Author: Rebecca OConnell

The holidays are over, but that hasn’t stopped ugly sweater company Tipsy Elves from offering up gaudy and festive options for the winter season. The company’s retro-inspired ski collection features ostentatious ski suits, sweaters, hats, and neck warmers.

Largely inspired by trends from the ’80s and ’90s, and the fashion of famous personalities like Elvis and Evel Knievel, the collection includes splashy designs like rainbows, neon colors, and even an American flag cape.

“Some fashion trends should really stay in the past,” Tipsy Elves says on their website. “But there are some pretty awesome designs that deserve a revival.”

The collection’s one-piece ski suits, made with waterproof fabric, include insulated lining for warmth. There are also retro-inspired long johns, shirts, sweaters, and wind breakers (for warmer days on the mountain).

As the website points out, these bright outfits are not just for humor: They help skiers stay visible against the white snow, and the one-piece feature makes getting dressed in the morning a lot easier.

You can see the whole collection here.

It’s easy to dismiss Jackson Pollock’s No. 5, 1948 as a senseless splatter of paint—but even if you can’t appreciate its aesthetic, this piece has a history that’s worth its weight in house paint and stacks of cash. On what would have been Pollock’s 105th birthday, here are 10 facts about the late artist’s masterpiece.

1. IT’S A KEY WORK IN THE ABSTRACT EXPRESSIONIST MOVEMENT.

In the wake of World War II, New York City artists like Pollock, Barnett Newman, and Willem de Kooning began pushing the boundaries of their paintings in a direction that would be dubbed “Abstract Expressionism” by art critic Robert Coates in 1946. This wave of modern art made New York the center of the art world, thanks in part to the movement’s embrace by esteemed collector and patron Peggy Guggenheim. Pollock’s contribution was his drip paintings, of which No. 5, 1948 is his most famous.

2. POLLOCK USED A UNIQUE METHOD TO MAKE HIS DRIPS.

Rather than working from an easel, Pollock would place his canvas on the ground and pace around it, applying paint by dripping it from hardened brushes, sticks, and basting syringes. Pollock had only begun experimenting in this form the year before No. 5, 1948‘s creation, but his style soon became so signature he was dubbed “Jack the Dripper.” 

In 1947, he told the magazine Possibilities, “On the floor I am more at ease. I feel nearer, more part of the painting, since this way I can walk around it, work from the four sides, and literally be in the painting.” 

3. NO. 5, 1948 IS A MARKER OF THE BIRTH OF “ACTION PAINTING.”

Drip painting came to seen as a form of “action painting,” which American art critic Harold Rosenberg defined in a 1952 essay, declaring, “Action Painting has to do with self-creation or self-definition or self-transcendence; but this dissociates it from self-expression, which assumes the acceptance of the ego as it is, with its wound and its magic.” 

4. POLLOCK DIDN’T DO ANY SKETCHES OR PRE-PLANNING FOR NO. 5, 1948.

Pollock’s works were revolutionary on several levels. For centuries, artists had sketched out or test-run their large-scale paintings. But not Pollock, who was instead guided by emotion and intuition as he wove around his fiberboard base, dropping and flinging paint as his muse demanded. He abandoned brushstrokes in favor of drips and splashes, and set the art world on fire with his impromptu masterworks. 

5. HE USED UNCONVENTIONAL PAINTS FOR NO. 5, 1948. 

An important element of the drip method was paint with a fluid viscosity that would allow for smooth pouring. This requirement meant traditional oil paints and watercolors were out. Instead, Pollock began experimenting with synthetic gloss enamel paints that were making old-school, oil-based house paints obsolete. Though this clever innovation was praised, Pollock shrugged it off as “a natural growth out of a need.” 

6. FOR A TIME, NO. 5, 1948 WAS THE WORLD’S MOST EXPENSIVE PAINTING.

On June 18^, 2006, Gustav Klimt’s Adele Bloch-Bauer I sold for $135 million, making it the highest priced painting in the world. Less than five months later, No. 5, 1948 fetched $140 million. In 2011, this title was snatched by one of Paul Cézanne’s Card Players, with a price tag of $250 million. 

7. IT’S A MASSIVE WORK.

No. 5, 1948 measures in at 8 feet by 4 feet. The Guardian notes that this means each square foot is worth over $4 million.

8. NO. 5, 1948 WAS POSSIBLY SOLD TO FUND A BID FOR THE LOS ANGELES TIMES.

The New York Times reported entertainment tycoon David Geffen may have unloaded No. 5, 1948 in that 2006 sale, along with pieces by Jasper Johns and Willem de Kooning, in an effort to pull together enough capital to purchase the established newspaper. The sale of these three paintings netted $283.5 million. Yet Geffen never did buy the LA Times, even though he tried repeatedly. Once, he even offered $2 billion. In cash. 

9. NO. 5, 1948 WASN’T POLLOCK’S ONLY RECORD BREAKER.

In 1973, Pollock’s 1952 piece Blue Poles sold for $2 million. While nowhere near as expensive as No. 5, 1948, that figure was enough to make it the highest price paid for a contemporary American work at that time. Sadly, Pollock never saw either of his pieces make art history—a car accident on August 11, 1956, cut his life painfully short. 

10. NO. 5, 1948 AND ITS SIBLINGS STILL MYSTIFY A LOT OF VIEWERS.

While the art critics gush and collectors lay down millions for an auctioned Pollock piece, a good portion of the public is still confounded by the artist’s output 60-plus years later. Every time one of his paintings sells for millions, articles pop up asking why. The short answer is, though his drip paintings may not be accessible, they were seminal, changing the way we think of art itself. They may not be traditionally pretty. But they are both art, and art history.

The next time you’re throwing your eye of newt into the cauldron, you might want to use a steam releaser to let out a little hot air. Agatha, a witch-shaped silicone tool, might be the right candidate.

Created by OTOTO (the kitchen gurus who also designed whimsical cookware like the Loch Ness tea infuser and this bed for your sponge), Agatha is a playful character that holds on to your spoon and simultaneously lets steam out of the pot—all while giving the appearance that she’s riding a broom. You can buy the kitchen helper on Animi Causa, a site that’s also slinging this device that turns radishes into Super Mario-themed mushrooms.

As connected as we all are to our various mobile devices, it seems impossible that outlets aren’t a standard feature up at 30,000 feet (especially when you can still often find ashtrays). Travel is stressful enough without having to worry whether you’ll have access to a charging port, and now, you can prevent your phone from dying on a plane, train, or automobile with a special charger that can be used anywhere there’s sunlight.

This power-up device is able to harness solar power using solar panels that are embedded into a small suction cup that can be affixed to most windows. The 4.5 volt, 0.4 watt solar panel charges an internal 2000mAh Lithium-Ion battery. The battery, which can also be charged through traditional means when the sun’s down, offers phones up to a 40 percent battery increase. The cable comes with four different plugs, so it’s compatible with most smartphones. LED lights that flash blue and green let you know when it’s charging and when it’s powered up.

Obviously, this isn’t the ideal external charger, but it’s great for emergencies and long plane rides. You can grab one on Amazon, where it’s conveniently on sale.

Mental Floss has affiliate relationships with certain retailers, including Amazon, and may receive a small percentage of any sale. But we only get commission on items you buy and don’t return, so we’re only happy if you’re happy. Good luck deal hunting!

From Old Granny to Uncle Jumbo, His Accidency to Grandfather’s Hat, here are a few presidential nicknames, and how the commanders in chief came by them.

1. George Washington: American Fabius

Our first commander in chief earned this nickname based on the strategy he used to fight the British in the Revolutionary War, named for a Roman dictator who avoided large battles to engage in small ones. (But Washington might not have even known about that general and his strategy until a year after he began using it!) Another great nickname: Sword of the Revolution.

2. John Adams: Old Sink or Swim

John Adams got this nickname from a speech he gave: “Sink or swim, survive or perish with my country, is my unalterable determination.”

3. Thomas Jefferson: Long Tom

At 6 feet 2.5 inches, Jefferson was six inches taller than the average height for men in his day, which earned him the nickname “Long Tom.” 

4. James Monroe: Last of the Cocked Hats

The man behind the Monroe Doctrine was the last of the major politicians of his day to have fought in the Revolutionary War, during which the Revolutionary fighters apparently wore cocked hats. 

5. John Quincy Adams: Old Man Eloquent

The second Adams to hold the office of president got the nickname during his time as a Congressman, for “his passionate support of freedom of speech and universal education, and especially for his strong arguments against slavery.”

6. Andrew Jackson: Sharp Knife

Native Americans bestowed this nickname for his fighting tactics (they also called him Pointed Arrow). 

7. Van Buren: Machiavellian Belshazzar

This moniker was not a compliment: It was given to Van Buren by his detractors for his insincerity in political matters.

8. William Henry Harrison: Old Granny

The “Granny” nickname got thrown around a lot back in the day. In Harrison’s case, Democrat detractors—including Van Buren—gave the 68-year-old this nickname to get across the idea that he was both ancient and out of touch. He came down with a cold three weeks after his inauguration; it turned into pneumonia and pleurisy, and he died soon after. Harrison was the first president to die in office.

9. John Tyler: His Accidency 

He was Harrison’s VP, and got this nickname when he became president after Harrison’s death.

10. James Polk: Young Hickory

Both Polk and his father were strong supporters of Andrew Jackson; in fact, the younger Polk was Jackson’s best ally in Congress. Jackson was Old Hickory, and Polk became Young Hickory. Polk was also nicknamed Napoleon of the Stump for his fierce oratory.

11. Zachary Taylor: Old Rough and Ready

Though he was a General, this military hero was more than willing to share the hardships of field duty with his troops, a fact that earned him his nickname.

12. Millard Fillmore: Wool Carder President

After Taylor died in office, Fillmore took over. Born in a Cayuga County, New York log cabin in 1800, Fillmore was apprenticed to a wool carder when he was 15—hence his nickname.

13. Franklin Pierce: Purse

The nickname Handsome Frank is self-explanatory, but sources don’t quite agree on why some called Pierce “Purse.” According to one source, it was a nickname given to him by his friends; another posits it might have been because of his wealth; and yet another says it was because of his involvement in the Gadsden Purchase, which brought lands from the states of Arizona and New Mexico into U.S. hands. Still others say the president pronounced Pierce that way.

14. James Buchanan: Ten-Cent Jimmy

The bachelor president got this unflattering nickname after he said that 10 cents a day was a fair wage for manual laborers. What a gaffe.

15. Abraham Lincoln: Grand Wrestler

Did you know that Honest Abe was a wrestler? He’s even been inducted into the Wrestling Hall of Fame.

16. Andrew Johnson: Sir Veto

Johnson, who took over as president after Lincoln was assassinated, came by this nickname for his use of that privilege in those tumultuous years. He was also called The Tennessee Tailor because of his former profession. Another nickname whose source proves elusive: Daddy of the Baby.

17. Ulysses S. Grant: Unconditional Surrender Grant

Young Hiram Ulysses Grant (he dropped his first name and added the S. later, and it stood for nothing at all) was reportedly nicknamed “Useless” by his father. Ouch. Thankfully, his nicknames got better during the Civil War. After capturing Fort Donelson in Tennessee in 1862, he was called “Unconditional Surrender” Grant. Another awesome nickname: Great Hammerer.

18. Rutherford B. Hayes: His Fraudulency

So nicknamed because he allegedly stole the campaign of 1876 (more about that here).

19. James A. Garfield: Canal Boy

Like Fillmore and Johnson, Garfield got his nickname thanks to an old job: He ran away from home when he was 16 to work on the canal boats that took cargo from Cleveland to Pittsburgh. He wasn’t very good at it, though; during the six weeks he worked on the boats, he fell overboard 14 times and eventually contracted a fever and had to return home. You can read one account of his time working on the canal here.

20. Chester Arthur: Dude President

Sometimes called America’s First Gentleman, our 21st president got another nickname, Dude President, because of his sense of style.

21. Stephen Grover Cleveland: Uncle Jumbo

The only president to serve two non-consecutive terms tipped the scales at 250 pounds, so it’s no wonder that he earned the nickname Uncle Jumbo when he became Governor of New York in 1882 (his friends also called him Big Steve). Another nickname, bestowed upon him by the New York Sun, was Stuffed Prophet.

22. Benjamin Harrison: Grandfather’s Hat

Benjamin Harrison was the grandson of William Henry Harrison; he was also rather short, standing just 5 feet 6 inches tall. Though he tried to distance himself from his grandfather, Harrison didn’t succeed. He reportedly got the nickname “Grandfather’s Hat” because Democratic cartoonists often drew him standing next to a huge version of his grandfather’s beaver hat (or wearing it) and also because Republicans campaigned for him with a song called “Grandfather’s Hat Fits Ben.”

23. William McKinley: Wobbly Willie

McKinley earned this nickname for his reluctance to enter into a war with Spain in 1898 over Cuba. Theodore Roosevelt, then the assistant secretary of the Navy, said that McKinley had “no more backbone than a chocolate eclair.”

24. Theodore Roosevelt: Telescope Teddy

This “speak softly and carry a big stick” president got this nickname because, when out West in 1900, he had all of his rifles fitted with small telescopes for long-distance shooting in addition to his very thick glasses.

25. Woodrow Wilson: Coiner of Weasel Words

This nickname was reportedly given to Wilson by Teddy Roosevelt. You can read the speech where Roosevelt accuses the president of creating such words here.

26. John Calvin Coolidge: Silent Cal

Turns out our 30th president was a pretty quiet guy. According to the New York Times, someone once said he spoke so infrequently that “every time he opened his mouth, a moth flew out.”

27. Franklin Delano Roosevelt: The Sphinx

By December 1939, FDR was being called The Sphinx by reporters and cartoonists because of his penchant for secrecy regarding whether or not he would run for a third term in 1940. So at the annual Gridiron Dinner for White House correspondents on December 9, 1939, the president was presented with an 8-foot tall Sphinx statue in his likeness. It was designed by James D. Preston, Assistant Administrative Secretary of the National Archives and former Superintendent of the Senate Press Gallery, based on caricatures by cartoonists Peter Brandt of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch and James T. Berryman of the Washington Star. You can see the Sphinx in the FDR Presidential Library.

Another great nickname for FDR: Houdini in the White House.

28. Ronald Reagan: Teflon President

A nickname bestowed upon Reagan by Patricia Schroeder, a Democratic congresswoman from Colorado. “I got the idea of calling President Reagan the ‘Teflon president’ while fixing eggs for my kids,” she wrote in USA Today in 2004. “He had a Teflon coat like the pan.”

29. George W. Bush: Shrub

A nickname given to the president by liberal columnist Molly Ivins, who went to high school with him.

30. Barack Obama: Barry O’Bomber

This nickname was given to No. 43 by his high school basketball crew for his jump shot.

BONUS: Herbert Hoover, the Hermit Author of Palo Alto

Though I couldn’t find any real documentation for why Hoover was given this nickname, it was too good not to include. It’s possible that the president acquired it after his term was over, when he retreated to his home in Palo Alto, California, and wrote a series of letters and essays attacking FDR’s New Deal. The hermit part doesn’t quite make sense, though; Hoover traveled a lot after his presidency. Any insight? Leave it in the comments below!

All images courtesy of Getty Images unless otherwise stated. 

(Warning: This article contains spoilers from a 22-year-old movie.)

Nearly a quarter-century after its initial release, Bryan Singer’s The Usual Suspects still manages to surprise audiences—and make it onto just about every list of “The Best Movie Endings of All Time” ever compiled. As AMC wrote in just such a list, where the film nabbed the number 21 spot, “For two hours, Kevin Spacey’s spineless Verbal plays helpless lamb being lured to Chazz Palminteri’s slaughter. But with the drop of a coffee cup, and the shaking off of a limp, the true identity of a criminal mastermind is revealed.”

For fans who want to reenact the pivotal moment in which Palminteri’s customs agent Dave Kujan learned he’s been duped by Spacey, this simple white Kobayashi mug is the perfect prop. It’s dishwasher- and microwave-safe—and yes, it comes in one piece. Of course, if you plan on dropping it dramatically to chase after Keyser Söze, you’re going to have to do it in one take (or stock up and buy a couple). You can score one of the elegantly minimalist mugs on Firebox for only $13.

Erik Sass is covering the events of the war exactly 100 years after they happened. This is the 263rd installment in the series.  

January 16-17, 1917: The Zimmermann Telegram

Germany’s decision to resume unrestricted U-boat warfare at the beginning of 1917 was arguably the worst strategic decision of the First World War – but Germany dug the hole even deeper by attempting to start a war between Mexico and the United States. Together these ill-advised moves turned American public opinion decisively against the Central Powers, setting the stage for U.S. entry into the war in April 1917.

The secret initiative to bring Mexico into the war – which didn’t stay secret for long – was laid out in the “Zimmermann Telegram,” a coded message first sent by the German State Secretary for Foreign Affairs Arthur Zimmermann to the German ambassador to the U.S. Johann von Bernstorff, who passed it along to the ambassador to Mexico Heinrich von Eckhardt (this indirect route was used in an attempt to avoid interception, futile as it turned out; below, the coded telegram from Bernstorff). 

In his previous role as undersecretary of foreign affairs Zimmermann enjoyed some success fomenting dissension abroad to distract Germany’s enemies from the European war, most notably the Easter Rising in Ireland, which complicated British war efforts and delivered a stinging propaganda defeat to the Allies, supposedly fighting for the rights of small countries. On taking the reins from the previous foreign secretary, Gottlieb von Jagow, Zimmermann naturally continued his predecessor’s policy of stirring up trouble between Mexico and the U.S. in order to distract the latter – an easy task considering their fraught relations following the Mexican Revolution, Tampico Incident, the repeated depredations of Pancho Villa, and the Punitive Expedition.

But now Zimmermann planned a dangerous escalation, reflecting the mounting stakes. With unrestricted U-boat warfare set to resume on February 1, 1917, Germany’s leaders knew there was a very good chance it would provoke the United States to join the war against them, and so (despite reassuring predictions from military hardliners that the American effort would be desultory at best) were willing to consider any gambit to refocus America’s attention away from Germany – ideally on an enemy closer to home. 

The Germans spared nothing in their effort to bring Mexico into the war, at least as far as promises go. The key enticement – and a diplomatic bombshell when revealed – was the offer to help Mexico win back the lost provinces of the American southwest, taken by the U.S. as spoils of victory in the Mexican-American War in 1848. Even more sensational, the Germans wanted Mexico to help convince Japan to turn on the U.S. as well, capitalizing on growing tension between the countries over Japanese expansion in the Pacific Ocean and aggression in China. The full text of the telegram delivered to Eckhardt read:

We intend to begin on the 1st of February unrestricted submarine warfare. We shall endeavor in spite of this to keep the United States of America neutral. In the event of this not succeeding, we make Mexico a proposal of alliance on the following basis: make war together, make peace together, generous financial support and an understanding on our part that Mexico is to reconquer the lost territory in Texas, New Mexico and Arizona. The settlement in detail is left to you. You will inform the President of the above most secretly as soon as the outbreak of war with the United States of America is certain and add the suggestion that he should, on his own initiative, invite Japan to immediate adherence and at the same time mediate between Japan and ourselves. Please call the President’s attention to the fact that the ruthless employment of our submarines now offers the prospect of compelling England in a few months to make peace. Signed, Zimmermann.

Unfortunately for the Germans, Eckhardt and Mexico’s leader Venustiano Carranza (who would be sworn in as president on May 1, 1917) weren’t the only ones privy to this shocking proposal, transmitted by coded telegraph. Unbeknownst to the German foreign ministry the British Admiralty’s cryptography division, “Room 40,” had been monitoring German messages since the war began, and were routinely able to decode these messages with the help of captured codebooks and ciphers. 

The Zimmermann Telegram was originally dispatched from Berlin to Washington, D.C. on January 16, 1917 using standard diplomatic channels, which in wartime meant sending it on undersea telegraph cables via a neutral country – in this case Denmark. After receiving a copy of the intercepted message on January 17, 1917, the British code-breakers went to work and almost immediately realized the value of the intelligence gathered from the partially decoded document, which was bound to infuriate American public opinion and hopefully bring the U.S. into the war on the side of the Allies. They continued their work and by February 5 the message was nearly complete.

The Admiralty was understandably careful about sharing or acting on information uncovered by Room 40, in order to avoid arousing German suspicions that their codes were compromised, but the Zimmermann Telegram presented an opportunity too good to pass up. In order to bring the telegram to the attention of President Woodrow Wilson without tipping their hand to the Germans, and without disclosing the awkward fact that they were spying on American telegraph traffic, Room 40 chief Admiral William Hall came up with two clever ruses. First, the British would tell the Americans they obtained the telegram by bribing a telegraph company employee in Mexico; second, when it was time to go public they would make it appear the deciphered message had been obtained by British agents through treachery in Mexico City, rather than intercepted and deciphered as it crossed the Atlantic. 

For now the British kept their secret to themselves, in the hopes that Germany’s resumption of unrestricted U-boat warfare would be enough to bring the U.S. into the war; they only disclosed the existence of the telegram on February 24, 1917, when their American cousins seemed to be dragging their feet (at which point the British were able to cover their tracks even more completely with the collaboration of the U.S. government, by staging additional deceptions to make it appear that it was American spies who obtained the text – this time through treachery in the German embassy in Washington, D.C. The full details of this exciting episode are set forth in Barbara Tuchman’s classic book, The Zimmermann Telegram. Above, the decoded version).

Meanwhile the Mexican government responded skeptically to the German proposal. U.S.-Mexican relations, while certainly at a low point during the Punitive Expedition, had apparently been improving since the summer of 1916, when Wilson disavowed war with Mexico and Carranza offered concessions. Further, Carranza’s generals warned that Mexico would never be able to absorb the large “Anglo” populations of the states in question, foreshadowing endless future conflicts with restive natives as well as the irredentist U.S. (top, an American cartoon after the telegram became public). 

Worse still, Mexico would bear the brunt of the war by itself, with no prospect of effective help from Germany thanks to the British naval blockade – a daunting prospect considering the Mexican Army could barely secure the country’s own northern territories (Japan was also unlikely to go to war lightly, as it relied on imports of American kerosene, cotton, and steel, and also depended on America as its largest export market). 

In short, Germany had unwittingly provided Britain with a deadly diplomatic weapon, sealing its own fate, all for the sake of an improbable – some might say fantastic – foreign adventure. Later, Zimmermann’s inexplicable admission that he was the author of the telegram put the final nail in the coffin of the reputation of Imperial Germany’s foreign service, already discredited by incompetent diplomacy in the lead-up to the war.

See the previous installment or all entries.