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Dear Aunt Nettie: What does ALF stand for?
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Dear Melvin: The Augustinian Libation Front, an organization determined to resurrect the glory days of the Roman Empire. At this year's orgy they managed to pass several resolutions calling on the Italian government to step down in favor of Marcus Octavianus Bombacelli, a direct descendant of Romulus Augustulus, the last Roman Emperor to be recognized by the Guinness Book of Romans. Other ALF demands include restoration of the Coliseum, all-nude mixed doubles wrestling, and contested municipal elections to be settled by gladiatorial combat. A proposal to revive the ancient custom of feeding Christians to lions was shelved because of a lack of Christians in Italy.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: Do you have a copy of "The Story of
Miss Moppet" by Beatrix Potter? I can't seem to find one in any bookstore
around here. |
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Dear Reader: I'm afraid it's getting harder and harder to find classic children's literature in its original version.
Kids books were certainly simpler back then... cat... mouse... end of
story. Today you'd need political correctness, affirmative action,
self-esteem boosting, dumbing down and an ending where the afflicted won:
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Dear Aunt Nettie: Will I get a raise?
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Dear Frugal: That depends. What have you done for me lately?
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Dear Aunt Nettie: What fish can swallow meals larger
than itself?
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Dear Piscine: That would be the Expandable Eel, known popularly as the "condom of the sea." It accomplishes this feat thanks to myriad accordion-like ribbed pleats along its body, plus the ability to have its internal organs carried by an assistant. It is a voracious eater, one member of the species having actually consumed the US Department of Agriculture's Food Pyramid in a single afternoon. Its eyes are sometimes bigger than its capacious stomach, however. A 40-foot expandable eel was once observed attempting to eat a blue whale. After a Herculean struggle, witnesses reported a sort of dull wet pop! and the exploded eel was seen to sink out of sight amid the waves, a mixture of horror and sheer satisfaction expressed in its countenance, while the blue whale went on to smoke a cigarette and dream of distant lovers.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: What is the corpus callosum and what
is it for?
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Dear Mental: The corpus callosum, resembling a flat computer cable, is the band of nervous tissue that connects the two cerebral hemispheres, allowing communication between the right and left sides of the brain. Without this communication one would be constantly embroiled in embarrassing situations, as when one's left hand points at a dog and one's voice says, "Here kitty!" Dealing with money would be particularly troublesome, as the right eye and brain thinks exclusively in terms of coinage, while the left combo sees only bills, checks and credit card receipts. Many people whose corpus callosum has been severed to entertain medical researchers report strong inner conflicts, with one side of the brain preferring coffee at breakfast and the other side demanding bourbon neat, one side embracing square dancing and the other side ritual mutilation, etc. Driving can be hazardous at best unless both brain halves agree in writing as to where they are going, how fast, who steers, and so on. It's not surprising that over 75% of all corpus callosectomies result in self-divorce, although the taking up of separate residences has always been problematic.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: When and where was the first Over-65
Golden Age Community founded?
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Dear Senile: In 1957 the independent old-age community of Geezertown was founded in western Ohio. Designed for the older generation, it featured a 12-Step Bingo Recovery Center, the "Kids Today Are No Damn Good" Community Center, the Geritol Fountain and three SuppHose boutiques. The Geezertown Art Museum was filled with pictures of grandchildren on ponies. The Geezertown Symphonic played only Music You Could Understand The Lyrics To and WGEZ, the radio station, featured no tapes newer than Fibber McGee & Molly. By law, all conversations among residents started with, "I remember back when...." At the local corner grocery store sliced bread was only 14¢ a loaf, and the only place you could get ice cream or an egg phosphate was at the Sweet Shoppe on Main Street. Milk was delivered every morning by horse-drawn wagon, unhomogenized so you could skim the cream off for your morning coffee. All cars featured prescription-ground windshields, inside and outside air bags, self-canceling turn signals, homing beacons and a top speed of 20mph. They were simple enough so that Skeezix at the Gasoline Alley Garage could keep them running just fine. All traffic moved in one direction in gently sweeping loops eliminating the need for traffic lights. For the politically motivated there were chapters of Reclusive Conservatives and Reactionary Conservatives. (The difference between the two is that the former believe that Ronald Reagan should be dug up for a third term. The latter think he *is* serving his third term, or perhaps his fourth, while simultaneously being Pope Ronald the 1st at the Vatican in Rome.) For recreation there was the local diner, which serves a "My Doctor Says I Can't Eat That" special every Sunday. The owner freely admitted that nothing tasted the same as it used to, and attributed that to the decline of the family farm and the Pure Food Act. For the confirmed libationist there was "Eddie's Bar & Grill," the only place left in the world where you could get a decent Sidecar, a Lucky Lindy, an Izzy and Moe, or a Grape Nehi with a Stick In It. Entertainment on Saturday nights was provided by Sally Rand and her Fans, ladies by invitation only.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: I read somewhere that this is the
beginning of the Locust Plague in North Africa. How can innocent trees
start a plague? Besides, the locust is a North American tree. What's up
with this?
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Dear Arboreal: Not the tree, but the grasshopper-like insect of the same name. September is the traditional beginning of the Locust Plague in many parts of Africa. Villagers pour from their huts at sunrise, dancing and capering in an attempt to scare off the voracious insects. Alas, there are only a hundred villagers and billions of locusts, and before the dew has dried on the savannah there is nothing left of the crop but closely-nibbled stubble. Disheartened, the villagers prepare to eat whatever locusts they can catch¹, then starve until they are skinny enough to attract the attention of National Geographic photographers. Most of their income these days comes from working as models in NG stories about African famines, and posing as the After in Weight Watchers® photos. ¹ Barbecued Locusts: Prepare the embers or charcoal. Place about one dozen locusts on a skewer, stabbing each through the centre of the abdomen. (Remove legs and wings either before or after cooking.) Place the skewers above the hot embers and grill while turning continuously to avoid burning the locusts until they become golden brown. Season to taste. Several skewers of locusts may be required for each person. ~ from "Mastering the Art of Famine Cooking" by Julienned Child. Edible Books (Sudan & Ethiopia, 1992)
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Dear Aunt Nettie: All the time I'm hearing people
talking about one thing or another "going to Hell in a handbasket." That
doesn't seem like an appropriate means of transportation for such a
journey. Where did that phrase come from, anyhow?
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Dear Basketweaver: Back in the Dark Ages (473 BCE - 1959 CE) it was thought that witches could enchant common household objects to use as a means of getting around. In this country the broom is the most familiar object so used. In parts of Europe and Russia it was a kettle. In Act I, Scene iii of Macbeth one of the witches describes yet another conveyance: A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap, And munch'd, and munch'd, and munch'd:-- 'Give me,' quoth I: 'Aroint thee, witch!' the rump-fed ronyon cries. Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o' the Tiger: But in a sieve I'll thither sail, And, like a rat without a tail, I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do. Now, you and I would not choose a sieve as a watercraft unless we'd been drinking substantial quantities of dark rum, but apparently a properly-enchanted sieve was every bit as good as a JetSki. The handbasket was another sorcerer's utility vehicle (SUV) which allowed the Hell-bound witch cheap and effective transport to the nether regions. One can only assume that the warranty covered fireproofing.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: Recently you mentioned Geezertown. It sounds like my kind of place. Where is it located anyway? --Retired in Redwood
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Dear Retired: According to my copy of "Failed American Sexagenarian Utopian Communities, 1530-1988," Geezertown closed up shop in 1959. Apparently with no new ideas coming in and a relentless focus on the past, the residents bored themselves to death in short order. One body was found in front of a television set which had been tuned to a "24-hour 'Highway Patrol' Rerun Festival." A group of male bodies was found in the Geezertown barber shop. It appears that they first killed the barber after he had asked for the 3,676th time if the customer wanted his "ears lowered." They then committed mass suicide by inhaling bay rum. Several diaries were found wherein the last entry was a plea for understanding, but that the writer couldn't face one more day of small talk about the weather and rheumatism. A few men were found having expired while actually trying to read the articles in 'Playboy,' so desperate were they for diversion. All in all, a sad commentary on the Golden Years.
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9-10-2004 The Snake and the Grass Click Here for More Redbone Fables & Cautionary Tales Once upon a time there was a glossy black and yellow stripéd garden hose. It was bored with its existence, lying curled up stiff during the winter and dragged every which way during the summer by annoying children and puttering adults. One August evening as it lay in the dark it said to itself, "I am a beautiful glossy black and yellow stripéd garden hose, but with a little effort on my part I could free myself and slither over to yon nearby woods, where I could become a beautiful glossy black and yellow stripéd serpent, king of the beasts and ruler over my domain. I would be feared by my enemies and loved by my friends, and my progeny would endure forever." So each night it worked and worked at undoing itself from the garden faucet until the night came when it was finally free. Very stealthily it crept out of the garden, slithering silently down the street until it entered the woods, where it was immediately eaten by a roller coaster. — MORAL: Follow your dreams, but, like, be a little realistic, for heaven's sake! And sit up straighter, don't slouch. That's better....
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Dear Aunt Nettie: Where did the name "chicken" pox come
from?
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Dear Spotty: It's not a very brave pox, at least not by comparison with its cousins Great, Small, French and Monkey. "Chicken" pox is much meeker, in a class with other cowardly poxes like Cow and Plum.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: On a nature show on TV they said that
crocodiles eat rocks. Why would any self-respecting reptile do that?
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Dear Saurian: I went to the source for that answer. Here's an excerpt from Gabriel Gavial's autobiographical novel, "Crocodiles Rock!" (Caiman Publications, Bombay and Okeechobee, 1968)
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Dear Aunt Nettie: I see in the paper that the real-life
"Soup Nazi" from the old Seinfeld show plans to franchise his product
line. Is that strange or what?
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Dear Soupy: Strange, yes. Successful, we shall see. Actually, this has awesome marketing possibilities. Aside from the can design, can you imagine the soups themselves?
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Dear Aunt Nettie: Who'd you most like to invite to a
dinner party of anybody who has ever lived?
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Dear Hostess: Let's see...
That should do it. I'd get everybody drunk and then start a food fight.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: Who invented television?
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Dear Watcher: It was originally invented by Leonardo da Vinci in 1508, but the plans were lost to history because the photocopy machine he invented the same year malfunctioned. It was independently re-invented by Benjamin Franklin in 1749, although it did not catch on at first because buyers had to supply their own silk kite and thunderstorm to power it. Franklin was also responsible for much early programming. His Channel One in Philadelphia produced a string of succeses which were later copied during the Great TV Revival of the late 1940s and 1950s. Among them were: "I Love Loose Tea"-- a documentary series on the unfairness of the British tax on the dried leaves used in the beverage. "Howdy, Duty"-- a documentary series on the imposition of new import taxes by the British "Make Room for Diderot"-- a documentary series on the French philosopher and creator of the landmark Encyclopédie "My Three Georges"-- a documentary series on the alternative personalities of Britain's daft King "Serjeant Bilk'em"-- a comedy series based on a British Army non-com whose name became synonymous with petty corruption, swindles and con games "I Remember Mammon"-- a reflective look at Franklin's efforts to set up a banking and commerce industry in Boston "Fatwah Knows Best"-- semi-autobiographical account of Franklin's attempts to negotiate with the Turkish Mameluks "The Dina-saur Show"-- a documentary series on Franklin's early interest in paleontology, hosted by popular singer
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Dear Aunt Nettie: I have to do an S.A. on the Britich
conoly of Ronoke. What happened to it and where did the setlers go?
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Dear No: Sir Walter Raleigh, inventor of the cigarette and the bicycle, was also a passionate land developer who founded many short-lived "premium colonial communities" in the eastern part of what would later become the United States. His brochures described beautiful townhouses, nearby schools, spacious golf courses and a short commute to local business centers. Alas, none of it was true. On September 12, 1590, the settlers at the subdivision called Raleigh Roanoke Luxury Estates, fed up with bad food, mosquitoes, dysentery, hostile Indians and plagued with carpal tunnel syndrome, voted to cancel their contract with Raleigh Development Enterprises, Ltd., and migrate to rental units at Hilton Head Motel which, although more expensive, had much nicer amenities, especially the Continental Breakfast, the spectacular beachfront, and the fact that kids under 10 could stay free. When Raleigh returned to collect rents later that year all he found was a large spray-painted tag reading "CROATOAN" on the walls of the Raleigh Community Center. Raleigh's private police department later arrested Tyrone Croatoan, a West Indian freelance slave as the culprit. Raleigh later sold Roanoke Estates for a great deal of money to the Department of Housing and Urban Development, which used it for low-income housing until it fell apart in 1599.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: How can animals climb cliffs that are
almost vertical?
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Dear Perpendicular: Many animals, such as the Adhesive Sheep of the Pyrenees, secrete a sticky substance which enables them to cling to vertical surfaces while they spin their webs. Others, such as the Nepalese Nullgrav Goat, have mastered the art of levitation through years of study in the Eastern Dark Arts. Still others, like the Sphericalpaca, have stomachs which double as fermentation tanks, producing sufficient hydrogen to gently waft them up the steepest inclines. Other animals are birds, which only pretend to climb while cheating by flapping their wings. Oh, what a marvel Nature in all its glory is!
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Dear Aunt Nettie: Why were 18th-century French ladies
so fond of soup?
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Dear Simmering: Not fond of it, really, but after Marie Antoinette's edict, "Let them eat soup!" it became almost mandatory if one wished to retain one's standing in society. Marie, a fine broth of a girl herself, later explained that she had actually meant, "Let them eat soap!" in reference to the profanity used by her handmaidens and attendants when they thought she wasn't listening, but it came out wrong due to her unfamiliarity with English. It happened again a few years later when, referring to the rioting peasantry, she said "Let them sip Coke!" but it came out wrong that time too, and after several months of dining exclusively on cakes most French peasants had died of Acute Icing Intoxication. Marie insisted on speaking English on all occasions, although she had a very tenuous grasp of the language and was once actually served the raw beaver pelt with spark plugs she insisted on ordering in a British restaurant. It was on that occasion that her husband the King uttered his famous remark, "Après moi, le deluge," or, "After this, we eat in."
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Dear Aunt Nettie: What male bird will build multiple
nests and why?
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Dear Birder: That would be the Icelandic Insecure Ibis, and the reason usually given by psychornithologists is simple neurotic supererogation caused by low self-esteem. The parents of the Insecure Ibis are usually to blame, the father being overcritical and the mother distant, always comparing the youngster to better-looking or more accomplished species. As a result the male is racked with uncertainties, never knowing how to dress or what to say in company, or which fork to use at formal dinners. It always strikes out with females, who will sometimes add insult to injury by moving into one of the Ibis's painstakingly built nests with another bird, usually a crow or a jay or somebody equally raucous, who will then beat up the poor Ibis and drive it out of the neighborhood. It doesn't help matters when, as the poor male is frantically building its nests, the father bird will often visit with comments like "You call that a nest? Why, when I was your age I was building entire apartment houses and selling them at a fat profit, and I would used the money to treat my lady friends in the style they were accustomed to. Oh, yeah, you better believe I had the broads, junior. Not like some people I know, looking at the centerfolds of Audubon Society magazines under the covers at night. You're a disgrace to the family, you little geek!" Or the mother bird will come by, watch sadly for a while, then heave a mournful sigh and mention that the weaver bird in the next tree is putting in hardwood floors and a central vacuum system. Most male Insecure Ibises never mate at all, and the species is continued solely by adoption in many places. It is the only bird which commits suicide, and after a frustrated mating season birdwatchers will often find dozens of corpses hanging from nooses of spider silk with notes pinned to the breast apologizing for having been born and requesting cheap cremation so as not to be a burden on anyone.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: I've always been saddened by the
short life spans of some of our favorite house pets. My bull terrier is
getting ready to go to that great fire hydrant in the sky and I was
wondering if there was a way I could keep him around. Don't suggest
taxidermy- one of my sisters tried that with her Siamese and she
eventually went batty because the eyes seemed to follow her around the
room.
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Dear Sentimental: Yes, it's truly a sad occasion when Fluffy or Rover passes on, but that needn't mean that they're out of your life altogether. If the thought of taxidermy is repellent, consider ritual Egyptian embalming and mummification. Here's a Web site which will help you mummify your pet so it can not only keep you company during your declining years, but join you in the afterlife as well. WARNING: Do NOT click on "Summum.Kids, the website for children," unless you're psychologically prepared. I think these folks are really pushing the bounds of good taste. Although the toddler in lapis lazuli IS rather fetching.....
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Dear Aunt Nettie: I hope you can help me with an
Internet problem. I first have to preface this by saying that I'm, like,
an UNBELIEVABLY good-looking 18-year-old blond sex bomb who causes grown
men to weep with desire even from a distance of several hundred feet. So
I'm constantly being hit on by all these losers and creeps. I thought the
Internet was the answer to my maidenly (okay, not so maidenly after the
prom, but I was drunk then) prayers, that I could remain anonymous until I
found a soul mate, or at least somebody rich enough that I could claim he
was a soul mate and nobody would dare laugh-- because we were so rich,
see? But the first thing all these weirdo losers ask for is a photo, and
poor innocent me (see prom comment above), I feel obliged to send them
one, and even if it's one of the modest ones- not even topless or
anything!- they immediately want to meet me, before I can find out how
much money they have! So my question is, how do I know who to reply to as
a Possible Sugar Daddy, and how do I know who's just trying to score- or
worse, is connected with some law enforcement agency?
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Dear Bombshell: Your maidenly modesty has touched me to the quick, and while I don't have a ready answer, I direct you to the thoughts of Al Gore, inventor of the Internet. He too pondered the question of to whom to respond and whom to shun. In his immortal soliloquy he reflected on this... perhaps Online Life's Greatest Challenge: "To reply, or not to reply: that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous silence, Or to take arms against a sea of commentaries, And by responding end them? To be silent: to speak not; No more; and by not speaking to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That chat rooms are heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To be silent, to speak not; To remain inaudible: perchance to whisper: ay, there's the rub; For in that silence of non-responsiveness what words may come When we have logged off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there's only the esprit d'escalier That makes calamity of so long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of pervs, The social climber's wrongs, the exaggerator's contumely, The pangs of falsified bank accounts, the network's delay, The insolence of "millionaires" and the spurns That patient merit of the poor maidens take, When she herself might her quietus make With a bare plonking? Who would sarcasm bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of some missed opportunity, The undiscover'd Bill Gates from whose bourn No check ever bounces, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus connections do make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of maidenly resolution Is sicklied o'er with the cast of dollar signs, And Web sites of marriage pitches and one-night moments With this regard their sensuous current turns awry, And loses the name of one-click action...." ----- ~ Al Gore in "Six Degrees of Francis Bacon" Chameleon Press (London & Mumbai, 2002)
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Dear Aunt Nettie: A friend told me that lettuce is the
only food which is never cooked. I've looked in many cookbooks and it
appears that that's true. However I would like to show up my friend with a
cooked lettuce dish. Any suggestions?
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Dear Sara: Never cooked? Fiddlesticks! I've had fried lettuce, boiled lettuce, lettuce over easy, and lettuce à la mode de Caen. The following was always one of our favorites back in Redbone. For best results all ingredients should be as fresh as fresh can be. Ingredients: One Imperial Head each of Iceberg, Cos, and Boston lettuces (Romaine or Endive may be substituted in desert regions) One decameter washed and rinsed distilled water 14 dwarf shallots, prinked and splayed Teflon-lined one-firkin brass tub Preheat oven to 449.8167° Kelvin. Use medium oven rack. If medium doesn't fit, use one of the other sizes. It's important that the rack not fall onto the heating elements and that the oven door be able to close completely. Wash heads of Cos and Boston lettuces in three changes of tepid water. Use ice water to wash the Iceberg lettuce to prevent melting. Air dry all lettuces and dismember, saving the bones for soup and the lettuce cores for dessert. Quickly layer leaves in firkin, alternating layers of Cos, Boston and Iceberg. Sprinkle each layer with distilled water. Discard shallots. Place in oven for 3 hours, or until the screaming stops. Serve immediately.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: Where would go to find the Great Wall
of Gum?
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Dear Masticator: If you expected me to answer, "Why, Gum Island in the Frisbee Atoll of the Pacific Ocean, of course, you ninny!" you'd not only be wrong, you'd probably be offended as well, and if we were in the same room you'd consider emptying a chamber pot on my head. Anyway, that island is spelled and pronounced "Guam," in any case, and it's not remotely near the atoll which gave its name to the popular dog exercise toy and Olympic event. No, the Great Wall of Gum can be found in only one place, Frobisher, Kansas, where it has been a tourist attraction for ever so long, and is the economic mainstay of the nearby town of Frobisher now that the carbon paper plant has closed down. Nobody knows precisely when the building of the Great Wall of Gum was started but it is popularly believed that it originated during the earliest Settler Dynasty, where it was used to keep hostile Indians and Mormon missionaries out. Late in the Settlement Period the ducal states of Frobisher and Knockknee extended the defense work and built sizeable structures to prevent the attacks from other directions.¹ It was not until the Smith Dynasty that the separate walls, constructed with the aid of the Springfield and Galesburg kingdoms, were connected to form a defensive system on the northern border of the country by Mayor William Robert ("Billy-Bob") Wakshot (also called "Bubba" Whangshop in some dialects of Kansan). After the Mayor unified the country, he ordered the extension of the wall. It took about ten years to finish and the wall stretched from Pretzel Bend (in the eastern part of today's Pepsi Province) to the west, towards Shemp (in today's Bebop Province) to the east. At that time the Wall was only 512 miles long, and was called the Pretty Good for a Wall But Not All That Great. The wall not only served as a defense towards the north but also symbolized the power of the Mayor, and was handy for posting things and employing union bricklayers. From the Schlockmayer Dynasty onwards, the Cherry Keys, an ancient Amazon tribe that lived in North Kansas, frequently harassed the northern border of the town. During the Feldman Dynasty, Mayor Krumpfeffer (aka Hank Krumpfeffer, Sr., aka T. Slepsum Beanbag), sent three expeditions to fight against the Cherry Keys, who were driven into the far north, nearly to Minneapolis if you take the parkway. To maintain the safety of the Flatbush Corridor (in today's Porcupine Province), the Mayor ordered the extension of the wall westward into the Buckboard region. The ruins of the beacon towers and debris of the earlier Flatbush Wall are still discernible in certain neighborhoods of Frobisher. By this time the Wall extended over 3,200 miles, completely circling Frobisher, and the citizens there had to admit it was a pretty Great Wall, all things considered. And so they named it that, and it remains the Great Wall even to this day. Archeologists have determined that the Black Jack and Juicyfruit mines were exhausted at the end of the Feldman Dynasty, and later portions of the Great Wall built under the Waxhammer Dynasty required that Doublemint and even Bazooka be imported from great distances to finish and repair the Wall. At the present time (the Late Waxhammer Dynasty) it extends over 4,812 miles and encloses the suburb of Bob as well as Frobisher proper. The Wall is listed in the Guinness Book of Records under "Chewing Gum, Major Construction" and is in the National Register of Historic Places ("Architecture, Breath-freshening, Other"). It is the only object in Frobisher, Kansas that might be seen from the Space Shuttle, if NASA is ever able to find a crew and manage to launch another one. ¹ See the history of the Maginot Line of Gum in France to gain insight as to why it was a good idea to have a wall facing in more than one direction. Highly recommended: "Chew-Chew Training-- Experiences of an American Railroader on the Maginot Gum Line" by G. Nash Massester. Cud Publications (London & Bombay, 1944)  |
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Dear Aunt Nettie: Having lived to such a hoary old age,
surely you must have learned some Indisputable Truths which you could pass
along to younger generations, haven't you?
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Dear Guru: WHAT kind of old age? You young whippersnapper, for two cents I'd come over there and slap you silly! However, yes, I have learned some Indisputable Truths as I have wandered down this vale of tears, or mortal coil, or whatever. I have discovered that if you make yourself the Ten Promises every morning you will probably grow up to be healthy, wealthy and wise, or at least stay out of jail, which is more than you can say about that Martha Stewart person.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: How long can a horse go without lying
down?
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Dear Equipoised: It depends on which union he belongs to. Teamsters lie down at the drop of a hat, and United Auto Workers never get up in the first place. United Postal Workers usually threaten to lie down, then settle for vast increases in salary and pensions, which is why the letter you mailed in 1948 for 3¢ now costs 37¢ to send to the same place, except that it takes several days longer because of the junk mail which has priority, and because there is only one mail delivery a day instead of two as there were in 1948. This illustrates just how soft we've gotten in this country. The Inca used slaves for mail delivery, and those slaves were glad to get the work, you better believe! The only raises they got were welts. We could apply the same system here in the USA by conscripting all the unemployed as United States Postal Slaves. We'd save a billion skillion dollars a year, there would be 9 mail deliveries a day and 5 on Sundays and national holidays, first class postage would be a shiny copper penny, and the mail slaves would have the option of disposing of junk mail at the first dumpster they came across on their route. Just another reason why I should be Queen....
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Dear Aunt Nettie: What in hell is a vexillologist? My
weird nephew Oswald wants to become one, and I'll be damned if I'll let
him until I know what one is.
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Dear Vexed: As you so perspicaciously guessed, a vexillologist is a person who studies annoyances. The field is divided into two classes, those who study petty annoyances, like leaving the toilet seat up, squeezing toothpaste from the middle of the tube, leaving one's turn signal going for 40 miles, bringing more than 10 items to the express lane, and talking during movies.¹ The other category is those who study major annoyances like Microsoft, born-again Christians, North Korea, Daylight Saving Time, bus schedules, the United States Postal Service and the Republican Party.² — ¹ The landmark work on the subject is L. Rust Hills' "How to Do Things Right: The Revelations of a Fussy Man" ² See Hal Lindsey's "Late Great Planet Earth" or any other How to Celebrate Armageddon books
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