Saturday, April 17, 2021

Pfizer’s experimental mRNA vaccine takes out famous CNN legal analyst who celebrated the jab

I am so sorry to see this.  It is likely her original peanut allergy came about because of a childhood vaxxination and this sensitized her to other vaxxines.  Her immune system was already negatively sensitized.

Then she bravely took the Vaxxine on air to show you how safe it all is.  Now she is dead from allergic overdrive sertting in.

Of course the big pharma appologists will be out in force but here we are.  Can we see the manslaughter charge?  Yet big pharma is above all that.

Today we continue to have a slew of blood clot reports all for a vaccine that actually fails to actually protect against a disease that they is at best the flu and treatable.

Pfizer’s experimental mRNA vaccine takes out famous CNN legal analyst who celebrated the jab

Tuesday, April 13, 2021 by: Lance D Johnson

(Natural News) A celebrity legal analyst named Midwin Charles passed away after receiving Pfizer’s covid vaccine. She joins thousands of other people who have reportedly died in the days and weeks after getting their experimental covid-19 vaccinations.

Midwin Charles passed away at the young age of 47. She was a regular contributor to CNN and MSNBC. She received her first dose of Pfizer’s experimental mRNA vaccine on March 1st and was quick to promote the vaccines on social media. On Twitter, Charles boasted about the efficiency of the vaccination process and encouraged others to line up and do their part, saying “Let’s do this!”

No doubt CNN would report her death as a “coincidence” while encouraging others to keep taking the covid euthanasia shots.
Young woman suddenly perishes after receiving covid vaccines

In the first three months since launching the covid vaccines, the Vaccine Adverse Events Reporting System (VAERS) has recorded over 228 cases of anaphylactic shock after administration of the covid vaccines. A person may suffer anaphylaxis within seconds or minutes after they are exposed to something their body is allergic to. Anaphylaxis is a severe, potentially life-threatening allergic reaction. Many people have no idea what their bodies are allergic to or whether they are allergic to one of the many chemicals in a vaccine. According to the Mayo Clinic, anaphylactic shock “causes your immune system to release a flood of chemicals that can cause you to go into shock — your blood pressure drops suddenly, and your airways narrow, blocking breathing … If anaphylaxis isn’t treated right away, it can be fatal.”

According to social media posts, Midwin Charles carried an EpiPen to her vaccine appointments as a precaution. After praising the vaccination, she admitted that she was deathly allergic to peanuts. She said she carried an EpiPen to the vaccination clinic “in case i went into anaphylaxis (sic) shock.” Medical authorities encourage people with pre-existing allergies and autoimmune conditions to have an EpiPen on hand during and after the covid-19 vaccinations. Midwin Charles didn’t suffer an anaphylactic attack up front, but her body did experience mild symptoms like fatigue and soreness in the arm. On her Instagram account, she did report a more serious symptom, shortness of breath. This was a sign of more serious issues to come.
The wrongful death injuries from the covid vaccines are not limited to anaphylactic shock

Potential candidates for vaccination are being misled and NOT provided adequate, informed consent. Many people are told that severe vaccine side effects are extremely rare and only consist of anaphylaxis. Culture icon, Elon Musk, recently tweeted his support for the vaccines, ignorantly proclaiming that any adverse reaction is rare and can easily be addressed with an EpiPen. “To be clear, I do support vaccines in general & covid vaccines specifically,” said Musk. “The science is unequivocal. In very rare cases, there is an allergic reaction, but this is easily addressed with an EpiPen.”

The truth is that there are over two dozen serious health problems associated with vaccination, especially with these new experimental mRNA programs. EpiPens do not always save the person’s life, either. Elon Musk joins a long list of celebrity figures who mislead the public on a multitude of serious health issues associated with these vaccines. In fact, the sheer frequency of adverse events associated with these experimental vaccines has prompted the CDC to strongly recommend that vaccine clinics keep intubation equipment on hand. The CDC advises that “trained personnel qualified to recognize and treat symptoms of anaphylaxis should be available at all vaccine locations at all times.”

On one account, a 68-year-old Kansas woman, Jeanie M. Evans died shortly after receiving the vaccine. The mother of five suffered from an anaphylactic reaction in the vaccine clinic. The EpiPen was unable to counter the reaction and the woman passed away at the Stormont-Vail Hospital the very next day.

In just three months, the Pfizer mRNA vaccine alone has been responsible for 28,046 reported injuries, including 1,131 deaths following injection. Instead of addressing this vaccine-induced public health crisis and mass genocide, the government and regulatory agencies are helping the vaccine manufacturers test the shots out on children and preparing for (unlawful) mandatory vaccine policies at schools across the Nation.

Scientists Translated Spiderwebs Into Music, And It's Beyond Stunning

This is really interesting.  All of a sudden we can experience the aural and visual world of a spider.  Or close enough to see it out.  That is wonderful and is well worth a deep dive.

It may well have a natural scaling system which will make the aural component as accessible as the visual.  We can see patterns and possibly we can also hear patterns.

All good


Scientists Translated Spiderwebs Into Music, And It's Beyond Stunning

13 APRIL 2021

Spiders rely quite significantly on touch to sense the world around them. Their bodies and legs are covered in tiny hairs and slits that can distinguish between different kinds of vibrations.

Prey blundering into a web makes a very different vibrational clamor from another spider coming a-wooing, or the stirring of a breeze, for example. Each strand of a web produces a different tone.

A few years ago, scientists translated the three-dimensional structure of a spider's web into music, working with artist Tomás Saraceno to create an interactive musical instrument, titled Spider's Canvas. Now the team has refined and built on that previous work, and added an interactive virtual reality component to allow people to enter and interact with the web.

This research, the team says, will not only help them better understand the three-dimensional architecture of a spider's web, but may even help us learn the vibrational language of spiders.

"The spider lives in an environment of vibrating strings," said engineer Markus Buehler of MIT. "They don't see very well, so they sense their world through vibrations, which have different frequencies."

When you think of a spider's web, you most likely think of the web of an orb weaver: flat, round, with radial spokes around which the spider constructs a spiral net. Most spiderwebs, however, are not of this kind, but built in three dimensions - like sheet webs, tangle webs, and funnel webs, for example.

To explore the structure of these kinds of webs, the team housed a tropical tent-web spider (Cyrtophora citricola) in a rectangular enclosure, and waited for it to fill the space with a three-dimensional web. Then they used a sheet laser to illuminate and create high-definition images of 2D cross-sections of the web.

A specially developed algorithm then pieced together the 3D architecture of the web from these 2D cross sections. To turn this into music, different sound frequencies were allocated to different strands. The notes thus generated were played in patterns based on the web's structure.

They also scanned a web while it was being spun, translating each step of the process into music. This means that the notes change as the structure of the web changes, and the listener can hear the process of the web's construction; having a record of the step-by-step process means we can also better understand how spiders build a 3D web without support structures - a skill that could be used for 3D printing, for example.

Spider's Canvas allowed audiences to hear the spider music, but the virtual reality, in which users can enter and play strands of the web themselves, adds a whole new layer of experience, the researchers said.

"The virtual reality environment is really intriguing because your ears are going to pick up structural features that you might see but not immediately recognize," Buehler explained.

"By hearing it and seeing it at the same time, you can really start to understand the environment the spider lives in."

This VR environment, with realistic web physics, allows researchers to understand what happens when they mess with parts of the web, too. Stretch a strand, and its tone changes. Break one, and see how that affects the other strands around it. This, too, can help us understand the architecture of a spider's web, and why they are built the way they are.

And, perhaps most fascinatingly, the work enabled the team to develop an algorithm to identify the types of vibrations of a spider's web, translating them into "trapped prey", or "web under construction", or "another spider has arrived with amorous intent". This, the team said, is groundwork for the development of learning to speak spider - at least, tropical tent-web spider.

"Now we're trying to generate synthetic signals to basically speak the language of the spider," Buehler said.

"If we expose them to certain patterns of rhythms or vibrations, can we affect what they do, and can we begin to communicate with them? Those are really exciting ideas."

The team presented their work at the spring meeting of the American Chemical Society. Their previous research was published in 2018 in the Journal of the Royal Society Interface.

Weird Object: Stephan's Quintet

Obviously we have a problem with the red shift distance realtionship we have relied on for most of a century.

I knew that because Cloud Cosmology tells us that every Galaxy is an act of independent creation of a universe.  The matter is sublight and is left behind to form a Galaxy.  The light joins in the SPHERE of light forming what we see.  Recall that empirical infinity is merely a large number and the inverse is not zero.  

All this means is that the apparent Red Shift of a Galaxy tells us how close to the first creation that galaxy happens to be and nothing about velocity or distance.  Thus a Quaser in the middle of a galaxy that has a deeper red Shift is telling us that its creation is older than the Galaxy.

All this creation by the by, entails consciously stepping back to an early page in TIME to initiate the creation process.  It appears to be something life does.  It is much easier to seed a small void deep in time than a galaxy.  Recall all planets and Stars are likely done this way as well. At least we now need to consider the possibility.

Weird Object: Stephan's Quintet

No. 35: A Doozy of a Discordant Distance Issue

By Bob Berman | Published: Friday, May 1, 2015

SOMETHING'S ODD. Galaxy group Stephan’s Quintet has been at the focus of a major redshift controversy for years. However, astronomers are certain the galaxy at the lower left is some 10 times closer to us than the others.
NASA/ESA/Hubble SM4 ERO Team

Some autumn night, hold a dime at arm’s length and block a tiny piece of the constellation Pegasus the Winged Horse. Hidden behind that coin may be the most famous galaxy cluster in all the heavens.

First seen by French astronomer Édouard Jean-Marie Stephan in 1877, the five galaxies famously known as Stephan’s Quintet constitute the first compact group ever found. Back in the 19th century, however, no one knew that these smudgy patches were far more than mere clouds of gas in our Milky Way Galaxy. With the advent of better telescopes and spectroscopy, astronomers eventually saw each as a city of billions of stars. But there was mystery here, stupendous mystery, and it arose not slowly but all at once.

The puzzle involved redshift, the most important evidence of a galaxy’s distance. Redshift — a change in the wavelength of light an object emits as it moves away from us — indicates how fast a galaxy recedes in our expanding universe. Imagine a balloon covered with polka dots. As the entire cosmos (the balloon) expands, the galaxies (dots) logically get farther apart. A dot close to the one you live on will move slowly away from you; more distant dots will move away faster.

The galaxies in Stephan’s Quintet all seem physically connected, so they should display similar redshifts as the space between our Milky Way and them grows continuously larger. Indeed, more than merely appearing physically near each other, tendrils of dusty gas appear to connect them loosely. It seems as if each galaxy’s gravity pulls off strings of material from the others, like pizza cheese. They appear interlocked.

There was just one problem. Four of the galaxies show a large redshift, corresponding to a recessional speed of 4,000 miles (6,400 kilometers) a second. This means they lie about 300 million light-years away. But galaxy NGC 7320, at lower left in the photograph, shows a redshift indicating a slower speed of just 491 miles (790 km) per second. This would mean it’s only 30 million light-years away.

This discrepancy was not some mere technicality; it was huge. If one galaxy at the same distance as others has a very different redshift, then redshift cannot be a reliable indicator of distance. Some astronomers, led by the iconoclast Halton Arp (see object 38 on our list), concluded that redshift can’t be trusted. The size of the universe was suddenly in doubt, as were many of the tenets of cosmology, such as how quickly everything is expanding. Thus, Stephan’s Quintet became the paradigm for the mysterious, and for cosmological insecurity.

Many astronomers insisted the streams of material between NGC 7320 and the other galaxies proved they were physically bound together in space. Moreover, all five galaxies have approximately the same apparent size, further evidence they sit at the same distance. After all, if the low-redshift galaxy was really much closer to us, shouldn't it appear far larger than the others?

The Hubble Space Telescope finally solved this issue in 2000. Its razor-sharp imaging resolved individual stars in the low-redshift galaxy, while the other four remained starless. This proved NGC 7320 is much closer to us than the others.

At last, mystery laid to rest. It’s a line-of-sight situation. One galaxy sits in front of the other four — 10 times closer, in fact. The seeming strings of matter do not really extend from NGC 7320 to the others. And NGC 7320 appears the same size as the other four because it happens to be a smaller galaxy.

Cosmologists let out a collective sigh of relief. Redshift is reliable after all. The universe is safe. Astronomers now prefer to label the four galaxies that are actually a physically bound unit as Hickson Compact Group 92. This actually includes a separate galaxy that was not a part of the original quintet, so that even though NGC 7320 has been expelled from the club, Compact Group 92 remains a fivesome.

But relief did not last long. Amazingly enough, a different puzzle suddenly arose. Near the nucleus of the quintet’s uppermost galaxy is a benign-looking star that spectroscopy now shows is a quasar with an enormous redshift. Meaning, it must lie billions of light-years beyond the galaxy. Yet there it is, clearly in front of it, and seemingly interacting with the galaxy’s gas.

This resurrects the same cosmic puzzle — with a vengeance. How could a galaxy envelop a quasar whose redshift indicates it’s several billion light-years farther away?

It’s déjà vu all over again. It’s another doozy of a discordant distance issue in the very same rabbit patch. Indeed, this time the visual evidence is even more ironclad. Might redshift be unreliable after all? Or does the distant quasar just happen to align with a weird empty hole that tunnels all the way through this galaxy?

Stephan’s Quintet just won’t quit the Strangeness Society.

Putin & Xi Have Red Lines, Too

The lunacy of great power posturing is on display now for some time, mostly driven by NATO and Chinese expansionism.  These are both faux military great powers inspired by military carreerists whose intellectual horizon is that of WAR.

The USA has allowed itself to appear weakened from internal issues.  It is also under apparent full on assault by CCP money corruption aimed at weakening the USA.  This is not a good scenario.  WAR can break out.

It appears that Russia is now ready to seize the Donbass from the Ukraine, ending the lack of border resolution there.  This may lead to removal of Russians from the Ukraine Rump and Ukrainians posxsibly from the Donbass.  The USA will surely not intervene here nor NATO.  This resolution is rough but then sets the stage ofr a united Europe with full russian participation.

Putin & Xi Have Red Lines, Too

By Patrick J. Buchanan

Share Pat's Columns:

Tuesday - April 13, 2021

"Biden personally assured President Volodymyr Zelensky of America's "unwavering support for Ukraine's sovereignty and territorial integrity in the face of Russia's ongoing aggression in the Donbass and Crimea." What does that mean?"

What are Vladimir Putin and Xi Jinping up to?

In recent days, Russian tanks, artillery, armor, trucks and troops have been moving by road and rail ever closer to Ukraine, and Moscow is said to be repositioning its 56th Guards Air Assault Brigade in Crimea.

Military sources in Kyiv estimate there are now 85,000 Russian troops between six and 25 miles from Ukraine's northern and eastern borders.

"I have real concerns about Russia's actions on the borders of Ukraine. There are more Russian forces massed on those borders than at any time since 2014 when Russia first invaded," said Secretary of State Antony Blinken on Sunday's "Meet the Press." Blinken added this warning:

"President Biden's been very clear about this. If Russia acts recklessly, or aggressively, there will be costs, there will be consequences."

What "costs" and what "consequences" were left unstated.

Earlier, Biden personally assured President Volodymyr Zelensky of America's "unwavering support for Ukraine's sovereignty and territorial integrity in the face of Russia's ongoing aggression in the Donbass and Crimea."

What does that mean?

When Putin was a young KGB officer, the Black Sea was a virtual Soviet lake, dominated in the west by Warsaw Pact members Bulgaria and Romania, and on the north and east by the USSR. Turkey occupied the south bank.

Today, three of the six countries that front on the Black Sea — Bulgaria, Romania and Turkey — are NATO members. Two of the others, Ukraine and Georgia, openly aspire to become members of NATO.

If Russia feels a sense of loss and forced isolation, who can blame them?

The transparency of the Russian military buildup suggests that it is more of a message to the U.S. and NATO than any preparation for an invasion.

Putin seems to be saying: Ukraine's admission to NATO or a stationing of U.S. or NATO forces in that country would cross a red line for Russia. And we will not rule out military action to prevent or counter it.

The record suggests that Putin is not bluffing.

We have been here twice before.

In 2008, when Georgia invaded South Ossetia, a province that had broken free of Georgia in the 1990s, Putin sent troops into South Ossetia, drove the Georgians out, and then invaded Georgia and occupied part of that country as an object lesson.

And though the U.S. had regarded Georgian President Mikheil Saakashvili as a friend and Georgia as a potential NATO ally, George W. Bush did nothing.

Again, in 2014, when a U.S.-backed coup overthrew the elected and pro-Russian regime in Kyiv, Putin occupied and annexed Crimea and assisted pro-Russian rebels in the Donbass in breaking free of Kyiv's control.

In short, when it comes to Ukraine, Russia has demonstrated that it has its own red lines, which it will back up with military action.

The U.S. and NATO, however, have shown repeatedly that while they will give moral support and provide military aid to Ukraine, they are not going to fight Russia over Ukraine, or to wrest Crimea or the Donbass from Putin's control.

A similar test is taking place in the South and East China seas.

Also on Sunday's "Meet the Press," Blinken was asked if the United States would fight to defend Taiwan, which is being harassed and threatened by Xi Jinping's China, which claims the island as its sovereign national territory.

"Are we prepared to defend Taiwan militarily?" NBC's Chuck Todd asked.

Blinken's response:

"What we've seen, and what is of real concern to us, is increasingly aggressive actions by the government in Beijing directed at Taiwan, raising tensions in the Straits. And we have a commitment to Taiwan under the Taiwan Relations Act ... All I can tell you is it would be a serious mistake for anyone to try to change the existing status quo by force."

Since Biden's presidency began, China has been sending military aircraft, fighters and bombers, into Taiwanese air space, circumnavigating the island with warships, and openly warning that any declaration of independence by Taipei would mean war with Beijing.

Thus, Russia has made clear what it would fight to prevent — Ukraine's accession to NATO and NATO troops on its soil. And China has made clear what its red line is, what it would fight to prevent — the declared independence of Taiwan.

But U.S. policy in both cases seems to be one of "strategic ambiguity," leaving the issue open as to what we would do.

A question arises: Are Putin's Russia and Xi's China, with their advantages of geographic proximity, threatening military action to jointly test the resolve of the Biden administration, and colluding to do so — one in Ukraine, the other in the South and East China Seas?

And, should we fight for Ukraine, how many NATO allies would be there beside us? And should we fight to keep Taiwan free, how many Asian allies would fight China alongside us?

Recent actions by Putin and Xi make the questions no longer academic.

Friday, April 16, 2021

The Unlikely Rise of the French Tacos

This will also show up at a place near you soon enough.  Fast food and cheeze remain inseperable.

In France it has bridged the gap to the Moslem community in a way the Hamburger cannot.  

I still find it hard to accept french fries in my meat and cheeze sandwich, but i am certainly going to have to try it.  I did accept melting cheeze curds in gravy and fries.

The Unlikely Rise of the French Tacos

How an upstart fast food became essential dining in the home of haute cuisine.


Lauren Collins

April 12, 2021

The French tacos is an “identitarian food” for the country’s adolescents.Illustration by Cari Vander Yacht

French tacos are tacos like chicken fingers are fingers. Which is to say, they are not tacos at all. First of all, through some mistranslation or misapprehension of its Mexican namesake, the French tacos is always plural, even when there’s only one, pronounced with a voiced “S.” Technically, the French tacos is a sandwich: a flour tortilla, slathered with condiments, piled with meat (usually halal) and other things (usually French fries), doused in cheese sauce, folded into a rectangular packet, and then toasted on a grill. “In short, a rather successful marriage between panini, kebab, and burrito,” according to the municipal newsletter of Vaulx-en-Velin, a suburb of Lyon in which the French tacos may or may not have been born.

In the American imagination, French cuisine can seem a static entity—the inevitable and unchanging expression of a culture as codified by Carême and Escoffier and interpreted by Julia Child. Bœuf bourguignon, quiche Lorraine, onion soup, chocolate mousse. Although these dishes remain standbys, alongside pizza and couscous and other adopted staples, French cuisine can be as fickle as any. The latest rage has nothing to do with aspics or emulsions. What are French people eating right now? The answer is as likely to be French tacos as anything else.

The precise genesis of the French tacos is the subject of competing folklores, but it’s commonly agreed that it was invented sometime around the turn of the twenty-first century in the snacks of the Rhône-Alpes region. “Snacks” are small independent restaurants offering a panoply of takeout and maybe a few tables: snack bars, basically. Typically, they sell kebabs, pizza, burgers, and, now, French tacos. The unifying concept is the lack of need for a fork.

The earliest innovators of the French tacos were probably snack proprietors of North African descent in the Lyonnais suburbs (suburbs in the French sense of public housing, windswept plazas, and mass transportation, rather than the American one of single-family homes, back yards, and cars). You could trace it back to a pair of butcher brothers, inspired by a dish their mother used to make; or perhaps it was a short-order cook, experimenting with a cheese sauce for a pizza-dough wrap; or maybe the French tacos is a take on mukhala’a, a North African stuffed pancake. There are many stories, but none, except that of unpredictable cultural mixing, perfectly tracks. “France is a country that, for decades now, has been urban, industrial, and diverse,” Loïc Bienassis, of the European Institute for the History and Cultures of Food, told me. “The French tacos is a mutant product, France’s own junk food.”

The trade publication Toute la Franchise recently declared that “the French tacos is without a doubt the product that will drive the market for dining out for the next ten years.” Chain restaurants have proliferated: New School Tacos, Chamas Tacos, Le Tacos de Lyon, Takos King, Tacos Avenue (which used to be called Tacos King before a trademark spat broke out). Such is the success of these chains that, according to a French economics magazine, some are “turning fat into gold.” The owner of one snack near Lyon started out making cheese sauce for his French tacos in the kind of saucepan you might use to heat up soup; now he uses twenty-litre stockpots.

In 2007, Patrick Pelonero was working as a drywaller in Grenoble. He often ate French tacos for lunch, so, during the construction off-season, he took thirty thousand euros in savings and opened a French-tacos shop. Eventually, he joined up with a pair of childhood friends to create O’Tacos, which now has two hundred and thirty locations in France. Pelonero had never been to Mexico, still hasn’t. “But I’ve watched a lot of series about tacos on Netflix,” he said, speaking from Dubai, where he currently lives. (In 2018, the Belgian investment fund Kharis Capital acquired a majority stake in the brand.) Pelonero likens the French tacos to the iPhone. “One day it wasn’t there, and the next day it was, and nobody knows how they lived without it,” he said.

O’Tacos, not to be confused with U’Tacos, outranks McDonald’s France on Instagram, where it generates a cheeky mix of tacos-centric memes and plastic-tray portraiture. (A much liked post this fall featured a photo of Brigitte and Emmanuel Macron, cheering wildly at a soccer match, with the caption “My mom and me when we see my dad come home with a bag of O’Tacos.”) One of the chain’s early marketing coups was the gigatacos challenge. The customer pays eighteen euros for a five-and-a-half-pound tacos, filled with five different meats (merguez sausage, ground beef, chicken nuggets, grilled chicken, and chicken cordon bleu). If he can eat it within two hours, without using utensils, he gets it for free, along with a moment of celebrity and plenty of jokes about his next trip to the bathroom. For birthdays, the gigatacos becomes a cake, candles staked into its floury, corrugated expanses like flags on the surface of the moon.

In France, the kebab has long been a pungent political symbol. In 2009, for instance, the Socialist Party proposed a listening tour of France’s housing projects, calling it “the kebab debates”; in subsequent years, several right-wing mayors tried to limit the number of kebab restaurants in their cities. In 2013, members of the far-right Front National made a nativist slogan of “Ni kebab, ni burger, vive le jambon-beurre” (“Neither kebab nor burger, long live the ham-and-butter sandwich”). In both name and image, the tacos bypasses the stereotypes that surround the kebab. The tacos-chain aesthetic is sleek and spare, gesturing toward globalized consumerism rather than toward any particular cultural heritage. “The plurality of the product, its influences from everywhere, make for a multicultural or acultural product,” Marilyne Minassian, a master’s student, wrote in a 2018 thesis on the French tacos.

The fashion weekly Grazia calls the French tacos an “identitarian food” for French adolescents. It has a certain glamour, appearing, for instance, in a song by the rap group PNL (“J’vendais l’coco, j’graillais l’tacos”; “I sold the coke, I scarfed the tacos”). A popular French YouTuber recently ingested two gigatacos in one sitting, drawing more than two and a half million views. Seizing the opportunity for a career transition, the rapper Mokobé (b. 1976) has launched TacoShake, offering French tacos and milkshakes (which are the French tacos of sweets, in that you can put pretty much anything in them). Some two thousand people showed up for the opening of a branch in the Paris suburb of Vitry-sur-Seine.

At around five euros for the simplest version, the French tacos offers an attractive cost-to-calorie ratio. It satisfies hunger for hours, in the manner of peasant cooking, while coming off as cool and new. Bastien Gens, the director of “Tacos Origins,” a documentary about the French tacos, told me that, as “the most exacerbated junk food,” the tacos has a certain rebellious aura. “There’s an insolence,” he said, characterizing it as a rebuttal to the bobo interest in virtuous eating. “You’re in the realm of the forbidden.”

It’s not that the French don’t eat junk food. They do, copiously. A 2015 report by members of the French legislature noted that the amount of money French people spend on eating out nearly doubled between 2000 and 2010 and that fast food accounts for an ever-increasing share of these meals. The tendency to “eat on the go” has “not yet reached the level observed in North America or even in the United Kingdom,” the report noted, but it has already had health consequences. In 2015, nearly half of French adults were overweight or obese. According to one market survey, France’s citizens consume 1.7 billion burgers a year—more than twenty per person.

For the Love of Bread

Even if fast food is, in reality, well represented in the French diet, it remains a cultural taboo, connoting rapacious capitalism, American imperialism, and just plain old bad eating. In the late nineties, José Bové, a sheep farmer and an anti-globalization activist, tore down a McDonald’s that was being built in a small town near Montpellier, becoming a national hero. You can hear hints of this attitude toward fast food and its predations—public health, agriculture, the proper family meal—in the Journal du Dimanche’s disdainful though rather accurate description of the French tacos as “un sandwich diététiquement incorrect.”

In the case of the French tacos, however, the fast food is the underdog, and it’s coming from within. A creation of the provinces, the tacos has, in the past five years, captured the capital, becoming a source of pride for a group of people who cook and consume plenty of French food but don’t often get credit for creating it. More than a vessel for meat and cheese, the tacos affirms the cultural power of suburban youth, particularly Muslims, previously relegated, for lack of halal fast-food options, to endless orders of Filet-o-Fish. The far-right leader Marine Le Pen continues to rail against halal meat, and the interior minister, Gérald Darmanin, expresses his “shock” at the presence of halal aisles in supermarkets, but the popularity of the French tacos speaks for itself. As the documentary “Tacos Origins” boasts, echoing the rapper Médine, “The banlieue influences Paris, and Paris influences the world.”

One night, under France’s coronavirus curfew, I went on Deliveroo and put in an order at the O’Tacos closest to my apartment. The restaurant’s menu is set up as a series of columns. To compose your tacos, you move from left to right, choosing your size, then your meat, then your sauce (ranging from “algérienne” to “texane”), and, finally, your extras (including but not limited to raclette, Boursin, goat cheese, mushrooms, turkey lardons, and an egg). All French tacos come with fries inside; you can also order fries on the side. I settled on “The Original”: sauce algérienne, chicken breast, and Cheddar, with the requisite internal fries and cheese sauce, which is made with crème fraîche and Gruyère. My order cost seven and a half euros and arrived quickly. The bag—brown paper, a couple of grease spots—was noticeably heavy. I took the French tacos out and, before unwrapping it, placed it on the bathroom scale. If “Grande” actually means medium at Starbucks, then “M,” the smallest size in the French-tacos repertoire, means that you could use it for bicep curls.

I picked up the tacos from above, like a clutch. Quickly, I realized it would be a two-handed affair and turned it on its horizontal axis, for a better grip. The grill marks, a perfectly uniform grid of diamonds, almost looked as if they’d been stamped on. Tentatively, I took a bite. I had been unsure about fries in a sandwich, but the fries were great, adding crunch to gloop. They were texture. They were structure. Basically, nuts in a salad! The cheese sauce ran into all the crannies of the fillings, binding everything together, so that you never got a dead mouthful. The spiced onions in the sauce algérienne cut the dairy, adding a touch of heat. According to one Web site, the appeal of the French tacos lies in the “triple equation” of being infinitely customizable, highly caloric, and enticingly unhealthy. It turns out that the triple equation is pretty basic: bread, meat, cheese. I ate the tacos down to an oozing nub, and reluctantly wrapped it back up. By the time I went to bed, I had started planning a visit to Vaulx-en-Velin, which, among several contenders for the birthplace of the French tacos, has emerged as the clear leader.

The French tacos is an emblem of suburban pride, but it is a source of chagrin for some Mexican restaurateurs in France, who see it as a form of cultural appropriation, even desecration. Mercedes Ahumada, a Metepec-born chef who owns an eponymous consulting and catering business in Paris, told me about one experience she had while running a taco cart at a food fair. “I had a customer who threw his order in the trash, saying it wasn’t a taco,” she recalled. Ahumada noted that both Mexican and French cuisine were designated an “intangible cultural heritage of humanity” by unesco in the same year. “What shocks me is that they call it a ‘taco,’ ” she said. “It’s like if we made a wine and started calling it ‘Mexican champagne.’ ”

Counting generously, the French tacos contains two of three elements commonly held to make an authentic taco (nixtamalized corn tortilla, filling, sauce), drizzling bewilderment onto a base of insult. “I find a lack of respect for our traditions,” Luis Segura, the proprietor of Maria Juana Tacos, in Paris, said. “It should appall the French, too. I’m thinking about all the foreigners who come to France to discover the cheese, the macaron, and instead find the French tacos.”

The culinary traditions of Mexico have already been misrepresented once over in France. What is widely understood to be Mexican food is most often closer to Tex-Mex: burritos, nachos, and chili con carne, associated with the American West, and, in many cases, with stereotypes of cowboys and Indians. The putative Mexican influence is often disfigured or devalued beyond recognition. The Indiana Café, for example, with more than twenty locations in Paris and its suburbs, bills itself as “a restaurant at the frontier of Mexican and American.” There, the menu includes—alongside fajitas and nachos—mozzarella sticks, bacon-loaded fries, fish-and-chips, and, for dessert, pain perdu (a.k.a. French toast). Europeans have further adapted this cuisine to local preferences. In Norway, where Mexican food, or Mexican-ish food, caught on with particular alacrity, Fredagstacoen (“Friday tacos”) is a national institution. Common toppings there include cucumber and canned corn, Jeffrey M. Pilcher writes in “Planet Taco.”

Old El Paso, the American Tex-Mex brand, entered the French market in 1986. The same year, according to Pilcher, “37° 2 le matin” (“Betty Blue” in the U.S.), a hit film about a chili-con-carne-cooking, tequila-slamming aspiring novelist named Zorg, incited a nationwide Tex-Mex craze. Bérengère Dupui, the marketing director in France for Old El Paso, which is owned by General Mills, told me that the brand accounts for sixty-three per cent of sales of Mexican food in French grocery stores. According to the brand’s market research, ninety per cent of French people say they’re open to eating Mexican-food items, but only forty-five per cent buy them at least once a year. At Old El Paso, the level of spice is titrated according to perceived national tolerance; an “extra-mild” salsa, for example, will be extra-milder in France than it is in the U.K. “We impose ourselves liberally on this cuisine,” Dupui admitted. One member of a focus group said that she put tortillas in her lasagna, while another volunteered that he used them as a base for quiche.

Obviously, foods change as they travel. And coming up with a transporting name is a time-honored trick of culinary entrepreneurialism: the Norwegian omelette (also known as Baked Alaska and supposedly created in France or America); Swiss cheese (a generic American name for holed cheese, while “American cheese” was actually developed in Switzerland). It’s hard to imagine, however, that the French—the most appellation-attuned and orthodoxy-obsessed of cooks—would be totally fine with it if the roles were reversed and Mexicans were, say, to try passing off some novel form of churros as éclairs.

“You have worms, so I’m prescribing you birds.”

Cartoon by Charlie Hankin

In recent years, devotees of the French tacos have split into camps, with tacos progressives accepting the dish’s evolution as a corporatized fast food, and tacos conservatives insisting that its true form can be found only in the small-time regional snacks. Amid the internal debate, larger questions of authenticity are overlooked or considered irrelevant—perhaps because being authentic was never the goal. Many French-tacos consumers know that the dish has no real relation to Mexican food. If cultural appropriation usually involves a dominant group profiting from a minority group’s cultural heritage, the case of the French tacos presents a complicated power dynamic: here, a minority group of French entrepreneurs of North African descent is profiting from the cultural heritage of an even more minoritarian group of Mexican restaurateurs who, in turn, see their counterparts as part of a monolithic France.

Before the emergence of the French tacos, Vaulx-en-Velin was known as the cardoon capital of France. (The cardoon, a relative of the artichoke, is often prepared au gratin.) A city of around fifty thousand people, with a poverty rate of thirty-three per cent, it comprises a variety of landscapes, ranging from medieval village to industrial canal to built-up suburb. According to the municipal newsletter, the French tacos, as a dish with a Mexican name and a Greco-Turkish influence, “embellished with fries as in Belgium, shakshuka as in the Maghreb, and French cheese,” amounts to “the culinary portrait of a global city like Vaulx-en-Velin.”

The most widely accepted genealogy of the French tacos credits Salah Felfoul, who owned a snack called Pizza Express, “next to the old Lidl” in Vaulx-en-Velin. Felfoul claims to have invented the tacos’s proprietary cheese sauce in 1993. “That sauce, it’s the base of the tacos,” Felfoul told the Vaulx-en-Velin newsletter. “I was using it for wrap sandwiches I made with pizza dough, with homemade fries and meat prepared by the butcher. The name ‘tacos,’ that was me, too.” Felfoul says that he came up with the name because the dish “resembled a Mexican tortilla.”

In the documentary “Tacos Origins,” Bastien Gens tracks down a host of tacos elders to delve into the mystery of the dish’s origins, without reaching a resolution. Many tacos fans purport to know better. “The recipe is inspired by a dish from the city of Setif,” one commenter wrote on YouTube, where the film is available, pointing to mukhala’a, a semolina pancake often stuffed with meat, onions, bell peppers, and tomatoes that is popular in Algeria. Another commenter ventured that Gens, as a native of Grenoble, might be intentionally downplaying the cultural might of Lyon.

For these regions, the French tacos represents economic opportunity on both the individual and the municipal level. The proprietors of French-tacos restaurants overwhelmingly started out as consumers of French tacos, and the arrival of a French-tacos franchise can be a big event in the life of a small town. The Web site of the Parisian suburb of Poissy, for example, proudly announced that the township had “joined the O’Tacos club.” French tacos are now available in Morocco, Belgium, and Senegal. (O’Tacos briefly had a Brooklyn branch, but it closed because of personnel issues, according to Patrick Pelonero.) The tacos diaspora extends as far as Hanoi, where, in 2018, Julien Sanchez, a native of Villeurbanne, a suburb next to Vaulx-en-Velin, opened Hey! Pelo, Vietnam’s first French-tacos shop. (“Pélo” roughly means “dude” in Lyonnais argot.) “When you live in a city that doesn’t have French tacos, you’d better learn how to make your own,” Sanchez told me.

Sanchez put me in touch with a childhood friend named Seyf Sebaa, who agreed to show me around the heartland of the French tacos. I was planning to take the train from Paris to Lyon, and then a tram from Lyon to Villeurbanne. Sebaa kindly asked if I needed any help getting there. I’d be fine, I assured him, over text. “Noted,” he wrote back. “Let’s get crazy!”

Sebaa met me on the tram platform in jeans, a bomber jacket, and a big scarf. He and his parents and siblings had moved to the countryside outside Lyon several years ago, he said. He was on leave from La Pataterie, a potato-themed restaurant, where, until covid hit, he worked as a server. Over Christmas, he had spent several weeks working at a fish smokehouse, processing salmon, trout, sturgeon, and eels. He had a natural buoyancy, and his spirits seemed to rise even higher as we set out on foot through the town. “If there’s a big football match, it’s tacos obligatoire,” Sebaa said. “It sounds stupid to say—it’s a sandwich—but there’s something about the tacos that brings people together, something ceremonial about it.”

We passed irregularly spaced muffler shops, car dealerships, rapeseed fields, a roundabout or two. The sky was full, low, and gray. Eventually, Sebaa stopped at a corner, in front of a snack called Le Tornado. His father’s cousin owned it in the early two-thousands, he said, and he used to serve French tacos. Another cousin, Sebaa added, owns a Tex-Mex restaurant, called Tex House, a half-hour drive away. I ran through the different theories about the origins of the French tacos and asked Sebaa if he thought his family had anything to do with it. “It’s a real labyrinth,” he said, promising to try to get in touch with his father’s cousins. “Ah! The tacos gratinés! ” he called out, as we passed a restaurant that advertised a wood-fired oven, for melting cheese on top of French tacos.

We were getting hungry. We walked for a while through a quiet neighborhood of apartment complexes, until Sebaa stopped short at an intersection.

“Can you smell it?” he asked.

“What?” I replied.

“Follow me,” he said.

A few seconds later, we were standing in front of La Marinade, his favorite French-tacos destination of late. We opened the door and entered a small front room, clearly recently decorated, with stylish burled-wood light fixtures and two automatic-ordering kiosks. We waited our turn while a large group in front of us made their choices. Then we stepped up to the screens. I chose a tacos with Gruyère melted on top, stuffed with “chicken marinated in four spices,” sauced with cheese and harissa, and garnished with olives and shakshuka (a mix of cooked bell peppers, tomatoes, and onion), the Lyonnais way.

French fast food is a relative concept: it turned out that the kitchen was somewhat overwhelmed and our order wouldn’t be ready for thirty minutes. “I’d rather have a high-quality tacos that takes longer than one that’s fast but not as good,” Sebaa said. He had been intending to move to Hanoi to work with Sanchez at Hey! Pelo, but the onset of the pandemic had ruined his plans. We decided to go tour their old neighborhood. “Here we are,” Sebaa said, passing me his phone, which displayed an old photograph of him and Sanchez and some other cherubic-faced friends eating French tacos for someone’s birthday.

The French tacos, I was starting to understand, was a nostalgic food, prefiguring rather than recalling loss. It made adolescence, boredom, penury, a ravenous appetite, and a gangly body sweet by implying that they would someday be gone. It made the periphery, for the two hours it took to down a gigatacos, the center of the world. “Sometimes we’d go up to the top of that building,” Sebaa said, as we passed an apartment tower. “We’d sit up there and eat our tacos and look directly out on Mont Blanc.” Five dollars, friends, a balcony with a view—the finest table in the land.

We headed back toward La Marinade and grabbed our food, taking a pair of polystyrene containers to a deserted park. We sat on opposite ends of a bench and opened them up. The tacos were long, golden, and speckled, with browned bits of herb-flecked Gruyère forming little bubbles on the surface. If the O’Tacos I’d had was all about decadent uniformity (having it all in every mouthful), this one was a more artisanal pleasure (having it all in waves, with the harissa cresting and breaking onto shores of cheese). By the time we finished, it was getting dark. I caught the tram back to Lyon, and then the train back to Paris. “I hope that I was able to help you discover the truth of the mystery surrounding the tacos,” Sebaa texted.

Afew weeks later, Sebaa wrote to say that I had the green light to call his father’s cousin Nordine Agoune. The first time I tried Agoune, he was at work, on a construction site. Later, he was happy to reminisce about the late nineteen-nineties, when he owned Le Tornado. “At the time, the only sandwiches were on a baguette or a pita,” he said. “We wanted to create another sandwich, so we made one with a tortilla, just to give our customers something that the others didn’t have.” Agoune confirmed that he had been inspired by the cousin who owns the Tex-Mex restaurant. “He was doing fajitas,” Agoune recalled, “so we got the idea to take the tortilla and stuff it with meat, vegetables, and fries.”

Agoune’s sandwich had a cheese sauce made with crème fraîche and Cheddar—a snack nearby was doing a sauce with Gruyère and he didn’t want to copy that. Agoune didn’t call it a “tacos,” though, and he had two versions. One, Le Tornado, was open-ended, while the other, which he called a burrito, was folded shut and pressed crisp. “It was a huge hit,” he recalled. “We had people coming from all over, just word of mouth.”

It’s not often that a wildly popular new food comes flying off the grill with no single progenitor to speak for it, but the definitive inventor of the French tacos may never be identified. In “Tacos Origins,” Gens concludes that it’s useless to try to find a single creator of what was essentially a collaborative effort, with a cadre of restaurateurs operating in close proximity and quickly adapting their menus to whatever they heard was doing well on the next block.

As a trend, the tacos could fade like the rainbow bagel, but it seems more likely to meld even further into the mainstream of French cuisine. Old El Paso, according to its executives, recorded a thirty-per-cent increase in sales in France since February, 2020. In April of last year, the brand launched a new product, designed exclusively for the French market. It comes in a familiar yellow box, its letters embellished with a mustache and a beret. Inside, one finds six long-lasting, “extra soft” flour tortillas, accompanied by two packets of unspecified “mixed spice.” The home cook is instructed to add six hundred grams of chicken breast, a hundred grams of grated Emmental, a hundred and twenty grams of crème fraîche, and an avocado. Sixty grams of watercress and a red onion are optional. Voilà: French Taco, le kit. (The extra “S” has fallen off as mysteriously as it once appeared.) After the product’s launch, O’Tacos took triumphantly to Instagram, writing, “Never tell us again that we sell ‘fake’ tacos.” The company added a hashtag—#validated—followed by a green check mark♦

Published in the print edition of the April 19, 2021, issue, with the headline “French Twist.”

U.S. senator wants to ban Big Tech from buying anything ever again

This is at least a start.  Too big to fail means too big to exist.  Our whole top tier financial industry needs to be broken up into its many second tier institions forthwith.  The same certainly applies to our global tech industry.

The problem to day is that China is not playing by rules at all.  So that has to also be addressecd by likely banning exports from any such corporation that lacks a matching competator in several obvious markets.

This will be opposed completely..

U.S. senator wants to ban Big Tech from buying anything ever again

FILE PHOTO: Sen. Josh Hawley, R-Mo., speaks during a Senate Homeland Security and Governmental Affairs and Senate Rules and Administration committees joint hearing on Capitol Hill, Washington, U.S. February 23, 2021, to examine the January 6th attack on the Capitol. Erin Scott/Pool via REUTERS

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - U.S. Senator Josh Hawley, a Republican who has been a staunch critic of Big Tech, said on Monday he has introduced a bill that would ban all mergers and acquisitions by any company with a market value greater $100 billion, a category that includes the five biggest U.S. tech companies.

Hawley, who accuses the biggest social media companies of stifling conservative voices, also criticized other sectors, like pharmaceuticals, which he said were too concentrated and held too much market power.

His new bill would effectively ban Apple Inc, Microsoft Corp, Inc, Alphabet Inc’s Google and Facebook Inc from any deals and would attempt to stop their platforms from favoring their own products over those of rivals.

Hawley’s bill tackles some of the same problems as an antitrust bill introduced by Democratic Senator Amy Klobuchar in February, and contains some similar measures.

Asked about Klobuchar’s bill, Hawley said, “I’m willing to work with her and anybody of any party and any background. I like a lot of what Senator Klobuchar has proposed.”

He described his bill as “significantly tougher.”

In the House of Representatives, Representative David Cicilline has said he plans to introduce a series of antitrust bills.

Hawley was also asked if he would support tech critic Lina Khan, a progressive who has been nominated to be a commissioner on the Federal Trade Commission, which works with the Justice Department to enforce antitrust law. Hawley said he was “very impressed” by her but added, “I have not made a final decision.”

As Marine Life Flees the Equator, Global Mass Extinction is Imminent

This is one of the most absurd screeds i have ever read.  It is loaded with emotive writing and claims complete nonsense.  suddenly we must suppose the climatic rate of change just leapt into over drive in the face of no true evidence.

Better run outside and climb uphill quickly now.

Have our writers always been this stupid and gullible?  This properly belongs on april first.


April 12, 2021

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Elias Marat, The Mind Unleashed

The waters surrounding the equator are one of the most biodiverse areas in the globe, with the tropical area rich in marine life including rare sea turtles, whale sharks, manta rays, and other creatures.

However, rampant rises in temperate have led to a mass exodus of marine species from the sensitive region – with grave implications for life on earth.

While ecologists have long seen the thriving biodiversity of equatorial species holding constant in the past few centuries, a new study by Australian researchers published in The Conversation has found that warming global temperatures are now hitting the equator hard, potentially leading to an unprecedented mass extinction event.

The researchers from the Universities of Auckland, Queensland, and the Sunshine Coast found that as waters surrounding the equator continue to heat up, the ecosystem is being disrupted and forcing species to flee toward the cooler water of the South and North Pole.

The massive changes in marine ecosystems that this entails will have a grave impact not only on ocean life – essentially becoming invasive species in their new homes – but also on the human livelihoods that depend on it.

“When the same thing happened 252 million years ago, 90 percent of all marine species died,” the researchers wrote.

To see where marine life is headed, the researchers tracked the distribution of about 49,000 different species to see what their trajectory was. The global distribution of ocean life typically resembles a bell curve, with far fewer species near the poles and more near the equator.

However, the vast alteration of the curve is already in motion as creatures flee to the poles, according to a study they published in the journal PNAS.

These changes augur major disruptions to global ecosystem as marine life scrambles in a chaotic fight for food, space, and resources – with a mass die-off and extinction of creatures likely resulting.

The research underscores the dire need for human societies to control rampant climate change before the biodiversity and ecological health of the planet is pushed past the point of no return.

Prehistoric Pacific Coast Diets Had Salmon Limits

When you look at the salmon abundence in the Pacific Northwest. it is easy to see nothing else.  At least this explains the importance of Eulochon.  It also returns our eyes to all the other plant products on the coast which had to also be exploited.       

We also have an unlimited supply of stinging nettle out here as well.  that can be treated like spinach and in a pinch simply sauteed along with your salmon.  Still need fat here, but you get the point.  It is posxible and simple enough without breaking sod.

Particularly when the sod is bound together with timbers climbing hundreds of feet up.     

This item does a close look and does discover all that additional nutrition  been used.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

prehistoric Pacific Coast Diets Had Salmon Limits

Humans cannot live on protein alone - even for the ancient indigenous people of the Pacific Northwest whose diet was once thought to be almost all salmon.

In a new paper led by Washington State University anthropologist Shannon Tushingham, researchers document the many dietary solutions ancient Pacific Coast people in North America likely employed to avoid "salmon starvation," a toxic and potentially fatal condition brought on by eating too much lean protein.

"Salmon was a critical resource for thousands of years throughout the Pacific Rim, but there were a lot of foods that were important," said Tushingham the lead author of the paper published online on April 8 in the American Journal of Physical Anthropology. "Native people were not just eating salmon. There's a bigger picture."

Some archaeologists have contended for years that prehistoric Northwest people had an "extreme salmon specialization," a theory primarily based on the amount of salmon bone found at archeological sites.

Tushingham and her co-authors argue that such a protein-intensive diet would be unsustainable. They point to nutritional studies and a global database of hunter-gatherer diets that indicate people have dietary limit on lean protein of around 35%. While it can vary by individual, exceeding that ceiling can be physically debilitating within a few days and fatal within weeks. Early explorers in the U.S. West subsisting on lean wild game discovered this problem the hard way and called it "rabbit starvation" or "caribou sickness."

This toxic situation can apply to any lean meat, including salmon, Tushingham said. To avoid "salmon starvation", early Pacific Coast people had to find ways to get other nutrients, especially for children and nursing mothers who have even lower dietary thresholds for lean protein.

"There were ingenious nutritional and cultural solutions to the circumstances in the Northwest," said Tushingham. "Yes, salmon was important, but it wasn't that simple. It wasn't just a matter of going fishing and getting everything they needed. They also had to think about balancing their diet and making sure everybody could make it through the winter."

The researchers point to evidence in California that people offset stored salmon protein with acorns; in Oregon and Washington, they ate root crops like camas as well as more fat-heavy fish such as eulachon. Further north, where plants are more limited, communities often ate marine mammals with high fat content such as seals and walrus. In far north interior, where there are few plants and the salmon runs can go thousands of miles inland, this was particularly challenging. Lean dried salmon was an important food source, and people circumvented salmon starvation through trading for oil with coastal peoples or obtaining fat through processing bone marrow from caribou and elk.

The authors focus on the limits of salmon, which used to be considered a "prime mover" of Pacific Northwest populations, but their analysis also has implications for the study of historical human nutrition. If their argument is correct, it is unlikely that any human society was fully driven by pursuit of protein alone as their diets had to be more complex.

"People try to come up with one 'paleo-diet,' but there was no one specific ideal diet," said Tushingham. There were nutritional baselines that they had to cover, and nutritional limits that they couldn't exceed. There were many good solutions. It depended on where you lived and the history of your community."