May 18, 1999 |
Gazing across a congressional meeting room jam-packed with the latest, greatest and most far-out technology developed in the labs of the Department of Energy to counter weapons of mass destruction, it was hard to avoid the basic, red-face sort of question: Is this the stuff China doesn't want? The Department of Energy yesterday began its two-day technology trade show-cum-science fair in the midst of a massive security scandal that alleges pervasive Chinese espionage at the nation's most advanced nuclear weapons labs - administered and funded by DOE. But no one was talking about that.
March 10, 1999 |
This is no paddywackery - the term native Irish use for such ludicrous (in their minds) shenanigans as green beer, shamrocks run amok and leprechaun fixation. No, this is truth, unembellished and (probably) unsurprising: The Irish love affair with spirits, often a topic of jest, spills into the kitchen. No joke. The Irish not only invite Guinness, Irish Mist and Bushmills to bolster their resolve at the stove, they pour them into their food, depend on them for flavor, for preservative power, for marinating magic.
July 1, 1998 |
The driver of a chemical truck yesterday noticed smoke coming from the rig's trailer around 2 p.m. and pulled into the driveway of Lankenau Hospital on Lancaster Avenue. Emergency units planned to shoot foam into the trailer but air rushed in and ignited the materials. The fire was allowed to burn itself out.
May 13, 1998 |
Me and my big mouth. Joe Sixpack writes a few stories about the great beer rip-off at Veterans Stadium, and the next thing I know my e-mail service nearly crashes from the outrage of the nation's ballpark boozers. The folks at Philly Online, the Daily News Web site, have been soliciting questions for Joe Sixpack, which I've dutifully answered (despite cutting into the time I must devote to professional beer-drinking). Some excerpts: Q. What's the beef? It doesn't help that I don't like beer, but what's the problem?
April 3, 1998 |
College roommates Scott Cooper and Jon Hamilton loved playing sports at the Jersey Shore during summer vacations, but they always had a problem: Their equipment just wasn't suitable for the beach. The foam footballs they used got soggy in the surf and fell apart, and their leather baseball gloves couldn't handle salt water. These days, 12 years after the roomates' graduation from the University of Richmond, their two-year-old company, CoopSport, markets solutions to those problems.
March 18, 1998 |
Shopping for pillows is not as simple as it used to be. Time was, there were flat pillows and fat pillows. Feather-filled or foam. You'd pay $10 to $20 and go home. Today you're dreaming if you want to get out of the store that fast (or that cheaply). You can get a headache just weighing the options. "Healthier sleep" is the buzz phrase. Do you want a pillow that "responds to body pressure"? That "relates to your temperature"? That offers "continuous air circulation"? (Can you even figure out what that means?
December 19, 1997 |
Only six more drinking days until Christmas. That means you'll have to double up on Joe Sixpack's annual 12 Beers of Christmas. Cooked up by happy brewers as a gift to beer fans, these holiday beers typically contain added malt and spices like nutmeg and cinnamon. Each is a satisfying alternative to eggnog and hot toddies, perfect for a cozy evening in front of the fireplace or 'neath the mistletoe. Hurry to your local specialty beer store or tavern, because most will be gone by next month.
October 6, 1997 |
Mmmmmm . . . beer! - Homer Simpson, beer connoisseur "And the gold goes to Pabst N/A. " N/A? What in the name of Homer Simpson is going on when America's foremost beer festival awards a medal to a non-alcoholic beer? Some desperate beer fans must enjoy the stuff, but let's face it: "Mmmmmm . . . Amber O'Doul's Malt Beverage" rolls off the tongue like a sour belch. Non-alcoholic brew and a host of other unusual beer styles populated the Great American Beer Festival which concluded yesterday.
February 24, 1997 |
L. Steven Moore is betting that he has the alchemy for the disposable age. The raw material is expanded polystyrene foam (EPS) - that ubiquitous white plastic stuff made into egg cartons, packing "peanuts," clam-shell food containers and hot-beverage cups. Consumers often call it Styrofoam, the trademark name that Dow Chemical Co. gave it a half-century ago. Toss those cartons and cups into the hopper of Moore's machine. As computer settings blink and the contraption growls and chugs, out roll sheets of polystyrene that are shredded for reuse in other plastic products.
January 17, 1997 |
John the bartender was this lunatic who used to work at an old Center City tavern down on 15th Street. The bar was a grand oval, and at happy hour he worked it alone, like a one-man show on Broadway. You couldn't take your eyes off the guy, the way he performed. He'd stack his glasses in symmetrical rows, compulsively fidgeting if one seemed out of line. When he made change, he'd slam it backhanded to the bar, as if he were a matador putting the finishing touches on some poor Brahma bull.