|
12-3-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: |
|
Dear Microscopic: Since the Molecule Revolution of 1647 there are almost no wild atoms to be seen outside certain preserves and parks. The situation was quite different back in the earliest colonial days, when vast herds of free tin atoms roamed the plains and bismuth atoms were so numerous that migrating flocks of them blotted out the sun during their annual migrations. The presence of so many free atoms inspired much early colonial poetry and prose. Thomas Nashe, part of the immigrant contingent which would later found the mighty city of Hoboken, waxed prolific on the subject:
John Donne, the piper's son, rhapsodized on the same topic whilst incarcerated for swine larceny:
And the early writer of children's books, Laura "Ingalls" Wilder, set many of her "Little Atoms on the Prairie" books in this almost mythic time:
Alas, the strictures of the Puritans were the undoing of the
free-roaming atoms. They passed rigorous laws demanding that all atoms
dress decently, wearing pants at the very least, and later forced the
enclosure of all free atoms, insisting they be conjoined in holy unity
as proper molecules. And so the era of free atoms came to an end, and
people saw them no more outside of zoos and laboratories. |
|
12-9-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: Who wrote:
-- Poetaster in Poetices
|
|
Dear Poetaster: The great, and alas, utterly forgotten insane poet T Ranstable Pogs, at one time known as "The Elizabeth Barrett Browning of Bonkers." Pogs was a lifetime resident of the Worcestershire Home for the Seriously Weird in Arkham, Massachusetts. Most of his work is based on nursery rhymes, since his education never proceeded beyond kindergarten. (He was frequently expelled because of his habit of eating other children.) Some of his other works are:
|
|
12-15-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: How tall is 'Too Tall'? -- Lanky in Lichtenstein
|
|
Dear Lanky: That's a fascinating story. You see, Lester "Too Tall" Satyriades was only 5' 6" barefoot in his elevator shoes, but he had a mortal fear of being drafted into the Greek army and decided that the best way to dodge the draft was to fail the physical exam. He felt he had his best shot at failing the height requirements, as the Greeks, a vertically-challenged nation, had set the maximum height at only 6' 5". He decided to do this by sheer force of mind over matter, and each day he thought about his mantra, "TALLER!" at every waking moment. After 2 years he was certain he was too tall for the military, and when he was told to report to the induction center he went proudly. Sure enough, the sergeant in charge took one look at him, shook his head in disbelief and declared him 4F. Lester was so happy that he splurged on a box of special treats for Molly, his seeing-eye dog.
|
|
12-3-2005 Dear Aunt Nettie: |
|
Dear Icy: This unusual musical genre, a blend of Miles Davis and Tuvan throat-singing, had a brief cult following after the Miles Davis Support Group's successful tour of Mongolia and Siberia in 1978. The master Siberian throat-singer Kongar-ool Ondar even released a cover of Davis's most famous album, which he called "Kind of Cold," in 1980, which led to the rise of the "extremely cool school" of Sibero-Mongolian chanting. He was soon followed by other cold fusion enthusiasts like saxalaryngists John Coldrain, Julian "Snowball" Adderley and pianolaryngist Wynter Kelly. "Blizzard" Gillespie and Charlie Parka often sat in on Ondar's sessions. The genre hit a peak with the Kongar-ool Ondar Sextet's Kyzyl-Ulaanbaatar tour of 1982, where crowds of fans were "pulverized" ("maaŞk'z"--Tuvan jazz argot for "highly impressed") by Coldrain's virtuoso riffing and overblowing, which often ended with him being frozen solid, his vocal chords erupting like a bright Siberian iris heavy with frost, after which he had to be steeped in warm kumis (fermented mare's milk with a vodka chaser) for several hours to restart his heart. Ondar eventually came under the scrutiny of the House Committee on Un-Soviet Activities. In 1985 he was exiled to Yalta in the Crimea, where he and his group were forced to labor nightly at a Holiday Inn playing popular favorites until they perished of terminal squareness. 
|
FOR MORE ARCHIVES MATERIAL, CLICK ON A MONTH BELOW:
sign guest book | view guest book
archives |
links | wisdom
| home
Please send your questions to nettie@dearauntnettie.com. Due
to the volume of mail received, personal replies are impossible unless
accompanied by large sums of money. You may also submit your questions
using the handy, paranoia-free
form.
© 1996-2004 Ernie Jurick - All rights reserved; all wrongs redressed.
Web design by dancinfool (aka Ditty Nicolaides)
