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1-2-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: Everyone makes such a big deal of New Year's Eve and New Year's Day. I was born on January 2. Isn't there anything memorable about the day after New Year's Day? --Forgotten in Fearnot
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Dear Forgotten: As a matter of fact, January 2
marks quite a few memorable events in history:
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1-3-2004 Dear Aunt Nettie: My Auntie Fannie used to be an
English teacher at the Residence for Unfortunate Debutantes and when I
asked her what an analogy was she threatened to wash my mouth out with
soap. So I decided to ask my other Auntie.
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Dear Niece: First of all, pay no attention to those wimpy definitions in any dictionary published after 1950. The meaning was changed in 1948 to pacify the Mexicans. Your Aunt Fannie is obviously an old-time Californian who remembers what the word used to mean, which is why she responded to your query with oral saponific ablution. Why, there was a time in the early 20th century when the very mention of an an****y in a public place would have gotten you shot, no questions asked. You see, "analogy" is made up of two borrowings, making it a second-hand portmanteau word, as Lewis Carroll would have said. You're already familiar with the "-logy" part from words like psychology, epistemology and hepatoscopology: it simply means "the study of." And the "ana" part of the word? Well, thereby hangs a long and sordid tale. "Ana" refers to both the notorious Santa Ana desert winds of southern California and northern Mexico, and the equally notorious Mexican General Santa Ana, after whom the winds were named.¹ General Santa Ana was notorious for using huge fans to stir up hot dry winds which he used for cover when attacking places like the Alamo. Soon the name of the man and the name of the winds merged into one.² Santa Ana was not a very nice person, all things considered. As a sign of affection he would shoot beer cans off the heads of his friends, but he was such an awful shot that he soon had no friends, although he had a nice collection of intact beer cans, which he cashed in during the aluminum shortage of 1840. Between 1836 and 1855 Santa Ana was elected president eleven times, or once every 1.72727272 years. He was very fond of campaigning-- moreso than of actually running the country, so after a decent interval he would have the previous elections declared invalid and run against himself again. Technically the elections actually *were* invalid for, although everyone voted, the illiteracy rate was 101.5%, and the peasants only knew that if they made any sort of mark on a piece of paper and dropped it into a box, there would be a week-long holiday with free beer shortly thereafter. It was years after Santa Ana's death before they got all the paper slips out of places like alms boxes, electrical boxes and the coin receptacles on public toilets. At some point Santa Ana discovered that he had lost Texas, which, when you consider the size of the place, is quite an accomplishment. Mexicans were outraged, of course, but Santa Ana calmed them by claiming that Texas was actually hiding in the Grand Canyon and promising everyone a nice new war to get it back. He used this period of marital enthusiasm to slip back to Cleveland, where he attempted to pick up the plumbing trade again, but his sombreros were a dead giveaway and he was sentenced by an American court to die of old age surrounded by lovely señoritas and heaps of gold. His life is often used as a moral tale in Mexico to explain why NAFTA does not work the way it was supposed to. After Santa Ana's death a school of philosophy was founded to study his methods, and the Analogists were born. Unfortunately they decided that preserving the hot, dry winter winds was the best memorial they could set up for their hero, and by 1902 the Santa Ana winds had become a fixture of southern Californian life, much to the annoyance of the southern Californians, who soon realized that the winds drove people insane just as effectively as they burned down huge swathes of forest each winter. Soon insanity became a way of life in that region, and that, my dear niece, is why "analogy" is considered a dirty word south of San Luis Obispo. Unless you attend Berkeley.
¹ "Antonio Lopez de
Santa Ana" was a nom de guerre. It was adopted by Cleveland plumber's
assistant Herman Squantsky when he moved to Mexico in 1824 in the hopes
of becoming a general and because he was inordinately fond of sombreros.
He was called "Santa An[n]a" by the peons because of his habit of
wearing a sweeping white beard to disguise his identity, and because
many Mexicans thought he was a woman from his habit of riding
sidesaddle.
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1-5-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: Who wrote "Speculations on the
Source of the Hampstead Ponds, With Some Observations on the Theory of
Tittlebats." And why?
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Dear Titillated: That was Samuel Pickwick, Esq., G.C.M.P.C., a less-than-notable British amateur naturologist who in the spring of 1826 traced the source of the mighty Hampstead Ponds to their source in Hampstead, in spite of amazing hardships, which included missing tea (twice) and suffering a blister (once). He read his report to the Pickwick Club in May of the following year, where it was well received by the membership, but sadly rejected by the British Museum as being "largely fictitious." During the same expedition he stumbled on a cave full of what he called "tittlebats," from the sensation he got when they swooped past him at sundown as he lay naked in the cave entrance recovering from the three bottles of sherry and one of brandy which he had had for lunch. This paper too was returned by the British Museum with the comment, "demented," among others. But the members of the Pickwick Club loved it, of course, as it was Mr. Pickwick's own club and he was very free with the gin after dinner.
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1-7-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: Did you ever know Groucho Marx? How
about the other brothers?
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Dear Pratfallen: The only member of the family I knew was their older brother Karl. He was extremely strait-laced and couldn't see the humor in anything other than economic theory. They tried using him as a straight man until Zeppo got old enough to play the role, but it just didn't work out. Here's a transcript of one of their stage acts: ------------------ GROUCHO: "So, who was that lady I saw you with last night? CHICO: "Hey, dat was no lady, she's-a you wife!" HARPO: "HONK-HONK-HONK!" KARL: "Capital is dead labor, which, vampire-like, lives only by sucking living labor, and lives the more, the more labor it sucks!" GROUCHO: "Speaking of sucking, did anyone ever tell you you look like you were weaned on a pickle?" CHICO: "Hey, dat was no pickle, she'a you wife!" HARPO: "HONK-HONK-HONK!" KARL: "The existence of classes is only bound up with particular, historic phases in the development of production in which the class struggle necessarily leads to the dictatorship of the proletariat which dictatorship itself only constitutes the transition to the abolition of all classes and to a classless society." HARPO: "HONK-HONK-HONK!" -------------------- You can see why they were so happy when Zeppo was able to take over....
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1-8-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: What British mystery novel is
credited with the saving of the life of a child?
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Dear Suspenseful: That would be "How to Save the Life of a Child" by Agatha Crisco, which included the sound advice about never allowing a child to play directly under a grand piano being hoisted to a 10th-floor apartment. It is credited with saving the life of little Alaphonsine Gasterbrimmer of New York City, whose quick-thinking mother took her to the zoo the day their new grand piano arrived. Had the child been playing under the piano, and had the piano actually fallen, it would have brought a dark and somber note to the composition "Slaughter on 10th Avenue." Mrs Gasterbrimmer during a press interview, specifically mentioned the passage in the Crisco book which had influenced her thinking in such a timely manner. However, it turned out that Alaphonsine had a tin ear and no coordination, so the piano pretty much sat there, except when the family was out and the maid used to play barrelhouse versions of bawdy saloon songs after sampling the master's bootleg whiskey.
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1-9-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: What's a "rumspringa?" I heard
somebody talking about it on the TV and it sounded interesting, but the
baby had gotten at the matches again and I had to put out the dog.
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Dear Frazzled: It's an Amish custom. We usually think of the Amish as people who wear only black, use horses and buggies instead of cars and are as wild and crazy as your average mortician. However, there is a time when Amish youth are expected to let their hair down and sow their wild oats and employ similar clichés. When they turn sixteen, boys and girls are allowed to throw over the strict Amish codes of conduct until they decide whether or not they want to be baptized into the Amish Church. This period is called "rumspringa" which literally means "party your ass off." A sixteen-year-old Amish boy on the day after his birthday is expected to buy a low-rider chopper and join a motorcycle gang, try out all the recreational drugs he can afford and live as much as possible on beer and junk food. A sixteen-year-old Amish girl is expected to compete for her high school's coveted "Slut of the Month" award and be expelled for topless cheerleading and doing "Around the World" with the guidance counselor in a gym locker. Although this might seem like heaven on earth for your average American teenager, to the Amish adolescent it's an ordeal. Here's an interview with an Amish "rumspringoid," which describe how he felt about it. "Tommy" (not his real name, which is Isaac): "It was the worst year I ever spent. At first it was fun, flipping off the teachers and cops, holding up convenience stores and bashing rival gangs of Mennonite kids, but it soon grew tiresome. I would awake at 4am and be halfway to the barn to start the milking when it would hit me that I was actually in a sleazy 'love motel' in Paramus, New Jersey, in the company of some dreadful wench whose upper half reminded me of the family Holsteins. By the time she woke up at noon I was pacing the floor, in spite of shooting up every hour on the hour. Then it was nothing but non-stop coupling until the sun went down and we would hit the raves and the clubs, which meant more anonymous sex and other drugs like Ecstasy, which keeps giving me flashbacks to barn-raisings and hoedowns. And that was it. Can you imagine a more pointless life? I couldn't wait to join the church and start wearing suspenders and buttonless coats again. By the way, do you know an electricity-free way of removing tattoos?"
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1-10-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: "Mary Poppins" is one of my
favorite movies. How come they never made a sequel?
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Dear Supercal: They did make a sequel, but "Mary Poppins II: Revenge of the Chimney Sweeps" was never released. The problem was that the production company went for the lowest bidder when they chose a director, and ended up with Russian refugee Boris Stolichnaya Kalashnikov, who in his heyday had directed such Soviet-era hits as "Triumph of the Collective," and "Hoist High the Red Lamp over the Latrines of the People." The movie, which was shot in Romania to save on production costs and featured lip-synching Bulgarian peasants instead of Screen Actors Guild members, was worse than anything by Tom Green or Pauley Shore on a bad inspiration day. Put together, even. The story line, such as it is, tells the tale of the rise of the beleaguered chimney sweeps of London, whose life was described so idyllically in the first movie. Director Kalashnikov was outraged at what he saw as a capitalist whitewashing of the miserable conditions under which chimney sweeps actually worked, and his movie was intended to rectify what he saw as a social travesty. To give you an idea of just how awful the finished movie was, here's one of the songs from the sequel, which takes place as the sweeps prepare to destroy the fine homes of the aristocrats who employ them. Imagine this as sung by Victorian-era Cockney laborers with strong Bulgarian accents: Chip chiminey Chip chiminey Chip chip chim-i-ney A sweep's life's as bad As a bad life can be Chip chiminey Chip chiminey Chip chip chim-i-ney Good luck will run out when Your chiminey falls on you Twenty tons through the roof slates Just think what that'll do! Now as the ladder of life Has been strung The sweep's been too long On the bottommost rung Though I spends me time In the ashes and smoke A properly weakened chiminey Will makes me a happy bloke Down through the rafters The beds and the bath It falls into the cellar Pulled along gravity's path When there's hardly no pay And you're dead before thirty You find yourself listening To that Bolshevik McMurty "Topple the chimineys of London Coo! Then all will be right" I choose me tools with pride Yes, I do A chisel for the bricks And a chisel for the flue Though I'm covered with soot From me head to me toes Us sweeps'll have the last laugh When over she goes! Chip chiminey Chip chiminey Chipped chim-i-ney tricks The proletariat will triumph -- the toffs buried in bricks! Nowhere is there A more happier crew Than them wot plots chaos To get them their due So chip chiminey Chip chiminey One more chip and we're through! See what I mean? However, in keeping with the modern Hollywood tradition of making sequels to dreadful movies, I understand that there's soon to be "Mary Poppins III: Against Globalization" which is being shot in Mexico with Zimbabwean actors. If only they would do the same to the producers....
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1-11-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: We are expecting our first
grandchild and would like some suggestions about what books we should
buy to create a library for him. We've already purchased "Descartes'
Baby: How the Science of Child Development Explains What Makes Us
Human." Do you know of any others?
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Dear Precocious: To encourage your new grandbaby in his intellectual development, the Institute for the Propagation of Neurotic Smartasses (IPNS) suggests the following must-haves for any child's personal collection: "You're Better Than They Are!" -- Self-confidence is important to the child. This collection of infantile essays bolsters the baby's sense of personal worth by demonstrating how other children are nasty, stupid and smelly. "The Art of the Tantrum" -- Helps develop the child's sense of control over the outside world with handy guidelines for never giving in and always getting what you want, especially in public places. "Working the Myth" -- Using a passionate belief in Santa Claus as a process for the acquisition of material objects well into adolescence. "See Spot Run!" -- From the title story, which features a Dalmatian, some gasoline and a kitchen match, to the delightful hijinks one can get up to with hamsters and firecrackers, this book teaches the child to entertain himself in various creative ways. "Sibling Revelry" -- A new baby means less attention will be paid to you. Here's how to deal with that conflict, using such time-tested methods as plastic bags, electricity, open windows and the old reliable washing machine or dryer. Includes alibis. "Teacher's Petting" -- School is annoying and teachers are intrusive, demanding and authoritarian. This collection of stories, when properly memorized and innocently repeated at home or to a policeman, will assure that any instructor you dislike will disappear abruptly from the classroom, usually in handcuffs. "My First Foster Family" -- A charming tale of a young boy's disappointment with his parents and how he decides to see more of the wide world by tampering with the gas stove one night. An update of the old Horatio Alger tale. Includes easy-to-understand basics of insurance and inheritance law. "Oh, the Feces You'll Throw!" -- A Dr Seuss-like rhymed and illustrated how-to manual for seizing control of parents and relatives from the moment they bring you home.
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1-12-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: What's this I'm reading about a
"War on Terriers?" Does PETA know about this???
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Dear Pro-Terrier: More specifically, it's the War on Terrierism, and it came about after a group of suicidal Jack Russells dove into New York's Rockefeller Center after a three-day binge on overripe dumpster beef enchiladas and exploded in the lobby, effectively destroying the building, which had to be dipped in straight bleach to get the smell out. Shortly thereafter a Sealyham "companion animal" went berserk on a flight from New York to London. Although the plane was able to make an emergency landing in the Azores, many of the passengers required extensive psychoplastic surgery, and most of the others refused to get back on the plane and had to be bussed to the UK. However, it wasn't until the Night of the Pit Bulls in Brooklyn on August 17, 1999, that authorities realized there was an organized conspiracy behind the attacks. Then came the Pennsylvania Incident, in which a group of cleverly-disguised Bedlingtons infiltrated and destroyed all the entries at the Kutztown Sheep Fair, and a rabid Dandie Dinmont bit over three hundred members of the Daughters of the American Revolution at a tea dance in Hartford before being put down by rockets from an Apache helicopter. As a result the Office of Homeland Sit!Stay! was formed at vast expense, to identify, track and monitor the activities of terriers in the United States, although to avoid charges of discrimination all dog breeds and some unusually ugly children have come under suspicion as well. There is no truth to the rumor of a secret dog pound in Guantánamo, by the way. Our government would never do such a thing, despite claims to the contrary by PETA's legal team.
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1-13-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: I've been racking by poor brain
trying to remember the name of a children's series of books that has to
do with the adventures of some children in a wardrobe and some other
details I've forgotten. Do you have any idea what I'm referring to? I'd
like to surprise my nephew Ruprecht with a boxed set of the series,
although he really has his heart set on an air rifle.
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Dear Gifted: I believe what you're referring to is the famous "Chronicles of Yarnia," by C X Lewis. There are seven books in all, as summarized below. I'm sure your nephew will love you all to pieces for such a thoughtful gift. The Line Hem, the Stitch & the Warm Robe -- In this first book in the Yarnia series, we meet Pearl, Lupe, Edgemore and Lacy, bored London children in the countryside looking for something to do on a rainy winter afternoon. They soon find a huge old-fashioned chifforobe full of knitting equipment and material, and they set off on grand adventures, knitting themselves all sorts of useful warm garments and fashion accessories. Prints Castingoff -- Pearl and Lucy discover the delights of cable sweater knitting ("Look Pearl, I'm casting off Lucely," she punned.) while the boys Lupe and Edgemore concentrate on intricately patterned William Morris designs from a book of his prints. (" 'Someday my prints will comb,' jokes Edgemore.") The Voyage to the Yarn Trader -- Bored with local yarns, the children make an expedition into a neighboring village to stock up on exotic alpacas and Egyptian cottons for a giant counterpane they have sketched out. There is much jollity in their dealings with crochety Mrs Dropstitch. As they're leaving the store with their purchases, Pearl can't resist a sotto voce description of the old dame as a "real counter pain." The Silver Chainstitch -- Using metallic yarns, the four undertake to make Christmas presents for their chums in London, turning out delightful bags and anoraks that resemble chain mail, all the latest rage among their set. ("Seeing her brother working up a German crest motif on one of his anoraks, Lacy says drolly, 'Eagle be he who eagle thinks," 'Oh, then would you call me a knight of the garter stitch?' ripostes Edgemore, to the others' delight.") Horst and His Boy -- Lupe finds several copies of Norsk Strikkedesign in the wardrobe and decides to attempt a bold Horst Setesdal sweater while the others are off searching for Icelandic wool for another project. The boy is quite proud of the finished product, although his feelings are hurt when Edgemore says, "We don't need no steeking sweaters," not realizing that his older brother is making a play on the steeking technique of circular knitting used in Norway. He cheers up when the girls let him use the Norge for fulling some merino wool, although he doesn't get that pun either. Poor Lupe, so useless, yet so misunderstood. The Magazin's Neft Queue -- On holiday in France, Edgemore and Pearl discover a delightful little Russian knitting and embroidery shoppe on the Rive Gauche, filled with tantalizing items they've been unable to find in Cotswold, including elegant yak wools and that prize of knitters everywhere, Russian oil ("Нефт" pronounced "neft" in English) for imparting a silky sheen to thick wooden Russian knitting needles, thus making knitting with coarse wools less of an effort. Alas, the poky, grumpy Russian salesclerk seems to take forever with each sale, and the line goes on and on until Pearl quips that she is "almost in Seine with waiting." The Last Battle -- In the final book of the series conflict erupts as all four children insist on trying to knit Russian-style felted boots and there is only one last, or boot-form in the house. "I'm not going to be the last to use the last to make boots which last and last," says Lupe, "you've seen the last of me," wordplay of such staggering intensity that the other children fall on their needles out of sheer envy and Lupe gets to make his felted boots without interference. Alas, when he tries them out in the snow he discovers they have no traction whatsoever, and he helplessly slides down the incline toward the lake. In a frantic attempt to stop his fatal slide he lunges for the neighbor's tomcat, Aslan, but the cat easily slips from his grasp and his lunge becomes a luge into the lake.
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1-14-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: What is the origin of the
expression, "pay through the nose?"
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Dear Nasal: Many people believe it originated with the great Kleenex® personal mental anguish lawsuit of 1935, when Abercrombie "Slats" Kleenex of Eustace Falls Station, Iowa, attempted to sue the Kimberly-Clark company, manufacturers of Kleenex, over name infringement. Mr Kleenex stated that the sudden popularity of their disposable handkerchief product had caused him to be subjected to almost constant ridicule, and that even his children had begun referring to him as "Snots" instead of his legitimate Christian nickname. However, he lost the lawsuit when it was discovered that, not only did he have no children, but that his real last name was Kolodny. Mr Kolodny was required to pay slander compensation to Kimberly-Clark, and as he left the courthouse he was heard to mutter under his breath that he had "paid through the nose on that one." However, etymological research turns up a completely different origin for the term. You see, during Klondike Gold Rush in the late 19th century, security in the Yukon was almost nonexistent, as were banks, so miners who struck it rich took to packing their nasal cavities with gold dust to keep it from being stolen. This led, of course, to a rather revolting method of paying for supplies, from whence comes the expression.
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1-15-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: What on earth does chewing gum have
to do the discovery of the Mayan civilization?
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Dear Beach: Once Bill Wrigley had become filthy, stinking rich from selling his chewing gum, he needed something to occupy his time, so he decided to discover a lost civilization and/or discover the source of a mighty river, both occupations being popular with filthy, stinking rich amateur explorers in those days. For the sake of convenience he decided to find the source of the recently opened Panama Canal. In the course of cutting his way through the jungle with his trusty native bearers, he came across some people in a village who told stories of a land where mighty stone structures filled the landscape. This caused him great excitement until he discovered they were tourists from New York City. Pushing again through the jungle with his trusty native bearers, he stumbled upon what was obviously a long-forgotten transportation network secreted in the deepest part of the bush. Only it wasn't quite as long-forgotten as he thought, and he lost several trusty bearers when the 3:45 commuter train from La Chorrera came through. Never one to give up when the going got rough, he flagged down the next train to Panama City and caught a ship home to Chicago where he bought a baseball team and had a stadium named after him. The abandoned trusty native bearers wandered through the jungle until they came across an immense pyramid in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Unfortunately they arrived at an inauspicious time and had their hearts cut out on the top of the pyramid by Aztec missionaries attempting to revive their old-time religion. When he heard the news, Bill Wrigley was so guilt-ridden that he sent a case of chewing gum to the village where the trusty native bearers had come from, with a promise of free stadium seats for the whole village if the Cubs ever won the World Series. Misunderstanding the invitation, the villagers attempted to hitchhike to Chicago the following October and in the process discovered the ruins of the Mayan civilization when they took a wrong turn at Chichicastenango. Thus chewing gum and the Mayan civilization will always be associated in the minds of trusty native bearers everywhere. 
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1-16-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: Do placebos have side effects?
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Dear Hypochondriac: I'm afraid so. Since modern placebos have a much higher curative rate than the medicines they are measured against, it was only a matter of time before personal injury lawyers would discover harmful side effects. A Miss Jeanette Twombly of Yonkers was awarded $5 million after an alleged anaphylactic reaction to the distilled water which cured her thyroid condition. It's certainly a lot different world than the one I grew up in, where the real killers were typhoid, cholera, diphtheria and fulminating plague.
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1-17-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: Where was the world's first parking
meter put into use?
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Dear Expired: At the Lover's Lane in Great Notch, Indiana. The town collected so much money from the experiment that parking meters soon spread to other parts of the country. A truly sensuous young woman became known as an "eight-nickel girl," and every aspiring young rake conspicuously carried an overnight parking permit in his wallet.
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1-18-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: They've been making Broadway and
London musicals out of the weirdest things lately. I just read that
"Lord of the Rings" and "1984" are going to be released as musicals next
year. Can you believe that? I've got an idea for an all-singing,
all-dancing version of "Frankenstein." Has that ever been done before?
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Dear Tinear: Indeed it has. In 1939 a show called "Frankenstein: The Musical!" opened on Broadway, based roughly on the 1931 James Whale movie. The theater fire that night wiped out actors, musicians, writers and audience, but the score remains. Some of the songs are quite beautiful, like this one. All the Things You Were (Jerome Kern/Victor Frankenstein) (Verse) Time and again I've longed for adventure, Something to make my heart beat the faster. What did I long for? I never really knew. But I've found my adventure, assembling you. Touching your neck bolts, my heart beats the faster, As Igor shrieks, "It's alive, Master!" (Chorus) You are the promised hiss of lightning That makes the lonely castle glimmer. You are the dark lantern for lighting The newly-opened grave satin's shimmer. You are the brain afloat in a jar, The neighbors' parts are what you are. Some day my happy clamps will hold you, And some day I'll know that moment divine, When all the world knows the name Frankenstein! (Verse) Time and again I've longed for adventure, Something to make my heart beat the faster. What did I long for? I never really knew. But I've found my adventure, assembling you. Touching your neck bolts, my heart beats the faster, As Igor shrieks, "It's alive, Master!"
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1-19-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: My niece told me (and I'm just
guessing here because she has so many metal things in her tongue it's
hard to understand) that she likes to go to craves(sp?) and dance the
postapocalypso(sp?) What on earth is she talking about?
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Dear Auntie: You're asking the wrong person. I gave up listening to teenagers around the time when the biggest global concerns were the threat of nuclear war and the collective anguish over how to prevent one's blue suede shoes from being stepped on. As for wearing metal things in one's tongue, the very thought gives me the heebie-jeebies. It sounds like a bad case of oral shrapnel being discussed by the happy-go-lucky doctors of M.A.S.H....
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1-20-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: Who released the first personal
computer? And in what year?
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Dear Silicoid: It depends on your definition. The Scelbi-8H, the Mark-8, the Altair 8800, the IBM 5100 and the Apple I and/or II were all designated as "personal computers" in their advertising. However, the first personal computer released into the wild was "Ducky," which had been raised from a diode by Mr. and Mrs. Homer Teasdale of Omaha, Nebraska, after its parents were killed in a woodland fire. "Ducky" was released in 1974 and tracked for several years until it was sadly killed by a hunter in 1981.
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1-21-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: Who wrote "It was a dark and stormy
night?"
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Dear Literati: George Ransterfogel Gillhooley. It was the first line of his poem "Midnight Boston Horsie Ride." It placed first runner-up in the Paul Revere League's 1863 poetry contest which was won, of course, by Henry "Wadsworth" Longfellow. Gillhooley's poem begins like this: "It was a dark and stormy night In the steeple I saw a light One if by land, two if by sea What the devil do they mean by three? Onto my horse I sprang, saddled and ready I mean, the horse was saddled and I was almost steady On Dasher! On Dancer! I cried to my team My poor horsie thought I was off my beam. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake Then shrugging his shoulders begins to trot Up to the barn door, unfortunately lock'd O what have I done with the key? O woe O tragedy O whoopsie me! My little horse slips into a doze As I frantically riffle my clothes Not finding the key I do the next best And from the barn roof I yell from my chest 'This is the church and this is the steeple Open the doors and there's all the people!' Or something like that, I don't clearly recall Having spent the whole evening at Raunce's beer-hall When out of the night there arose such a clatter, Then I was smacked in the head with a greasy meat platter. 'Hey, Revere, you miserable souse, It's three in the morning-- get back in your house!' My neighbors called out in a passionate chorus I slid off the barn roof and onto my horuse. Which startled him so he went through the barn door Leaving me lying upon the barn floor So grabbing a halter I pelted after the beast Crying 'The bit, it is coming!' up and down the streets 'Til I wakened the Night Watch who clapped me in shackles Just listen to that fool horse, the way that he cackles Anyway, the judge, he threw the book at me For disturbing the peace and drunken revelry As I was sleeping it off that morn in my cell I thought I heard a passing rider yell Something about the British being here But we're all British, I mean, aren't we dear?" Chapter Two is even worse, if you can believe it....
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1-22-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: John Clayton Jr., was the childhood
name of what well-known fictional character?
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Dear Grace: That would be Billy Batson, who later went on to have a crime-fighting career as "The Captioned Marvel," the first comic-book superhero with subtitles. Batson, who cleverly disguised himself as crippled boy reporter Tiny Tim, could change identities by saying the magic word "Shazoom¹," or "Shazeem²." However the later word sometimes turned him into Wonderbra Woman, who fought crime by lifting and separating criminals and firmly underwiring them until the police arrived.
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1-24-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: Alla time I'm seeing these movies
where lawyers are portrayed as rotten, no-good bums. Was there ever a
movie where they were portrayed as heroes and good guys?
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Dear Litigious: There's only one I can think of, the 1955 film "Rebel without a Clause." Dean James plays Jim, the new kid at law school. As the film opens, Jim's at the law library, totally immersed in volumes of contract law. While there, he observes another student, Plato, and later the two become friends, sharing a common interest in the phrasing of hold-harmless agreements. However, Jim is confused. He doesn't know what he wants out of a career, he doesn't like being treated like an idiot by aspiring trial lawyers, and he basically wants to be left alone to meditate on the fine points of terms like "accrue," "devolve," and "construed." He finds trouble, though, when some tort reform bullies challenge him to a moot court. One of the students is killed by a falling copy of the Code of Federal Regulations, and Jim finds himself the target of his vengeful buddies. Meanwhile, Jim has met Judy, a law librarian who once helped him locate a copy of "Subtitle D -- Other Provisions Relating to Property Management [1947 Revised]" and takes quite a liking to her. Most of the rest of the movie is then concerned either with Jim as he prepares for his orals, or with Jim evading the dead student's associates, who are armed with copies of Blackstone. In a gripping scene set in the card file room, Jim must hold them off with a single copy of the Harvard Law Review, and only escapes by baffling his attackers with an obscure reference to chattel manumission under mortmain. Jim is also oppressed at home, brutalized by a father who wants him to follow his footsteps into a leading corporation law firm, and belittled by his mother, a personal injury attorney. In the end he rejects their lifestyles and sinks into a colorless job writing the fine print on automobile leases. After many years of eyestrain he goes blind and is killed by a garbage truck while crossing against the light. The driver of the truck turns out to be Judy, who had sunk to the depths after being rejected by Jim. Horrified at what she's done, she commits suicide by swallowing a copy of "Selected Cases in American Constitutional Law (11th Edition)"
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1-25-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: Why is a spelling competition
called a spelling bee? |
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Dear Loquacious: It comes from the original spelling bee, Harold, who used to be a big hit at county fairs in the 19th century. People would call out a word and Harold would fly from letter to letter on a large display board spelling it out. His owner and trainer, Myron Whipwiggle, made a great deal of money from Harold until it was revealed in 1893 that Harold was actually a wasp. Whipwiggle was disgraced and jailed for carnival fraud, a felony in Indiana. Harold was released into the wild, where he took up with a bad crowd. One night after a wild party on fermenting apples he passed out and froze to death in a puddle.
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1-26-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: So what do you know about Mozart? I
read that he was 14 when visited the Pope at the Vatican and that the
Pope gave him a special gift while he was there, but the book I was
reading had the pages torn out before I could find out what the gift
that the Pope Gave to Mozart actually *was.* Any clues? |
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Dear Wolfganged: Changing moral standards are why those pages were torn out. Let's just say that there was a good reason that Pope Clement XIV awarded Mozart the Order of the Golden Spur after their visit. While it was considered a "gift" back in those wild and crazy Vatican days, today there would have been lawsuits and out-of-court settlements.
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1-28-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: Where did the Macarena dance
originate? Someone told me it was based on loose women that sold their
body for money. |
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Dear Shakin': I'm afraid the true story is much duller than that. You see, there were these two deaf-mute women who worked in a popular nightclub in Seville, Spain, doing janitorial work. One night, just before the club opened, they got into a violent argument over whose turn it was to put away the floor waxer. Patrons waiting in line outside could see them through the club's huge display windows as they argued. Now, Spanish sign language is much different from American sign language, and obscenities and swear words are much more graphically expressed. When the women really got angry they started using highly colorful expressions to describe each other, like this: Right arm straight out, palm down, followed by left arm straight out palm down = "You wish you had fingernails like this, bitch!" Right arm straight out palm up, followed by left arm straight out, palm up. = "I spit on your fingernails, at least my hands are clean, slut!" Right hand grasps inside of the left arm at the elbow = Classic international blowoff gesture Left hand grasps inside of the right arm at the elbow = Return of classic international blowoff gesture Right hand behind back of neck, followed by left hand in back of neck = "Take a look at these boobs, sweetie, and they're real, too!" Right hand on left front pants pocket, followed by left hand on right front pants pocket = "These hips would drive your boy friend crazy, darling, if you had a boy friend!" Right hand on right back pants pocket, followed by left hand on left back pants pocket = "Where's my wallet? For two pesetas I can buy you a boyfriend for tonight!" Move rump to the left, then right, then left again = "If you had a derrière like this the boys would whistle at you instead of throwing rocks!" Clap hands, turn 90° to the right = "I wish you the clap, but you catch it from a public toilet, not a man!" By this time the impromptu audience outside the club was fascinated with the rapid-fire exchange of gestures, and obviously thought the women were rehearsing a new dance step while waiting for their male companions to show up. They began copying the argument in the street, and as soon as the club opened they poured onto the dance floor and the band gave them a flamenco beat to accompany it. The rest is history. Oh, there's one more detail. At the height of the dance party a bus full of deaf Spanish nuns returning from midnight Mass passed by, and were so horrified to see 600 deaf people insulting each other so vehemently that two of them fainted and one of the others was never seen outside the walls of the convent again. 
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1-30-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: What famous American poet was a
West Point cadet for two weeks, but was forced to leave after failing
arithmetic and grammar? |
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Dear Militia: That would be P. Sturgis Wallpratt, who overcame the burden of congenital illiteracy to become one of the least-known poets of the Victorian Era. He never overcame the disgrace of flunking out of West Point, where he had hoped to become a busboy in the officer's mess, and his poetry often reflects his bitterness, confusion and despair after the event. The opening stanzas of his most minor work, "Wespernt: A Epik Pome" expresses this feeling perfectly. Wallpratt apparently borrowed the rhyme scheme from Henry "Wadsworth" Longfellow's "Hiawatha" when his back was turned, as well as Walt Whitman's overuse of the first-person singular pronoun: Wespernt: A Epik Pome by P Sturgis Wallpratt, his rymin "On the Rivver of the Hudsonn, Hi abov the Noo Yark Citty, I took me up to Wespernt, Up the Rivver asending, On the edgez of the Hudsonn I took me up, and stude there standing, Me, I stood there on the dock unbending. I walked me to the grate big Gate Told the gard I was too days late He hit me back into the Rivver poluted Because I had not him Soluted. Knocked me A** over Teakettle Because I had not him Soluted Dripping wet I stood, Poluted Frum the wettnes of the Waters I drippt me to my assinéd Kwarters, Stinking with the Rivers fowlness Sliping on the marbel's vastness I Sat me down upon a Bedd Vizhuns of revenge upon my Hed In my Hed, I sed, the fellers Ded Soon dresst I was in plebish Grey I took me to the Skoolrume door To the Grate Skulerume come I thense There bein no chare, I used the Flor I sat me down, I took a Book I looked around me for a pensil A Pensil or som ritin Utensel. Just then this greyberd Teachr appered In the Rume he luked and peerd And called my Name and ruffly jeerd And ast me Watr yu doin here? I tole him I had cum to lern the Sojers job And iffen I likd it, make me a Kereer, A Sojers jobs a Swell Kireer. Wel, he ups and Laffs an kalls me names An says I aint got **** for Branes For Haddn I got the Ledder they sent Tellin me not to Bother cummin? I got the ledder Yes Sir, I sed But my ritns lots better than my reedin is I rites lots gooder than I rede, Sir Wel, you preshus Dope he cride The ledder sed we wuz glad yu applide But yore testin skores was the lowest evr An you got no more chance here Than a Snowball does in the Bowles of H**l Now get you gone, you sorry chump An so I left me that elegant Dump. An home I went, an they all laffd An sed I bedder wate for the draft Cause them offisers they got to rede an rite Sos they kin tell you ware to fite But if you is just a drafted cuss You dont hafta now nuttin much Sojers just gotta now howto duk an shute. An so I lost my Sojers Kereer And sit here drinkin lotsa Beer An plot and skeme lots of Reveng On that Feller at the Gate who pushed me Inter the Huddsun at Westpernt An cost me my Sojerly Kireer Now my only Kireers to Cri in my Beer."
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1-31-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: Which three famous inventions have
been credited to the wrong people? |
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Dear Gearloose: Easy one. The landmine was not invented by Horace T Landmine, although it was inadvertently credited to him. The actual inventor was "Tiddy" Belgianwaffles of Akron, Ohio, who really, really hated his mother-in-law and had booby-trapped the sidewalk in front of his home just ahead of her dreaded Easter visit. But Landmine got to the patent office first and entered the history books, whereas Belgianwaffles only succeeded in becoming inmate #387-4340 on Ohio State Penitentiary's Death Row and a footnote in trivia collections.¹
Phineas "Bobana"
Raisinbran did not invent the famous breakfast cereal. That was the work
of Herbie Five-and-Dime, a shop clerk in Porcine, Arkansas, who one day
after a night of heavy drinking mixed a raisin order with a horse-feed
order and was promptly fired. Being illiterate he was unable to file a
patent application and unwisely asked his neighbor Raisinbran to fill it
out for him. The rest is history: Raisinbran sold his patent to the
Cereal Cartel for a million jillion dollars, whereas poor Herbie
Five-and-Dime was eaten by a horse. |
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