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Some people were born knowing what they want to be when they grow up. Brad Bird, the mastermind behind Pixar's The Incredibles and Ratatouille was one of those kids. At age thirteen, Bird finished his first animated film, a remake of The Tortoise and the Hare that ends in a five-way tie. He told Ask Me Another host Ophira Eisenberg, "My parents told me to send it to the [most famous] person and work my way down." Luckily for Bird, the most famous person ended up being Milt Kahl, a legendary animator at Disney, who took Bird under his wing (pun intended).

In 2011, Bird made a daring leap into live action films, helming the fourth installment of the Tom Cruise franchise Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol. Bird's latest project, Tomorrowland, is, like much of his work, intended for adults and children alike.

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With all that he's done, it's easy to forget he played a key role in the early development of another animated institution, The Simpsons. Bird directed multiple episodes, and even designed the character of Sideshow Bob. For Bird's VIP game, we see how well he remembers the citizens of Springfield by subjecting him to a speed round about famous Simpsons catchphrases.

Interview highlights

On voicing Edna Mode from the Incredibles

"I was exceedingly cheap and available."

On Technology and the Film industry

Fresh Food

Brad Bird, Patton Oswalt On Cooking Up 'Ratatouille'

It's very difficult nowadays because everyone has a device with which they can ruin your movie. They print things on paper so that nobody can copy them, but they also make them impossible to read when you're on the set.

Sen. Tom Cotton accused President Obama of holding up a "false choice" between his framework deal on Iran's nuclear program and war. He also seemed to diminish what military action against Iran would entail.

"Even if military action were required," the freshman Arkansas Republican senator said on a radio show Tuesday hosted by the Family Research Council's Tony Perkins. In the comments first picked up by BuzzFeed, Cotton also said: "the president is trying to make you think it would be 150,000 heavy mechanized troops on the ground in the Middle East again as we saw in Iraq. That's simply not the case."

"It would be something more along the lines of what President Clinton did in December 1998 during Operation Desert Fox. Several days of air and naval bombing against Iraq's weapons of mass destruction facilities for exactly the same kind of behavior. For interfering with weapons inspectors and for disobeying Security Council resolutions. All we're asking is that the president simply be as tough in the protection of America's national security interest as Bill Clinton was."

That bombing operation lasted four days and hit nearly 100 Iraqi targets after U.N. inspectors said Iraq had not fully cooperated with inspections.

Of course, military analysts point out that Iran is a larger country than Iraq with a more sophisticated military.

"The only thing worse than an Iran with nuclear weapons would be an Iran with nuclear weapons that one or more countries attempted to prevent them from obtaining by military strikes — and failed," said Ryan Crocker, the former U.S. ambassador to Iraq and Afghanistan, in 2013.

Added Jim Walsh, a researcher at MIT, who has studied Iran's nuclear program, "I fear that a military strike will produce the very thing you are trying to avoid, which is the Iranian government would meet the day after the attack and say: 'Oh yeah, we'll show you — we are going to build a nuclear weapon.' I think we will get a weapon's decision following an attack, which is the last thing we want to produce right now."

Cotton — who orchestrated a letter to Iran's leaders, which 46 other GOP senators signed onto disapproving of any potential deal with Iran — also called the president's underlying assumptions in making a deal "wishful thinking."

"It's thinking that's characterized by a child's wish for a pony," he said.

It's not the first time bombing Iran has come up around political campaigns. It was almost exactly five years when John McCain joked in New Hampshire about bombing Iran, singing "that old Beach Boys song, 'Bomb Iran.'"

"Bomb, bomb, bomb, bomb, anyway, ah....," he sang to the tune of "Barbara Ann."

McCain, though, has also long noted that military action should be a last resort.

Hillary Clinton even said during that election cycle that if Iran attacked Israel with a nuclear weapon, "We would be able to totally obliterate them."

Coffee and tea both landed in the British isles in the 1600s. In fact, java even got a head start of about a decade. And yet, a century later, tea was well on its way to becoming a daily habit for millions of Britons — which it remains to this day.

So how did tea emerge as Britain's hot beverage of choice?

The short answer: Tea met sugar, forming a power couple that altered the course of history. It was a marriage shaped by fashion, health fads and global economics. And the growing taste for sweetened tea also helped fuel one of the worst blights on human history: the slave trade.

The Princess And The Tea

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Catherine of Braganza was an early celebrity endorser of tea. After she wed Charles II, the fad for tea took off among the British nobility. Kitty Shannon/Corbis/Lebrecht Music & Arts hide caption

itoggle caption Kitty Shannon/Corbis/Lebrecht Music & Arts

Catherine of Braganza was an early celebrity endorser of tea. After she wed Charles II, the fad for tea took off among the British nobility.

Kitty Shannon/Corbis/Lebrecht Music & Arts

Tea was practically unknown in Europe until the mid-1600s. But in England, it got an early PR boost from Catherine of Braganza, a celebrity who became its ambassador: The Portuguese royal favored the infusion, and when she married England's Charles II in 1662, tea became the "it" drink among the British upper classes. But it might have faded as a passing fad if not for another favorite nibble of the nobility: sugar.

In the 1500s and 1600s, sugar was the "object of a sustained vogue in northern Europe," historian Woodruff Smith wrote in a 1992 paper.

Sugar was expensive and relatively rare, making it a perfect object of conspicuous consumption for status-chasing elites. Shaped into elaborate sculptures, mixed into wines, sprinkled on tarts and on glazed roasted meats — sugar was a much noted feature of upper-class life, says Smith, a professor emeritus at the University of Massachusetts, Boston who has studied the history of consumption. Cookbooks of the late 16th and early 17th century even treated sugar as a sort of drug to help balance the "humors" — energies that were believed to affect health and mood.

Then came the backlash: In the late 1600s, doctors started warning about the perils of sugar — it was blamed (correctly) for rotting teeth and (incorrectly) causing gout, among other ills — and it began to fall out of style among the rich and fabulous, Smith tells The Salt. Suddenly, sugar was the demon du jour. By around 1700, the word on sugar was no longer ostentation but moderation.

Clean Eating, Circa Late-1600s

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The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp by Rembrandt, 1632. Here, Tulp explains musculature matters. Elsewhere, the good doctor was promoting the health virtues of tea. Rembrandt/Wikimedia Commons hide caption

itoggle caption Rembrandt/Wikimedia Commons

The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp by Rembrandt, 1632. Here, Tulp explains musculature matters. Elsewhere, the good doctor was promoting the health virtues of tea.

Rembrandt/Wikimedia Commons

Meanwhile, lots of people were writing about the health benefits of tea, Smith says — including Nicholaes Tulp, a famed, well-connected Dutch physician immortalized in Rembrandt's painting The Anatomy Lesson. (Perhaps not coincidentally, Smith notes, Tulp "probably served on the board of directors of the Dutch East India Company" — which was, of course, importing tea.) Some enthusiasts suggested tea could induce the "constant sluicing of the body by drinking tens or hundreds of cups daily," Woodruff writes. Tea detox, anyone?

It turns out that self-help books were popular back then, too, and one of the most influential practitioners of the form was an English writer named Thomas Tryon, who had lots of theories on nutrition. (His followers included a young Benjamin Franklin.)

Tryon had a love-hate relationship with sugar. He'd been to plantations in the West Indies and was horrified by the system of slavery under which sugar cane was grown. But he also believed that anything that made people feel as good as sugar does must have some intrinsic health value. A dollop of sugar in a nonalcoholic, herbal infusion was a good way to get a hit of sweetness without going overboard, he thought. While Tryon didn't specify which infusion to use for this healthful concoction, "tea was the most obvious one," Smith says.

Such health notions, Smith says, help explain why, by the 1720s and 1730s, the custom of taking tea with sugar had taken hold among the British upper and middle classes.

The Birth Of A Global Economy

Interestingly, Smith notes, there's evidence that much of the same health claims about tea — that it cleared the head and improved spirits, without the debauchery of alcohol — were also being made about coffee around the turn of the 18th century. But coffee came from countries like Yemen and Eritrea — "places beyond European control and with little capacity to expand production," Smith writes. So when demand for coffee rose, prices did, too.

Tea, on the other hand, came from China — which had in place a sophisticated commerce system that could respond quickly to rising demand, Smith says. That demand was coming from the British and Dutch East India companies, which were already in China buying spices, silks and other goods for trade. As interest in tea grew back home, Smith says, the companies were in good position to ship large, reliable quantities at affordable prices "and therefore make tea a popular fad — and beyond a fad."

"What you're seeing is the global economy being constructed," Smith says. "It's these two companies as the vanguard of modern capitalism."

As Lord Beckett, the villainous, tea-and-sugar-sipping agent of the British East India Company in the Pirates of Caribbean movies might have put it, "it's just good business." (Such good business, of course, that, in the 19th century, the company went on to steal the secrets of tea production from China to establish a tea empire in India.)

http://simplify-your-vibrations.tumblr.com/post/49217897598

Fuel For The Industrial Revolution

Tea and sugar proved good for business in another sense: as a cheap source of calories for the working classes.

Beer and cider had long been the drink of choice for the working poor, notes food historian Rachel Laudan. With good reason: The drinks were calorific, and the alcohol was mildly analgesic — both necessary when your days were filled with grinding labor. "Of course, that came at the cost of alertness," Laudan says.

But as the Industrial Revolution got underway beginning in the mid-1700s, the working classes gave up the plow and headed to the factory, where showing up tipsy wasn't exactly a way to get ahead.

Tea sweetened with a strong dose of sugar was an affordable luxury: It gave workers a hit of caffeine to get through a long slog of a day, it provided plentiful calories, and it offered the comfort of warmth during a meal that otherwise often consisted only of bread.

Paying For Empire In Tea And Sugar

The rise of tea and sugar as a power duo was a boon for British government coffers. By the mid-1700s, tea imports accounted for one-tenth of overall tax income, says Laudan, a visiting professor at the University of Texas, Austin.

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The Warley, a ship belonging to the British East India Company at the turn of the 19th century Robert Salmon/Wikimedia hide caption

itoggle caption Robert Salmon/Wikimedia

The Warley, a ship belonging to the British East India Company at the turn of the 19th century

Robert Salmon/Wikimedia

As for sugar? According to one analysis, Laudan notes, in the 1760s, the annual duties on sugar imports were "enough to pay to maintain all ships in the navy." A great deal of that sugar, historians say, was being stirred into tea.

Those tea-and-sugar monies helped supply the British navy with better foodstuffs, Laudan says, including vegetables when available. And that navy was key to spreading British might across the globe.

"It's this dominance of the British navy that allows Britain to become the major colonial power in 19th century," Laudan tells The Salt.

But all this growth came at a terrible human price.

As Smith notes, the fad for tea came in just as sugar was under attack and had started to fall out of favor. By creating a new and lasting use for this sweetener, tea helped buoy demand for sugar from the West Indies. "And indeed, it continued to support the expansion of slavery there," Smith says.

So the next time you finding yourself sipping a nice warm cup, consider how something as simple as a drink can shape events half a world away. Even today, our edibles aren't just about appetite — the palatable is political.

Tea Tuesdays

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British food

food history

With his head of silver hair and stylish black blazer, Iranian artist Parviz Tanavoli looks younger than his 77 years. He's been called the father of modern Iranian sculpture, but he hasn't had a major museum show in the U.S. in almost four decades. Now, Wellesley College's Davis Museum is giving viewers a chance to see 175 of Tanavoli's sculptures and drawings.

While leading a tour of the Massachusetts school's gallery, Tanavoli stops in front of his curvaceous sculptures known as "Heeches."

"Any Iranian could easily read this," he says, referring to the sculptures. "It's composed of three letters: H, the head is like H; then the center part is like I or double E; this curve is like CH at the end." On paper, the Heech is a slender piece of calligraphy that's popular in Persian poetry: It means "nothingness" in Farsi.

"The other advantage of this word is all the meanings behind it," Tanavoli says. "... All the great poets like Rumi, they deal with this word; they question about it. What is Heech? I mean, is there nothing?"

Tanavoli has crafted hundreds of Heeches over the past 50 years — in ceramic, bronze, fiberglass and even neon. They are graceful, almost human forms that connect with viewers and helped revive sculpture as an art form in Iran.

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Parviz Tanavoli, Neon Heech, 2012. John Gordon/Courtesy of Parviz Tanavoli hide caption

itoggle caption John Gordon/Courtesy of Parviz Tanavoli

Parviz Tanavoli, Neon Heech, 2012.

John Gordon/Courtesy of Parviz Tanavoli

"He's definitely the pride of the Middle Eastern art scene," says Ali Khadra of the contemporary art magazine Canvas, based in Dubai, United Arab Emirates. Khadra flew to Boston for a 24-hour visit just to see Tanavoli's new exhibition. He calls the sculptor "a beacon of hope" for aspiring artists in his politically tense region and he hopes this show will help bring a little of the culture behind the headlines to Western audiences.

"It's like a chain reaction," Khadra says. "When a museum is interested, an education program takes place and the interest keeps growing. And this is how the West will know about Middle Eastern art."

The 'Good Days' In Iran

Sculpture died off as an art form in the region now known as Iran after the Arabs conquered Persia in the 7th century. At the time, visual depictions of the human body were at odds with the Muslim belief that art is a representation of the divine. But after studying sculpture in Italy in the 1950s, Tanavoli returned to Tehran and opened a studio that became a magnet for young artists.

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Fiberglass Heech sculptures by Parviz Tanavoli. Charles Mayer/Courtesy of the Davis Museum hide caption

itoggle caption Charles Mayer/Courtesy of the Davis Museum

Fiberglass Heech sculptures by Parviz Tanavoli.

Charles Mayer/Courtesy of the Davis Museum

"It was very exciting for [me]," the artist says. "I was young and I thought I was doing something and I worked very hard for it. And when I look at it today, I'm proud of it. They were good days."

But they were also challenging.

"There weren't that many people trained for art, and there weren't that many followers or fans and collectors," he says. "People weren't familiar with the modern art I was producing."

In 1965, authorities shut down Tanavoli's gallery show in Tehran because it merged materials and imagery from the East and West. Things got more complicated for the artist with the 1979 revolution and the taking of hostages at the American embassy in Tehran. He ultimately left his teaching job at Tehran University and moved his family to Toronto.

A Cultural History Lesson Through Art

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Parviz Tanavoli, Hands in Grill, 2005. Charles Mayer/Courtesy of Parviz Tanavoli hide caption

itoggle caption Charles Mayer/Courtesy of Parviz Tanavoli

Parviz Tanavoli, Hands in Grill, 2005.

Charles Mayer/Courtesy of Parviz Tanavoli

Shiva Balaghi is a Middle Eastern culture historian at Brown University and co-curator of the Davis Museum's show. She says you could teach a seminar on modern Iranian history through Tanavoli's work. "You see the common art of the streets of Tehran represented in his work; you see Iranian folklore; you see ancient Persian myths. But you also see that within Iranian society and culture there is this poetic and lyrical spirit and this sense of humor that withstands regardless of the day-to-day political situation."

That situation is reflected in some of Tanavoli's mor e brutal, confining imagery of cages, locks and jail cells. Still, Balaghi thinks Americans will be surprised to see how optimistic this Iranian's work is.

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"There is this sense of gratitude for the simple things in life — like the image of a bird flying, like the shape of a letter in the alphabet," she says.

Tanavoli keeps a foundry and studio in Iran and lives there part of the year, but he admits that politics have hindered his country's ability to share its culture. He says, "We used to be very well connected with Westerners ... but now it's unfortunate because so much has been happening in Iran in [the] last 35 years in culture — music, film and all of that — a lot of people are not even aware of it."

They'll get a chance to learn a little more through two other U.S. shows of contemporary Iranian art — one at the Guggenheim Museum in New York and another at the Hirshhorn Museum in Washington, D.C. Meanwhile, Tanavoli says he's honored to have his work act, for now, as something of an ambassador.

"Iran has a long culture, millenniums of culture," he says, "but for today I think this represents Iran pretty good."

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