3-1-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

I'm doing my doctoral thesis in Women's Studies on the subject of Unknown and Unrecognized Female Influences on Popular Music. Redbone sounds like a great starting point for my research. Were there any unknown and unrecognized women music influencers in Redbone?

--Mythogynist in Mithostria 

Dear Mythogynist: 

Only the most unknown and unrecognized of them all, the incomparable Salvation (Sally) Warphrat!

Sally was born on a plantation in the Old South, to one of the grand old antebellum families. She fondly remembered sneaking off in the evenings to listen to the darkies singing on the cotton bales down by the levee, and actually learned to play an impressive stride banjo from 'Blind Melon' Jefferson, one of the pioneers of the stride technique. Jefferson once remarked, 'N'she jes' be a l'il white pick'ninny gurl, bu' she done pick at dat banjer like she were borned ter it.' Her family had lost everything during the Civil War and Reconstruction, and, rather than attempt to rebuild Tara, the family estate, she emigrated north to the factories of the American Industrial Revolution, where she toiled as a journeyman wispskipper in the woolen mills by day, playing banjo by night in the saloons and whorehouses of Chicago, where she met such legendary figures as Scott Joplin and Jelly Roll Morton. Her idol, Fats Waller, once said that there was nobody like her on stride banjo, especially when she remembered to hold the narrow end up.

Having lost everything in the crash of '29 and the consequent Depression, she moved on to the Dust Bowl, but her team lost, in spite of their impressive performance during the playoffs. At this point she switched from the tenor banjo to the bass banjo, which had the advantage of being so big she could live inside it during her lonely shuffles between migrant camps.

At the beginning of the Second World War she was swept up into the war production effort, building bombers and escorts at a plant outside Pittsburgh. It was there she perfected the boogie-woogie banjo technique that was to sweep the nation in the later years of the war. She was also credited with the invention of the jitterbug, when a microphone short-circuited in her lap one night. Teen idol Frankie Sinatra called her 'the little lady with the big banjos,' and she was a regular on the early television programs like Ed Sullivan and Your Show Of Shows.

Having invested heavily in Packard and Studebaker stock, she lost everything when these companies folded, sending her back on the road at the tail end of the Beat Generation, in the company of Jack Kerouac, Alan Ginsburg and others. She was primarily responsible for introducing the 'cool' jazz banjo style of the late 50s. John Coltrane always claimed that he would have become a stockbroker if it wasn't for listening to Sally sitting in with Miles Davis one night at the hungry i in San Francisco.

Having lost everything during the Army-McCarthy hearings, she experimented with the new electric banjos that were just coming out, pioneered by Les Paul and Freddie Fender. Her professional relationship with Buddy Holly, which was just beginning to pay off, was tragically cut short when she missed the flight that put an end to Holly's career.

Broken-hearted, and having lost everything when she put all her money into 78s shortly before the new 45 rpm format arrived, she moved to Liverpool, eventually becoming a major influence on the Beatles, the Dave Clark Five and Herman's Hermits. John Lennon dedicated 'Eleanor Rigby' to her, and was often heard to remark that, in his eyes, Sally would always be the 'fifth Beatle, y'know, the banjo bird, in her own write.' Expelled from England after her scandalous affair with Prince Charles, she returned to America and was caught up in the Watergate Crisis. Richard Nixon said that the only thing that got him through those days were long walks on the beach and listening to Sally's haunting rendition of 'Smoky Mama Breakdown' with the then-unknown Loretta Lynn. Unfortunately one day Rosemary Woods played the song backwards when she was erasing some tapes to save space, and the real message came through loud and clear (see Dr. Dre's comments on early inspirations for his lyrics). It was doubly unfortunate that Oral Roberts happened to be visiting the White House at that moment.

Disgraced, and having lost everything she had invested during the savings and loan crisis, Sally drifted west, where she was a regular with the early Seattle garage bands like Nirvana and Pearl Jam. Courtney Love blamed Sally for husband Kurt Cobain's suicide. 'Whenever @#$% Sally picked up that !@#$%^&* banjo, Kurt knew he would always be a !@#&*()_+$^%# second-rater.' Washed up again, and having lost everything by investing in Ashton-Tate stock instead of Microsoft, she wrote the touching 'Achy-breaky Breakup' for Bill and Melinda Gates to commemorate the Justice Department's decision regarding the company.

Her present whereabouts are unknown.

3-2-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

My grandmother was telling me about early TV shows. Was there really a show called "Queen for a Day," where 3 women recounted their misfortunes in order to win an Amana refrigerator? You've got to be kidding!

--Astounded in Ashtabula 

Dear Astounded:

We were too far out in the boondocks to get the major channels, but we had a local station that had something like that. It was called "Meteorologist for a Day," in which 3 women related their most unfortunate weather-related experiences in the hopes of being able to win a chance to read the weather report on the local news, as well as win the Amana refrigerator.

I remember watching the show when LuLu Pozgordny won. Her tale was enough to drop your barometer. I remember it well.

"Well, it's always raining at our tumbledown tarpaper shack in the swamp, of course, which plays the very devil with Grandpa's phantom limb. And little Johnny was hit by lightning again last night when he was looking for my sister, Crazy Alice, who sometimes wanders into the swamp during lightning storms. Poor Johnny seemed fine for a while, but then we noticed that the other eye was gone, along with the ear on that side, so I suppose he'll be a ward of the state now, just like his brothers and sisters, which means we'll have to come up with the money for another shackle and chain in the barn.

"Yesterday's tornado picked up the old outhouse and dropped it on top of the new outhouse while our neighbor Slobodan happened to be answering a call of nature, and we'll be sued, I'm sure. I won't mention the freak snowstorm that killed off the cattle that hadn't died of fright when the tornado passed through, except to say that Pa's head froze solid and he's been acting even stranger. Why, today he's been standing outside by the Flash Floods highway sign, wearing nothing but an old raincoat, flashing the floods.

"Tomorrow's forecast is for a rain of frogs in the morning, followed by a plague of locusts in the afternoon, which should taper off by nightfall when the rivers and streams turn to blood and fire falls from the sky and our firstborn, Lucifer Junior, is taken from us by the dark angel of welfare. We'd all kill ourselves, but nobody was ever able to go to school because of the weather, so we never learned how. And this isn't my real leg, either. A tree fell on the real one during the monsoon last week.

"Did I mention what the hail did to Granny? Smashed her flatter than a doormat. We had to roll her up and bury her in a donated mailing tube. A real shame. She was the only way we could get decent TV reception, too, standing in her walker on top of the Dumont home console the church gave us after all the goats exploded during the heat wave...."

That Amana refrigerator was their pride and joy. They put it right on the front porch so the neighbors could see it, and they kept it all shined up in case they ever had food.

3-3-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

I had a horrible experience this evening. I went to see one of my old favorite folk groups from the '60s, Peter, Paul & Mary. Mary weighs about 300 pounds and Peter and Paul look like death warmed over. Why don't performers quit while they're ahead?

--Shocked in Sheboygan 

Dear Shocked:

Well, everyone gets old, as your truly can attest. Fortunately PP&M have adapted their classic songs to complement their advanced ages. Their latest album, 'Ain't Quite Dead Yet' has these updated favorites:

* If I Had a Hernia

* Puff the Magic Oxygen

* Where Has All the Libido Gone?

* Leavings on Bed Pan

* And When I Die, D.N.R.

* 500 milligrams

* Blowin' (Out of Wind)

* Don't Think Twice, It's Alzheimer's

* Early Morning Pain

3-4-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

I have an opportunity to be transferred temporarily to Milwaukee, Wisconsin. It would be a considerable change for me, since I've lived my whole life in and around Galveston, Texas. Do you have any connections there, or could you tell me where to find information about Milwaukee and its culture?

--Galvanized in Galveston 

Dear Galvanized:

These days all it takes is a well-placed e-mail to bring you all the information you could ever want and need. Here's the e-brochure from the Milwaukee Board of Commerce and Tourism:

----------------------------------------

Thank you for your inquiry about things to do and places to see during your stay in beautiful Milwaukee. As our motto says: 'If we were a mile further East, we'd be underwater!' When people hear 'Milwaukee,' the first thing they think of is beer. Well, Milwaukee's a lot more than just beer-- there's also cheese! And cows! Lots of cows!

Local Places of Interest


The Great Wall of Cheese 
-- Originally constructed to protect Milwaukee's breweries from sabotage during World War I, the Great Wall of Cheese has been constantly built up and added to, and has been declared a National Historic Site by the US Park Service. Stretching almost 1,200 miles within the State of Wisconsin, the Wall is one of the few manmade objects that can be seen from space.

Your visit to Milwaukee won't be complete without a trip to one of the delightful restaurants that are spaced every mile or so along the top of the Great Wall. You can enjoy the view of miles and miles of cows in the pastures below while you sample some of the beers and cheeses that have made our city and state so proud. Hearty souls may wish to attempt to hike up to Limburger Lodge, at 852 feet the highest point on the Wall. Needless to say, the Lodge is well equipped with Limburger, Liederkranz, shoe cheese and dozens of other powerful specialty cheeses. If you're going to cut the cheese anywhere, Limburger Lodge is the place to do it!

Velveeta Village 
-- Lovingly restored, thanks to a grant from the Smithsonian Institution, Velveeta Village is an exact recreation of one of the earliest Milwaukee settlements. Faced with the complete absence of trees, Scandinavian immigrants fell back on their ingenuity to construct these delightful settlements out of the material they knew best. Notice the detail in the roof shingles, each carved from a block of Velveeta and painstakingly dried in the prairie sun to the consistency of oak. These shingles were highly regarded as roofing material, since their natural butterfat content made them resistant to summer rainstorms.

Velveeta Village is more than a museum, though! It's a living recreation of life in the early nineteenth century, with carefully trained craftspeople carrying on business as it was then. Social life revolved around the brewery and the barrooms, of course-- the original Village had 46 houses, 94 breweries, 618 barrooms, 5 bordellos, a cheese press and an outhouse, as well as pasturage for more than 16,000 of the cows that the immigrants had brought with them from the old country. The reproduction is so exact that at any hour of the day or night more than 80 percent of the staff and craftspeople can be found sprawled in the mud of the main street, insensible.


Bessie's' Office-- Milwaukee's Mayor Is Always Glad To See You!
-- Ever since cows were given the vote in 1947, Milwaukee's highest post has seen a succession of different breeds voted into office. The current Mayor, 'Bessie'-- Ear Tag #87 8934 901-- is a short-polled Brown Swiss who has done much to improve the quality of life in our fair city. Milking time has been standardized for efficiency, only the finest sweet and salt hays are to be found in the markets, and Creamora, Cool Whip, margarine and tofu cheese have all been outlawed.


Field of Creams 
-- Ever think what life was like before homogenization? This open-air museum will take you back to the thrilling days of yesteryear-- glass bottles, actual milkmen, and the indispensable dipper that came with every order of delicious Golden Guernsey milk so the rich cream could be ladled from the top of each bottle. Sample the strawberry shortcake, with real garden-fresh strawberries and, of course, freshly whipped Golden Guernsey cream! Wash it all down with some wholesome Milwaukee beer. And don't forget the kiddies-- a dollop of freshly whipped Golden Guernsey cream floating atop a tall pilsner glass of cream soda looks exactly like a glass of beer! No wonder this is Milwaukee's favorite tourist attraction. Enjoy!

House of Holstein 
-- Few outsiders know of the vibrant role Milwaukee plays in the world of haute couture. Yet it was our own House of Holstein that set the trend with the internationally recognized 'cow look.' The lower floors of the downtown skyscraper are given over to a huge mall filled with specialty stores and boutiques, where you'll find both basic and luxury accessories. Visit 'Ears To You' for a stunning collection of designer ear tags in gold, silver and platinum, resplendent with precious stones and hand-tooled numbers. The 'Sterling Shovel' has pitchforks, wheelbarrows, scoops, composters-- everything the modern bathroom needs, in a wide assortment of colors and styles.

Looking for that one-of-a-kind gift for that special someone? It's off limits to under-18s, but one visit to 'The Parlor' will convince even the most jaded that these converted milking machines will change your love life forever. And ladies, right next door is 'Udder Relief,' a sort of 'Victoria's Closet' for the generously endowed. Guys, while your significant other is trying on the leather and lace, duck into 'The Happy Hoofer,' an XXX-rated gentleman's saloon with your favorite brews on tap, and your favorite breeds on display and rarin' to go.

Don't leave without a stop at the Aromilwaukee Boutique, where you'll find a range of exotic fragrances that will 'bring out the bovine in you.'™ There's something for every taste and pocketbook, ladies and gents alike, including 'Forever Alderney,' 'My Swiss,' 'Barnstorm,' 'Superstud' and 'Home on the Range,' to name a few.

Cheeseanbreughs 
-- Looking for a five-star restaurant for that special occasion? Cheeseanbreughs is the place for you! Located high atop a refurbished silo on Milwaukee's dynamic waterfront, Cheeseanbreughs features old world Scandinavian cuisine with new world accents. Their signature dish, Welsh Rarebit, blends the finest Wisconsin cheeses with the best of Milwaukee's breweries for a taste sensation you'll be raving about for days. Also on hand is the unique melted and spun Gorgonzola with hop sauce-- exquisite! For the adventuresome, we recommend the Flaming Fondue-- and a stein or two of Firehouse Five Ale to put it out with! An incomparable experience, not for the faint-hearted! Reservations required, all major credit cards accepted.


---------------------
©2001 Milwaukee Board of Commerce and Tourism. All rights reserved. Funding provided by the Wisconsin Board of Trade-- 'Where the Blue of the Cheese Meets the Gold of the Beer.' 

3-5-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

Why do some Web pages have addresses like http://208.55.102.108 instead of real names?

--Numerical in Numidia

Dear Numerical:

This is part of the subversive attempt to foist the metric system on an unsuspecting public. In Europe and the rest of the world they adopted the metric system about 200 years ago, and have replaced all letters with numbers, which is why you can never understand Europeans when they talk. America has bravely held out against this trend. Support your God-given right to use the alphabet!

3-6-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

I'm distressed at the state of the musical theater, especially what's been appearing on Broadway lately. It's bad enough that they made a musical out of "Les Miserables" and "Titanic." Now it's "Jekyll/Hyde." What's next, a musical version of DeFoe's "Journal of the Plague Year"?

--Histrionic in Hampton

Dear Histrionic:

It's been done. In 1934 the WPA funded a production of "Plague!" a musical tribute to the Black Death, written and produced by those talented Redbone brothers Bulgur and "Snatz" Poolsby.

It had some great songs, as I recall, like 'Dancing on the Dead,' 'I Say Bubonic, You Say Pneumonic,' 'Doomsday Is Just Around the Corner,' 'Buboes Bustin' Out All Over' and 'Come to Me, My Pestilential Baby.' Oh, yes, and that great synchronized tap number, 'Flagellatin' Friars,' a real show-stopper with the combined percussion effects of tap shoes and whips.

3-7-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

Are you an Evolutionist or a Creationist?

--Indecisive in Indianapolis

Dear Indecisive:

Well, I'm going to have to say that I fall firmly in Mr. Darwin's camp. However I do think that the Creationist Theory should be taught in our schools, along with the Stork Theory of Obstetrics.

3-8-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

What exactly is BroadBand? I've been hearing a lot about them, and I was wondering why I haven't seen any of their videos on MTV.

--Rocker in Rock Island

Dear Rocker:

You're too late: Bananarama, The Bangles and The Go-Gos have all broken up.

3-9-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

What do you think of the electronic chip that was recently reported to not only block back pain in a woman but also provide pleasure of a somewhat personal nature?

--Just Curious in Johnson City

Dear Curious:

Just what the world needs: an implantable orgasmatron. I haven't fully accepted the electric can opener and would never own such a thing as a salad shooter, and now you're trying to sell me on wired whoopie.

Whatever happened to the meaningful relationships women were always supposed to be looking for? As I recall it was the gents who were always looking for a cheap thrill and no commitments. I have never heard anyone use the expression "Wham, Bam, Thank You Sir."

Bernie the Barber in Redbone invented an electrical gadget like this for his (male only, of course) customers. None of the womenfolk were supposed to know anything about it, but apparently at Bernie's you could get your ashes hauled by wire while you got your whiskers trimmed. I have no idea how it worked, but apparently Lester Horstgraben thought it was worth a quarter and he tried it one day. As luck would have it a lightning storm came up suddenly and Bernie's shop caught a bolt in its power lines just as Lester was lightening his load.

No one ever found out exactly was happened, but everyone noticed that Lester's voice was suddenly two octaves higher. He broke his engagement to Ellie Mae Lambsprattle, cancelled his subscription to the Tijuana Bible Review and Cap'n Billy's Whiz-Bang and took up needlepoint as a hobby.

They say every time he walked past Mama Rose's bawdy house he gave off a distinct smell of ozone.

3-10-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

I'm having a lot of trouble with eyestrain after I surf for several hours. What can I do about it?

--Surfer in San Diego

Dear Surfer:

Overcome your vanity and wear goggles. Salt water is murder on the eyes, especially if the sun is out.

3-11-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

Have you ever seen an Eco-Sphere? I just got one for my desk at work. It's amazing watching a complete living system that needs no outside maintenance.

--Ecofreak in Ecolalia

Dear Ecofreak:

I have indeed seen them, and I have a clipping from the Dissociated Press that talks about the next stage up from these simple spheres:

--------------------

Breathing New Life into Series III Universes 

Few things in life can relax and soothe the soul as much as a universe. Unfortunately, for many people the cost, maintenance, and space requirements of owning a universe can be too high.

The revolutionary new Unarium® was designed using an extension of the same technology that led to the development of the SolarSphere® -- the first gravity-independent portable planetary system for crib mobiles.

A unique closed spacetime fabric allows both the center and the boundary of your universe to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time. This spaciotemporal action, plus gravitational wells and balanced creation/absorption via white and black holes helps to create an ideal environment for small hydrogen/helium star systems and galaxies to thrive with little or no maintenance.

Inhabited planetary systems are optional at extra cost. Parallel universe technology available only in the larger models. Available at your local World-Mart.

----------------------
©2001 The Dissociated Press

3-12-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

Why don't you have a lot of flashing thingies and quadraphonic sound stuff on your web pages like all the really cool web sites do?

--ADD in Addison 

Dear ADD:

For exactly the same reason that cathedrals don't go in for day-glo paint and libraries don't install strobe lights. Sites that are all flash and glitter generally have nothing to offer, whereas Aunt Nettie is the Fount of Wisdom and is presented accordingly.

She will start using rotating 3-D titles and techno soundtracks the day after the Wall Street Journal starts using tabloid headlines and has a Page Three girl.

3-13-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

What's your opinion about the other browser, "Opera"?

--Lucianno in Lucerne

Dear Lucianno:

I never cared for it. The sound was always too screechy and the menus were incomprehensible.

I had better luck with their "lite" version, Operetta. At least it was in English.

3-14-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

Did you see that news story about those kooks in Afghanistan blowing up Buddhist statues? What's wrong with those Taliban people, anyway?

--Outraged in Outerbridge 

Dear Outraged:

Yes, it's sad to see what happens when religious delusions are combined with high explosives. The Taliban are a really strange group, even among fanatics, as you can see from some of their recent decrees, as faithfully recorded in the Dissociated Press:

-------------------- 

KABUL, Afghanistan (DP) - The Taliban issued a decree that all statues in Afghanistan should be destroyed, branding sculpture as un-Islamic.

Since taking power in Kabul in 1996, the Taliban has banned music, video cassette recorders, televisions, cameras, leather jackets, Leonardo DiCaprio haircuts and any books published outside Afghanistan. They also have banned brown paper bags, fearing they may be made of recycled copies of the Koran.

Imam Lester Mohammad Al-Crisco was quoted as saying that the list of future prohibitions will include lingerie, whoopie cushions, water pistols, 20-lb bond paper in any shade but ecru, umbrellas, plastic shower curtains, Evian water and anything made of concrete. "All of these things are specifically prohibited by the Koran and are contrary to Islam. Also celery. And photos of the satanic Tinky-Winky."

Next month women will be required to grow beards, according to Al-Crisco. Long-range plans call for the outlawing of clouds, camels, sand and air.

----------------
©2001, The Dissociated Press 

3-15-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

My daughter is studying genetics at the University. She tells me there are rumors about some kind of bizarre program to develop new and improved M&Ms by a natural selection process and selective breeding of the survivors. I am worried that the M&Ms will get out of control and evolve into something inedible. The Mars company denies everything, of course. What is going on here?

--Chocoholic in Chocorua

Dear Chocoholic:

My sources tell me the problem is far worse than you've described. Rather than using selective breeding, which has proved safe and effective for thousands of years, the scientists from Mars have embarked on a radical program of genetic manipulation to improve their product. Here's the sad story:

~ By inserting clam genes into M&Ms (oyster genes into Peanut M&Ms), the thin candy shell is now almost impenetrable, which will greatly reduce breakage in shipping. The downside is that you'll need a special tool to open them, available from most shellfish processing companies.

~ Tobacco genes blended into the chocolate make M&Ms literally habit-forming. Wait till you find yourself at the local 7-Eleven at 2am with a bad M&M jones.

~ Fat means flavor, but in this diet-conscious age only fat-free sells. So the Mars folks have substituted Olestra, in spite of its well known super-laxative side effects. The Surgeon General's warning on each bag will suggest being seated before using, and M&Ms are soon to be outlawed by airlines everywhere.

~ By adding in genes from high-temperature-resistant bacteria, M&Ms will not melt in your hand, your mouth or anywhere else short of a blast furnace.

I believe this will lead to the inevitable backlash, and you'll soon see 100% Organically Raised M&Ms at health food stores, right next to the All-Natural Marshmallow Fluff.

3-16-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

I have just been appointed by our town council to "Put Poshforth, Virginia on the Map" as a tourism site. Our town is home to the World's Largest Horseshoe Magnet (which we think should be a real "draw," if you'll excuse the pun). We also have one of the few helium wells in the country, an abandoned Odd Fellows Hall, a retired opera singer and 12 times more hogs than people. And I'll bet you didn't know that Poshforth is only 40 miles away from the site of the first commercial airplane crash in 1921!

Do you have any suggestions on how we could capitalize on these features to turn Poshforth into the next Branson, Missouri or Graceland, Tennessee?

--Pushy in Poshforth 

Dear Pushy:

Well, this is a little out of my league, but here are some ideas you can run up the flagpole and see if anyone salutes.

1. Helium to me says blimps. The USA has been lagging behind in the exciting field of blimp technology. Why not set up a benchmark research facility in Poshforth? You've already got the gas-- go for it! The giant magnet would come in handy during landings on windy days.

2. America is preoccupied with success, yet the truth of the matter is that almost no one becomes successful in a meaningful way. To balance this unfairness, Poshforth could set up the first Failure Institute in that old Odd Fellows Hall, championing the cause of the runner-up, the down-and-out and the n'eer-do-well. In a daring preemptive strike, you could appoint Dan Quayle as director, since I understand that the venerable Estes Kefauver has recently passed away. And that big magnet is the perfect symbol for uselessness!

3. Your fellow Virginians are currently up in arms about the presence of hog feces in groundwater. And you say you have 12 times as many hogs as people? You're missing a golden opportunity to put Poshforth on the map by turning a disaster into a source of pride by celebrating GroundHogWater Day! Once a year you could host Hogwash Week, crown a cute porker, and select a Miss Effluent! Bet you anything the Britta water filter people would sponsor it. It would be an even bigger draw than the magnet.

4. Kitty Hawk has its memorial to powered aircraft, Cape Canaveral has its museum of space exploration, yet few people remember that the first commercial airline crash occurred in Virginia in 1921. Poshforth could capitalize on this with a Museum of Air Disasters! I envision a huge yearly aviation event like the Oshkosh Fly-in. Why, with that big magnet aimed right, you could divert aircraft compasses from miles away and guarantee a packed house.

5. Finally: Opera! Poshforth at the present time cannot compete with Milan, Beyreuth or even Barcelona as a center of operatic excellence, but take the long view and enlist the aid of your retiree! Poshforth could begin a 20-year campaign to dominate the opera world by recruiting fat, loud, high-strung children from primary schools throughout the state, training them to become world-class performers. And the magnet? What better way of moving them from place to place? Those Valkyrie women had steel brassieres anyway, didn't they?

I'm sure that any one of these ideas would serve to put Poshforth on the map at last, as it does not now appear on any of the maps I have available to me, unless it's also known as the Great Poshforth Swamp.... 

3-17-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

I applied for a job at this place and today the secretary told me my application was "in Limbo." I looked it up and it has something to do with Catholic theology. What the hell gives? Is this some kind of religion discrimination? Can I sue them?

--Casual Labor in Casa Lonja 

Dear Casual:

I'm afraid not. In this case the reference is to Limbo, Kansas, which processes most of the unskilled labor applications for the USA. In this age of centralization you're likely to be seeing more and more of this sort of thing.

By an odd coincidence, I just received a second-class letter from an old acquaintance who has apparently just been transferred to Limbo. At least I *think* it's Limbo, Kansas, although I must confess I've never seen a 3½¢ Millard Fillmore stamp, and the edges of the envelope were slightly singed.

Anyway, here's how he describes it:
---------------- 

Hi, Nettie:

Thought I'd drop you a line now that I've arrived. I found some old hotel stationery in a desk drawer in my room, so I can write at length.

Limbo's not so bad this time of year. Just about the same as it is the rest of the year, they tell me. It's kind of an average place, all told. Food's filling, nothing special. Coffee's still just a nickel at the diner, but it's always weak, decaffeinated and lukewarm. Room's not bad if you like institutional beige and green. Anonymous furniture, like some hotel room someplace. Kind of an average view-- not much to see. There's sort of an even, allover glow. Haven't seen the sun, moon or stars since I got here. No weather to speak of.

Neighbors are okay. Not much to talk about. Weekly paper-- nothing much to report, I guess. Surprised to see the 'Saturday Evening Post' still being sold at the newsstand. Black and white TV, only one station, all reruns. Saw 'My Little Margie' and 'The Stu Irwin Show' when I came back from the diner. Radio's the same. Been listening to 'Your Hit Parade.' They sure don't write songs like that anymore, thank goodness!

Real quiet place, too. Sort of an experience-free experience. I wouldn't call it depressing, exactly... it's just very low key. The flag flying over the post office is gray. All gray. And that's kind of how it is here. There are luxuries for the people who want that sort of thing. Almost every block has a used car dealership where you can pick up a reliable third-hand Studebaker, Nash or DeSoto. Not that there's anyplace to go. The road signs-- even the ones on the highway-- all say 'Entering Limbo,' no matter which way you go. The Burma-Shave signs are really strange, too.

'Don't you wish
You'd had some faith?
You could be standing
By Heaven's Gate.'

Yeah, the rhyme is off a bit, but that's Limbo for you.

There really are no weekends, per se. It's always Tuesday, feels like maybe two o'clock in the afternoon all the time. Some people go to The Movie, which is always Bette Davis in 'Now, Voyager.' Once was enough for me. No cartoons or coming attractions. The newsreel only showed scenery. The popcorn was chewy, no butter or salt of course. After that I went to the bar that's between the theater and the diner. It's a fairly nice place to get together, except that everyone sits apart. I never knew that Blatz made a non-alcohol beer. Blatz is the big brand here, I guess. There's also non-alcohol Maneschevitz. Rumor has it that out in the countryside you can get non-alcohol moonshine. Finding the countryside is the big problem.

You'll be happy to hear that I found the library on the first day! The Shhhh! Memorial Library is at the corner of One Way and Dead End streets, right between the New Tenant Coming Soon store and the Out of Stock Gent's Furnishing Emporium. Miss Priss is the librarian. After I filled out all the paperwork she let me have a card, although she plainly didn't want to. We can take out one book a year, and my heart rejoiced when I saw all those shelves and shelves of volumes. Unfortunately they're all the 1945 edition of Reader's Digest Condensed Books-- the ones that were printed during the wartime paper rationing act, so the pages disintegrate as soon as you open them. Of course, destruction of Library property is grounds for permanently revoking your card, which Miss Priss did immediately.

Employment isn't a problem here. Everyone is considered redundant, and assigned to tasks in the Limbo bureaucracy. I'm second assistant gofer (there are no first assistants) in the Scribblery, where records aren't kept. I work in the surplus carbon paper department. There are 2 fifteen-minute breaks where we go out on the loading dock and see if there's weather. Some people smoke nicotineless, tobacco-free cigarettes, while others try to get a soda from the out-of-order Moxie vending machine. I suspect it's been out of order for a spell-- the "Out of Order" sign is in Latin.

Not much else to tell. Typical small town in the middle of nowhere. Nice place to live. Hate to visit here, though. I will write again as soon as I can find more paper and another stamp.

Yours fondly, 
Merle 
----------------------- 

Hmmmmm... I've a feeling Merle's not in Kansas any more....

3-18-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

Why is there injustice in the world ?

--Pessimist in Pessinus

Dear Pessimist:

It's solely because we chose the wrong species to evolve from. Primates, and chimpanzees in particular, are shifty, no-account animals that will covet their neighbors' wives and goods without a second thought. That nice woman Jane Goodall lived among chimpanzees for many years, eventually marrying and raising several semi-simians. She had nothing good to say about them. The whole sick crew is preoccupied with status. The Alpha chimps whomp on the Betas, the Betas whomp on the Gammas, and so on down to the Omegas, who are whomped on by everybody.

Daily life in ChimpLand is an endless morass of swindles, violence, casual sex, threats, mockery, loud arguments and petty larceny. You could transplant the whole lot to Los Angeles and they'd fit right in.

No, if we had any common sense at all we would have evolved from otters: clean, playful, egalitarian and industrious, they would have created a world that was half Disneyland and half a genuine operating commune minus the hippie element. Leaders would be chosen from the best stand-up comics and practical jokers, nudity would be universal and there would be abalone bars on every corner instead of Starbucks.

3-19-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

My daughter-in-law gave me a Venus Fly Trap plant as a birthday gift. She didn't include care instructions, and I was wondering if she was perhaps trying to tell me something. You know, subliminally?

-- Gifted in Gifford 

Dear Gifted:

Well, this is certainly a new one on me. I had to consult the classic "Language of Flowers" guidebook for possible symbolic meanings.

Many of you youngsters are probably unfamiliar with the old courtly language of flowers, which was a sly and subtle way of testing a maiden's affections without coming out and saying something that might be considered to be a commitment.

For instance, the message of a bouquet of Forget-Me-Nots was unmistakable, and the Flowering Judas was an invitation for a young lady to cheat on her boy friend. Sweet Pea was a suggestion that the recipient might want to be tested for diabetes.

But the messages could be much more complex than that. A bouquet of Pansies, Bachelor Buttons and Sweet William stated the obvious as clearly as a telegram: "I like other men, and though marriage is out of the question I plan to mess around a lot with my cousin Willy whom I believe is of the same persuasion."

A clutch of Dogwood, Chickweed and Wild Oats said: "You're not much to look at, girl, but let's smoke a little hemp and raise hell."

And a floral offering of Cockscomb, Honeysuckle, Loosestrife , Organpipe, Foxtail, Pussy Willow, Maidenhair and Phlox would have gotten you in quite a bit of difficulty, especially if the young lady sent you a bouquet of Maiden's Heartbreak, Baby's Breath and Jack-in-the-Pulpit a month or so later.

As for the Venus Fly Trap, the only conceivable meaning I can find is so pornographic it doesn't bear repeating in a family publication. Exactly how close were you and your son?

3-20-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

This week the Russians are going to let the MIR spacecraft plunge into the atmosphere to burn up. Are you worried that a mistake might shower debris on you?

--Nervous in Norway

Dear Nervous:

Out of all the things I have to worry about, this ranks a distant 455th.

It falls right between #454, my fear of reincarnation as a water buffalo, and #456, my fear of being kidnapped by Tom Cruise and kept as a love slave.

3-21-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

I was just watching a DVD of the original 1931 "Frankenstein" with Boris Karloff. I wasn't impressed at all by the ending-- it almost seemed tacked on as an afterthought. Did you have the same feeling when you watched the original?

--Cinemaphile in Cincinnati 

Dear Cinemaphile:

As a matter of fact I was scared spitless by the original "Frankenstein." We weren't accustomed to horror movies like that back then. Nowadays even kiddy features have people being sliced and diced by chainsaws.

But I have some interesting news for you. You're absolutely right about the ending. Censors back in the '30s were merciless, snipping anything they felt was not in good taste or offensive to the white Anglo-Saxon Protestant majority. Consequently the original ending to "Frankenstein" was altered completely from the original intention of its director.

Fortunately Redbone Films, one of the country's earliest film production houses, has a copy for the original script, which I have taken the liberty of reprinting below. The scene opens on the morning after the storming of the castles by peasants and extras:

[Dawn on the still-smoking hillside. Birds sing in the background.] 

BIG CITY NEWSPAPERMAN: Well, that will certainly teach a bitter lesson to whoever wishes to inflict evil on an innocent town in the future.

PEASANT WOMAN: Shouldn't that be 'whomever'?

BIG CITY NEWSPAPERMAN: [clutching HEROINE in awkward embrace] And you're sure you're all right? Those monsters didn't harm you?

HEROINE: Monsters? Monsters! Getcher paws offa me, you big ape! Those boys were on the verge of creating the best vibrator in six counties! And I was all hot to trot when all those smelly drunken peasants burst in! I think you have a world class lawsuit on your hands, Buster!

BIG CITY NEWSPAPERMAN: Uhhh... uhhh... [sotto voce] The script says we're supposed to find the priest and get married on the hillside while the music comes up and the credits roll....

HEROINE: Marry! I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth, stud. And besides, I have photos of what you were doing to those sheep the night before last. What a waste of balsamic vinegar! [storms away toward her Packard] 

BIG CITY NEWSPAPERMAN: [seeing Igor peering from behind a bush] Well, you win some, you lose some. [shouts to HEROINE] And frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn. [Goes behind bush with Igor. Music comes up and credits roll as trousers are thrown over the top of the bush. PEASANTS gather round to watch. PRIEST holds cruet of balsamic vinegar as he takes his place in line. Something explodes in the castle, but no one cares. In the distance a YOUNG BOY chases a sheep.] 

3-22-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

Well, Oscar time is rolling around again. Do you have any predictions about who the winners will be?

--Tina in Tinseltown 

Dear Tina:

Well, as you know, Redbone was known as the "Tinseltown of the Ozarks," and for that reason alone I tend to take an interest in things cinematic.

Let's see... for Best Picture it looks like a tossup. "Glad He Ate Her," the story of a cannibal king and his marital difficulties is in competition with "Crouching Tofu , Hidden Daikon," about the struggle of a young Asian couple to open a restaurant in 14th-century Omaha, Nebraska.

I'd have to go with the first one, especially with cannibalism such a popular topic in movies these days.

There's also "Erin Go Braughkovich," but somehow the tale of a young woman's fight to establish St. Patrick's Day as a legal holiday in Poland didn't capture the average American's interest at the box office.

Neither did "Polack," the tale of a young man's fight to establish the pirogi as the national dish of Ireland, although it was a succès d'estime as they say in Poland.

A long shot might be "Cashed Away," a documentary about how Tom Hanks manages his finances.

What was the worst movie of 2000? There was a record number of duds from Hollywood last year, but I think that "Flatula," the remake of the Bram Stoker classic from the point of view of an Irritable Bowel Syndrome sufferer is hands down the winner in my book....

3-23-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

I recently spent a week in the Heartland of America - Arkansas, to be specific. It appears to be a unique combination of Middle American cultures that truly frightened me a lot. Here is my question: 

What on earth does "chicken-fried" mean in respect to food items?

--Gourmet from Grenoble

Dear Gourmet:

Well, now, that does bring back memories.

The order of the "Chicken" Friars goes all the way back to the Hundred Years War, when Ruprecht the Intolerable of Bulgaria decreed that all conscientious objectors either join a religious order or face death by impaling. Needless to say most conscientious young men took the first option, and so the humiliatingly-named "Chicken" Friars were established in 1398 in the town of Lom, under the direction of the Half-Blesséd Zhelyu the Immoveable.

After it was discovered that Bulgaria would have no role to play in the Hundred Years War, which was being hosted by France and England, the now-redundant Chicken Friars became wandering mendicants, wandering up and down Europe mending cans for a few zloty, forints or other spare change. When America was finally discovered they emigrated en masse to what was later to be called New Jersey, where their skills with can-mending led naturally to pot-mending, then to the establishment of a super-low budget restaurant chain (cf. "Alternative Regional Cuisine of Southern New Jersey during the Colonial Era" by C. Rancepaw Bandicoot, London & Bombay, 1952).

After they were run out of New Jersey during the Carrion Regurgitation Rebellion of 1838 they trekked across the continent where they were welcomed with open arms by the people of Arkansas who were quite delighted with alternatives to their usual diet of stewed weasels. Here they prospered until the passage of the Pure Food and Drug Act of 1906, when they were forced to disclose the ingredients of some of their more popular dishes. During the subsequent Roadkill Regurgitation Rebellion of 1907 the peasants of Redbone stormed the Friars' castle and ran every last one of them through a duck press, although two of them, the Mad Donalds, were rumored to have escaped and set up business somewhere in the western frontier.

Thus it was that in Arkansas that the term "Chicken-Friared" (later "chicken-fried") became a code word for any meat that needed to be hidden under a thick coating of fried batter in order to hide its nature and origin. (cf. "I Found a Ring on my Chicken Finger!: Upsetting Stories about Popular Cuisine" Albert Frye Dratt, ed.; London & Bombay, 2001).

3-24-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

My darling Chihuahua, Atlas, is getting along in years. I can't even begin to contemplate a future without his hairless, pointy, yappy little face on my pillow when I awake each morning. I recently found a Web site, Genetic Savings & Clone, which will soon be offering cloning services for dogs. Do you think I should look into this further?

--Hairless in Harrisburg 

Dear Hairless:

Frankly it's beyond me why anyone would want to clone a <shudder!> Chihuahua, but that's a personal opinion, I suppose.

I looked at the Genetic Savings & Clone site, and it looks like an expensive proposition, especially when you realize that the cloned wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie won't have any of your shared memories.

I have another, less-expensive suggestion. Pack up old "Atlas" in a suitable shipping container (don't forget the air holes!) and send him railway freight to Bascomb and Tydeebowl Ashenputtel here in Redbone.

They're a brother and sister team who run "This Old Horse," an animal restoration and rebuilding shop. You may have seen their show on public television. This week they're doing the final touch-up and trim work on Trigger, Roy Roger's famous old palomino, who's been rebuilt several times before. Their schedule is pretty crowded, but if you mention my name I'll sure they'll give you top-notch treatment.

Imagine how much better old Atlas will feel with a relined stomach, bondoed and repointed teeth, recharged slobber ports, newly bored and chromed nostrils, ground and repolished eyes, retreaded paws, a tucked, stitched and dyed coat, and retuned bark. He'll be all set for another dozen years, or however long those overgrown mole rats live <shudder!>.

3-25-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

I've been reading a lot of articles about "personal growth" and, quite frankly, I'm perplexed. What exactly IS a personal growth and is there a cure? Can it be surgically removed or what?

--Carbuncular in Carbondale

Dear Carbuncular:

Not to worry. The personal growth movement is simply a backlash against the impersonal growth fad of the 1990s, best characterized by the Pink Floyd lyric, "There's someone in my head but it's not me." 

3-26-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

I paid $2100 eighteen months ago for my state-of-the-art MicroWooWoo Computer. Today, it's an obsolete piece of crap and my friends pity me for my primitive hardware. What's a poor working girl to do?

-- Megahertzed in Meghalaya 

Dear Megahertzed:

This is the price of progress, I'm afraid. Performance increases are accompanied by price decreases. The original computer, ENIAC, operated at 5 kHz, cost half a million dollars (in 1946 dollars), weighed 30 tons and took up 3 floors of a building. Today's computers are fast, cheap and lightweight.

If this trend continues eventually we'll have computers so powerful they'll be free. Unfortunately they'll also be invisibly small and lighter than air. But that's the price of progress.

3-27-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

Do you have any words of wisdom about how to deal with the effects of age and gravity on the human body?

--Sagging in Saginaw

Dear Sagging:

As you can see from my picture, I lost the battle with both quite a long time ago. Except for medical curiosities like Dick Clark and Goldie Hawn, everyone ages. Even people who take the precaution of being born on February 29, so that they age only a quarter as fast as the rest of us.

As for avoiding the effects of gravity, my only suggestion is to apply for a job at the Space Station. You could work as a floater there. But there are drawbacks. One of the Russian cosmonauts spent 2 years in space. When he got back to Earth he stepped out of the capsule and was flattened like a pancake. Apparently his bones had evaporated from lack of use. He now lives in a jar at the Moscow Institute of Space Oddities.

Whatever you do, avoid the anti-aging schemes and swindles that are pitched to middle-aged folks-- none of that fake technology stuff works. Look at poor Michael Jackson-- the side effects of his anti-aging program apparently cost him his race, his gender, and possibly his species. Or Elizabeth Taylor-- she's had so many facelifts that dimple in her chin used to be her bellybutton. Or Cher, who at this point is held together entirely by surgical thread.

Oh, and there are no anti-aging diets, either. Anyone who says that vegetarianism is the key to youth, intelligence and vitality has never taken a close look at an ox.

3-28-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

I was reading in an Audubon magazine about a bird in your neck of the woods that mates only in flight. Could you tell me more about it?

--Birder in Birdseye 

Dear Birder:

There are two that I can recall. The Plummeting Ptarmigan mates in flight, and is sometimes so overcome with passion that it forgets to fly. It is rapidly becoming extinct.

Or you may be thinking of the Kamikaze Corncrake, which mates only during a spectacular 250mph vertical power dive. The male, being heavier, rarely manages to pull up in time. The female is known for its call, a sort of self-satisfied chuckle.

3-29-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

I am collecting material for a book on early American frontier recipes and methods of food preparation. What can you tell me about the cookery of early Redbone?

--Cuisinartist in Cuicuacha 

Dear Cuisinartist:

The first thing you have to keep in mind is that we and our ancestors had to pretty much "live off the land," so meals weren't exactly a Martha Stewart event. Fortunately I happen to have my great-grandmother's recipe file, which had been lovingly handed down from generation to generation until I stole it in 1936.

Here's a selection of what was popular-- or at any rate edible by the desperate-- back in Redbone's frontier days.

---------

VINEGAR BEANS

3 pounds of whatever beans you can find
1 quart vinegar

Add beans to vinegar. Serves 4-6.

(Water may be substituted if vinegar is unavailable)

---------

POTTED WEASEL

4 - 6 weasels, regardless of condition
2 quarts water or other liquid

Place weasels in pot. Add liquid. Cook on high until weasels stop moving.
Lower flame to simmer. Cook 2 hours or until firewood runs out. Serves 4 -8.

(Rat or serpent may be substituted if weasels are unavailable.)

----------

PUFFED TOAD

12 fresh toads.

Impale toads on stick.
Cook over fire until carcass swells up and bursts.
Serves all but the terminally squeamish.

(Slugs or worms may be substituted for toads.)

-------------

FAMINE LOAF

1 tbsp flour
10 pounds assorted acorns, leaves, grass and bark
Dash of salt
Yeast

Grind flour, acorns, leaves, grass, salt. Add water sparingly to form a thick sludge.
Add yeast. Allow to rise until double in bulk. Punch down. Allow to rise again.
Form into loaves.
Bake, if fuel is available. Serves anyone who can reach table.

(Yeast, salt and flour may be omitted for dietary or religious reasons.)

----------

SURVIVOR CASSEROLE

1 or more non-survivors

Speak funeral service from Book of Common Prayer.
Cook if desired.
Serves whoever can still hold a gun or knife.

(Leather cover from Book of Common Prayer can be boiled as a garnish.)

3-30-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

What do you think of the state of modern youth?

--Unimpressed in Unity

Dear Unimpressed:

Oh, every generation thinks poorly of the next generation. There's never been an exception.

However, I will grant you that there's a whale of a difference between the current batch and what I saw in the 1950s. Back then teenagers were first emerging as a recognized species, and not just as the pupal stage before adulthood. Suddenly their music was everywhere, their styles were everywhere. It was quite the revolution. This was reflected in an impatience to grow up: clothes were skin-tight, as if the kids were busting out of them, cars were highly individualized and customized on top of that. There seemed to be a need for individuality. Young people took risks and faced up to the consequences.

Now look at what we have today: kids wear oversized clothes, drive around in anonymous huge Tonka toys, carry around water bottles, listen to "music" that's just a spoiled brat's need for attention, seek out movies that focus on the infantile fascination with bodily functions, and carry their cell-phone pacifiers everywhere. Their whole world has been made as risk-free as possible and whatever happens is somebody else's fault. No wonder retro looks so attractive.

Damn, I'm starting to sound like an old woman....

3-31-2001

Dear Aunt Nettie:

Everybody at school says that you're the greatest Homework Helper. I have an assignment that's due about the Dravidian Indians, I think. I looked in one American Indian comic book but they're not mentioned anywhere. What do you know about them? Please hurry as most of my favorite TV shows are on tonight and I don't want to miss them.

--Impatient in Imperia 

Dear Impatient:

Well, Aunt Nettie does so much love to help youngsters who have better things to do than complete assignments that were probably handed out a month ago....

It seems that you have your Indians confused. Dravidians are the Indians of India, not the Indians that Columbus found in America and called Indians because he thought he had landed in India and not where he really landed, which was the southern coast of Indiana.

The original Indian Dravidians were a reclusive people. Known as the "Off the Road" or "Fourwheel" Dravidians, they stuck to the bush pretty much, away from the main roads. In many cases all that remains of this once-great culture are fossilized tire tracks. Anthropologists have pieced together their lives through the gum wrappers they left behind, plus a couple of rare old 78 rpm shellac recordings of their tribal rites and courting songs, and a single deck of pornographic playing cards missing a four of clubs.

One branch of this tribe, a clan known as the "Off the Wall" or "Branch" Dravidians, emigrated to the United States and set up a tiny reclusive community in what is now known as Texas. They too soon became extinct, and the only artifacts we have to mark their passing are some charred gas cans, quite a few shell casings, and a 'Dave's Bride of the Week' button attached to a training bra.

There! I'm sure that will get you at least an "A." Feel free to share it with your other slacker friends.

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