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<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><head><title>saga</title><link rel="stylesheet" href="../../jargon.css" type="text/css"/><meta name="generator" content="DocBook XSL Stylesheets V1.61.0"/><link rel="home" href="../index.html" title="The Jargon File"/><link rel="up" href="../S.html" title="S"/><link rel="previous" href="sacred.html" title="sacred"/><link rel="next" href="sagan.html" title="sagan"/></head><body><div class="navheader"><table width="100%" summary="Navigation header"><tr><th colspan="3" align="center">saga</th></tr><tr><td width="20%" align="left"><a accesskey="p" href="sacred.html">Prev</a> </td><th width="60%" align="center">S</th><td width="20%" align="right"> <a accesskey="n" href="sagan.html">Next</a></td></tr></table><hr/></div><dt><a id="saga"/><dt xmlns="" id="saga"><b>saga</b>: <span xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" class="grammar">n.</span></dt></dt><dd><p> [WPI] A cuspy but bogus raving story about
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<tt class="literal">N</tt> random broken people.</p><p>Here is a classic example of the saga form, as told by Guy L.
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Steele:</p><div class="blockquote"><blockquote class="blockquote"><p>Jon L. White (login name JONL) and I (GLS) were office mates at MIT
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for many years. One April, we both flew from Boston to California for a
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week on research business, to consult face-to-face with some people at
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Stanford, particularly our mutual friend Richard P. Gabriel (RPG).</p><p>RPG picked us up at the San Francisco airport and drove us back to
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Palo Alto (going <a href="../L/logical.html"><i class="glossterm">logical</i></a> south on route 101,
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parallel to <a href="../E/El-Camino-Bignum.html"><i class="glossterm">El Camino Bignum</i></a>). Palo Alto is
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adjacent to Stanford University and about 40 miles south of San Francisco.
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We ate at The Good Earth, a ‘health food’ restaurant, very
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popular, the sort whose milkshakes all contain honey and protein powder.
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JONL ordered such a shake — the waitress claimed the flavor of the
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day was “<span class="quote">lalaberry</span>”. I still have no idea what that might be,
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but it became a running joke. It was the color of raspberry, and JONL said
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it tasted rather bitter. I ate a better tostada there than I have ever had
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in a Mexican restaurant.</p><p>After this we went to the local Uncle Gaylord's Old Fashioned Ice
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Cream Parlor. They make ice cream fresh daily, in a variety of intriguing
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flavors. It's a chain, and they have a slogan: “<span class="quote">If you don't live
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near an Uncle Gaylord's — MOVE!</span>” Also, Uncle Gaylord (a real
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person) wages a constant battle to force big-name ice cream makers to print
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their ingredients on the package (like air and plastic and other
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non-natural garbage). JONL and I had first discovered Uncle Gaylord's the
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previous August, when we had flown to a computer-science conference in
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Berkeley, California, the first time either of us had been on the West
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Coast. When not in the conference sessions, we had spent our time
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wandering the length of Telegraph Avenue, which (like Harvard Square in
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Cambridge) was lined with picturesque street vendors and interesting little
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shops. On that street we discovered Uncle Gaylord's Berkeley store. The
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ice cream there was very good. During that August visit JONL went
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absolutely bananas (so to speak) over one particular flavor, ginger
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honey.</p><p>Therefore, after eating at The Good Earth — indeed, after every
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lunch and dinner and before bed during our April visit — a trip to
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Uncle Gaylord's (the one in Palo Alto) was mandatory. We had arrived on a
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Wednesday, and by Thursday evening we had been there at least four times.
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Each time, JONL would get ginger honey ice cream, and proclaim to all
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bystanders that “<span class="quote">Ginger was the spice that drove the Europeans mad!
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That's why they sought a route to the East! They used it to preserve their
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otherwise off-taste meat.</span>” After the third or fourth repetition RPG
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and I were getting a little tired of this spiel, and began to paraphrase
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him: “<span class="quote">Wow! Ginger! The spice that makes rotten meat taste
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good!</span>” “<span class="quote">Say! Why don't we find some dog that's been run over
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and sat in the sun for a week and put some <span class="emphasis"><em>ginger</em></span> on
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it for dinner?!</span>” “<span class="quote">Right! With a lalaberry shake!</span>” And
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so on. This failed to faze JONL; he took it in good humor, as long as we
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kept returning to Uncle Gaylord's. He loves ginger honey ice cream.</p><p>Now RPG and his then-wife KBT (Kathy Tracy) were putting us up
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(putting up with us?) in their home for our visit, so to thank them JONL
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and I took them out to a nice French restaurant of their choosing. I
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unadventurously chose the filet mignon, and KBT had <span class="i">je
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ne sais quoi du jour</span>, but RPG and JONL had <span class="i">lapin</span> (rabbit). (Waitress: “<span class="quote"><span class="i">Oui</span>, we have fresh rabbit, fresh today.</span>” RPG:
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“<span class="quote">Well, JONL, I guess we won't need any
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<span class="emphasis"><em>ginger</em></span>!</span>”)</p><p>We finished the meal late, about 11PM, which is 2AM Boston time, so
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JONL and I were rather droopy. But it wasn't yet midnight. Off to Uncle
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Gaylord's!</p><p>Now the French restaurant was in Redwood City, north of Palo Alto.
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In leaving Redwood City, we somehow got onto route 101 going north instead
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of south. JONL and I wouldn't have known the difference had RPG not
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mentioned it. We still knew very little of the local geography. I did
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figure out, however, that we were headed in the direction of Berkeley, and
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half-jokingly suggested that we continue north and go to Uncle Gaylord's in
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Berkeley.</p><p>RPG said “<span class="quote">Fine!</span>” and we drove on for a while and talked.
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I was drowsy, and JONL actually dropped off to sleep for 5 minutes. When
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he awoke, RPG said, “<span class="quote">Gee, JONL, you must have slept all the way over
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the bridge!</span>”, referring to the one spanning San Francisco Bay. Just
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then we came to a sign that said “<span class="quote">University Avenue</span>”. I
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mumbled something about working our way over to Telegraph Avenue; RPG said
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“<span class="quote">Right!</span>” and maneuvered some more. Eventually we pulled up in
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front of an Uncle Gaylord's.</p><p>Now, I hadn't really been paying attention because I was so sleepy,
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and I didn't really understand what was happening until RPG let me in on it
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a few moments later, but I was just alert enough to notice that we had
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somehow come to the Palo Alto Uncle Gaylord's after all.</p><p>JONL noticed the resemblance to the Palo Alto store, but hadn't
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caught on. (The place is lit with red and yellow lights at night, and
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looks much different from the way it does in daylight.) He said,
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“<span class="quote">This isn't the Uncle Gaylord's I went to in Berkeley! It looked
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like a barn! But this place looks <span class="emphasis"><em>just like</em></span> the one
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back in Palo Alto!</span>”</p><p>RPG deadpanned, “<span class="quote">Well, this is the one <span class="emphasis"><em>I</em></span>
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always come to when I'm in Berkeley. They've got two in San Francisco,
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too. Remember, they're a chain.</span>”</p><p>JONL accepted this bit of wisdom. And he was not totally ignorant
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— he knew perfectly well that University Avenue was in Berkeley, not
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far from Telegraph Avenue. What he didn't know was that there is a
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completely different University Avenue in Palo Alto.</p><p>JONL went up to the counter and asked for ginger honey. The guy at
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the counter asked whether JONL would like to taste it first, evidently
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their standard procedure with that flavor, as not too many people like
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it.</p><p>JONL said, “<span class="quote">I'm sure I like it. Just give me a cone.</span>”
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The guy behind the counter insisted that JONL try just a taste first.
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“<span class="quote">Some people think it tastes like soap.</span>” JONL insisted,
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“<span class="quote">Look, I <span class="emphasis"><em>love</em></span> ginger. I eat Chinese food. I
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eat raw ginger roots. I already went through this hassle with the guy back
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in Palo Alto. I <span class="emphasis"><em>know</em></span> I like that
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flavor!</span>”</p><p>At the words “<span class="quote">back in Palo Alto</span>” the guy behind the
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counter got a very strange look on his face, but said nothing. KBT caught
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his eye and winked. Through my stupor I still hadn't quite grasped what
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was going on, and thought RPG was rolling on the floor laughing and
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clutching his stomach just because JONL had launched into his spiel
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(“<span class="quote">makes rotten meat a dish for princes</span>”) for the forty-third
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time. At this point, RPG clued me in fully.</p><p>RPG, KBT, and I retreated to a table, trying to stifle our chuckles.
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JONL remained at the counter, talking about ice cream with the guy b.t.c.,
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comparing Uncle Gaylord's to other ice cream shops and generally having a
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good old time.</p><p>At length the g.b.t.c.: said, “<span class="quote">How's the ginger honey?</span>”
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JONL said, “<span class="quote">Fine! I wonder what exactly is in it?</span>” Now Uncle
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Gaylord publishes all his recipes and even teaches classes on how to make
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his ice cream at home. So the g.b.t.c.: got out the recipe, and he and
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JONL pored over it for a while. But the g.b.t.c.: could contain his
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curiosity no longer, and asked again, “<span class="quote">You really like that stuff,
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huh?</span>” JONL said, “<span class="quote">Yeah, I've been eating it constantly back in
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Palo Alto for the past two days. In fact, I think this batch is about as
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good as the cones I got back in Palo Alto!</span>”</p><p>G.b.t.c.: looked him straight in the eye and said, “<span class="quote">You're
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<span class="emphasis"><em>in</em></span> Palo Alto!</span>”</p><p>JONL turned slowly around, and saw the three of us collapse in a fit
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of giggles. He clapped a hand to his forehead and exclaimed, “<span class="quote">I've
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been hacked!</span>”</p></blockquote></div><p>[My spies on the West Coast inform me that there is a close relative
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of the raspberry found out there called an ‘ollalieberry’
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—ESR]</p><p>[Ironic footnote: the <a href="../M/meme.html"><i class="glossterm">meme</i></a> about ginger
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vs. rotting meat is an urban legend. It's not borne out by an examination
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of medieval recipes or period purchase records for spices, and appears
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full-blown in the works of Samuel Pegge, a gourmand and notorious flake
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case who originated numerous food myths. The truth seems to be that ginger
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was used to cover not rot but the extreme salt taste of meat packed in
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brine, which was the best method available before refrigeration.
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—ESR]</p></dd><div class="navfooter"><hr/><table width="100%" summary="Navigation footer"><tr><td width="40%" align="left"><a accesskey="p" href="sacred.html">Prev</a> </td><td width="20%" align="center"><a accesskey="u" href="../S.html">Up</a></td><td width="40%" align="right"> <a accesskey="n" href="sagan.html">Next</a></td></tr><tr><td width="40%" align="left" valign="top">sacred </td><td width="20%" align="center"><a accesskey="h" href="../index.html">Home</a></td><td width="40%" align="right" valign="top"> sagan</td></tr></table></div></body></html>
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