Preparation for the rugged outdoor life I intend never to lead

I never go camping, we have very reliable gas for cooking, and there are several overdue reviews I should be working on.

Super Cat mini-stove

So I, naturally, just made a little camp stove, after reading about it on Cool Tools.

It's called the Super Cat, because it's made from a small cat-food tin. Since this household goes through small cat-food tins so rapidly that I really should have made some sort of belt-feed system for them by now, the raw materials were not difficult to procure.

And all you have to do to make a Super Cat is poke some holes in said tin.

That's it. You're done.

And it really does work. Mine worked perfectly first try, getting three cups of water from 15°C to a rolling boil in about seven minutes, which is when it ran out of its first shot-glass of methylated spirits (denatured alcohol) fuel. It won't work that well if there's a breeze or it's colder, but a couple of cups quickly boiled per shot of fuel ought to be possible in all sorts of real-world situations.

It's not the safest possible cooker, of course. It'd be easy to set your camp-site, or yourself, on fire if the little tin fell over or the pot on top overbalanced. (You should rest the pot on three rocks, or make a support out of coat-hanger wire or something.) And there's no heat adjustment - it runs full blast for several minutes, then goes out.

But if you're going to cook with an improvised naked-flame device, going with alcohol for fuel is not a bad idea. It doesn't burn hot enough to instantly cook you if you get some of it on you, and you can extinguish it easily with water.

Then again, the flame's invisible in sunlight, which can be a little risky. If you see someone crash a methanol-fueled racing car then leap out and start dancing around and screaming, he may not just be angry.

But c'mon, whaddaya want from a cooker you can make in fifteen minutes by candle-light with only a nail for a tool?

Firepower link-dump

My "what?!" for today was prompted by a Perth Now piece titled, wait for it, "Johnston builds new Firepower".

Yep - Tim Johnston, creator of the whole Firepower debacle, is "...trying to buy Firepower stock and assets for overseas-registered company Green Power Corporation".

(The piece goes on to point out that the Green Power Corporation in question is not this one in Thailand. So don't hassle them unless their Web site suddenly starts sprouting ads for magic fuel pills and/or expensive franchised engine-cleaning machines.)

[UPDATE:: "Firepower chief back to try again". Such grit! Such determination! In the face of such skepticism! The actual newspaper reports are now frankly calling Firepower's products "fake", but that does not deter Mr Johnston!]

While we're all waiting for a more pleasing headline - I suggest "Johnston gets twenty years stamping numberplates for conventionally-powered cars" - here's a selection of other recent coverage of the Firepower saga.

"Anderson in shares scandal" is another Perth Now piece, about the "colourful" Western Australian property developer who apparently bought a bunch of Firepower's not-quite-legally-issued shares and sold them on for a profit of more than four million bucks. (Here's a longer piece from The Australian on this subject. I presume Anderson is still eager to opine that Tim Johnston is not a criminal.)

How much of that four million, and all the other millions poured into getting a share of Firepower's worthless products, can the naïve investors expect to get back, I hear you ask?

That's right: Not a cent. Small investors are, as usual, screwed the hardest.

Firepower's largest single creditor (of a cast of thousands) continues to be Tim's former business partner Ross Graham, who I mentioned in this post.

The Firepower site still says Ross was very pleased to be involved with Firepower, on account of its amazingly valuable products and rock-solid business fundamentals - but what he's actually doing now is spending another hundred thousand bucks to get a liquidator of his choice appointed to the now-very-dead company, so as to maximise the chance that he'll get back at least a little of the ten million bucks he says he's owed.

I continue to wish Ross no luck at all in this venture. If you take an active role in a scam and then find that you're one of the people that ends up ripped off, you deserve what you got.

(Previously, there were hopes that Firepower could somehow be "rescued". Those hopes were of course dashed. The idea that Firepower was even worth rescuing was based on the incorrect assumption that the Firepower products were good for something, and not just the latest version of an old, old scam. That same scam had been run by the same guy on previous occasions, for Pete's sake.)

Slightly earlier: Firepower financial info 'goes missing'. Apparently Firepower kept some rather important salary information on one computer, with no backups. That computer apparently, like the Luggage, followed Tim Johnston to his current undisclosed, but probably lavishly furnished, location.

Said undisclosed location apparently has rather unreliable telephone service. Tim hasn't even been able to talk to creditors on the phone.

My occasional correspondent Gerard Ryle, still working on his book about the Firepower story, wrote "Firepower collapse fallout" for the Sydney Morning Herald. Apparently the sportspeople and teams who got stiffed for sponsorship money Firepower owed them, and the other sporting schmucks who invested in Firepower and lost the lot, were the lucky ones.

The unlucky ones are the ones who actually got money from Firepower - after it was already insolvent. They have of course generally spent that money, but may now have to repay it, because the creditors want it.

There's a point worth making: It's not even safe to accept payment from a rip-off artist. If the money he pays you turns out to not have been his to give, you can end up in a much worse situation than if he hadn't paid you at all.

Earlier, Tim Johnston was "reported to the Australian Securities and Investment Commission for further investigation". I expect ASIC to take three, or maybe seven, years to generate a very thorough report indeed on the several most reliable ways in which stable doors might, in future, be bolted.

To be fair, ASIC apparently started investigating Firepower late last year, after previously ignoring warnings. And shady companies like Firepower can pretty much always slither past government regulators for a while, partly because they simply don't file any of the legally-required paperwork, and so don't appear on the regulators' radar until plenty of suckers have already paid up. But it wasn't until July this year that they took real concrete action. Casual basketball fans figured the situation out earlier than that.

So it really does seem that ASIC were very slow to react to the quite obvious shonkiness of this very high-profile company. I suppose the fact that Firepower had leverage with Austrade didn't hurt.

Miracle Juice or Alien Race?

In the shadowy netherworld of multi-level marketing, a lot of people are trying to sell juice.

It isn't ordinary juice, though. You wouldn't get far trying to shift orange, apple or grape juice via the trapezoid. The same multiple commission stages that make Amway floor polish too expensive would crank the price of your juice up far past the supermarket price of similar products.

The juice the network-marketers are trying to sell is much more special. Allegedly. It's usually from one or another improbably-named tropical tree or Chinese berry, and it's supposed to be good for what ails you.

Not that the companies that make the juices will say that. Oh, no. They're all hiding behind the US Dietary Supplement Health and Education Act of 1994, a.k.a. the DSHEA, which allows makers of "nutritional supplements" to sell pretty much whatever they like, without being required to prove efficacy or safety. As long as they don't make any therapeutic claims.

The great thing about multi-level marketing, for the people behind these programs, is that they can stay clean and avoid making illegal claims about their "dietary supplements", while their desperate-for-a-buck "distributors" say all sorts of outrageous things to try to shift product. It's like the white-van speaker racket, where a company brings crappy speakers with names similar to those of real speaker companies into the country, then hands them over to the guys in the vans. And, at the end of the day, takes their (large) share of the money. The speaker importers, like the MLM "supplement" companies, take pains to point out that they can in no way be blamed for what certain bad apples among their distributor base may do to turn product into profit.

Vibe card front

Somehow, this promotional card ended up in our house. It's obviously for a US program; I think it got to us here in Australia packed into a box with an eBay purchase.

This card is perfectly representative of the basic claims made for the phalanx of MLM miracle juices. Apart from ticks for a few of the boxes on the Twenty-Five Ways to Spot Quacks and Vitamin Pushers list, there's:

* Indistinct-enough-to-be-legal health claims.
* A frank statement that this miracle juice is better than all of the other miracle juices. (I'm pretty sure they all say this. It's like the Caliph whose wives were each more beautiful than the last.)
* MAKE BIG $$$MONEY$$$!!! CALL NOW!!!!

This particular juice has a strangely normal name, "Vibe". Close analysis of the better-than-everyone-else part, though, will turn up three of the big names in this field: "Xango" (I'm sorry - "XanGo"), "Goji" and "Noni".

And there's more. "Vemma" (which is allegedly based on mangosteen juice, like XanGo), "Monavie", "Zrii", "NingXia" and "eXfuze". And probably more; that's just all I could Google up before I got bored.

All of these juices are probably better, at least, than Kinoki foot pads, because they do actually have some nutritive value. But the reason why they're supposed to be worth more per bottle than quite fancy wine is that they're all allegedly made from "superfruits". Those are edible (in some cases only technically...) fruits or berries with unusually high "ORAC" scores.

The proud statement that this juice is "ORAC Certified" at first, of course, caused me to think that the Respectful Insolence guy was running a little sideline in dietary supplements. But it's actually talking about "Oxygen Radical Absorption Capacity" measurement. In this case, from "Brunswick Labs".

Surprisingly enough, the ORAC test is actually a real one, and it's quite possible that Brunswick Labs, despite a plethora of not-quite-medical claims on their own Web site, are quite kosher and actually doing real ORAC tests. They don't, at least, look like one of those pure quack-labs that'll analyse a sample of your hair and invariably then discover that you're in life-threatening need of whatever service is provided by the alternative practitioner who commissioned the test.

High ORAC values tell you that there are lots of antioxidants in a given foodstuff. It's common knowledge that antioxidants are terribly good for you, and especially good at slowing the aging process. There's not actually much reason to suppose that this is in fact the case, but common knowledge does not appear to care.

Result: Umpteen funny-named MLM-sold super-expensive ultra-juices that do not necessarily do anything for you that a glass of far cheaper OJ won't.

(And if you buy orange juice instead, you probably won't be endlessly pestered by whoever sold it to you to start selling it yourself, so you can get your share of the failure.)

Here's the other side of the Vibe promotional card:

Vibe card reverse

"Just ONE POTENT OUNCE OF VIBE is EQUIVALENT to nutriends** found in..."

That double-asterisk is presumably supposed to direct you to the two single-asterisk notes about Brunswick Labs ORAC testing, but neither of them explains what a "nutriend" is.

Such amazing nutrient levels don't actually necessarily sound like something you'd want, anyway. Apart from the well-established fact that taking lots of vitamins generally just gives you very expensive wee, one ounce of this stuff is supposed to give you "11 tomatoes worth of vitamin A".

One medium whole tomato should give you 20 per cent of your daily Vitamin A requirement. So slurping down tons more of that vitamin may give you something in common with Douglas Mawson.

(The juice-pushers will, of course, tell you that the Recommended Daily Allowances for vitamins are far too low. I refer you, once more, to the Twenty-Five Ways.)

And then there's "30 broccoli". 30 broccoli whats? The tiny little florets? 30 stalks from ground level up? 30 pounds?

And "Certified Organic Aloe Vera Gel", quantity not specified. But since I don't think anybody's ever demonstrated aloe to have any particular nutritional constituents that can't be found in greater concentrations in something that doesn't taste nearly as horrible, I presume a little goes a long way.

And so on.

But don't worry - even though it's so darn packed with nutrients, drinking Vibe will somehow make you thinner... on account of how "energized" you'll be!

("More energy" would appear one of those just-fuzzy-enough claims that "supplement" companies love to toss around. Searching Google for "more energy" juice mlm currently turns up well over 10,000 hits. Some of these MLM-ed supplements are packed to the gills with caffeine and not-necessarily-legal-any-more ephedra, of course, but I doubt that's the case for most of the super-juices.)

It's the names of all these miracle juices that really get to me, though.

Xango! Zrii! Goji! Vemma!

Someone should make a "Multilevel-Marketed Miracle Juice or Star Trek Alien Race?" page, like the "Porn Star or My Little Pony?" one.