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7-1-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: Can you tell me why
Daniel Boone went west via Tennessee when he could have easily taken
I-64 across Virginia, West Virginia, and Kentucky? My brother Clyde says
it's because he didn't want to miss Crazy Eddie's and Silly Sally's
fireworks stands. |
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Dear Lit: The answer to your question can be found in Daniel Boone's diary or pocket journal, in which he meticulously noted down events of his passage.
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7-3-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: Was there really a
Great Flood at some point in history? |
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Dear Damp: Who could forget Onesiphorus Zebulon "Zeb" Flood, the writer and sage of the hamlet of Redbone in the Ozark hills of Arkansas? He was known as "the Great Flood," by his contemporaries because of his prodigious learning, acquired not from some fancy-schmancy school, but from the 12-volume "Encyclopedia of Arcane Knowledge," which was vouchsafed unto him by a traveling salesman in 1921, whom Flood later determined to be the prophet Abraham, based on the Encyclopedia's "Is Your Co-Worker a Reincarnated Hebrew Prophet?" quiz in Volume 3. Flood, who in real life was a plumber's helper in a village without indoor plumbing, had a great deal of idle time on his hands. As he waited patiently for marvels like the flush toilet to be delivered to Redbone, and for the anointment of a plumber to whom he could apprentice himself, he studied the Encyclopedia day and night, and was always ready to spring into a learnéd discourse on rainmaking, conjuring toads from stones, or nifty ways of notching the crusts of huckleberry pies to bewitch blue jays. His greatest accomplishment, converting base metal to gold, is still talked about today in Redbone, although the markings "US Federal Reserve" on the bottom of the gold bars, combined with an identical weight missing from the Redbone Trust, somewhat spoiled the effect. Zeb spent several years after that conjuring the warden at the state penitentiary to move him to a cell closer to the stove. Perhaps his second greatest accomplishment was using the formulas in the Encyclopedia to predict the end of the world, which he did with annoying frequency until he was slapped with a restraining order in 1930. His worst miscall was to predict that June 31st of 1928 would be the end of the world again, clean forgetting the old rhyme, "Thirty days hath September, April, June and no wonder." The explanation for his failure that time was that the world "sure as shootin'" would have ended, had there been a June 31st. Flood died in 1953 when his attempt to fly a balloon solo around the world was ended before it began by his belated discovery that methane is heavier than air but pretty much as explosive as hydrogen. His attempt to ignite a kerosene burner under a balloon filled with methane proved to be his final disenchantment with the "Encyclopedia of Arcane Knowledge." In his will he ordered that this great work be preserved in the Redbone Pubic Library (whose 1896 dedication was marred by the discovery of a missing letter in the granite pediment. Alas, by that time the stonecutter had skipped town and the library has been on the receiving end of smutty jokes ever since.). And, unless anyone has stolen it, it is there to this day.  |
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7-5-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: |
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Dear Patriot: Well, I stay out of politics myself, but I consulted one of the geezers here in LDRU. His name is Thomas Jefferson George Abraham Teddy Roosevelt, but we call him Captain America.
1) Where is Iraq? |
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7-7-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: |
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Dear Accountant: Listen my children and you shall hear Of the expense-account ride of Paul Revere, On the seventeenth of April, in Seventy-three; Hardly an accountant is now tax-free Who remembers that famous day and fee. He said to his friend, "It was great flinging tea Out into the harbor last night, But to publicize our insurgency Got to get the news to New York by first light,-- A hundred pounds by land, and two if by sea; I'm sure you'll consider a reasonable fee, I'm ready to ride and spread the good news Across village and farm and meadow and mews And sell a few tins of my polish if I choose." Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride Waiting for signoff walked Paul Revere. But mostly he watched with eager search The belfry tower of the Old North Church, And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height A glimmer, and then a gleam of light! "A hundred pounds authorized-- all right!" Yet he lingers and gazes, awaiting sight Of the second hundred quid of a second light. "Bummer," he cried, when the belfrey stayed dark "An extra hundred would have been such a lark," But he shrugged his shoulders and charged down the street Struck out on a steed flying fearless and fleet; A fiery horse he, with the speed of light, The cry "Hi, yo, Silver" was heard in the night; As he charged up the on-ramp, pausing only to note The shilling toll-fee as a five-pound note. Onward he rode, only pausing a bit To peddle his polish, for a shilling chit. So on through the night rode Paul Revere; And so through the night went his cry to hear: "Good silver polish, one shilling the can! None better for silver, by Revere , silver-man!" To every Middlesex village and farm, The cry of the salesman, and not of alarm, A shout in the darkness, a knock at the door, "As fine a polish as there'll be evermore!" Six weeks later he reached Ye Bigg Apple, Having sold all the polish he carried by saddle, The news? Oh it was quite old by then, Heard and discussed and forgotten again. But Paul Revere, he made such a killing! A hundred quid plus three hundred tins at a shilling. When the bill came due Jefferson cried out, "^%*)(^*&*$%)(*&%(**%&!! the lout!" He's padded this invoice so thick and so stout To deliver old news we'd have well done without! Pay the &%$^%*$, but note very clearly That his messenger service comes very dearly Make sure if the Regulars are coming some day We find someone else to send on his way!" |
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7-9-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: |
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Dear Displaced: Ah, that brings back fond memories of the origins of the Virginia-North Carolina War of 1790. You see, since both states had been admitted to the Union (Local #14 - Amalgamated Paper Shufflers) nearly at the same time, they thought they should show their kinship and fraternal unity by creating a new city that would span their borders and share their names. A challenge was sent out to the populace of both to create a name for the city which would use all the letters of both states in a triumphant word or phrase. The initial results were dismal, all simple-minded variations on Virginolina North or North Cariginia or suchlike. Most of the settlers were too busy farming, fighting off hostile Indians, or being illiterate to pay much attention to the contest. Disappointed, the foundering fathers decided to hand the job over to a professional, which in this case happened to be Delmer Babbage, who had just invented a calculating device which he called the Indifference Engine. Rather than using numbers, however, the Indifference Engine used letters, and was able to anagramatize words or even phrases as fast as you could turn the crank. Babbage had nicknamed his creation as the "Find Inference Genie," cleverly based on the results of feeding the words Indifference Engine to the machine and turning the handle. All this seems innocuous enough, but at the meeting where the final choices were to be announced and voted on, a breakdown in communications led to disaster, as most of the attendees thought they were at a meeting of the debating society, whose topic for the evening was, "Which is Better, Virginia or North Carolina?" A spirited exchange of opinions was anticipated and the room was packed with stately partisans. The Governor of North Carolina approached the lectern and, addressing his opposite number at a lectern on the other end of the stage, began reading from his half of the list of anagramatizations of the two states' names, announcing in a loud clear voice which carried to the back of the hall, "Loath Virginian Carrion"! Well, the Virginians in the audience, already quite soused from the introductory celebrations, rose to their feet as a man in protest, but calm was soon restored and all eyes turned to the Governor of Virginia, expecting a sizzling riposte. The Governor cleared his throat, and in a ringing pronouncement declared, "Invariant Noir Oligarch!" obviously a slur on his counterpart's African ancestry, as well as his management style. Pandemonium ensued, and it was only with difficulty that order was again restored to the hall and the attendees pacified with shots of whiskey and free copies of "Roberta's Rules of Order," which was a handbook of procedures for conducting malicious gossip sessions and quilting bee/character assassination events. Once again all bloodshot eyes turned to the Governor of North Carolina, awaiting some titanic retort to the slur which had been flung down as a challenge to the Virginian leader. This Governor mopped his sweating brow, glanced nervously at the hair-trigger audience, and proclaimed, "Arrogant Civilian Rhino"! Thus, with the best of intentions, the savage Virginia-North Carolina War of 1790 broke out, not to be resolved for five years after much loss of life and mountains of scurrilous graffiti, some of which can be see to this day. |
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7-11-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: |
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Dear Eccentric: I believe that Redbone, Arkansas, is the center of the crackpot industry in the United States. The Redbone Center for Crackpotology (not Scientology, that's a different brand of fruitcake) has the only degree-granting course in the subject that I'm aware of. Students are recruited via tiny ads in magazines like Fortean Times, UFO Magazine, The Weekly Standard, or the house organ of Bigfoot Spotters of America. The four-year program covers the basics: First Year - Introductory Crackpotology; History of Crackpotism; Famous Crackpots; The Golden Age Of Crackpottery; Overcoming the Challenge of Facts Second Year - The Crackpot Way of Thinking; Developing and Defending a Crackpot Theory; Intermediate Crackpotology, Theories of Persistent Delusion, Cultivation of an Idée Fixe in Spite of Logic and Reason Third Year - Choosing your Major: Scientific, Alien, Astrological, Historical or Creationist Crackpottery; How to Select Proofs of Your Beliefs not Available from Normal Sources; Advanced Crackpotology; Inventing Evidence to Fit Your Theory; The Fine Art of Self-Publishing Fourth Year - Attracting Publicity; Recruiting Followers; How to Rant; Essential Conspiracy Theory; Finding Audiences on Late-Night AM Radio; Avoiding Incarceration; How to Make Competency Hearings Work for You. |
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7-18-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: |
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Dear Twisty: In a word, money. The United States, being wealthier than most other countries, can afford more exotic forms of weather than say, Papua New Guinea, which can only afford tropical downpours, or the Sahara in Africa, which can afford no weather changes at all. America's weather satellites, which control the panoply of weather choices we enjoy, are, of course, state of the art, not only providing its citizens with a wealth of unique features like tornadoes, but with the weather systems of all other parts of the world-- a sort of climatological theme park. In what other country will you find such extremes as the Arctic features of northern Alaska, with its 22-hour summer days and winter nights, the island paradise of Hawaii, the South American humidity, mosquitoes and general unpleasantness of the Gulf Coast, the Alpine delights of the Rocky Mountains, the sprawling deserts of Arizona and New Mexico, or the tropical swamps of Florida where our old people go to wither and die? Pity the poor states of sub-Saharan Africa, who can only afford heat, humidity and rain-- most of which is stolen from the common people by corrupt bureaucrats. Even the splendidly venal government of wealthy Nigeria has been forced to postpone the snowstorms it has been promising for years, as the money just isn't there. And what of Antarctica, a stellar example of the proposition that public ownership leads to public abuse. Instead of being a tropical paradise much vaster than Hawaii, squabbling over funding among resident nations with camps there means it can only afford the bleakest of weather, and even that has been abused, as the scandal over the UN's Ice-for-Food program eloquently demonstrates. No, America has earned its tornadoes, its hurricanes, its floods, its blizzards and its record heat. Let other nations who wish to follow in our footsteps set their houses in order, scrimp and save, and someday they too will enjoy weather American-style. They must act quickly though, as the present administration has cut weather funding to the bone, and soon global warming will overwhelm us all, regardless of income. |
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7-24-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: |
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Dear Mensural: Surprisingly, it's based on the length of the human thumb. According to the story, in 1111 King Harry the Prehensile used the length of his own thumb to set the standard. Nothing much more is known about King Harry, other than he was able to hold out a basketball with one hand at the age of 3. Other members of royalty soon picked up the habit of establishing standards of measurement based on their body parts, which is why we have the cubit, based on the forearm of King Popeye the Built of Lambeth, the square harnish, based on the area of the kneecap of King Osgood the Lame of Lemuria, and the *********, based on the ***** of King Overhung the Generously Endowed of Tasmania, which has fortunately gone out of use, as it was impossible to stifle the giggles of people using it and almost impossible to teach in third grade. Queen Anne of Cleavage attempted to have a standard weight based on part of her anatomy but chickened out of the public weighing-in ceremony. |
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7-26-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: |
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Dear Morey: Pluck, hard work and endurance. The complete story is in Horatio Alger's book, "The Little Ampersand that Could," relating how young Andy, Urchin of the Streets, worked to master the intricate curves of his substitute for the first 3 letters of his name, saying all the while, "I think I and, I think I and, I think I and..." until he succeeds in perfecting the new letter, becoming known as &y, Urchin of the Streets, or sometimes as &y, the Street-urchin Formerly Known as Andy. After he had finally secured the letters patent for his new letter he felt he had the wherewithal to marry his long-time 15-year-old girlfriend Janey Grey, but he was killed by butcher shop dogs when he attempted to filch a flitch of bacon with which to propose to her, as she was allergic to roses and diamonds made her break out in a rash. Janey Grey was sent to a home for wayward girls where she was taught music, and later went on to write Puccini's opera, "Girl of the Golden Ampersand." Set in the Old American West, the opera is about the struggles of young &rea to introduce &y's new letter into the font libraries of Jack Rancid, the villainous typesetter who controls most of the printed vocabulary in East Texas, having killed Noah Webster in a shoot-out over the precise etymology of "waffle." Young &rea triumphs by mixing up Rancid's ps and qs, so that his doctor's diagnosis of plague is mis-typed as plaque, the cure for which Rancid disregards, as he feels that green teeth are a chick magnet. So he perishes miserably, along with most of the town and all of the cattle, sheep and prairie dogs. Thus depopulated, the town loses its ZIP code and fades from the memory of man. In the last act we see a remorseful &rea gazing into the sunset as she sings the aria, "E! Polenta mi Gazpacho Pronto Ray-Bans," ("Hey, I'm Staring at the Sun Without Sunglasses!") after which she goes blind and falls into a spittoon, where she too perishes miserably. Puccini later rewrote the opera as the musical, "Best Little Whorehouse in Texas," and made a mint. |
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7-27-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: |
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Dear Thespic: That would be Luigi Pirandelicatessen's "Six Characters in Search of a Salami," one of the first experiments in dinner theater of the absurd. The famous first line, in response to someone knocking at the kitchen door, began the craze for "Knock-knock," jokes, and inspired noted chef Paul Bonhomey to create his "Knockwurst à la mode," an exquisite taste treat of pork sausage and pistachio ice cream smothered in fried onions and butterscotch. The rest of the play is nowhere near as good as the first line, unfortunately. Set in a small hamlet in Denmark, it recounts the legend of the Lost Weinerschnitzel, and how the prince of the country wanders far and wide looking for the mysterious woman who had appeared at a ball dressed only in suet. The prince roams the countryside covering good-looking peasant wenches in suet, then stepping back and finally saying, "Nope, not enough slope to the upper fortifications," or, "Not quite, the suet makes her butt look big." After which he releases the birds and he and his entourage also have a nice snack. The prince finally settles on a simple village girl. Stepping back, he nods and says, "Yes, it suets her perfectly," so they are married and go to live in the castle, although it is years before he can break her of the habit of getting up at 4am to milk the cows and slop the hogs. The play ends with a food fight which some critics have described as, "a great big mess," while other have raved about the sense of dialectical completion, as the ending answers the question posed in the first line: PRINCE: "Heerza!" DUKE OF EARL: "Heerza who?" PRINCE: "Heerza lemon meringue pie inna you face!" [flings pie] [Food fight begins, ends with all parties on the castle floor covered in delectables. A disgusted housekeeper lets wild bears into the banquet hall.] ALL: Screams! Exeunt alles, bear left. Curtain. |
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7-29-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: |
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Dear Polyhymnia: A violin strung with actual catgut. Musicians were instructed not to talk about the bloody horrors which took place backstage before each performance. A lucky escapee named Fluffy later wrote a tell-all book, "Music to Die For," which caused Prokofiev and seven violinists to be sent to Siberia. There they formed an ensemble called "The Icemen Cometh," which had a popular hit in 1940 called "Shivaree." That led to the frenetic dance of the same name, very useful in Russia's unheated dance halls. |
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7-31-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: |
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Dear Sealed: That was James "A" Garfield, who owed a great debt to the Olive Growers Association of America (OGAA). The organization had raised millions to pay for Garfield's campaign, and in New York City alone had spent $100,000 on beer to buy Irish and German votes. Garfield was bitterly disappointed that the Arrow Nockers & Fletchers League (ANFL) had supported his opponent, Winfield "S" Hancock, and swore to his underlings that he would immediately convert the entire Army to firearms in retaliation. He also unscrewed the head of the eagle on his Presidential seal and pointed it away from the arrows and toward the olive branch, and even suggested replacing the arrows with a six-gun.
His pettiness proved to be his undoing, as Charles "J" Guiteau, a
journeyman fletcher thrown out of work by the change, used one of the
newfangled "guns" to fatally shoot Garfield, who was touring an olive
orchard outside Baltimore, Maryland. OGAA lobbyists had planned to use
the occasion to persuade Garfield to make the olive the Official Garnish
of the United States, and to replace the stars on the American flag with
olives, preferably pimiento-stuffed jumbo green Manzanillas. Garfield's
eponymous semi-autobiographical cartoon strip was taken over by Jim
Davis, who over the years modified Garfield's luxuriously bushy bearded
cartoon profile into that of a large orange cat. |
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