Halloween is here. That's bad news for people who want a creative costume but so far have come up with nothin'. Or who have a limited imagination. Take me. I was going to go as climate change: rain hat, sunglasses, an umbrella, and snow boots. Then I thought, I work with the most creative minds in the Greenosphere at National Geographic. Why not ask them for ideas?

Miss World A.D. 300,000

Over many millennia, scientists genetically engineered the human race to survive and repair a planet ravaged by global warming. By A.D. 300,000, the species has been artificially evolved to perfection.

To cleanse the atmosphere, humans made themselves into carbon sinks: Miss World breathes in carbon dioxide and breathes out oxygen through her photosynthetic skin and leafy tresses. (Green body paint, about $12 for 16 ounces; find faux greenery at your local craft store.)

Miss World's eyes have thick black membranes to protect her from blinding ultraviolet rays. (Black sclera contacts, about $140 per lens.)

Humans in 300,000 are amphibious— necessary to travel in a world that's mostly water. Find green gloves (about $22), slit the fingers, and sew them back together for webbed hands. Sadly, you can't actually buy these high-heeled flippers to accommodate Miss World's long, webbed feet. But regular flippers would work, too.

Roses are so 200,000. After ages of forest fires and flooding, wood is the most valuable commodity on Earth, so Miss World is awarded a small bouquet of scarce sticks.

Concept by Holly Morris
Illustration by Winona Dimeo-Ediger

Melting Ice Shelf

Sandbagged Diego

Chupa Carbon (an homage to Chupacabra, the legendary creature said to suck the life out of other animals)

Concepts and styling by Ruben Rodriguez

In the new film Synecdoche, New York, a physically, domestically, artistically tormented theater director receives a vast grant and sets out to make something “big and true and tough; you know, finally put my real self into something.”

Of course, since it’s a Charlie Kaufman picture (think Being John Malkovich, Adaptation, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind), the protagonist goes right down a rabbit hole, decamping from upstate Schenectady to New York City, transforming a decrepit warehouse into a full-scale replica of Gotham, and peopling it with stand-ins for everyone in (and out) of his life … including, eventually, himself.

It’s all very punning ("synecdoche"/"Schenectady"), reflexive, absurdist, and meta—according to Webster’s, “synecdoche” means “a figure of speech by which a part is put for the whole, the whole for a part, the species for the genus, the genus for the species, or the name of the material for the thing made”—to say the least. It’s also very good, if you like your alternate-reality popcorn buttered with Really Big Questions about life, death, love, and why anything and nothing matters.

But that’s not why we’re posting today. No, we at Pop Omnivore are going down a rabbit hole of our own: the, uh, geographic one that houses full-scale replicas of famous landmarks in unlikely locations.

One we know about is the Parthenon—in Nashville, Tennessee, built in 1897 for the Tennessee Centennial Exposition. Another? The Lighthouse of Alexandria—in Shenzhen, China’s Window of the World Cultural Park. And of course there’s Stonehenge—in Maryhill, Washington, dedicated on July 4, 1918 as the first U.S. monument to honor the dead of World War I.

While there’s no shortage of Statue of Liberty knockoffs in France—at least five, by most lights—that’s probably not so surprising: It was France, after all, that presented America with the real deal, as a goodwill gift, circa 1886.

Anyway, those are just a few. We’re sure plenty more exist, and we’d love to know all about them—where they are, when they were built, why they were built, maybe even who's or what's behind them.

Can you let us know?

- Jeremy Berlin

The American Kennel Club has just released its list of most “pup-ular” names for dogs. (That’s their bad pun, not Pop Omnivore's!). Leading the list for male dogs:

1.    Bear
2.    Blue
3.    Max/Maximums/Maxwell
4.    Duke
5.    Buddy

And for female dogs:
1.    Lady
2.    Belle/Bell/Bella
3.    Princess
4.    Mae/May
5.    Rose

Americans, you need to think of better names!

For inspiration, we polled our National Geographic colleagues. Here are some of their waggish dog name tales. We'd also love to hear from our readers -- have far beyond Rover and Fido have you gone in coining canine names?

ARGOS

Argos was named long before he was ever born. In Homer's The Odyssey, only his loyal and faithful dog Argos recognizes King Odysseus when he returns after 20 years. That story always stuck with me, so when I decided to get a dog I knew I would name him Argos. What I didn't know was just how apt the name is. Modern-day Argos is as loyal, faithful, and noble as his ancient namesake.
-David Brindley

DESI "BABALU" ARNAZ JR.

My chihuahua surely has the best name out there. I was going to name him "My Name.. is … Inigo Montoya .. You Killed My Father, Prepare to Die"  as an homage to the movie Princess Bride. But it was a bit of a mouthful so Desi won out. 
-Liz Grady

HENRY ROLLINS

Henry Rollins the man is the muscular and heavily tattooed former frontman of a favorite hardcore punk band from my youth, Black Flag.
Henry Rollins the dog is an apricot toy poodle.
An apricot toy poodle needs all the help he can get.
-Margaret Zackowitz

LAZZIE

A dog’s life isn’t easy in Pakistan. They’re considered unclean according to Islamic tradition and are kept more often as house guards, not pampered pets. Islamabad, where I was based for six years as a reporter, is full of skinny, stressed-out strays dodging rocks and other projectiles—or worse. As I was driving home one Friday evening, I watched in horror as the car in front of me hit a white puppy trying to cross a four-lane road to reach its mother. The driver didn’t even stop. I slammed on my brakes, ran out into the middle of the road and scooped up the puppy as its mother darted back and forth whimpering on the far side, too frightened by the traffic to venture out. I rushed the puppy, unconscious and bleeding from the mouth, to a nearby vet, who was just packing up for the day as I clattered down the steps to his clinic, cradling this bloody little bundle of fur. The vet told me it didn’t look good, but he’d take the puppy home with him and see what he could do. I promised myself that if the puppy lived, I’d name it Lazarus.

The puppy—a female—did live, and I did name her Lazarus. She became known to one and all as Lazzie. She grew into a bouncy, boisterous, super-smart 60-lb pooch who knew how to shell pistachios, leapt onto the dining table with the surefootedness of a mountain goat, and aimed split-second ambush-kisses at the lips of everyone she liked. Shortly after her second birthday, she flew halfway around the world on Swissair (almost getting offloaded by mistake in Dubai) and emigrated to the U.S. Unlike most Pakistani street dogs, Lazzie lived many lives, and I'd like to think that her name gave her some protection along the way.
-Hannah Bloch

-Photo by Phil Goodwin

MICK ...

We have five dogs named Jon Jon, Millie, Mick, Tico, and Tucker.  For 
the sake of simplicity, I'll address my two favorite dogs (please 
don't tell the other pups). We have a neurotic border collie (he 
literally tries to herd flying birds and the odd bat) we got from 
border collie rescue. His name was Yurgi, which seemed entirely 
unfitting for a border collie and I believe contributed to his 
bizarre behavior. After a few days with the "nut case" I was 
inspired to give him a proper name that reflected his border collie 
roots. I named him Mick and our family, after a heated debate, 
finally agreed with me. He seems to like his new name, but still 
tries to herd birds and anything else that comes his way. Mick 
likes and needs projects. An idle Mick is not pretty.

AND TICO

Perhaps my favorite dog is a border terrier we named Tico. He is 
named after one of my best friends, Dr. John McNutt, better known as 
Tico. Tico is a wildlife biologist who has studied wild dogs in 
Botswana's Okavango Delta for years. Without his help I could not 
have done the wild dog cover story. Tico is from the Pacific 
Northwest, and our families share mutual friends. His wildlife 
research camp is one of my favorite places on earth and every year or 
two I take one of my children to his camp for a blissful recharge.   

Of course I contacted Tico to see if he minded that a border terrier 
shared his name and he was honored. Man and dog have since met and 
immediately hit if off.  My little Tico is occasionally wild, often 
courageous, and always smart, affectionate, and full of beans.  I wish 
I could bring him to work.  He is the kind of pup that brightens 
everyone's day.  If I meet the odd someone who doesn't like Tico, I 
usually don't much care for them.  That goes for both Ticos.
-Chris Johns

-Photos by Timothy Johns

TRAVIS

I adopted Travis when he was about a year old. His first owner was a woman who had studied at the University of Texas at Austin. In honor of her time spent in Texas, she named her dog after Gen.William Travis, commander at the Battle of the Alamo.  Travis sounded like a down-home name to me; I would have never come up with it on my own, but I thought it best not to change it. When I lived in Georgetown, a popular address with foreigners and movers and shakers, I would be asked his name and would say Travis, but several times his name was remembered as "Trevor" instead. So over the years that Travis and I would walk around Georgetown, there were several anglophile women who would see him and greet him as Trevor. On the other hand, I went hiking once in West Virginia and got lost on a mountain with my husband and Travis. Some good-old-boys on mules and horses came to our rescue. They got the dog's name right from the start.
-Victoria Pope

We’ve all scoured our homes for a misplaced manual when an appliance goes on the fritz. Now, imagine the appliance is a 200-year-old generator that single-handedly powers a subterranean city. Did I mention this is where all of humanity is hiding out until the dust clears on a post-apocalyptic surface world? Talk about an epic oops!

City of Ember is a family-friendly parable that joins the Emberites in just such a bind. The bunker town was meant to sustain the survivors’ descendants for two centuries. The builders assumed the one thing their offspring would remember is where they left that darn box with instructions for returning to the surface. Instead of clicking open in the hands of the mayor, as planned, the misplaced box pops its top in a cluttered closet in the home of the film’s spirited teen heroine, Lina Mayfleet. Her toddler sister gets to it first, tearing it to shreds and even eating a chunk. Lina and buddy Doon Harrow team up to piece together the manual and find the route out of the city.

In the meantime, the urban underground is showing its age. Its failing generator is spawning blackouts. The overhead constellation of lightbulbs goes dark longer and longer each time. Huge piles of garbage are accumulating around the edges of the city. Repair materials are scarce, and officials are hoarding food.

Ember’s plight is fanciful, but figuring out how to keep cities powered-up is more than a fairy tale. For some guidance on what Ember’s architects got right, and where they might have been a bit brighter, I turned to a chapter in the Worldwatch Institute’s 2007 State of the World Report that looks at how best to energize our cities.

On the plus side, Ember’s generator uses local power with a renewable energy source (an underground river). So Ember isn’t struggling with fuel shortages or strained transmission lines from faraway sources (Worldwatch points out that some 7 percent of electricity is shed as it is carried to cities on far reaching grids). The cavernous site also makes good use of the insulating properties of the earth, without even relying on heat pumps that are helping some aboveground cities keep temperatures under control. And Ember has the ultimate green roof.

On the other hand, they might have squeezed a few more generations out of that generator. Landfill gas from all that garbage could be feeding the grid, as it does in cities like São Paulo, Riga, and Istanbul. Another tip: Switch lightbulbs. Emberites could have used compact florescent bulbs, or light-emitting-diodes (LEDs), instead of the traditional filament bulbs that dangle above the subterranean rooftops.

- Brad Scriber

Dear Madonna,

We at Pop Omnivore were saddened to hear of the demise of your marriage. And puzzled by one of the supposed reasons for the breakup. According to a pre-eminent celebrity blogger, you fought wrinkles with an “ancient alien remedy”: slathering up with cream and then going to sleep inside a "zipping herself up" in a plastic body bag.

Now first off, we hope that you had an air hole. Or two.

And second off … really? We think not!

We asked a colleague, wise in the ways of ancient Egypt, if there were perhaps better old-school wrinkle-fighting strategies.

By golly, it turns out there were! According to the writings of Lisa Manniche, an expert on ancient Egypt who specializes in cosmetics, fragrances, and remedies, there were several formulae.

“An allegedly successfully remedy to treat wrinkles,” she writes, is:

1 part gum of frankincense
1 part wax
1 part fresh Moringa oil
1 part Cyperus grass

Ground finely and mix with fermented plant juice. Apply generously.

Then there’s fir oil. To extract fir oil from fir chips, steep the chips in fermented plant juice.

The oil had many uses. Combined with other ingredients, it was thought to be a worm expellant. (Insert Guy Ritchie joke here.) Add honey and an unidentified ingredient and voila—a face wash.

But for the real deal, mix it with dough and fermented plant juice and apply to wrinkles.

So there you have it, Madonna. Maybe your marriage would have been saved if only you’d had a vat of fermented plant juice and a pile of fir chips instead of a plastic bag.

Sincerely,

Pop Omnivore

Well, you can tell by the way I use my hands
I’m a CPR man: inspired by a band
The Bee Gees keep my pumping right
Whether it is day or night
All I do
Is match the beat
103 times a minute,
Then repeat.
And you’ll be stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive.
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive.
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive.

Why is “Stayin’ Alive” stuck in our head? Because a new study from the University of Illinois medical school shows that the beats per minute in that Bee Gees song from Saturday Night Fever is just about a perfect match for the number of chest compressions recommended by the American Heart Association. The AHA says 100 chest compressions per minute is the goal. “Stayin’ Alive” has 103 beats a minute.
People are sometimes afraid to perform CPR because they don’t know how to keep the right rhythm. Now we all know what it should be.

We just have one question: If “Stayin’ Alive” can keep you alive, then how come disco died?

-Marc Silver

The geography of music is definitely changing.

Case in point: jazz clarinetist and saxophonist Anat Cohen. Born in Israel, she fell in love with Dixieland music in junior high school, thanks to an instructor/conductor who favored traditional jazz. She’s also been influenced by great modern saxophone players like Dexter Gordon and John Coltrane. She sometimes plays traditional Israeli songs. She tosses in the Portuguese-influenced melodies and African beat of Brazilian choro. There’s a bit of Argentina's tango, too. And she’s a fan of “the sound and power” of a big band.

But she’s not a style hopper: “My goal is to find one way of combining everything,” says Cohen, who’s lived in New York since 1996 and slyly gives her age as “30-plus.”

“Music is a real melting pot,” she adds. “This is the soup mix I have in me. I’m going to mix this soup, and maybe tomorrow have a different mix. Maybe it needs more salt, more African, a little bit more Brazilian.”

Critics are happy with her cooking. Billboard calls her a “reed virtuoso.” The Washington Post raves over her “remarkable lyricism.” She can swing, too. “The secret is to really get inside the rhythm and feel it with your body, your complete self,” she says. “You’re going to start bouncing up and down. That is swinging!”

Cohen is emblematic of a new and eclectic Israeli music scene. “I think people in general are surprised at the amount of musicians from such a small country,” she says. “It’s actually nice. I’m very proud.”

This groundswell of new music from Israel is a sign of the shrinking world. “As a kid growing up, the U.S. was so far, the only way you could be there was to fly there. There was no Internet, and rarely would [foreign] musicians come by.”

Music is also a way to bridge the divide between Israelis and Palestinians. “There are quite a bit of exchanges,” says Cohen. “The goal is to combine the musicians. Sometimes they have to meet in other places than Israel, but there are many more exchanges than there used to be. As a kid, I sometimes would hear Arabic music, and people would say, ‘Oh, turn that off.’ It’s nice that young Israeli musicians are not afraid to use the sound.”

Anat Cohen will be playing at New York's venerable Village Vanguard from October 21 to 26. Her latest CD is Notes from the Village, featuring original compositions as well as standards like Fats Waller's "Jitterbug Waltz."

-Marc Silver

Those little bowler hats—called “bombins”—perched quaintly on the heads of Aymara women in Peru and Bolivia, and every once in a while, on the heads of reality show contestants, certainly have an intriguing history, we’re just not sure which intriguing history it is. 

See, while we were researching how this particular accessory made its way from Europe in the 1920s and became a staple of traditional Aymara dress, we came across some great stories. But experts haven’t been able to tell us which, if any, of the stories are true. Myth or truth, here are a few interesting tales:

Story #1: A large shipment of bowler hats arrived in Bolivia, destined for the heads of European workers based there. The hats, however, were too small for them, so they were distributed to the locals, who came to love the miniature look and kept the custom going. And going. And going.

Story #2: A local store owner accidentally ordered a large quantity of European derby hats. Horrified at his suddenly large stock of strange headwear, he decided to market them as a women’s accessory. The hats caught on and soon, that’s all he was importing.

Story #3: Some sources say that however bombins got to Bolivia, they have remained popular for so long because women believe the hats increase their fertility. 

So, which story do you like best? Which one do you think is true?

-Winona Dimeo-Ediger

National Geographic photographs by Ivan Kashinsky
 

Contestants on The Amazing Race were surprised, in the most recent episode, to find out that a wrestling challenge in Bolivia involved wrestling with women! Who wear petticoats!

Clearly, they did not read the story in the September issue of National Geographic on the women wrestlers of Bolivia. Here's a brief excerpt, which makes it clear that the segment on the TV show barely conveyed the nuttiness of a wrestling league that makes the World Wrestling guys look like lil' babies.

"Watch out!" the entire audience shrieks. Yolanda has been celebrating her victory, but Claudina, as proof of her evil nature, is about to lunge at her from behind. Yolanda spins too late; Claudina knocks her flat and clambers like a crazy person onto the ropes. "I'm the prettiest!" she yells at the audience. "You're all ugly! I'm your daddy! I'm the one the gringos have come to see!"

Check out the story and a photo gallery on our site. Not to mention video of the throwdowns!

Amazing Race fans, stay tuned to Pop Omnivore ... we're busy tracking down the origins of the wee  Bolivian bowler hats that were prominently featured on the show.

-Marc Silver

In October’s cover story, we introduced you to the first life-size, scientifically accurate reconstruction of a Neanderthal woman that's based on fossil anatomy and ancient DNA. She is five feet tall. She is heavily muscled. And you've surely noticed that she’s not wearing any clothes. Anthropologists believe that in summer, Neanderthals probably went naked.

Although the cover headline reads “Neanderthals Revealed,” we thought Wilma, as magazine staffers affectionately call her, might have occasionally craved a cover-up. So we asked some of the Project Runway designers to sketch an outfit for her, featuring materials that would have been available in Neanderthal times: animal skins (aka “leathuh”), fur, bones, and ocher body paint. Two National Geographic magazine designers also took on the challenge of answering the question: "What Would Wilma Wear?" Here are the fashion-forward ensembles they came up with.

Since there are no official judges for this challenge, we ask you, our readers, to share your opinions. Vote for your favorite. The winner will get immunity in the upcoming Cro-Magnon challenge!

-Winona Dimeo-Ediger

Blayne Walsh, Season 5

Known for his colorful, urban designs on Project Runway, Blayne segues
into very vintage women's wear with light-colored leather, fur, feathers, and
bone detailing. Watch for that fashion-forward fur boot, complete with
claws (fierce!) to spring up on couture runways in future seasons. Blayne
plans to launch a menswear collection.

Johnathan Kayne Gillaspie, Season 3

Johnathan envisioned Wilma in a chic, midriff-baring outfit made of animal
hide, with the sides "sewn together with sinew from captured prey."
The shoulders are covered to protect Wilma's light skin from the sun, but
are cut to allow air under the top. Johnathan usually works with fabrics
like tulle and satin to create prom and evening gowns at his
Oklahoma-based studio. 

Joe Faris, Season 5

Joe used ocher-dyed leather thread, leaves, and fur to create a figure-flattering
wrap dress for Wilma, and topped it off with a classic dinosaur tooth closure.
Body art completes the look. And as all women know, a spear is always the
ultimate accessory. In addition to heading his own label, RedFly, Joe is
senior designer for outerwear company Schott NYC.

Terri Stevens, Season 5

Terri thought Wilma should strut her stuff in a tight bustier, leather jodhpurs, and
knee-high boots constructed of fine strips of bear. A bone necklace dangles
from Wilma's formidable neck. The look is topped off with a show-stopping
yak coat. Terri has her own (yak-free) clothing line, Funkin' Beautiful.

Mollie Bates, National Geographic magazine

Wilma sports a luxurious fur wrap dress (designed to show off her body art)
and a lavender-grey feather capelet to warm her shoulders and
accentuate her fiery red hair. Wooden platforms painstakingly carved with
rudimentary tools form the base of her t-strap bone sandals, and Wilma
accessorizes her wrists with bangles made from the teeth of her neighbors
(whom she cannibalized). When she's not dreaming up outfits for cannibals,
Mollie is a designer for National Geographic magazine. Not that we're biased,
but we think she deserves  extra credit for designing to fit Wilma's true
proportions. 

Ruben Rodriguez, National Geographic magazine

Ruben put Wilma in a trendy mammoth tusk mini with leafy accents and an 
eye-catching red carnation top. He included a lichen-covered beach
umbrella--perfect  for twirling daintily on a hot day, or scaring away sabertooth
cats. Ruben usually puts his imagination to work as an art and design
coordinator for National Geographic.