Serious reviewers are a somewhat jaded bunch. They have to watch so many movies in their line of work that it takes a bit more than a few gratuitous topless scenes and a car crash here and there to make them stand up and take notice. Some of them even have advanced degrees in film studies and understand things like camera nuances and lighting techniques. They want art. They want edginess. They want thought-provoking scenes. They want a movie that will allow them to use phrases like “life-affirming” in their review.

The movie-going public, however, wants escapism. Eye candy. Explosions. They want a plot they can understand, and a character with motivation. It also helps if Good triumphs over Evil in the end. In recent years, so many blockbuster films were being trounced by critics in recent years that some studios stopped sending out preview copies to avoid the buzz-kill. But thanks to the Internet, and sites like the Internet Movie Database, film fans are able publicly share the important factoids about the current screen favorites (“Johnny Depp takes his shirt off twice!”). In today’s Hollywood, box office receipts are rarely affected by critical negativity.

Cowbells date back to around 3600 BCE, when the Chinese began forging bronze. The earliest bells were hammered into shape, not poured like today’s foundry-made ringers. That’s why cowbells are more rectangular than round. The two basic types of bells originally developed were the chung bell, struck from the outside with a hammer, and the ling bell, struck by an internal clapper. Chung bells were used during ceremonial occasions, while ling bells were suspended around the necks of animals in order to ward off evil spirits.

Mongolian shepherds used the bells for a more practical purpose – to keep track of their herds as they wandered about the countryside. In fact, they actually belled their goats, not their cows, as goats tend to be more active while grazing than lumbering cattle are.

Daisuke Inoue doesn’t consider himself an inventor, especially since his most famous creation was put together out of three existing components: a car stereo, a coin box and a small amplifier. But even though he never made any money from it, we can still send him our thanks (or brickbats) for inventing the first karaoke machine in 1971.

Karaoke (literally, “empty orchestra”) was already a tradition in Japan prior to that time, but it consisted of a house band who played along with whatever drunken businessman wanted to get up onstage and warble a Japanese folk tune. Daisuke was a drummer in one such band, and a steel company executive so liked Daisuke’s slow, lumbering style (which perfectly suited his out-of-time, off-key vocals) that the exec asked him to accompany him on a business trip so that he could sing at his convention. Daisuke was unable to go with him, but provided a tape recording instead. The executive was most grateful and paid Daisuke for the tape, which led him to think that perhaps others would be willing to pay for his musical accompaniment. He and some friends constructed 11 homemade karaoke boxes and leased them out to local watering holes. Sadly, he never patented his invention, and soon, larger concerns started mass manufacturing the machines.

Daisuke won a 2004 Ig Nobel Prize for his efforts. By the way, the karaoke inventor can neither speak English nor sing very well, but his personal karaoke favorites are “Love is a Many Splendoured Thing” and “I Can’t Stop Loving You” by Ray Charles.

Of course you can. But the words thrown at contestants in the Scripps National Spelling Bee are never that easy. In fact, to get to the final competition in Washington, D.C., you have to work your way up the ladder through a bevy of local spelling bees.

The first National Spelling Bee was sponsored by The Louisville Courier-Journal in 1925 and featured nine contestants who’d excelled in local competitions. (Frank Neuhauser of Louisville took home the top prize that year by spelling “gladiolus.”) Of the winners to date, 42 have been girls and 38 were boys. Besides being a whiz with the dictionary, the other provisos for participation are that a contestant must be under age 16 and must not yet have completed the eighth grade.

The Scripps Spelling Bee features predominantly American participants, with a smattering of contestants from Jamaica, the Bahamas, New Zealand, and Canada. Spelling bees in general are pretty much an American/British tradition, mainly because many other languages (Spanish, for example) have this peculiarity where every letter is always pronounced the same, so words are spelled just like they sound. That sort of takes the challenge out of the whole thing.

It just doesn’t seem fair. Why is it animals can trot through the forest without a care, yet we humans can brush up against the wrong plant and break out in a rash?

In addition to being fun to say out loud, urushiol is the active ingredient in poison ivy and poison oak that gives some folks an itchy rash. Notice we said “some” folks. Turns out that not everyone who comes in contact with an offending plant will break out in a rash. About one in five humans will have no reaction whatsoever when exposed to the sticky sap emitted from these plants. The remaining 80 percent will break out in an itchy, blistery rash from contact either direct (from the plant itself) or indirect (say, by touching a pant leg that rubbed against a plant, or from petting a dog that has urushiol in its fur). It all depends upon one’s immune system; most of us have T-cells that recognize urushiol as a foreign substance, or antigen. The body’s white blood cells are then alerted and send out macrophages to “eat” the invader. One side effect, though, is that these macrophages also damage normal tissue, leading to the blistering and itching that is typical to a poison ivy (or oak, or sumac) encounter.

Interestingly enough, most animals happily dine on the leaves of poison ivy with no ill effects. Likewise, your dog may romp happily through forested areas with no effects. Scientists believe that those animals who feast on urushiol-laden plants have built-in immunity to its effect. As for Rover, well, his fur coat keeps the poison ivy sap away from his flesh.

Why are seagulls sometimes spotted far inland, like in the parking lots of Midwestern shopping centers? In a word, garbage. Much like raccoons and pigeons, gulls are scavengers. Quite often, the pickings are far more plentiful in the parking lots of your local McDonald’s and Wal-Mart than they are in Long Island Sound. If there aren’t enough French fries on the ground, the dumpster is always a good alternate source of gull nutrition.

Landfills are the all-you-can-eat buffets of seagull dining areas. In fact, because of their webbed feet, seagulls prefer large, flat areas for scavenging, which is why they don’t usually opt for backyard bird feeders. Humans have been generating so much garbage in the past few decades that many of the gulls you see inland today have never been near the coast. They are third- and fourth-generation birds whose ancestors built nests and raised their families on the roofs of Family Dollar stores.

Oh, and while you might call seagulls “rats with wings,” the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service calls them “protected.” It’s illegal to hunt or otherwise harm them.

That’s only because it’s rather expensive to get such approval. Even without that official seal, however, rest assured that today’s entry will not promote tooth decay. (We are flossers, after all.)

The American Dental Association has been pasting its Seal of Approval on products since 1931. Even though each manufacturer pays a fee when applying for the Seal, there’s no guarantee the product will pass muster. The fee covers the extensive testing the ADA performs on the product to make sure it lives up to the manufacturer’s claims. In fact, about one-third of the submitted products are rejected.

Say you’ve invented a new tooth whitener that you believe will cause the glare from your smile to interfere with the Hubble Telescope. You’ll fill out an application and send the fee, along with samples of the product, the advertising claims you hope to make, and supporting scientific data to back up those claims. The ADA studies your scientific material and runs independent tests of their own. If you receive the ADA Seal, you’re allowed to display it on your product’s packaging and in advertisements.

Consumers are urged to remember that the Seal doesn’t mean the ADA endorses any particular product; it simply means that they’ve found the product lives up to the claims made by the manufacturer.

What makes a kitchen knife get so dull? (Hey, everyone can’t be the life of the party!)

First we should explain why a knife cuts in the first place. If you look at the blade under a microscope, you’ll see that even non-serrated knives have tiny “teeth” along the cutting edge. As you use the knife, those teeth gradually curve and bend. Chopping or slicing on hard surfaces (like countertops or china plates) causes the knife to dull faster, as does cutting frozen meat or hard vegetables like carrots. Conscientious chefs keep a honing steel handy and draw the blade across the entire length of it several times on each side before they begin slicing. A honing steel won’t technically sharpen a knife, but keeps it from getting too dull too quickly. Dull knives can be sharpened by using a whet stone, but it’s best to let a professional handle the job.

By the way, more kitchen injuries are caused by dull knives than by sharp ones. We have to cut more aggressively and apply more pressure when using a dull blade, so when a flesh wound occurs, it’s usually deeper and more ragged than the clean, paper-cut-type slice of a sharp blade.

While many of the causes of arthritis are a mystery, researchers and doctors have narrowed down the list of things that don’t cause the condition. First of all, it should be noted that there are two main types of arthritis, rheumatoid arthritis (RA) and osteoarthritis (OA). RA is an autoimmune disease, which means the body is attacking itself. The body’s immune system goes wacky, and arthritis is the result – joint pain, fever, and fatigue. OA is caused by the breakdown of protective cartilage around a joint. It is more common in older people, and tends to affect the weight-bearing joints (knees, hips) first.

• Overworking a joint will not cause OA. If it did, right-handed people would suffer from chronic wrist and elbow problems in that particular limb beginning at around age 30.

• Cracking your knuckles might be annoying to others, but it doesn’t cause arthritis.

• Cold, damp weather or having a cold draft blow over you constantly won’t cause arthritis, but it can aggravate the condition if you already have it.

• Poor posture doesn’t cause arthritis, but if you have OA, it could eventually lead to spine degeneration, which might cause a stooped posture.

And growing old is not a guaranteed ticket to achy joints; while it’s true that OA affects more seniors than any other age group, there are plenty of septuagenarians whose joints are in primo condition. 

A venerable symbol of San Francisco, the Golden Gate Bridge opened to vehicle traffic 70 years ago today. Among its many claims to fame, the bridge has gained a reputation as a magnet for folks who think they want to end it all. (The Eiffel Tower and Empire State Building shared that distinction until suicide barriers were erected atop both structures.) The Golden Gate has no such protection, and that ease of access – plus the misguided notion that the end will be peaceful and pain-free – attracts around 20 people to take that awful plunge each year.

Only a very few folks have survived the jump, and they’ve reported that the experience was anything but peaceful. All of them admitted that the time it took to hit the water (about four seconds) made them re-think and regret their decision. Jumpers hit the water at 75 miles per hour, and the impact usually breaks most of their ribs, which are forced inward and then shred the spleen, lungs, liver and heart. Medical examiners describe the end effect as looking “like someone took an egg beater and scrambled your insides.” Those who aren’t killed by the initial impact usually plunge so deeply into the water that they drown before they can surface.

Bridge officials have long debated about building a protective barrier on the bridge. Opponents believe that such a structure will detract from the beauty of the bridge. In the meantime, most Bay Area media outlets have stopped tallying the number of jumpers to avoid encouraging others to make the attempt.

It’s not easy being a Thoroughbred. From the moment you’re born, your life is not your own – no matter what date you enter the world, in the Northern Hemisphere, you’re automatically assigned a January 1st birth date. (It’s July 1 in the Southern Hemisphere.) If your owners plan to race you, you must be registered with the Jockey Club, but in order to be eligible, they have to test and re-test your blood to make sure your DNA is the product of two live Thoroughbreds (and not the result of artificial insemination) and to confirm that your parents are also official DNA-registered racing stock.

Once you’re accepted into the club, you’ve got to have an identity, and thus begins the complex process of choosing a name. Names can have a maximum of 18 characters, including spaces and punctuation. They can’t end in any horsey terms such as “mare” or “foal.” Numbers above 30 are only allowed in the name if they’re spelled out. You can’t be named after a living person without their written permission. Initials cannot be used, nor can names of previous Kentucky Derby winners. No obviously commercial names (such as “PonyPennzoil”) are permissible. Of course, no suggestive, obscene or offensive appellations are allowed (some folks work around this last rule with creative spelling; see Peony’s Envy.) Anyway, these are just some of the restrictions in place; a glance at the full list makes it readily apparent why owners are forced to choose names like Barbaro over Mr. Ed.

Pistachio nuts, that is. Why are some pistachios red? Is it part of a conspiracy to stain our fingers so that there’s no denying it when someone yells, “Hey! Who ate all my pistachios?”

Long ago, all the pistachios sold in the U.S. were imported from Turkey and Iran. The processing facilities in the Middle East weren’t terribly modern, however, so once the nuts were brined and roasted, their normally tan shells often ended up stained and discolored. Savvy U.S. distributors realized that not only would a distinctive red dye disguise any surface imperfections, it would also make their nuts stand out in vending machines when they stood side-by-side with cashews and peanuts.

During the 1970s, California entered the pistachio game and was able to supply the nation with domestically grown nuts. For a time they sold them in their natural tan state, thanks to that whole Red Dye #2 brouhaha. But once a kindler, gentler red was developed, the California growers offered their nuts both ways: as Nature intended and with a slight blush for that nostalgia factor.

Has flatulence always been considered impolite?

According to doctors, humans (including women, no matter how they deny it) suffer from an average of 14 episodes of flatus per day. Nervous types who swallow more air when they eat usually have more gas than the rest of us. Incidentally, the five main components of flatus are all odorless: nitrogen, hydrogen, carbon dioxide, methane and oxygen. Not-so-odorless emissions are due to sulfur compounds in eaten food, along with certain types of bacteria that can be found in the GI tract.

And yes, gastric eruptions are natural. Hippocrates believed that they were necessary to one’s well-being. So did the Roman Emperor Claudius, who decreed that “all Roman citizens shall be allowed to pass gas whenever necessary.” In 315 CE, however, Emperor Constantine officially proclaimed that polite folks should not do such things. So it appears that personal global warming was taboo in public long before flame-throwing party tricks (and the safety match) were invented.

Why do we refer to an illegal pedestrian street crosser as a “jaywalker”? The word is of American origin, and is almost unheard of outside the United States. In most other nations, pedestrians are encouraged to cross streets via designated areas, but crossing in the middle of a block or dashing between cars in heavy traffic is not illegal.

The term “jaywalking” first appeared in 1917, about the same time that automobiles were starting to outnumber horse-drawn vehicles. Also around that time, the word “jay” was a slang term used to describe a foolish or naïve person, or a “rube.” (In his song “Forty-Five Minutes from Broadway,” George M. Cohan mocked New Rochelle as a hick town by referring to the “jay atmosphere.”) So a person who was foolish enough to disregard his personal safety and cross a busy street outside of the prescribed areas was branded a “jaywalker,” which had to serve as glancing blow until other words like “gomer” were coined.

The Three Stooges, Abbott and Costello and even Lucy Ricardo have performed this routine, which is to burlesque comedy what “Happy Birthday To You” is to popular music. The origin of the skit is a bit harder to track, however.

There’s no question that “Slowly I Turned” got its start on the vaudeville stage. The set-up is always the same; a kind-faced passing stranger meets a down-on-his-luck sad sack. Sad Sack proceeds to tell Kind Face about the scum that ran off with his girl. He followed the pair and caught up with them at Niagara Falls, and because of that, he can never hear those words without them sending him into a rage. “Niagara Falls?” Kind Face asks. “Niagara Falls! Slowly I turned… step by step… inch by inch… I crept up on the rogue that stole my gal…” and he goes on to describe (and demonstrate) how he pummeled the fink. Throughout the conversation, the hapless stranger is tricked into repeating the trigger words “Niagara Falls,” with brutal (albeit hilarious) consequences.

The most conclusive evidence points to the late Joey Faye as the author of this skit. Born Joseph Palladino in 1909, he got his start in vaudeville, but went on to become a comical sidekick in dozens of Broadway shows and Hollywood films. He also continued to nab small parts on various TV shows throughout the 1960s and 70s, until he landed a steady gig as the green grape in a series of Fruit of the Loom TV commercials.