It wasn’t my idea, this whole Pringles can burial.
I stole it from the man who started the trend in the first place.
It was back in the days before TikTok, back when a trend could include just one, which I’m assuming (and frankly hoping) is the case here.
Let’s back up.
This all started with the usual rabbit hole, one I found on the western edge of Lake Erie.
You know it as the place with toxic algal blooms and countless abandoned buildings.
I know it as Toledo.
For some reason, I thought ditching a blissful life as a nephrologist in favor of obsessing about Great Lakes cities no one cares about was a good call. As judged by my Amazon KDP dashboard, I assure you it is not.
But the best part about irrationality is that, as the word suggests, simple logic is no match.
That’s how the other day, rather than pursue anything of monetary value, I landed on the Toledo Wikipedia page.
In the creator economy, anything—even an unequivocal waste of time—can be called research.
And when that research leads you to the Pringles can, well, then it’s time to write a non-monetizable blog post.
You know how this goes.
You start with the brief overview at the top and then move through History, Geography, Demographics, and so on.
Somewhere around there is Education, which when dealing with a grand metropolis like Toledo comes with all sorts of links, including one to the university that takes its name from the city.
On that page is a section called Notable alumni, faculty, and staff, which requires a linked journey to another page entitled List of University of Toledo people.
When I finally reached that destination, the Technology and innovation section immediately caught my attention. One dude was an aircraft developer and another worked on some sort of computer stuff.
But it was the name Frederic J. Baur that is truly responsible for this drivel. Baur, after all, did something most of us can only dream of: bro invented the Pringles can!
It turns out that the legend, born and educated in Toledo, took his talents elsewhere in Ohio—Cincinnati to be exact. There, as an organic chemist and food storage scientist working for Proctor & Gamble, he devised the tubular Pringles container, patented it, and blessed the entire world in the process.
Yes, attempting to extricate the last few chips has been a source of great angst, but that conundrum has simply inspired further ingenuity.
Upon Baur’s death in 2008 at the age of 89, his family honored his request of having some of his cremated remains buried in an Original flavor Pringles container.
So if anyone is reading, when the time comes, to honor my infatuation with the Rust Belt and snack food, go ahead and bury me in a Pringles can.
Sour Cream & Onion flavor, please.
The post Please—Just Bury Me in a Pringles Can appeared first on ComposeMD.