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Dear Aunt Nettie: I'm trying to find the origin of the
term, "Anchors Aweigh!" for my essay I have to write for admission to the
Naval Academy at Annapolis. Do you remember why they say it?
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Dear P-t-b: It goes back to the reforms made by Samuel Plimsoll, a British merchant and shipping reformer. He introduced the Merchant Shipping Act of 1876, establishing safe load limits for cargo ships. As the anchors on sailing ships were a significant portion of the total load, they had to be weighed and sealed before any sea voyage. When the inspectors came on board each ship, they called out "anchors a-weigh," the traditional cry of these tradesmen.¹ Although this is no longer a part of the ship inspection process, Naval tradition requires that the anchors be weighed before any ship puts out to sea. After that ritual the sailors are free to reef sails, dance hornpipes and tie knots, just a few of the other traditions maintained by the Navy.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: Do you know anything about
woodworking? I've been looking for ways of using my body in sawing that
avoid locking and I think I've come up with one. The trick is to move with an
impulse rather than a steady force.
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Dear Woody: I myself
haven't done much with wood since I retired my rolling pin, but I wrote my
cousin Ernst for his advice. Here is what he wrote back:
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Dear Aunt Nettie: I watched the movie "Whale Rider" the
other day, about Maori traditions involving whales. It got me to thinking:
are there any other societies where these great mammals play such an
important role in society and culture, ethos-wise?
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Dear Anthropo: I'm sure there are dozens, but the first that springs to mind takes place in either Malaysia or Indonesia, depending on who you listen to. During the fourth week in February gray whales begin their annual migration to the Bering Sea, a passage which takes them quite close to the island of Borneo. The villagers of Ujunggadingpandagong celebrate this timeless event by moving high into the mountains upwind of their picturesque village. For inevitably one of the older, sicker whales will tell the others in the pod to go on without him or her, and will begin limping and coughing up blood, expiring at last on the beachfront of Ujunggadingpandagong. The tropical atmosphere causes the cadaver to decompose almost immediately, and for a week that part of the coastline is uninhabitable, except by gullible tourists who suddenly comprehend why hotel rates were so cheap when they booked their reservations. At the end of the week an elderly and anosmic member of the tribe will venture back to the village and set fire to the remains with a ritual Army surplus flamethrower, which he will then turn on himself, as the proximity to the carcass will have rendered him unfit for human companionship in perpetuity. And if the gullible tourists thought *rotting* whale was a treat, they are knocked on their collective ears by the aroma of *burning* rotting whale, which the natives describe as "gnogadnapgnidaggnuju," when they discuss it at all, a word which cannot be easily translated into other languages because the mandatory gagging and retching inflections are lost. By the time the ashes have cooled and the tourists have been buried in sealed coffins, life in Ujunggadingpandagong resumes its leisurely pace. In April convicts are brought to the village to break up the whalebones with sledgehammers, the powder from which contributes to the pristine whiteness of the sands.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: Why did the Dutch develop wooden
shoes?
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Dear Patten: The Netherlandish-Dutch people of Holland originally went barefoot, as their country was always awash with several inches or feet of water due to their habit of building below sea level, and because of the low birth rate, which did not supply enough young boys to put their fingers in dikes to plug leaks. Once they began exporting Hollandaise sauce, they were brought into contact with other nations and cultures, and decided to adopt the European tradition of foot-coverings. The choice of materials was obvious, since they needed "shooen" which would float if they became detached from the wearer. The tradition of wearing wooden shoes continued until the Dutch Elm Disease blight of 1877, which destroyed not only the source of materials, but caused existing shooen to become grossly misshapen and covered with ugly blotches and striations. (The same disease affected Dutch shipping; in 1881 the Meisterschiff "Boomslang" was turned away from New York harbor on the grounds that "it look like sumboddy whomp it wit' a ugly stick," in the words of Mayor Hiram Peabody, Esq.) In despair, the Netherlandians turned to the best alternative they could find, which is why to this day Hollanders, Dutchesques and Netherlandenes wear inflated pig bladders as footgear. This posed a significant market entry hurdle for Nike when the firm attempted to sell their running shoes in the country, since "Just Do It," sounds almost identical to Dutch "yustendoo'it," or "come puncture [my] bladder." Fortunately, with the invention of inflatable Air Jordans the awkward linguistic barrier was overcome. Hollandaise boys are always cautioned against over-inflating their Air Jordans, and the cautionary tale is often repeated of the courageous lad who overpumped his footwear, then attempted to wade out to place his finger in a leaking dike, one of the principal pastimes of young Dutch lads. His overinflated Jordans soon popped to the surface, placing his head underwater for several hours, much to the annoyance of his family, who had been training young "Six-Finger Nickolaus" as a Meisterpfluggger First Class. Although Nickolaus was buried at sea, his coffin keeps popping to the surface, thanks to his redoubtable Nikes. There's a lesson to be learned here. Someplace.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: Why is dried meat called "jerky?"
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Dear Sere: Freddé, le Comte de Jêrqui, discovered the process quite by accident when one of his favorite Shetland ponies was accidentally locked in a vacuum séchoir for a week and ended up as 24 pounds of bone-in dried meat. As the estate's dogs refused to touch the carcass, Freddé had the brilliant idea of using dried horsemeat to feed French troops on the march, it being lightweight, indestructible, and nature's way of preventing obesity. It is thought that "jerqui" contributed to the massive defeat of Napoleon's troops at Moscow in 1812, since they had to spend 18 hours a day chewing just to achieve starvation, and were simply too exhausted to fight the Russians, who, although they were perpetually intoxicated from the vodka that made up the bulk of *their* rations, at least had the presence of mind to fire their rifles in the general direction of the enemy from time to time, giving the impression of armed might. Napoleon knew he was doomed after his best regiments had worn their teeth completely away and were forced to subsist on gruel which, alas, in the confusion of the packing for the invasion, had been left at the Gare de l'Est railway station's lost-and-found booth.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: I have to write about the French
national anthem, and the only copies I can find are in French! Could you
give me a fast translation?
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Dear Monolingual: Easy as pie. Here you go: This land is French land, our land's a grande land Our wine is grande, too, though our beer is poo-poo, Our cooking's serious, it makes tourists delirious We're xenophobic-- unless you bring moneeeee... Our crowning splendor is the way we surrender At the drop of a hat, man, we're flat on the mat, man The white in our flag, m'seiur, it's not for valour-- Other folks can fight to keep us freeeee....
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Dear Aunt Nettie: Who invented coleslaw?
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Dear Gardener: Many people believe that coleslaw was invented by Cole "Tootsie" Slaw, a Bavarian innkeeper with a flair for nouvelle cuisine, but the truth is quite different, and vastly more interesting. You see, in the hamlet¹ of Wranksprügel there was a pool of coleslaw which had existed far beyond the memory of the oldest resident. Tourists would come from miles around to marvel at the phenomenon and to partake of the coleslaw, which was reputed to heal "Rx," an affliction so rare it could only be obtained by prescription. Centuries went by in this manner, until the Age of Curiosity dawned,² and people began to question everything. It wasn't long before the ace Polish explorer Osgood Wykowski decided to trace the celebrated Wranksprügel coleslaw pool back to its source, which folk legends placed in the Tyrollean Alps. Compared with such later adventures as the discovery of the headwaters of the Nile, this was particularly difficult, as the everlastingly replenished coleslaw pool was fed entirely by underground springs. This necessitated stopping every few feet and pressing one's ear to the ground to listen for the sound of rushing coleslaw deep under the earth. After 4 years Osgood and his guides and pack mules and bearers and camp followers had progressed only about a mile and a half, and even the most optimistic projections placed the ultimate discovery some three hundred years in the future, far beyond Osgood's projected life span, no matter how much of the healing coleslaw he ingested. So Osgood fell back on Plan B and sent for hydrological survey maps from Munich, with Overweek Horse Delivery specified from Fred Eks, the messenger. Once these maps were in hand he was able to make much speedier progress, and at the end of three weeks he had arrived at the source of the pool, a heathen monastery deep in the Tyrol which had been cut off from civilization for a thousand years. The ancient order of pagan monks still worshipped Arugula, the goddess of tossed salads, to whom they thrice daily sacrificed quantities of shredded cabbage, mayonnaise, and fresh-ground pepper, dropping them with much chanting and pious signs into the bottomless Well of Souls at the foot of her statue. Having found the source of the pool Osgood returned to Wranksprügel as a local hero, making appearances at supermarket openings and signing bottles of coleslaw for tourists. He later opened a spa which featured therapeutic coleslaw baths. Alas, his fame was fleeting, as he had unknowingly infected the pagan monks with the dreaded Morbus Gallicus ailment, which wiped them out to a man six years later. Shortly thereafter the coleslaw pool dried up forever. The townspeople of Wranksprügel did not have much time to mourn their loss, however, because at midnight that same day the goddess Arugula converted the whole valley into a flaming lava pit in retribution for depriving her of her worshippers.³ Today the site of the hamlet is marked only by a successful U-Bar-B-Que® franchise. ---------------- ¹ Act IV, Scene ii ² August 23, 1437, at 5:31am Medieval Daylight Time ³ Some enterprising Wranksprügelians who happened to be out of town when the place was smote attempted to restore the former popularity and tourist-drawing power of the village by opening therapeutic lava baths, but they never caught on and the lawsuits bankrupted them in short order.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: Who was Mother Goose?
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Dear Prosy: Alphonsina Demitreble Goose was one of the most notorious female American bank robbers of the 1920s. Like "Ma" Barker, who would later play the same role in the 1930s, "Mother" Goose had trained her 10 children (five sets of identical twins) as accomplices. Vardaman and Vercingetorix, the eldest, carried the machine guns; Wilhelmina and Winifred empted the till and cleaned out the safe and carried the swag bags to the waiting car, which was driven by Roderick and Rupert.¹ Hephzibah and Hortense diverted the attention of the police, and the infants Balthazar and Borromeo acted as lookouts. Their mother was the planner and strategist, and always carried a piece of yellow chalk to the bank so she could mark a "goose egg" on the front doors to claim credit for the heist. The true genius of "Mother" Goose's nefarious plotting was evident in the rare instances when the family was caught and brought to trial. As each pair of identical twins dressed identically, it was impossible for witnesses to identify them, and the police were forced to release the family every time. Their crime spree ended only when the state of Indiana made the carrying of yellow chalk into a bank a felony, and likewise the impersonation of an armed robber, which took the twins out of the picture, since either of the two could be charged with the latter crime. ------------ ¹ The family had stolen the very first dual-control driver instruction car to make this possible.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: What animal's heart beats only nine
times per minute?
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Dear Biomed: The Extreme Sloth of South America. The slowest-moving animal in the world, the extreme sloth will often starve to death if food is more than a foot and a half away. For many years the creature was believed to be a mineral deposit, until a sharp-eyed researcher noticed one blinking over the course of 12 hours. This unusually slow blink rate accounts for the fact that the extreme sloth, although a diurnal animal, thinks it's a nocturnal animal since its eyes are closed all through the daytime blink cycle. The Inca called this sloth Viracochaachacutiupanquipachacutitopayupanqui, or "mineral-deposit-that-blinks." Its dried flesh was given to warriors, since, unlike the more popular Chinese food of the region, a single serving of sloth meat will cause the eater not to feel hungry again for several weeks, which cut down on the need for chuck wagons and pastry cooks to accompany the troops into battle. This, incidentally, explains the odd name that the Inca gave to their warriors, Quisquishallcuchimahuáscaruzco, or "Battling Anorexics." The extreme sloth was partially responsible for the decline and disappearance of the Inca. When Norwegian conquistadors arrived at the capital Atahualpancaajamarcauadorupacualpa in 1532, the wily Inca Emperor Tupakshakur challenged the Norwegian expedition leader, Nils Pizzarosøn to an extreme sloth race, the winner to get all the Inca gold, plus first player draft choice and whatever was behind curtain number three. The Inca had often used this ruse to fool their enemies, for while the challenger was intently watching the sloth he had bet on, the Inca would have the time to dismantle Machu Picchu and move it to another location, hopefully in a nicer neighborhood with better schools. In case of rain delays during the race, they would even have time to build a decoy Machu Picchu out of cardboard and string to mislead their enemies. Alas, at the coin toss Emperor Tupakshakur picked the slower extreme sloth to bet on, and the rest is History 304: "The Decline of Mezo- and South-Central-American Empires in the Age of Shopping Malls," with Professor Mantoluzco, Room 224, Jarvis Hall, 9:30am, Tuesdays. 
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Dear Aunt Nettie: What is
osmosis?
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Dear Passive:
It's a fairly rare condition where a chemical imbalance causes one's
internal components to pass into the bodies of those with whom one is in
contact. Simply shaking hands can cost a sufferer a rib or part of a
spleen. Those afflicted must avoid crowded spaces and human contact at all
costs. For obvious reasons it is not hereditary. |
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Dear Aunt Nettie: How many currencies did the Euro
replace?
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Dear Banker:
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Dear Aunt Nettie: I have this dumb assignment to do for
summer school (don't ask.) The question is, "Who invented the mechanical
thresher and when?" I don't even know what 'thresher' means, and the dog
ate my unabridged dictionary so I can't look it up. You lived in the
sticks and probably had to deal with thresh a lot, so what's the story?
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Dear Otiose: I'm happy to do anything to give you more time to skateboard in public places and vandalize city property. It was on this very date in 1849 that the first steam thresher was put into operation in Cyrus McAdam's wheat field, near the Indiana town of Wabash-on-the-Wabash, to the wonder and amazement of onlookers. This astounding device, without a single horse or oxen attached, harvested, threshed and bagged 250 acres of wheat, as well as baling the straw, before exploding and killing most of the spectators. The ruined machine, streaming flaming kerosene, then plunged down Barker's Hill into the midst of the town, setting afire what it didn't flatten by its sheer size and weight. Nine years later another steam thresher was tried out, and it worked just dandy, killing no one for almost three weeks. It was so tame that some of the local schoolboys got themselves some pipe and tapped steam off the boiler to power their Hoener harmonicas. The very next year the first Steam-Driven Harmonica Competition was held, with participants coming from as far away as South Bend and New Castle. And what a time they had! Terre Haute sent its "80-PSI Marching Harmonica Band," which was more than matched by the "Kokomo Slide-Valve Melodeons," and the "Muncie Steamfitters' Wind Ensemble." The event was such a smashing success that this week has been reserved ever after for the All-Indiana Steam-Driven Harmonica Competition in New Wabash-on-the-Wabash. Mindful of the festival's motto: "The Loudest Music This Side of Judgment Day," hearing protection is suggested. Also, although boiler explosions are a rarity in this day and age, visitors my want to invest in a nice Kevlar jumpsuit, just to be on the safe side.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: What are your thoughts about
predestination? Do you think life is about a limited number of choices (a
few possible paths, you choose), no choices at all (everything's
pre-determined), or unlimited choice (you are the master of your fate)?
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Dear Solipsist: It's difficult for beings like us locked in a single dimension of time to visualize, but both the past and the future have already "happened." Since the human conception of "time" is based on a theoretical instant (the "now") which separates the two, and since humans cannot move backward at all, and forward only at a snail's pace over which they have no control, arguments over predestination inevitably arise. An alien observer with the perception of two dimensions of time (a 2-T) finds Earth and its denizens a fascinating place to study, just as a sighted, hearing human would be fascinated to discover a human culture where everyone was blind and deaf, and had been for a hundred thousand years. Another alien observer (and here human terminology begins to break down) experiencing the x, y, and z/z¹ axes of time (a 3-T) would also perceive all the possible paths an action will take in both the "past" and the "future," as well as the z¹ (zee-prime) "now." To a 3-T entity the "past" is as infinitely variable as the "future" or "elsewhen," for lack of a better term. A 2-T observing human activities is struck by how much its viewing is like a 1-T human watching a stage play. Any actor at any moment during the play has the human ability and freedom to say whatever words he or she wants, do a hornpipe or somersault on the stage, or even leave the theater entirely. Yet they speak only certain words and perform only certain motions, as though unaware of the plot and unable to change even a second of it. Aren't you glad you asked?
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Dear Aunt Nettie: I just read that scientists have put
a school of pufferfish on a special Atkins diet and come up with a version
that tastes just like the real thing - without the lethal consequences.
Does this mean the end of fugu as we know it? Will it be as tasty if the
thrill is gone?
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Dear Ichthyolophile: For the benefit of readers who are not aware of this insane Japanese food product, we will supply some background. There is a kind of pufferfish which soaks up lethal poisons like a sponge without being affected by them. This same fish is also covered with prickly spines, which is Nature's other way of saying "I'm Not Edible, Fool!" Yet the Japanese insist on making it into a delicacy, called "FUGU!" ("I AM DYING!") after the words of the first person to try it. The second person removed the spines, but still died in agony. The same with the third, fourth, fifth and sixth person. These were of course, all men, who obviously got the idea for swallowing prickly poisonous ugly fish after too many sake shooters on a warm summer night. Nevertheless, after the 350th death someone came up with the bright idea that maybe only *parts* of the fish were deadly, and they could go right on eating it if they could find and remove the lethal things. Six hundred deaths later they thought they had traced it to a greenish squishy part and a greyish squishy part and they thought the problem was licked, as it were. However, people, being the stubborn beasts they are, went right on dying in spite of the best efforts to remove the squishy parts. Eventually they had to license FUGU! chefs and FUGU! consumers had to apply for a permit to eat the stuff, and were required to buy burial insurance from a vending machine at the restaurant before partaking. This new Atkins Diet for Pufferfish is probably a dead end like all the others, if you'll forgive the pun. Sad to say, with sushi becoming more and more popular in the States, it's only a matter of time before burial insurance vending machines start popping up in the trendier restaurants, and dinner-table expiration becomes as common as it was in Russia during its brief flirtation with FUGU! during the late 19th century, as documented in this painting from the Museum of Depressionist Art.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: During the summertime we all see lots
of stories about tornadoes and the damage they can do. The tornadoes I've
met have all been quite friendly and hard-working. Why the bad press?
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Dear Twisted: Those stories are planted by members of the Anti-Tornado League, which is convinced that tornadoes take jobs away from deserving American workers. However, there is a grain of truth to what they say. When we see tornadoes at work, busily harvesting crops or cleaning up after outdoor rock concerts, it's hard to believe there was a time when these gentle but powerful giants roamed wild, creating widespread destruction and loss of life. Cave paintings show terrified bison and wooly rhinoceroses fleeing before swirling funnels, and Native American Indian tribes have oral histories of tornadic destruction dating back centuries. The Rhapamackattack tribe is credited with introducing the word "tornado" into the English language. In the original it means "big swirly vacuum bastard," a fact ignored by early pioneers, who were under the impression the word was "tornâdo," which in Moccasin dialect means, "carp which falls from the sky," a mistake which cost many lives, as people would go out to the fields with bushel baskets or firkins to catch the falling fish rather than seeking shelter deep underground as the natives did. It wasn't until 1844 that the pneumomotive scientist Pilsner Fungible-Eddythorpe, who was visiting emigrants from his tiny shire in Wickwham, England, realized that what appeared to be widespread destruction on the part of these unusual American creatures was actually a cry for help. Isolating several infant tornadoes (called "dust devils" in spite of an injunction by an eponymous carpet sweeper company), Fungible-Eddythorpe discovered them to be quite intelligent and easy to train. He first introduced his "vacuum cleaners" at the 1843 State Fair in Davenport, Iowa, a matched pair of F1s he affectionately referred to as "J Edgar" and "Herbert." Although initially distrustful, the settlers were quickly impressed by the efficiency with which the yoked tornadoes stripped fields of stubble. The following year, at the Branson, Missouri State Fair, he demonstrated the awesome efficiency of half a dozen F2s, which not only harvested 140 acres of potatoes in record time, but also washed them and sorted them by size. The young Wilhelm Tractor, who was demonstrating his newly-invented steam-powered agricultural machinery at the same fair, saw the handwriting on the wall and got out of the business, going to work for his third cousin, Otto Television, a pioneer in steam-powered visual communication technology. It wasn't long before the full implications of Fungible-Eddythorpe's discovery became apparent. In September of 1851 a fleet of 120 F4 tornadoes harvested the entire Alabama cotton crop, thus making slavery uneconomical and averting the Civil War¹, much to the disgust of Generals Lee and Grant, who had been looking forward to unleashing some F5s at opposing troop concentrations just to see what would happen. Lee opened a hardware store in Selma, Alabama and Grant bought a saloon-bordello in Fredericksburg, Virginia. Another up-and-coming general named Sherman was arrested as a pyromaniac and spent the rest of his days in the Atlanta, Georgia Asylum for the Criminally Insane. Fungible-Eddythorpe's work had just begun, however, even though he was already as rich as Croesus, and actually hired Croesus now and then to mow his lawn just to show off. The Fungible-Eddythorpe-Edison-Westinghouse Vertical Wind Generator, easily operated by a single F5 or F6, brought the wonders of electricity to the USA, and soon no village or hamlet was without its black funnelform generating plant. Legions of F6s leveled the paths of railroads and highways, dammed mighty rivers and herded rainstorms to where they were most needed. The inventor's masterpiece, the F10, with its 800-900 mph winds, led to the general disarmament of the world after Prussia ceased to exist for calling Fungible-Eddythorpe's bluff and challenging him to an all-or-nothing smackdown in 1871. Parts of Prussia still fall from the skies over Europe to this very day. In recognition for his achievements, Fungible-Eddythorpe received the 1901 Nobel Prizes for Physics, Biology, Physiology, Pneumomotive Science and Peace, the only person ever to receive so many awards at one time. The judging committee was later determined to have been intimidated by Fungible-Eddythorpe's pet F11, which accompanied him everywhere. -------- ¹ See "Fantasy Confederacy: the History of the War That Never Was." Also note the complete absence of records involving the Army of the Potomac, and Lee's wistful biography, "What Might Have Been."
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Dear Aunt Nettie: I have my first "real" wood shop and
as a result, I almost have a full-bag of sawdust from my dust collector as
well as shavings from my planer. At present, we don't have a garden (new
house) but will have one soon. We will probably plant a few trees before
too long. We also have no pets (at present) or wood stoves. --Saver in Sevier
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Dear Saver: I owe everything I know about wood shavings and sawdust from my Cousin Ernst and it is because of him that a work of mine ended up in the Tate Gallery. Based on Cousin Ernst's advice, I usually add a cupful or two to meatloaf for texture. It gives it a sort of outdoorsy taste, especially ponderosa pine sawdust. You can also add it to barbecue sauce. I tried making bread once using a 50/50 mix of whole wheat flour and sawdust, but it didn't rise, and when it came out of the oven it was kinda super-dense, so I gave it 3 coats of acrylic lacquer and entered it in a sculpture contest where it won first place. If you're ever in London, stop by the Tate Modern gallery. It's on the 4th floor, titled "The Savor Unrisen from the Grist of the Long Leaf." With the prize money I bought one of them newfangled sawdust compost digesters, which reduces a whole croker sack of sawdust down to 6 ounces of rich black compost. You can add the compost to regular ground bean coffee and it tastes a lot like Louisiana chicory coffee, which you can't get in this neck of the woods. I haven't figured out what to do with the used compost/coffee grounds yet, although I understand from the newspaper that the Tate Gallery is having another competition.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: Here's another summer school homework
question I really need help on. "The era of history known as the
Pleistocene Epoch is also known by what really cool name?"
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Dear Stumped: It was known as The Jazz Age, sometimes called the Roaring Minus Twenty-Thousands due to the presence of sabre-toothed tigers. The '-20's saw a break with the traditional social mores in Aurignacian society. The Great Mammoth War had destroyed old perceived social conventions and new ones developed in their place. The young set themselves free, especially the young women. They shocked the older generation with their new hair styles and clothes that were often much shorter and sexier than what had been seen before. Skimpy beach wear became the rage, even toplessness at certain Mediterranean beaches, although elsewhere "Floppers," as they were known, might be arrested for indecent exposure. The President of Dordogne University in proto-France said the revealing swimsuits and short skirts "are born of the devil they are carrying the present generation to destruction."¹ These prehistoric "floppers" also went around without a man with a club to look after them, went to all-night parties, drove oxcarts alone at high rates of speed, smoked in public and shunned formal gloves. Mothers formed the Anti-Flirt League to protest against the acts of their daughters. But after the horror of the First Mammoth War, the younger generation mistrusted the older generation and 'did their own things,' which flouted the establishment. This newfound freedom led to the musical style which gives the era its name, and the music led to new dances being created which further angered the older generation. The Charlestone and the Black Bottomland were only for the young, and the latter incensed the old folks by its name alone. The most famous jazzmen were Louis of the Strong Arm, Waller the Fat and Benny the Good Man. The combination of the new music, new dances and new fashions outraged people even further: "The music is sensuous, the female is only half dressed and the motions may not be described in a family newspaper. Suffice it to say that there are certain houses appropriate for such dances but these houses have been closed by law." (The Lascaux Legion of Decency Home Companion, -19,250.)
Along with jazz went the 'crazies'
when people would do odd things for attention, such as sitting on top of a
mastodon for as long as possible; marathon dances that went on until
everybody had dropped, and hang gliding. In an attempt to prevent people
from enjoying themselves, Prohibition was introduced, banning the sale,
transportation and manufacture of alcohol. This naturally gave rise to
bootlegging and organized crime. Prohibition was in force until 1933, when
the Great Depression made it necessary to drink, as serotonin re-uptake
inhibitors were still far in the future. The greatest pre-writers of the
Jazz Age were the brothers Scott, Fitz and Gerald, who carved "Let the
Great Cats Be," on a cave wall in Altamira as an appeal to stop the wanton
slaughter of soon-to-be-extinct sabre-tooths. Their picture-story is
considered by many to be the official record of the lifestyle of the
'-20s.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: What were Kleenex tissues marketed as
when they were first introduced in
1924?
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Dear Sneezy: Disposable tablecloths for doll houses. Their present use wasn't discovered until 1928 when Missy Clabberford was having a tea party with Bumpsy, Twiddums, Piggywiggles and Belinda. When Belinda the porcelain doll sniffed at the presence of paper tablecloths in place of real linen, Missy refuted that they were nothing to sneeze at and promptly demonstrated, thereby opening an entirely new marketing venue. Missy's parents, Dismas and Congoleum Clabberford, had high hopes that Missy would become the well-paid spokesperson for Kleenex tissues thanks to her discovery, but the model agency pointed out that, as Missy looked like the back end of a Poland China hog and lisped so badly that only her dolls understood her, it was, at best, an unlikely possibility. This being the 1920s, the Clabberfords didn't even think about suing. However, there was a happy ending to the story. When Missy was flattened by a chain-drive garbage truck in 1930, her parents were able to purchase a much more attractive model from the Yerkinville Orphan Asylum. When she was 16, "Bitsy" Clabberford married into a branch of the Rockefellers and Dismas and Congoleum were on easy street from then on.
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6-23-2004 Dear Aunt Nettie: Why did the Ruby-throated Oriole
become extinct?
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Dear Birdy: It was greed. Sheer greed. You see, during the Victorian Era, when rubies were at their peak of popularity, a single flawless stone would bring as much as £150 at London gem merchants' auctions. Needless to say there was a great rush to cash in on the fad, and Ruby Fever¹ gripped the American Great Plains as men sought to make their fortune. By the time of Queen Victoria's death in 1901, when rubies suddenly became unfashionable, over 11 million Ruby-throated Orioles had met their fate, and the species was considered extinct. During the reign of her successor, Edward VII, emeralds became the gemstone of fashion, and the same thing almost happened to the Emerald Duck until the Audubon Society stepped in to protect that species. ------ ¹ No, not the stripper, née Gladys Spurzzle. She wasn't born until 1934.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: My idiot boyfriend wants to have his
teeth filed to points to express his individuality. Is he wack or what?
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Dear Oona: It's important not to be judgmental at times like this. As a matter of fact, the filing of teeth to sharp points is more than a passing fashion trend. Pointed teeth allows a person to survive in environments where normal dentition is not up to the task. Try biting the head off a rattlesnake with your regular human teeth. Not so easy, eh? Now have your teeth ground to points and try it. Impressive, no? Many dentists will grind your teeth for you, but this form of cosmetic dentistry tends to be expensive, about $250-$350 per tooth. I suggest the do-it-yourself approach, using a low-cost Dremel® grinder, available at any hobby shop or home improvement center. Once the basic grinding and pointing have been done, only a twice-yearly touch-up with a fine whetstone is needed to maintain sharpness. Filed teeth have dozens of entertaining applications. Imagine your parents' surprise the first time your boyfriend disdainfully rejects silverware at dinner and falls upon a ham or crown rib roast, tearing out great chunks in an orgy of satiation. Imagine the fun the two of you would have baffling the police as he stalks the moors, ripping out the throats of adversaries. Think about what it would do for his self-esteem if he were able to face down neighborhood dogs to become the alpha male. Remember the motto of the Greater Los Angeles Pointy Tooth Support Group: "Filed teeth: For a ripping good time!"
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Dear Aunt Nettie: What famous children's book author
created a patriotic propaganda campaign for youngsters during WWII?
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Dear Toon: It was Dr. Marvin Seuss,¹ who would later attain fame writing under the pseudonym "Maurice Sendak." At the beginning of the war Dr. Seuss was commissioned to write a series of books targeted at 5- to 8-year-olds, to recruit them into promoting the war effort. The series, called "Where the Bad Guys Are," was a spectacular success. Despite paper rationing, children bought out every edition of the series, which contained such helpful titles as: * Are your Parents Nazi Spies? I Bet they Are! * Things to Shout at Your German Neighbors * How to Tell Good Chinese Children from Traitorous Jap Spawn of Satan * A Child's Garden of Evil Hun Atrocities * No Pasta for Me 'til Italy Is Free! * It's a Sin if You Don't Fit In * The Patriotic Boy's Guide to Sabotage * Heather Has Two Commies * Gather Scrap, Kill a Jap! * How Torture Wins Wars * Why French's Mustard Is Yellow --- ¹ See his autobiography, "I Was Just Following Orders" Nuremburg Books, 1949
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Dear Aunt Nettie: What gem was once considered a charm
against drunkenness?
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Dear Pearl: The Pendentive Mock Pseudosapphire, a single crystal of which weighs in the neighborhood of 45 pounds (20.4 kilograms, or 0.13608 ancient Greek talentons). The stone was worn on a chain around the neck, and either knocked over the glassware and bottles or physically interfered with drinking to the point where the imbiber was either thrown out of the bar or left in disgust. It was credited with saving/ending innumerable marriages, either through enforced sobriety or because the wearer's neck was broken while attempting to climb onto a horse while wearing the stone. This, incidentally, is the origin of the term "stoned," referring to someone lying outside a saloon next to his horse with a broken neck.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: I would like to know why my boyfriend
has been acting kind of crabby and distant the last few days. I have not
done anything lately to anger him, I just was wondering if you knew why
men (or boys) sometimes get this way...is he feeling unneeded? Please
help!
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Dear Hermione: Pick up a copy of Dave Barry's "Complete Guide to Guys." It explains everything. No woman in a relationship should be without this essential tool to the male of the species.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: What's an "inner tube"? My father says
they used to have them inside car tires and when he was a kid they would
float around the lake on them. I guess they couldn't afford jet skis back
then.
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Dear Buoyant: Ah, therein hangs a tale. However, before there were inner tubes there were "Lobscouse hoops." What child today has heard the sad story of T. Pontstable Lobscouse, inventor of the personal flotation ring? What long-ago aquatic outing would be complete without a small, large or family-sized version of his natatorial novelty? Lobscouse was an assistant ne'er-do-well on London's Southwark docks in 1871 when he became concerned with the high mortality rate of the Thames-side urchins who swam in the river during the warmer months. He had lost seven of his own offspring to the river, and had nearly been sued when 11-year-old Ebenezer became entangled in the paddlewheels of the Billingsgate ferry, causing much damage and consequent scheduling delay. Lobscouse noted that when hog intestines were washed thoroughly and tied off at each end after filling with air, they formed an effective swimming aid. When the knotted ends were tied together to form a torus or ring, the buoyancy effect was even more pronounced. Alas, the rats which shared the river with the urchins found the inflated intestines irresistible, and after losing four more children he set out to find a better material. One night while robbing a drunken sailor, he discovered that the man's hat had been treated with vulcanized rubber to make it impermeable to water. A few practical trials suggested that rats would sooner eat rope and tar than rubber, and Lobscouse knew he had found his necessary ingredient. His cleverly fabricated rubberized intestinal rings, which he called "hula hoops" to associate them with agile Polynesian swimmers, sold like hotcakes, which at the time were six a ha'penny. The summer of 1872 was notable on the London docks in that not a single urchin was drowned, although some of them washed up, cold and emaciated, as far away as Canterbury, and one made it as far as Calais in France before being shot as a wandering Prussian naval spy. Lobscouse's new-found wealth soon saw him promoted to an associate ne'er-do-well position at the docks, and he was being considered for a partnership when his dream was destroyed by the invention of the pneumatic tire. By the summer of 1873 he couldn't even *give* his invention away, although his portrait, captured on film as he wandered the streets with dozens of various-sized personal flotation devices covering his arms, legs, trunk and head, later became the basis for Michelin's trademark cartoon character, Bibendum. Nothing is heard of Lobscouse after 1878, although oral tradition suggests that he changed careers and became a sot.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: I found a spittoon at a garage sale.
I can't believe there was a time when these were actually used for what
they were used for. Gross!
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It should go without saying that an entire class of expectorative humor
grew up around the named receptacle, much of which has been lost in the
intervening century. As part of its drive to revive the spittoon and its
attendant humor, "Popular Americana" magazine is seeking contributions of
cuspidorical jokes, pranks, tall stories, humorous scenarios and sketches
for its November issue. Send them to:
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