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Dear Aunt Nettie: There were 15,700,003 of them
manufactured, all in black. What were they?
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Dear Riddler: M&Ms. The occasion was the death of their inventor, Forrest Mars Sr. The citizens of Mars responded in a similar fashion, issuing an all-black wrapper for the popular "Earth" candy bar.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: What is the most frequently stolen
street sign in New York City?
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Dear Culprit: The big "Steal This Sign" sign at 14th and Broadway.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: Who did you vote for this year?
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Dear Psephological: There was an election? I haven't seen a political candidate ever come to the Home here in Redbone. The Centenarian Bloc is not well represented as a result. Which is a shame, because there are more and more of us every day, thanks to improvements in life support technology. What we need is the centenarian's equivalent of AARP to lobby for us, something like the AASIP, the American Association of Statistically Improbable People, or the AAED, the American Association of the Effectively Deceased. Its platform would be quite different from the platforms aimed at younger folks who still have things like hope and ambition to carry them along. Great emphasis would be placed on social programs like euthanasia (Jack Kevorkian would be a perfect Centenarian Bloc presidential candidate, in my opinion). Also a push for street-legal wheelchairs with built-in GPS systems. I can also see the NRA getting interested in arming old folks to boost gun sales in this undiscovered market. Of course, the Second Amendment makes no mention of arming people who think that the saucer people are after them, or who sort of lost track of time in the middle of World War II and think they're on Iwo Jima, but these are merely details. Our voting bloc would press for the immediate cutoff of all funding for children's programs, on the grounds that we were here first and therefore deserve priority treatment. Also childbearing would be discouraged and penalized on the grounds that there are too many people already, and that the nearly terminal should have first shot at everything. I can see a new Cabinet post being created, the Office of Homeland Senility perhaps, which would advise the president on matters of importance to those far, far over the hill. Alzheimer's research would be stressed, as would age reversal and cryogenic preservation. Oh, it would be a splendid voting bloc, I assure you. I'm available as a consultant for a reasonable hourly fee....
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Dear Aunt Nettie: I was reading your recipe for
enchiladas à la mode de caen. I was prepared to put this thing together
until I came to the quantity and directions for the cilantro. The
chopped,channeled and sectioned bit broke me up. I am now into a fit of
laughter and am unable to stop. I have tried two glasses of "vino muy
forte" and three shots of vodka. Nothing seems to help. Do you have any
suggestions?
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Dear Rod: You're about a bottle short on the vodka. Continue with the therapy you're using until the hysteria passes and everything becomes vaguely amusing. That's the state I always aim for. If it weren't for my daily libations of prune juice and vodka neither my plumbing nor my psyche would function.... 
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Dear Aunt Nettie: Who got the idea for bricks, anyway? |
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Dear Masonic: As a matter of fact, it was on this day 7,250 years ago Shub Tu-Gath of suburban Mesopotamia discovered that a molded rectangle of clay, dried in the sun then fired in a kiln, made a formidable projectile for use during political demonstrations. It filled a very real need in a region where there were no naturally occurring stones and his "brik-sh" were much more effective than throwing sand. Later his cousin Shuba Tu-Gath discovered you could build houses and forts out of them, too, and she got some venture capitalists together, formed a construction company, and became filthy, stinking rich. Unfortunately this later gave the Assyrians an excuse for invading Mesopotamia, on the grounds that the Mesopotamians were amassing weapons of mass construction. |
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Dear Aunt Nettie: Has Veterans Day always been observed
on November 11? |
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Dear Vet: It depends on the country. In Belgium, for example, The Dutch-speaking Phlegms in the north celebrate Veteran's Day on August 4th, to commemorate their victory over the Walloons in 1514, whereas the French-speaking Walloonians of the south celebrate it on November 18th, to commemorate their victory over the Phlemish in 1604. Tourists are advised not to visit the border towns between the two areas from August to December, as many veterans have long memories, short fuses, an incredible capacity for beer and lots of stores of small arms. By comparison, in Paraguay Veterans Day is a serial feast, as it were. On January 3rd, for example, veterans of the Guaraní tribe's victories over the Cario, Tapé, Itatine, Guarajo, Tupí, Payaguá, Guaycurú, M'bayá, Abipón, Mocobí, and Chiriguano tribes are honored. On January 23rd it's the victorious veterans of the Cario against the Guaraní, Tapé, Itatine, Guarajo, Tupí, Payaguá, Guaycurú, M'bayá, Abipón, Mocobí, and Chiriguano tribes. On February 2nd it's a celebration of the veterans of the Guarajo-Tupí-Payaguá Alliance's victory over the Guaraní, Cario, Tapé, Itatine Axis and the Guaycurú, M'bayá, Abipón, Mocobí, and Chiriguano Concordat. February 4th celebrates the reversal of that victory. One of the reasons that Paraguay remains such a poor and ignorant country is that schoolchildren there attend classes only 17 days a year because of veterans' celebrations. On December 30th Pictish veterans in Scotland celebrate their triumphant 446 AD victory over the Brythons. On this day it's customary for Pict veterans to paint their bottoms blue in remembrance of the old warrior tradition, although given the average temperature in Scotland in late December and the Pictish custom of wearing kilts, this would seem to be gilding the lily.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: What is bunraku?
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Dear Poupon: Bunraku is the name commonly used for ningyo-joruri, literally "puppets and storytelling" in Japanese. Unlike Howdy Doody or Punch and Judy puppetry, bunraku is vastly more complex, involving highly skilled puppet makers, narrators, musicians and, of course, puppeteers, who are dressed in black and appear onstage with their creations, something you could never get away with on, say, Sesame Street. There are also three operators per puppet, which severely limits the number of characters in a play, and makes some battle scenes look like the Tokyo subway at rush hour. Bunraku had its origins in the mid-seventeenth century, and was unusual because its stories were not about royalty or the gods, but about the merchant and working classes. The name of the dramatic form comes from the character name of the first successful ningyo-joruri play, "E-ujuimi," which translates roughly as "Everything Within the Family." It was a situation comedy centered on crusty and opinionated Ar-chi Bunraku and his long-suffering wife, Edithu. Ar-chi's daughter Gror-y-a had made an unapproved marriage choice, aligning her family with that of the Stivic-shu, who were lowly meatcutters, which Ar-chi never allows his son-in-law to forget, addressing him as the "head of meat." In typical Japanese fashion the conflict between the different generations ends tragically, with the "head of meat" and his wife killed by ninjas who apparently had the wrong address. In remorse Ar-chi ritually disembowels himself, leaving Edithu alone on the stage to sing the mournful 'dirge of unending disgrace,' accompanying herself on the koto, before drowning herself in the family koi pool. Although bunraku once enjoyed widespread popularity, in recent years audiences have been bored by the similarity of plots and have turned to caberu, which gets up to 500 channels even with the basic package. Bunraku artists and performers are today mostly seen in commercials, like the one where the clown Ronald McDoneru attempts to persuade the Hamburguru to give up his thieving ways and join a nice corporation. Failing in his mission, Ronald commits suicide, and the Hamburguru out of remorse disembowels himself with a spork.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: What is the origin of the expression
"Cowabunga!" the war cry of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Bart
Simpson?
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Dear Violent: It was originally an ancient musical instrument, the "cow bongo," which was played with mallets on the side of a cow which had been rendered insensible by draughts of strong ale. It required three operators, one to operate the mallets, one to open and close the cow's mouth according to the pitch and rhythm of the music, and one to pull the cow's tail very hard for the high notes. It went out of fashion when a clever caveperson discovered that all you really needed was the skin of the cow, suitably dried, tanned and stretched. This came as a great relief to the cows, who before this change used to wake up at dawn in the meadow with aching sides, a killer hangover and no memory of what had happened the night before. Soprano cows were often missing their tails as well. There were several notable advantages to the change from living to peeled instruments-- portability, maintenance and the fact that the band got to drink all the strong ale rather than the cow. However, old-timers used to miss the authentic sounds. In his autobiography, "Sideman,"¹ Urk "Big Thump" Cowpounder lamented, "Yeah, there were some plusses, but there were minuses, too. You used to be able to ride the cow from gig to gig, and then there was the milk. And I don't care what anybody says, the sound of a mallet striking the side of a blitzed Hereford or Guernsey is altogether different from what you get pounding on a new-fangled "drum." It was earthier, more carnal, if you'll pardon the pun. Besides, when your "drum" wears out, do you get barbecue?" --- ¹ Graven Image Press (Lascaux and Altamira, -17,303)
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Dear Aunt Nettie: What happens to old, used bowling balls? -- Ten-Pin in Tianjin |
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Dear Ten-Pin:
Landfills are flooded with discarded bowling balls, many of which lump
together far underground to form exceedingly dense forms of matter which
warp spacetime around the dump site. Do your part to keep landfills in our
continuum by taking your old bowling balls to an approved recycling
center, where they can be converted into nutritious school meals. |
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Dear Aunt Nettie: Why do they say "cleanliness is next
to godliness"? What's the connection? |
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Dear Searching: The connection's an obscure one, but you can demonstrate it for yourself. Simply print the word soap in lower-case letters on a sheet of paper. Now turn it upside down and it reads deos, which is the Latin word for god. QED
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Dear Aunt Nettie: What's the most obscure, unlikely,
mind-blowing bit of trivia you've ever heard of? |
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Dear Recondite: Oh, that's an easy one. It's the answer to the trivia question: "What does the word "sockdologize," mean, and why is the word crucial to American history?" Answer: "Sockdologize" and its many variations (sockdologer, sockdollarger, etc.) was a slang term which became very popular in the United States during the 1850s and '60s, and is still used in some parts of the country to this day. It means a forceful or decisive blow a finisher; something that ends or settles a matter and leaves nothing else to follow, a knockdown blow, a decisive overwhelming finish, reply, argument, conclusive remark, or blow, which leaves no possible response. Random House Unabridged: “His right jab is a real sockdolager.” "The revelation of his actual source of income was a sockdolager from which this politician never recovered." American frontierspersons were famous for their ability to invent new words, like skeedaddle, bushwhack, absquatulate, tarnation, gumption, bulldozer, etc., etc. In British and Continental stage plays of the time a standard comic character was the backwoods American with his outlandish talk and manners. The most famous melodramatist of the time, Dion Boucicault,² made his reputation on wily old American backwoods characters who sounded like ignorant cusses but were able to see through the plots and schemes of the aristocracy and big business. So what role does this unlikely coinage play in American history? The adjective form "sockdolagizing" was one of the last words that Abraham Lincoln ever heard. The play, "Our American Cousin" by Tom Taylor, which was playing at Ford's Theater in Washington DC on the night of April 14, 1865, has a line in in which always brought down the house: "Well, I guess I know enough to turn you inside out, old gal-- you sockdologizing old man-trap."¹ John Wilkes Booth, an actor himself and aware of the dialog, knew that the line brought the loudest burst of laughter from the audience, and as the audience laughed, Booth fired at that precise moment to muffle the loud noise of his fatal shot. --- ¹ http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext02/ouamc11.txt ² http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dion_Boucicault
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Dear Aunt Nettie: In what comic strip did the onomatopoeia "ZAP!" originate? --Collector in Columbia |
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Dear Collector:
The Onomatopoeia people were first revealed to the world in the comic
strip "Gerald McBoing-Boing." McBoing-Boing was the
explorer/anthropologist who discovered the tribe in New Guinea, where most
of the world's really oddball cultures live, giving the island the
sobriquet of "The Haight-Ashbury of the Pacific."
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Dear Aunt Nettie: What two nations were involved in a
year-long conflict that was popularly known as the Pastry War?
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Dear Phyllo: That would be Lichtenstein and Luxembourg, both of whom were vying for the title, "1928 Pastry Capital of the World." When the judges announced that Lichtenstein was the winner, enraged Luxembourgians protested what they saw as an egregious travesty with a 24-hour aerial bombardment of Lichtenstein using napoleons and cream tarts. Lichtenstein retaliated with cannoli artillery, using the deadly 155mm howitzer pans they had developed secretly in spite of the League of Nations prohibition of pastry guns larger than 85mm. Luxembourg responded with marzipan shrapnel, which took a fearful toll on non-combatants. A truce was declared in mid-June to prevent spoilage, but on October 1st both sides resumed hostilities, Lichtenstein using flanthrowers against Luxembourg's baklava torpedoes. During the Xmas season Luxembourg introduced the so-called "biscuit cutters," which made mincemeat out of the opposition, and Lichtenstein retaliated with flaming plum pudding, which deep-fried troops and civilians alike and set fire to central Luxembourg, to which the Lichtensteinians responded with a cynical bombardment of marshmallows, adding insult to injury. As Easter neared, the level of violence increased, Luxembourg relying on fragmentation babkas to counter Lichtenstein's incendiary hot cross buns. Fortunately on Good Friday the Pope intervened, his Swiss Guards establishing what became known as the Pax Chocolatum. Tensions have remained, however, with occasional flare-ups near the borders of the two countries, especially around the holidays. Lichtenstein has repeatedly denied that it is planning to build nuclear pfeffernusse, and Luxembourg reportedly has an alliance with Austria, which supplies them with Apfelstrudel of mass digestion.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: What comic-strip character started
out in 1932 as a middle-aged woman who sold apples on street corners?
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Dear Pommy:
That would be Herbert Hoover. A transvestite like his twin brother J.
Edgar,¹ Herbert Hoover enjoyed dressing up like a middle-aged woman and
circulating amid the bread lines and crowds of the unemployed, which put
him nearer "the voice of the proletariat," as he put it. He especially
liked donning his female attire and selling apples, taking a secret cruel
joy in the knowledge that he had presided over the Depression and done
nothing to relieve the accompanying misery of the populace. He got the
apples free from the White House garden, which made any income pure
profit.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: Who invented the trampoline, and
when? |
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Dear Bouncy: Trampolining was first introduced to the public in 1936. It was developed in the United States by the diving champion and acrobat George Nissen of Iowa, who later became the first person to break his neck using one on November 22, 1938. On this day we commemorate all users of the trampoline who have gone to their final rewards after saying, "Hold my beer and watch this!" Historical note: During World War II the trampoline became a popular method of executing criminals when electricity was rationed and the Navy had first dibs on all the decent rope. This led to the famous "Double Reverse Immelmann" escape from Sing Sing prison in New York state in 1943 by Alphonse "Mad Dog" Murkowski, who had secretly practiced on a spare trampoline until he could clear the 16-foot prison wall. His escape was short-lived, however, as Murkowski landed in a vat of quick-setting concrete being used to patch the outside of the prison walls. It took 8 days for convicts to chip him free with sledgehammers, by which time Murkowski was in no shape for an open coffin funeral, as the other convicts, resenting the additional labor, were none to accurate with their hammer-blows.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: The other day in the supermarket I
saw a basket of things called 'plantains." They looked like spoiled
bananas. What on earth are they used for?
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Dear Gustatory: Ah, pity the poor plantain! Always in the shadow of its vastly more popular cousin the banana, the humble plantain has to eke out its existence as a second-choice food in poorer countries. Known popularly as, "potatoes of the air" because of the gas they produce, or "ugly cooking bananas," they are more starchy than sweet and, worse yet, must be cooked before being eaten, which diminishes their popularity in plantain splits or plantain crème pies. They are a staple crop in much of Africa, and are served boiled, steamed, baked, or fried. Plantains grilled over a charcoal fire are popular street food in many desperate African cities. In the Congo river region, plantain-- peeled, sliced, chopped, fermented, boiled, then cut into rondelles and fried in oil-- are considered to be a godawful waste of time.¹ --- ¹ This is the basic recipe for Congolese m'tuku g'wa'bamba, or "We Don't Eat No Stinkin' Plantain," the African child's equivalent of Brussels sprouts served on a lovely bed of overcooked liver.
Ingredients: Boil the water if fire is
available, and place in a large Le Creuset® covered glass or Dansk®
ceramic casserole dish.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: What did the Pilgrims eat for their
Thanksgiving dinner?
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Dear Hungry: As it was a ceremonial occasion, the menu has been preserved by royal decree: Appetizers: Seven Variety Szechwan Cold Cut Combination Platter Scallops & Conch with Crispy Stuffed Tofu Pepper Corn Prawns with Szechwan Tiger Shrimp Soup: Braised Crabmeat w/Chicken & Won Ton Shark's Fin Entrée: Abalone with Black Mushrooms in Oyster Sauce Braised Crispy Mandarin Pigeon Water Buffalo Filet Mignon with Shitake Mushrooms Twin Lobsters in Ginger & Scallion Sauce Steamed Fresh Whole Sea Bass Jianxing Accompaniments: House Special Fried Rice Braised House Special Noodle Sweet Red Bean Lotus Soup Dumplings or Pork Buns Dessert: Fresh Fruit Combination Peach Wu Sin At the end of the dinner they saluted the Emperor's generosity, and then were led out for execution, as a Royal Edict had proclaimed that the teaching of the Xris Chun religion was forbidden under pain of death, and its emissaries were to be beheaded. Learning from this bitter lesson, later Pilgrims decided to settle in Massachusetts, although Shanghai's climate was better and Native American cuisine was flat-out appalling.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: I need an explanation of how the
Pilgrims invented succotash. Please hurry.
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Dear Overdue: That's a long and very interesting story. You see, the first settlers in New Plymouth were Puritan clergypeople, and didn't know a maple spile from a cedar froe when they arrived and attempted to farm the land. In November. The local Wampanoag Indians would drop by from time to time with helpful hints like, "No, you don't plant the corncobs," and "You're holding the wrong end of the hoe," but they soon realized that these poor white devils would never survive the winter without help. Knowing that the Puritans were a proud and stiff-necked people (probably due to the ruffs they insisted on wearing all the time, even while sleeping), the Wampanoags had to pull a fast one to get them to accept help. So one night they snuck into the Puritans' fields and "planted" row after row of cornstalks from their own bounteous harvest the month before. Instead of installing the original ears of corn, however, they neatly filled each cornhusk with a mixture of dried corn, dried lima beans, sun-dried tomatoes, malt extract, tofu, chocolate, coffee, non-dairy creamer, sugar substitute and vitamins, which they figured would provide a balanced, heart-healthy diet. You can imagine the Puritan's surprise the next morning when they looked out at their formerly barren fields and saw all the cornstalks waving in the breeze. Some of them were so astonished that they rushed outside without putting on their ruffs, and were forced to return to England in disgrace. A bunch of Wampanoag arrived at the critical moment, pretending to be casually walking by on the way to the casino, and they helpfully explained to the astonished Puritans that this was a common occurrence in the New World: some plants waited all summer then shot up overnight. By this time one of the Puritans had peeled open a husk and was dumfounded to see the contents, already dried and neatly mixed so as to provide part of this complete breakfast. The Indians nonchalantly explained this as a perfectly natural occurrence as well, due to the fact that the Puritans' fields happened to be located precisely where a School of Agricultural Sorcery had been many moons before, and that obviously some residual magic remained in the earth. The awed wannabe farmers asked the name of the magic sustaining plant, and one of the braves, Winsome Pudding, blurted out "succotash," which is Wampanoag for "kangaroo." Another brave, Weakened Bladder, tried so hard to keep from laughing at this bon mot that he wet his breechclout and had to excuse himself. So every year at Thanksgiving we celebrate the Coming of the Succotash while the remaining Wampanoag go to their casinos and practice their ancient tradition of scalping the white man....
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Dear Aunt Nettie: Last year you had some great
suggestions for dealing with Thanksgiving leftovers. I seem to have
misplaced the article. Would you run it again? |
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Dear Homemaker: I'd be happy to. Heloise, eat your heart out. ------------------------- Dear Aunt Nettie, We have some turkey left over from the recent election, as well as some additional turkey from Thanksgiving. What's the best way to use it up? My children were definitely leery of turkey and eggs, and the Hot Fudge Turkey Sundae wasn't well-received either. -- Postprandial in Potsdam Dear Postprandial: Leftovers were never a problem back in Redbone, what with large families, lots of hard physical work to build up an appetite and the presence of wolves on the outskirts of town to threaten the children with if they didn't clean their plates at every meal. So I was at a loss as to how to advise you when I realized that www.marthastewart.com was the perfect source of information for this sort of situation. Here are some of Martha's suggestions: 1. Leftover turkey can be popped into the Cuisinart at the Mulch setting, then blow-dried to make a perfect substitute for kapok in pillows. 2. Leftover stuffing can be packed into a vase and dried out in the oven at 250° F. overnight until it's the perfect consistency for supporting long-stemmed roses. 3. Boil down leftover gravy to a thick mucilage-- perfect for sealing Christmas envelopes, with just a soupçon of aroma left to delight the recipient. 4. The turkey carcass can be stripped clean to the bones, sprayed black and used as a Darth Vader helmet Christmas present. 5. Turkey skin that's reversed, properly shaped and rubbed with cocoa butter makes an excellent condom. 6. No one ever knows what to do with baby onions in cream sauce after the holiday. Solution: take the summer popsicle molds out of storage and sent the kiddies off to school with nutritious, creamy onionsicles. 7. Turkey skin if removed intact can be stitched up and inflated as an impromptu football, or inflated, varnished and used as a centerpiece with a few low-wattage candles inside. 8. Snap turkey legbones with a twisting motion that results in sharp, spearlike points. Scatter these about the neighborhood to control the dog population. 9. Wedges of gristle are perfect for dampening the hum and vibration in kitchen appliances. 10. Finally, puréed and strained cranberries are the ideal substitute for blood during school presentations of "Macbeth."
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Dear Aunt Nettie: What's your favorite wintertime
snack?
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Dear Munchy: What would the winter season be without deep-fried basketballs? This richly satisfying combination snack food and recreational device came about quite by accident, according to the description in Shirley Potluck's book "Fry It and Diet." It seems that Betty Lou Rumpskeller, who ran the fry basket at Cap'n Scallop's Fish Fry Bonanza at New Bonito in Florida, was fighting with her husband Elmer, who was an assistant deboner at the same establishment. Elmer wanted her to cover for him while he slipped off to shoot some hoops with some local members of the drinking class. He kept dribbling his new Spaulding around the food preparation area, and twice almost upset a basket of breaded grouper that Betty Lou was fixing for a busload of Yankee folks. In a fit of pique she picked up the basketball, stuffed it in the oversize fry basket, and sunk it in the hot percolating lard. She told Elmer that if he could play without a ball, then it was fine with her if he left. Elmer sized up the situation, saw the ball getting bigger and bigger in the hot fat, ready to explode and shower all and sundry with boiling oil, and he departed hastily by way of the trash chute. He didn't smell right for a whole week. In the nick of time Betty Lou pulled the basket out, and was amazed at the delicious aroma emanating from the sautéed spheroid. She let it cool a bit, then cautiously broke off a chunk. Well, the inside of that broiled ball smelled even better than the outside! Utterly tantalized, Betty Lou dipped the broken-off chunk in a dab of tartar sauce and took a teeny bite. The rest, as they say, is history. Today, the Betty's Battered Balls® franchise is a billion-dollar business, and Betty herself owns most of New Bonito. She dumped Elmer early on and now changes boy-toys faster than she changes shoes.
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Dear Aunt Nettie: What the devil is a mascaron? Some
kind of makeup applicator? |
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Dear Blowzy: It actually is an eye makeup applicator, patented by Isaac Fernstubble in 1921 in response to increasing demand for vampish ocular decoration during the Jazz Age. Employing a small gunpowder charge and easily reloadable cannisters of Kohl, Azure, Bronze and other shades, it was an instant hit with busy flappers. Fernstubble's later addition of a false lash embedder led to his downfall after the infamous "spiked in the eye" incidents on Long Island.
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