Fried fishiness

Relativity? Absolutely!    

Here?... in Bellingham, WA? McSeriously?

As the saying goes, "No matter where you go, there you are." So then what is here? What is far? What is near? What's over thar? And who begs these questions? Sporadigram says McDonald's does. The billboard down the street from my office was recently wrapped anew to herald the arrival of Fish McBites: "the catch that's caught here" Whoa! Really? Have the golden arches adjusted their span to sync up with the "eat local" movement? And what would I be bitin' if I were Mc-Bitin' here? Salmon? Trout? Herring? Fathead Sculpins? Well no, fool. Fish McBites are Alaska Pollock. And those deep-sea morsels are swimmin' 'round here, off the shores of B'ham, right? Well, no. 

From space: McEarth

The first clue is the name of the fish -- the Alaska part of the name. But it's even farther away than that. Alaska Pollock is almost exclusively caught in the Bering Sea, about 2,370 miles from my neighborhood McDonalds. Not that that makes McBites less McTasty but is that's pretty far from McHere.

According to my independent geographic analysis (see McGoogle Earth screen shot at left), a delectable Lake Michigan musky would also be "caught here." In fact, McDonald's "caught here" geography is fully compliant with the Caught Here provisions in section 438.b of the North American Free Trade Agreement.

Oh well, Mickey D's. A loose interpretation of "here" is probably great news for Filet-O-Fish fans in Elko, Nevada. And, if you really want to embrace the eat local movement here in Washington State, you'd best start putting pot brownies in the happy meals (along with the salmon McNuggets).

Speaking of pot brownies

The Girl Scouts are out peddling their biscuits again. But isn't it always the Brownies who get stuck doing all the work? Seems that way to me. Anyway the G-Scouts haven't yet to my knowledge applied for a Washington State license to sell Mary Jane Tagalongs™ next year. But when they do, Sporadigram will be prepared. I won't be out-scooped on this one. Not like last week when the post-November-elections story the media had been waiting for finally happened: Newly married lesbian couple seeks pot license in Washington. An accident of joint probability? I doubt it. And if you laughed at that, you're obviously high.

It will be fun to see how merchandising works in the upcoming, legal pot market. It's safe to say there won't be any advertising. But will there be brand names? Creative packaging? In anticipation of a fairly mundane yet oddly mesmerizing series of upcoming events, Sporadigram is getting ahead of the swerve by appointing itself a giver of unsolicited accolades in the field of merchandising, product placement, and stuff like that. So, without further ado, please tolerate...

The first, sporadic Sporadigram merchandising awards

Bellingham Goodwill's TV department is low def genius.

Goodwill: Who says old, castoff TVs don't deserve prime-time shelf placement? Not Goodwill. While looking for an almost-mint condition George Forman Grill recently, I stumbled upon the great wall of Elmo. These old TVs were as proud and mainstreamed as any acre of super HD plasma at Best Buy. I was also interested in Elmo's date -- another red-furred muppet (strangely with blond hair). I really need to stop over-thinking muppets.

Like nuggets in a pan, it so happens.

Ship Happens in Sumas, WA, with their snarkily allusive name, moved into the old Miner's Outpost (or some such place). They found out the hard way (or maybe they had no idea) that when you gotta go hang your shingle on the existing infrastructure, you gotta go... But, adding injury to insult, Ship Happens gets extra chutzpa points for searching the internet pipes and somehow finding comfort with the the URL, MyShipHappens.com. Plain old "shiphappens.com was taken? So there's more than one Ship Happens?! From that observation we can now generalize that Ship Happens happens. Wow. I better hustle over to GoDaddy and put $9 down on YourShipHappens.com. But I'd let you have it for $20 (it so happens).

Oh, hey, how ya doin'? I saw you in aisle eight the other day. Yeah, um,
see ya 'round.

Our neighborhood Haggen supermarket went through a remodel last year and that lead to a months-long shuffling of the merchandise. The resulting need to frequently reinvent the store's product taxonomy -- you know, the category signs that hang over each aisle -- provided rare insight into the philosophical struggles confronted by the modern market manager.
Product categories are usually based on the substance of the things like produce, meat, dairy, baked and prepared foods, salty snacks, and tampons. But other products, like adult diapers, force the modern market manager to skip convention and name a category based on the need that's being met. Thus, big diapers become incontinence. If this approach were loosely applied to the rest of the store, aisles would simply be marked, "Hunger," "Getting drunk," "Sneakers for grandmas," and "Spills and other accidents." Could ice cream be both a substance and a distinct need? Is there a philosopher in the house?

When you feel the urge to steal, remember,
you can buy a cream for that.

At the Food Country USA in Glade Spring, VA I stumbled upon a great merchandising trick: Identify certain products as popular among thieves -- you know, extra desirable like jewelry and sudafed. It's the same stunt as putting an armed guard outside a diamond store or hiding those speakers that play the demon voices next to the cheese at Trader Joe's. But while it may be true that our Food Country is dealing with rashes of crime here and there, I've gotta feel sorry for the itchy 'lifter (who as it turns out is a lot like the lonesome loser). We've all gone to great lengths to reach a hard-to-scratch itch. And if money is the obstacle, maybe that's not so different than having a wide back or really short arms. And who can know the severity of another's itch? Maybe the shelf sign should read, "Itchy but broke? Food Country clerks are always happy to scratch ya." And if that doesn't stop the burning, I don't know what will salve us.

Is this a wardrobe moofunction? Looks kinda teetery.
What would Temple Grandin do?

Back up in Sumas (where you have to try harder) the Super Duper Foodstore gas station & minimart has "raised the chain" in Washington's competition among north-state retailers to see who can sell the most milk to Canadian lactophiles escaping that country's diary supply management policies. Their strategy? Inflate a 35 foot (10.67 metre) plastic cow (we'll assume it's not bull). As you can see (at right), the tactic takes an immediate turn for the strange. I mean, if you're bankin' on a two and a half story bovine balloon with human hands, sun glasses, a Holstein-print t-shirt, and bowling shoes, why confuse things further by tethering guy-wires to the poor "cow-woman's" nipple rings?  It's a lot to pasteurize.

Until next time, remember, Sporadigram cares.