were. Playing with the pale light on their sides as only a swimming mirror is meant to. No, they swam the slow circles of death. Closer and closer to the surface until the circling becomes floating and the mirrors become tarnished. Some evil in The Lake will not abide them anymore. I hope that they can watch their final sunrise with their one sky bound glassy eye.

fish1The deer like me, may have spent too much time trying to decide if he wouldn’t just walk about the day as he did the night. Or maybe he felt that his call to the woods before tomorrow arrived was as optional as my forsaking the comfort of my bed. For he could remain in Dawn as easily as he could leave it. And why shouldn’t he? It is a bit unorthodox for a deer to stroll through Milwaukee in daylight, but it is the Upper East Side after all. He would be as likely pet by a small child as anything else.

birdsI believe as I watched the sea of birds I could watch one split into two and two into four. My eyes rapidly trying to count, figure and organize this city on wings would only find birds where there were none and countless where there were any. A great jealousy filled me as I watched them soar about what is by now surely a somewhat mundane morning breakfast. I think of my own breakfast. My uninspiring trip from the bed to the fridge to some chair-shaped object or even possibly back to my bed again. What I would give to soar above the house in the washed out light waiting for my moment to swoop down through the window and into the cereal cupboard.

deerAs for most who whisper about the dark though, it is the other who is up to no good. It was me who would catch the deer and bestow some cruel punishment as soon as I had the chance. It probably has something to do with the biology of an eyeball sensing movement, but it does seem that a deer will first defer to you before making his next move. “You seem to be standing still. I will give you the benefit of the doubt that you will continue to stand still indefinitely, but if you so much as twitch, I am going to haul tail out of here faster than you can possibly imagine.”

I did share a moment with this fellow traveler as might two passing in the customs’ line. He is leaving, and I am coming. He knows the now quickly rising sun will only cause more of these uncomfortable situations to occur. Staring down people all day would make getting anything done impossible. And what is there for a deer to do in Milwaukee anyway? In a split second he took two great leaps and then floated over a chain link fence thrice his height pausing for a moment as if for me to regard his grace and consider it’s value compared to our brilliant but quite clunky frames. For all of our paintings, airplanes and libraries we can not sail our bodies through the air without the slightest hint of doubt.

polesI did fancy myself a deer as I glided home on my bike, peddling through the warm crabapple blossom currents. I am faced again with the decision of whether or not heed the call of my bed. I will, of course, sooner or later, but I savor the choice for the time being. What I have decided is that I will remember the coyote’s meek silhouette, the fishes’ glittering facets, the birds’ casual loveliness, the deer’s graceful leap and the sunrise’s modest blessing for as long as I can. And hopefully when the strange light of Dawn calls me to the window and seduces me away from my bed, we will meet again and be for a moment less a stranger to one another.

April 22nd, 2007

Happy Earth Day from Oil Corp Inc.

Posted by natdavauer in Uncategorized

The telephone I had growing up had the big dial on it. It came in one non-customizable color (beige) and only had one ring tone. Our computer was even worse… wait… what computer? Technological advances in the last 25 years have been incredible. So what the hell is the problem with gas mileage?

The current manifestation of any given technology hardly resembles it’s not-so-distant relative. And this is just for things we all see day to day. The advances of things like weapons, satellites and home coffee brewing machines are beyond our wildest dreams. Gas mileage, you would think, being nothing more than another automobile technology, would have advanced right along side it’s more stylish peers like in-car entertainment, climate control, fuel injection and brakes. Our cars glow in their nethers and even hubcaps are moving in a whole separate plane now. The only technology besides gas mileage that seems to be left behind is cup holders. They really are never in the right spot.

Let’s compare Honda Civic you would have drove off the lot in 1973 and one you would drive home today.

1973 Civic:

Not much in terms of amenities actually, and probably not too comfortable either. Radio sucked I’m sure. Heat? Maybe. But it got 40+ MPG!

2007 Civic:

(Straight from Honda’s website) With cutting-edge looks and the latest Honda technology, the Civic will get you there with style. A two-tiered instrument panel and available XM Satellite Radio with Navigation System make driving a true pleasure. And its i-VETC 16 valve, 1.8 liter engine with Drive-by-Wire throttle system will make sure you arrive early.

So they’ve been pretty busy in the last 34 years. Got a whole other tier on the ‘ol instrument panel. Thank God. I don’t even know what a Drive-by-Wire Throttle system is, but I’m sure it’s complicated. Sounds like a bonafide space ship that would make George Jetson proud compared to the ’73. What does it get for mileage though? Oh, 35 overall miles per gallon.

MPGIs there any, and I mean any technology that has gone backwards in the last 34 years? I’m not talking retro, I’m talking just plain worse. Now, maybe the car is safer and handles better and is more powerful and all of these things require going backwards in fuel efficiency, but I don’t think so, because you see, everyone including Honda is trying so hard to make vehicles that have even better mileage than a ‘73 Civic. They are working on it. They are working hard. They are figuring out the problem.

They’ve created a car that has two different power sources and can switch between them and use one to charge the other and has a digital display that shows you live what’s happening inside your technological wonder car. Wow, that sounds even more amazing than a two-tiered instrument panel. So, 34 years later they have used all the amazing advances in technology and applied them to the fuel economy of a car. What did they get with the 2007 Honda Civic Hybrid? 48 MPG. That’s about seven, possibly eight miles better than the ’73.

Cars can see you coming and unlock after “sensing” your digital fingerprint, hot-sync to your phone as you get in the car, automatically adjust your seat, dictate directions on how to get to the McDonalds drive through, shift automatically while pretending to let you shift, entertain everyone in the car with as many DVD players/Xboxs, break for you if you aren’t paying attention, beep at you if you didn’t check your blind spot and parallel park for you because you obviously know how to spend money better than you know how to drive, but they can barely get you better mileage than a car that was basically a cardboard box strapped on to a motorcycle. What has really been the focus for the last three decades?

It’s sad to ask that question because I know the answer. The focus is on useless junk that makes us feel important. This can be seen by looking at the home page for the new Civic. Even today when gas prices are a “big deal,” there is no mention of the car’s economy on the main page, but at the very top, in bold are the words: “Ready for a little attention?” Attention to the world and it’s environmental issues? Attention to our country and it’s political issues? Oh, attention to yourself and your instrument panels. Yeah, that. Nice.

I joke but it’s not even that funny. All of these cars need oil to run. Even the amazing hybrids need just about as much oil as my wife’s 16 year old Honda (clocking in at 40 MPG regularly.) This oil has to come from somewhere because you don’t have it, and I know I don’t have it. Maybe you don’t care about polar bears and wildlife refuges, but would you destroy an ecosystem if you didn’t even have to? Maybe you’re afraid of terrorists and want the troops to get ‘em before they get you, but would you even consider having someone die for your oil if there was even a remote chance that’s what is really happening?

What if things could be better but someone isn’t letting them get better. Here’s a page out of our recent gasoline history:

A year after the National Academy of Sciences reported that leaded gasoline is the largest single source of atmospheric lead, the Reagan Administration’s Task Force on Regulatory Relief (chaired by Vice President George H. W. Bush) proposed abandoning the planned phase-out of leaded gas.

But then, the EPA Administrator Ann Gorsuch admitted to a gas refiner that the agency would not enforce lead limits. The resulting bad publicity prompted the Bush Task Force to abandon its proposal, causing an unplanned speedup of the phase-out.

Exposure to lead negatively affects children’s cognitive development and behavioral skills. Between 1976 and 1980, as the amount of lead in gasoline dropped 50 percent, blood-lead levels in children dropped 37 percent. The decline continued. (http://zfacts.com/p/35.html)

So, not too long ago the gas we were burning was not just poisoning the world but actually poisoning children’s minds and the Vice President of those children’s country didn’t want to stop it. Why not? What’s in it for him to poison children? Oh yeah, truckloads of money. He was an oil company millionaire when he opposed the lead gas phase out.

There are powerful people that stand in the way of technology doing what it does best, namely: get better and better. Powerful people that are willing to do what they do best at any cost, namely: make money. Luckily, there are alternative ways to “get attention” in your car while still paying attention to what actually needs attention. We need to expect as much advancement out of fuel economy that we expect out of each successive generation of iPod. Fifty-something miles per gallon is not alternative living. Getting a car that has more to do with what’s outside rather than inside is alternative living.

In part two of this post, I will bring you one such alternative. You are what you eat and now you can drive what you eat. (No, Marty McFly, it is not Mr. Fusion. But you can still wear the raincoat and sunglasses.)

March 14th, 2007

Perfection

Posted by natdavauer in Uncategorized

NatThe world is not perfect. That’s for sure. Thankfully, there are computer programs that can show us what the world would be like if it was.

Apparently, if I lived in a perfect world, I would look a little bit like a gnome.

I think I prefer our imperfect world with it’s large chins and large but not insanely large ears. That is unless we were all issued really tall pointy red hats. Then maybe.

January 19th, 2007

Gallery Night

Posted by natdavauer in Uncategorized

PortraitFor anyone in the Milwaukee neighborhood who’s interested, I’ll have work hanging in a show that opens today, Gallery Night.

I am part of “Wisconsin Portrait Artists” that will be up on the ground level of the Reuss Federal Plaza, 310 W Wisconsin Ave in downtown Milwaukee, from January 12th to February 16th.

Oh, and I’m sure the building has a max. capacity in the hundreds so you might have to wait in line for a while.

.

January 3rd, 2007

Handlebar Moustache. n. def: A moustache with particularly lengthy, often graspable, extremities

Posted by natdavauer in Uncategorized

Thank God I’m already married because the only people who love a good moustache are much older ladies and men.

MustaccioA good moustache is like like walking around with a red satin cape. Most people don’t understand why you would do it, but at the same time they just can’t help but admire the quality of such a thing. It’s almost difficult to carry on a conversation. A few words into my answer to “What have you been up to?” I notice people have zoned out and are lost in the stash.

What started out as a vacation from the guy in the mirror became sort of an adventure. There are so many associations to be made with wearing a moustache, people just have to voice their opinion. You must look like someone. A cowboy, a villain hatching an evil plan or, my favorite, a guy riding a bicycle with one giant wheel and one tiny wheel.

As I said earlier it really appeals to a couple of specific groups though. I think girls under the age of 65 have no desire to have a closer look. Just the opposite I’m afraid. I have seen teams of teenage girls cross the hall and pass me in muffled whispers that I’m pretty sure have something to do with the handlebars. The more mature crowd however seem to love it. Maybe it’s associated with success in past. Some real catches of the olden days wore some serious handle bars, folks like Frederick William Vanderbilt, Kaiser Wilhelm II and King George V. I think when these ladies meet me, they can’t help but picture my manor with all its thick gilt frames stoic butlers. I’ll have to look into what it takes to attach “Kaiser” to my name. Maybe throw a “Von” in there for good measure.

Men seem to have an innate respect for a quality piece of facial topiary. Probably a left over king of the jungle type of thing. There are never laughs from men, just a subtle nod, squint of the eyes and look of animalistic trust. “Yeah, I’d run in your pack.” Those with the thin, patchy curse just look down, point at spots on their face and mumble something about how they could never grow anything but wish they could.

Dick DastardlyWhile it is fun to capitalize on the prehistoric power of the push broom it is not as easy as having a part in your hair. What used to be a fairly straight forward journey of food from plate to mouth is now a complex task wrought with fears and anxiety. “Did it get in the stash? Is it still there? How do I get it out?” Fears that betray my non-pack-leading status.

For now I will join the ranks of such as Friedrich Nietzsche, William Howard Taft, Rollie Fingers, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Salvador Dali and the Mario twins. If I can stick with it, I may even have to send in my application for The Handlebar Club. Distinguished company indeed.

November 15th, 2006

Happy Trails Pardner

Posted by natdavauer in Uncategorized

George Bush is following in my footsteps.

That’s on one hand sad to say but on the other hopeful that maybe he’ll be more like me some day. This week Dubbya is heading over to Vietnam and stopping in Moscow on the way. Although I’m sure he probably already Hotwired a pretty good deal on Air Force One he really should take the road more traveled (relative to local populations that is).

If George took the train from Moscow to Vietnam he may just learn enough to deserve an ounce of the political power he has.

I suggest that you, George, take the train home at least. Don’t be afraid of the people of the world being angry with you. They are of course, but when riding the pine next to them for days on end they probably won’t care too much as long as you accept their offers of homemade vodka etc.

Vote for GeorgeoGet out along the way. You might be surprised that people don’t take you so seriously in… well, pretty much everywhere else in world. Anywhere you aren’t a citizen or waging war anyway. You next to Hitler? Don’t be offended. It’s like a “Vote for Pedro” shirt over there. It’s funny! Although from personal experience, the Osama t-shirts actually out-sell you. Wherever you get off is the center of the world for who ever lives there regardless of if you’re there or not. Midland, Texas is a long way away and Washington D.C. isn’t that much closer.

I hope you learn something from your trip anyway. In my opinion every president should have to have taken a few trips like this before they’re even considered to be written in for leader of the free world. The catch is that the more trips like this you take, the less you would ever want to be president.

So here’s hoping you eat something you’ve never heard of, get pickpocketed and have a beer with someone you can’t understand. You are, after all, the president most people would want to share a beer with.

November 4th, 2006

On the Origin of Davauers by Means of Nat. Selection, or the Preservation of Flavoured Races in the Struggle for Life

Posted by natdavauer in Uncategorized

They say that when a leaf falls a flower petal grows… Or is it that when boat sinks an airplane takes off? Um, when winter comes heating prices go up?? I think what I’m trying to say is that sometimes one life is replaced by another.

Alas, Squeak’s legacy has passed into the history of the Davauer Scrolls. But hark!, it will be replaced by the coming of the less hairy (temporarily that is considering his/her gene pool) heir to the Davauer fortune or at least to the ownership of this domain.

The BeanIt has been forseen by the great pee-stick of 99.9% accuracy. Rachel and Nat have seen “The Mark” that predicts the chosen one will come. The line that is followed by the other line appeared in conjunction confirming the great prophecy will be fulfilled. A new Davauer is coming!

This will now give me something to blog about that isn’t completley made up even if it is less interesting. Does the internet need someone else blogging about their baby? Good question. One that can only be answered by user feedback. I expect everyone to comment on every post so I can quit my job and earn a living boring the whole of Cyberspace about how someone somewhere had a baby a la dooce.com.

I will however promise our baby will be the most interesting baby to read about on the internet. Think of it as a reality show the likes of which has never been seen. Two Thirty-somethings Have a Baby. Hmm.. or better yet “Project Baby: America’s Top Thirty-Somethings Survive Having a Baby That Might be a Big Brother Some Day.” Solid gold!

November 4th, 2006

RIP Squeak

Posted by natdavauer in Uncategorized

This is Squeak on her last morning.

SqueakThis is the look I received in answer the the one question I always thought she would tell me in the end: “How did you catch, kill and eat a bird leaving nothing but feathers for me in my apartment when all the windows were closed?”

Fade out.

October 3rd, 2006

Lemonade Stand: Innocent computer game or ruthless corporate training program?

Posted by natdavauer in Uncategorized

Have you ever played the computer game Lemonade Stand? To put that another way, did you own a computer in 1980? There were only so many games at the time and it wasn’t very hard to own all of them. This game had to rely on conceptual value as the “graphics” were not much to blog home about. The complete graphics capability of an entire computer at the time equaled what is now necessary to render just one earlobe of just one of the 64 characters on the screen at one time.

No, this game does not have a CGI endowed heroine that awful movies are based on. It would more appropriately reflect a profitable decade that capitalist greed mongering would be based upon.Who knows, it might have been the first project of the Regan administration to get kids out on the street and in business for themselves while mom and dad were still at work. “Say NO to drugs by saying YES to lemonade and high quarterly profit margins!”

My brother played Lemonade Stand back in his formative years and turned me on to an online version of the game that I could download and play within five minutes. A chance to revisit the 80’s without any help at all from VH1? Rad! I mean, five minutes is a pretty long time to wait for anything on the net these days n’ all but I suppose I can watch a couple of YouTubes while I wait.

The lame graphics popped up on the screen and immediately I remembered that I hated this game. When the game started you just got busy trying to get more money until it was time for Dukes of Hazard or something and you just shut the computer off. It was a little too close to reality at the time. Mom and Pop would basically “play Lemonade” all day without the graphic accompaniment or Dukes break time. Granted, all 80’s games revolved around getting more and more points and were basically a thinly veiled (or graphically forced) practice run for making money in the reality game to come. Lemonade actually had no other point than to make money.

Although it was the one game that I would rather practice piano than play, I thought I would give it a whirl now that I can appreciate how great it would be if my fake Lemonade Stand money could be web-transferred to my online savings account. For my following experience to make sense I’ll give a brief outline of the game. The game randomly predicts the weather for the day (displayed in awesome 8 bit splendor). You choose how many glasses of lemonade you want to prepare for the following day @ pre-determined cost/glass. You choose how many signs to make and you choose how much to sell each glass for. An Apple II+ powered calculation takes place and it tells you how much profit or loss you take home over your manufacturing/advertising costs. You then take what you’ve learned and play again and again, each play measured by one day, moving on to make a business that will hopefully be bought out by Wal-Mart instead of crushed by it.

I played the first four or five days changing the amounts and trying to base my production and advertising costs on something that reflected the weather. Three minutes into the game I had made a small profit of a few bucks. It was clear that this is how one should be playing the game. Master your product, learn your market, make informed decisions about trends (8 bit weather) and run your business honestly and you will make enough money to retire… I mean win.

You don’t see a lot of successful companies hiring little kids to sit on the street and make lemonade based on the weather forecast. You do, however, see a lot vending machines sitting there in one place selling cold drinks for the same price no matter what the weather. Inspired by the apparently successful approach of vending machines I thought I would try a different strategy: fill in the fields with some conservative numbers and then click “OK” as fast as you can. I hardly noticed because I was clicking so fast but I did take some hits when there were thunderstorms. In about 30 seconds I had made $100 in 140 days.

That wouldn’t pay the bills now-a-days but if I had any idea of how much that would have been when I first played this game I probably would have started a union. We were payed 25 cents to mow a lawn the size of Wrigley Field. It took all day!

I had become a lemonade CEO who only cared about the bottom line. As long as I saw the profit field increasing I had no regard for customer satisfaction or local impact of my lemonade stand. I would soon have enough profit to hire someone to click the OK button and I could take my private jet to the best disc golf courses in the world.

I have realized that adults probably shouldn’t play this game. Too much baggage. The lack of extreme graphics didn’t help either. I decided to throw in the Lemonade soaked towel before the shareholders realized the boat was sinking and I had laundered all the cash. Before I did though I thought I would go out with a bang a la Enron. I made a financial decision that I thought would wreck my business in two or three “days.” I made 500 glasses of lemonade where I was making 20 max. I made 50 signs where I was making two. I priced my lemonade at $.99 a glass - a 500% markup from my previous day’s price. I clicked the OK button with the sick pleasure of watching my lemonade stand crumble under its overhead.

Lemonade

This is the screen that was waiting for me the next day. It seems that the construction workers bought every glass of lemonade! I made $450 in one day on outrageously priced lemonade. I got really excited and then realized I was playing a very old computer game. What is this supposed to teach you though? Price gouging is the best way to make a profit?

All of a sudden the game started to seem even more real. Whole Foods just opened on the East Side and I’m thinking it’s CEO might have trained with this program. It got me thinking… The Marquette interchange project will be running for 5 or 6 more years. A lot of construction workers. Not a lot of access to refreshing lemony beverages up there on the gridiron. How hard could it be to make 500 glasses of lemonade every day?

It turns out you don’t even need an imagination to play lemonade anymore. The same is true of needing to imply larger economic trends to a pretty simple and straightforward game. You can play Lemonade Tycoon. Oh wait, that’s already outdated. You can play Lemonade Tycoon 2! You can now control recipe, location, hire staff, implement marketing strategies and even post your results on the lemonade stock exchange. And you better believe the graphics kick ass.

It’s probably true that I would make more money selling fake lemonade to nerds online than selling real lemonade to those grisly guys downtown working on the bane of my automotive existence. The real-world economies of virtual games are now surpassing small countries. People are spending more on virtual clothes for their virtual selves than they are spending on real clothes for their much less attractive and agile real selves. One gamer even purchased a virtual space station for $100,000 and plans to use it as a virtual nightclub in a “massive multiplayer online game.” Wikipedia will quickly bring you up to snuff if this last paragraph made no sense at all.

Well, I don’t really like to work a lot anyway whether it be in the real world for fake money or in the fake world for real money. Who wants to play a game about work and for that matter play a game about living when you’re not working. There should be a game about avoiding work. Dang it!

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