Canada might not have a midsection for all we know.

To kick off the new year and easily fill up a solid fifty pages of reading material, the New York Times created a list of "52 Places to Go in 2017." In essence, they found a world map, flung 52 darts at it with abandon, and made a list for you. Sounds researched to me!

From Minneapolis* to Madagascar, Gabon to Greece, the Times rumbles through the list of destinations--one for every week of the year--like a poor man's Rick Steves. Their number one pick was Canada. Nowhere specific in the world's second largest country, mind you, but apparently ALL of Canada in honor of the 150th anniversary of its confederation.

As a secondary analysis of Canada, though, the Times asked four Canadian writers--Madeiline Thien, Cory Doctorow, Kim Fu, and Sarah Nicole Prickett--to reflect on what part of their nation sticks with them, a sort of amateur Fodor's or Lonely Planet guide that's heavy on emotional introspection. The Times called this "My Canada," and the sheer lack of references to hockey or Labatt Blue is startling.

Two of the four writers picked islands near the American border. One picked Niagara, which also happens to be right on the American border. And one writer went crazy and actually ventured inland, picking Dawson, deep in the Yukon Territory--although still within forty miles of the Alaskan border.

Dawson just wants to visit Alaska on the weekends.

While all four grow nostalgic about idealistic childhoods and the wonders of the Earth around them, it seems mildly curious how a citizenry where 80% of the population lives in urban areas seems more beholden with its nature than its cities. Likewise, none of the four writers wanted to venture inland away from the United States border more than forty miles. This is a sort of tourist hand holding little seen outside tour buses packed with senior citizens.

This is akin to cobbling together four American writers, asking them to pick their favorite place in the country, and all of them shudder at the thought of visiting Nebraska--yet they're not too keen on Chicago or Los Angeles either.

In the list description of 52 places to visit, the Times notes that Canada is "also a world unto itself, with cosmopolitan cities [...] and everything in between."

"Everything in between."

A vague statement about the middle of Canada. Does it actually exist? Does anyone know? The evidence would suggest no, not at all.




*Wait--Minneapolis? So Bismarck was not a happening enough place apparently.

The light bulb salesman rabbi whose congregation covered 60,000 square miles.

South Dakota is known for many things, and when I actually figure out what those things are, I'll be sure to share them with you.

One thing South Dakota and the upper Midwest region of the United States is not known for is a large Jewish population.

In December of 1980, famed reporter and video essayist Charles Kuralt explored the story of Rabbi Steve Forstein, who was the only rabbi within a 60,000 square mile swath of South Dakota and a small corner of Minnesota. And, to make ends meet, he also sold light bulbs.





The story was originally supposed to air during the eighth night of Hanukkah, December 9th, 1980. It was delayed one evening to December 10th. The reason? John Lennon was killed the night before on December 8th, which dominated the news, and is mentioned during the first thirty seconds of this video. By happenstance, Lennon lived at The Dakota apartment building.

Somehow, rabbi Steve Forstein's story still puts a smile on the face six minutes later despite the sad introduction.

As tonight is the first night of the holiday for 2016, Happy Hanukkah.

May this season and every night upcoming also bring a smile to your face.

...and Louisiana definitely can't spell "definitely."

It was the week of the National Spelling Bee, when every awkward 6-to-14 year old who will be your future boss got on stage and impressed everyone with knowledge of obscure Latin-by-way-of-Middle-French words. This led everyone to question their own personal spelling abilities--and that's where Google came in.

The Great Google Machine dove into its search trends and found the most misspelled word by each state. They used search queries that started with "how to spell" followed by the word troubling people. The results turned out to be a snapshot of each state's psyche.

New Hampshire can't spell "diarrhea," nor can Arizona.

Florida struggles with "tomorrow," potentially because half of its residents might die before then.

South Dakota trips up on "gray," as the cold, desolate misery of living there infects their spelling. Michigan has "gray" concerns as well. But, you know. Michigan.

Minnesota wonders how to spell "broccoli," a mythical vegetable believed by locals to exist in faraway warmer climates.

Texas can't spell "niece," nor Nevada "cousin." Two words tripping up thousands of married couples in each state since the 1850s.

And then there's Massachusetts...which can't spell itself. That's right. The state with the most letters in its name, haphazardly thrown together as if blended in a Cuisinart, is troubling its own citizens to such a degree that people turn to Google for help.

Ohio doesn't have such problems since saying the state's name out loud practically spells itself. But Ohio can't spell "banana," so what do they know?

Ducks need to plan better.

A mother duck decided to lay eggs in the courtyard of a Charles City, Minnesota, elementary school recently. Why? Who knows? Because she lacked planning, nannies, and sensible life goals, I guess.

Eventually the eggs hatched, which meant it was time to head toward a nearby water source--and a parade of duck panic never seen in Make Way for Ducklings ensued. The Associated Press documented the duck dart and dash, proving that it's impossible for a mother duck to look laid back.




It is Minnesota after all. Winter just ended yesterday, and they have--max--two weeks before it's -20 again, so that might explain the duck panic.

NFL wide receiver has a punctuation first.

An umlaut!

You know what an umlaut is probably, and it's not that little fleshy thing hanging at the back of your throat. That's a uvula. Common mistake.

An umlaut is the punctuation mark of two dots above a letter found in many European languages, like German. It's sort of like if a letter had its own uvula, you might say.

Which brings us to German footballer Moritz Böhringer, who was just drafted by the NFL's Minnesota Vikings. The young rookie assumed he would have to spell his last name as Boehringer because the league's strict uniform policy forbids non-English punctuation. Even his Twitter handle can't manage an umlaut.

Except, for reasons unknown, the NFL changed their position.

Böhringer, not Boehringer.@MoBoehringer received approval from the @NFL to add the umlaut on his jersey. pic.twitter.com/w5oefFZZtT

— Minnesota Vikings (@Vikings) May 11, 2016

First Poland, now football jerseys. Germany never quits invading.

Nun, 105-years old, writes to prisoners to keep their hopes up.

Sister Mary Mark at her 105th birthday party.

Three parts of that headline would be unique on its own. Nun. 105-years old. Prisoners. Together, it's the likes of a short story you'll rarely come across.

Sister Mary Mark of St. Paul, Minnesota, celebrated her 105th birthday last month. And for over eighty of those years, Sister Mary Mark has written to a variety of men in correctional facilities around the country in hopes that it gives them encouragement.

"I surely do [enjoy] writing the letters and I've been doing it for many years," Sister Mary Mark told ABC News. "They're in prison, but they're working. They hope to make it."

Kathleen Conrad, who oversees the care at Carondelet Village in St. Paul where Sister Mary Mark lives, said motivations behind Sister's gesture are pretty simple.

"She says she just offers [the inmates] love and encouragement and let's them know that they're not alone," Conrad told ABC.

You're not alone. From an old woman in a nursing home to young men behind bars.

Most Minnesotan libraries decide to end having cafes.

No more latte or small raspberry scone with a lovely sugar drizzle that keep attaching themselves to your thighs. Not in most of Minnesota at least.

Initially, the coffee shop movement for Minnesota started in the 1990s--so picture that very special episode of Friends where Jennifer Aniston and Courtney Cox sipped cappuccino and debated the merits of War and Peace (if they ever made it).

Back then was a different time. People actually attended libraries. Today, some Minnesotan libraries are reporting visits dropping by 15%-20% from 1990 totals. Likewise, various issues popped up--like libraries typically opening up later than the morning rush demand, a wealth of boutique coffee shops today, and vendor costs.

So get ready, North Dakota! Time to prep for the hoards left of coffee-less Minnesotans.



I could've said Most Minneotan libraries decide to shut the book on cafes. But too easy.
Source: Star-Tribune

Know Your Obscure Halloween Candy: PayDay

With Halloween coming soon, that means only one thing really: candy.

Anyone who trick-or-treated as a child knows that there's always one or two houses that dish out some obscure candy. So, between now and October 31st, we'll take quick looks at obscure candies (and some popular ones as well), just so you know what exactly you're getting yourself into.


Today:  PayDay

What it's made of:  A nougat-like center coated in caramel, which is then covered in peanuts.

Who owns it:  The Hershey Company

Background:  Everything about PayDay seems a little off, like that kid who eats paste in kindergarten.

PayDay was the creation of Frank Martoccio, who owned F.A. Martoccio Macaroni Company. Yes, a pasta company. Because Frank Martoccio was damned if he wasn't going to get you hopped up on carbohydrates one way or another, pasta or candy.

Admittedly, Martoccio also owned a small candy company as well, which he acquired in 1911. He was better at making candy than pasta it seems. In 1927, he acquired another candy company, and renamed his whole candy operation the Hollywood Candy Company.

Hollywood, CA? No. It was named after Hollywood, Minnesota, that bustling metropolis of boredom and frostbite, where the company was located.

By 1932, Martoccio created the PayDay bar--a confection that lacked chocolate altogether. In fact, it looked built from the inside out. And it has remained largely unchanged since.

In 2005, a protein bar version was released--and is still available--called PayDay Pro, which includes 15g of protein and fewer carbs.

Somewhere, Frank Martoccio is rolling over in his grave.

What it tastes like: Carbohydrates and confusion.

Halloween Trick-or-Treat Grade:  B-

I'm sure the missing chocolate was just an oversight.

Map of every state's most educated town suggests North Dakota has some work to do.

The American Community Survey (ACS) is the U.S. Census Bureau's annual analysis of the country's demographics, performed during the intervening years of the once-a-decade official census.

Using the information gathered by the ACS for towns with at least 1,000 people, Business Insider crunched the numbers and created a map documenting the one town in each state with the highest rate of college graduates over the age of 25.

Chevy Chase, MD, leads the way with 92.7% of all adults holding at least a bachelor's degree, followed by a who's who of obscure America, including Ladera, CA (89.3%), Winnetka, IL (88.4%), and Mission Hills, KS (88.1%).

Only three states failed to produce at least one town with 50% of its citizens as college graduates--specifically, those three states maxed out in the form of Incline Village, NV (47.6%), Wayne, NE (44.4%), and Fargo, ND (39.0%).

Fargo.

Best known for a movie where a man is fed into a woodchipper.

That explains everything.




Map: Business Insider

Fargo 6th-graders beat college students in picking hypothetical stocks.

Two 6th-grade math classes at Fargo's Oak Grove Lutheran School participated in a game of money management, in which their teacher used two online investment companies to hypothetically select companies to buy stock in.

One of those online investment companies was holding a challenge for colleges and universities, where the collegiate investment club that selected the best collection of stocks (in terms of return) would win $5,000.

The rate of return for the best university investment club? 18.5%.

The rate of return for Fargo's Oak Grove Lutheran School middle schoolers? 22%.

How did they do it? According to the Associated Press, the 6th-graders picked companies they knew about with solid track records. That's all, nothing special. The students used an investing app called Motif that bundles stocks based on a common theme and idea. For example, there's the "No Glass Ceilings" collection of stocks, which Motif's founder, Hardeep Walia, credits his wife with creating--a motif in which all the bundled companies are led by female CEOs.

One student, Eloise Baker, selected Under Armour for logical reasons.

"That's what I wanted for Christmas. I thought that's what a lot of other kids wanted," she said of Under Armour clothing to the AP. "I also found it to be a little bit cheaper than Nike, so I thought it was a good buy."

Ben Swenson, another student, has a different take on the class's success.

"I think it was sheer luck."



photo: Yahoo, via Associated Press

13-year old collects over one million books for charity.

Maria Keller, a Minnesota native, started the book drive when she was 8-years old after her mother told her not all children around the world get a bedtime story to read.

This is very similar when I was 13-years old and ate one million calories in the form of Funyuns. In that I was fat and lazy as a 13-year old and accomplished nothing.

(((I'm so ashamed.)))




photo: Yahoo

The 25 Coldest Colleges in North America

The polar vortex that's gripped North America has led to lists like this, as reported by College Prowler.

The website based their rankings on average high and low temperatures during the winter and summer, average precipitation amounts during those two seasons, as well as student reviews on the weather. Because why use science to back up a list when you can ask Johnny, an incoming freshman poli-sci major, his take how chilly he feels?

The result? Ten of the twenty-five colleges exist in Minnesota, six in Wisconsin, and three in Vermont. Somehow, no school from Alaska made the cut--this, despite the University of Alaska Fairbanks being home to regular everyday winter high temperatures in the -15°F to -40°F range.

Once those students thaw out around July, we can ask them for their take.



photo: The Geophysical Institute at the University of Alaska Fairbanks. Looks balmy to me!

Minnesota college student survives night outdoors in below freezing temperatures, might lose hands from hypothermia.

According to reports, University of Minnesota-Duluth student Alyssa Jo Lommel had spent the evening downing upwards of 10 shots of tequila before being driven home by a friend.

After dropping Lommel off, the friend left before Lommel went inside any home--which was a problem, because Lommel passed out on the neighbor's front porch. Over the course of the evening temperatures in Duluth dropped to -17°F, with a wind chill of -36°F, and it would take 9 hours before anyone found her asleep on a strange porch.

Only wearing boots and a coat as an outer layer, yet lacking gloves, Lommel's hands swelled to three times their normal size, and doctor's fear that emergency surgeries to alleviate the swelling might not be enough to save her hands.

Friends tell reporters that 10 shots of tequila is about par for the course for Lommel and that she "wasn't falling down drunk."

No. Just passed out on the neighbor's porch in -17°F kind of drunk.

Yaaah, friends!