Yum! I don't think that adulterating your OJ with mashed pimiento is too large a price to pay for shelf stability. It's a lot of work to keep taking your container of OJ in and out of the fridge every time you want a drink!
In 1989, Pepsi bought 17 submarines from the Soviet Union. This briefly put it in control of the seventh-largest fleet of attack submarines in the world.
Foreign Policy magazine delves into the history of this strange transaction, which has apparently risen to the status of urban legend in foreign policy circles. (The urban legend is that the deal briefly gave Pepsi the sixth-largest military fleet in the world — not true).
The gist of the story is that Pepsi had a long-standing relationship with the Soviet Union, having an exclusive deal to sell American soft drinks there. So when the Soviet Union was looking to sell some old submarines for scrap metal, Pepsi agreed to act as a middleman, passing the subs along to a Norwegian shipping firm. In return, Pepsi got expanded access to the Soviet market.
In 1965, thousands of sealed Coca-Cola bottles containing "subversive bulletins" were found floating off the coast of the Northern Celebes.
Miami Herald - July 30, 1965
I can't find any information about who was responsible for this strange act of subversion. But it recalls a later subversive use of Coca-Cola bottles by the Brazilian artist Cildo Meireles.
It was during the 1970s when used glass bottles would be returned and refilled. Meireles would modify the bottles before returning them by adding white text on the side showing messages such as "Yankees Go Home" or instructions for turning the bottle into a Molotov cocktail.
As the bottle progressively empties of dark brown liquid, the statement printed in white letters on a transparent label adhering to its side becomes increasingly invisible, only to reappear when the bottle is refilled for recirculation.
Back in the old days, cans were opened by pulling on an aluminum ring, or "pop top," that would come completely off the can. Now these have been replaced by stay-tabs.
Most people threw away the pop-tops, but a few turned them into wearable art. The leader of this movement was Gonzalo Chavez, aka Pop-Top Terp. From Time magazine (Sep 21, 1970):
In his San Juan workshop, Designer Gonzalo Chavez, 36, a native New Yorker who calls himself Mr. Terp, has been painstakingly assembling pop-top rings into glittering dresses, vests, stoles, belts, miniskirts and maxiskirts—all resembling the mailed armor worn by warriors of the Middle Ages to ward off sword blows. Collecting the rings from rubbish heaps behind San Juan bars, Chavez files down their rough edges and crochets them together with silver thread...
The first pop-top garments were almost as stiff as their medieval counterparts. But Chavez has made them much more supple. "They fit like a second skin," he claims. "As you wear them, they change shape a little and mold themselves to the contours of the body." Rings differ too. Budweiser's rings are light and flexible, Miller High Life's are "soft," and Pepsi's provide a heavier, stiffer garment.
In 1975, Pop-Top Terp published a book, Pop-Topping, that gave detailed instructions on how to make your own pop-top clothes. But since pop tops have now vanished, it's become a guide to a lost form of art. You can read it online at archive.org.
Companies are scrambling to get on the AI bandwagon. The latest example of this is Coca-Cola, which recently released Y3000, a soda "co-created with artificial intelligence." The packaging describes it as "futuristic flavored." One reviewer said it tasted like "melted gummy bears with orange." I think I'll pass.
Dr. Pepper celebrated its 75th anniversary in 1960, and in honor of this ran a contest with the unusual prize of a diamond doorknob. Specifically: "a doorknob of special design encrusted with 50 small diamonds and a huge two-carat, blue-white diamond mounted in its center. As the grand award the diamond doorknob will be attached to a $25,000 Swift Home having a family-size Refinite-Shedon swimming pool in its backyard and a new Rambler station wagon in its driveway."
Edith Dillion of Roanoke, VA eventually won the prize. Reportedly she sold the house but kept the doorknob. And perhaps the doorknob is still owned by the Dillion family.
Paul Di Filippo
Paul has been paid to put weird ideas into fictional form for over thirty years, in his career as a noted science fiction writer. He has recently begun blogging on many curious topics with three fellow writers at The Inferior 4+1.