Bad, terrible, horrible puns.

In pictorial form!

Credit: Peter Gander at BadPuns.com.

FAIRLY TALES AND NEW SEWERY RHYMES

by Cynthia MacGregor

FAIRLY TAILS AND NEW SEWERY RHYMES

People in fairly tails are always having bad times—this is because the stories are all full of wicked watches. Naturally they all give bad time.

One of these stories is about a brother and sister. The sister is apparently named Elizabeth or Ellen or something—she’s so wonderful that everyone calls her Great El. Her brother has big ears that are great for pulling him along when he lags behind, and so he goes by Handle. Handle and Great El are going through the woods when they see a house made of cookies and candies and stuff. It has a ginger bed. Inside is an old crone, who usually plays bridge with her cronies but today has stayed home to bake. What she mostly wants to bake is Handle and Great El.

When they realize her intention, they tell her that lots of different publishers are going to print her story, but she’s not getting any royalties on any of the sold copies. This upsets the old crone so much that she sticks her head in the oven. Great El pushes her in the rest of the way and cooks her goose—and the rest of her as well. Then Great El and Handle eat the old crone out of house and home—walls and all.

Another girl who escapes from a wicked old crone is a short girl who reaches only up to the top of the winter’s drifts—so, of course, she’s known as Snow Height. Snow Height meets seven guys who live in a little house in the Far East and are just as height-challenged as she is. She apologizes for bothering them, but they assure her, “It’s no trouble a tall.” The wicked queen gives her a poisoned Apple, but the seven little guys tell Steve Jobs all about the queen’s evil deed (the deed is to their little house). The Apple had put a bad spell (K-A-T) on Snow Height, but Steve fixes her spellchecker, so she wakes up and marries him and lives happily ever after.

Then there’s Sender Ella. She lives with her stepfamily, a wicked stepmother and two terrible stepsisters, who have all enrolled in a twelve-step program. They feed Sender Ella crumbs of leftovers, and not even good stuff like leftover Beef Wellington, which means Sender Ella always has to keep asking, “Where’s the beef?” although she has a legitimate beef with her step-relatives.

To make ends meet, and to end up with some meat, Sender Ella takes in night work for the Post Office—they bring her all the mail marked, “Return to Sender.” Even if she wasn’t the one who sent it. All she’s mailed out for years has been letters to Dear Abby, asking how to get out of the mess she’s in. She’s so busy working, she never has the chance to write a whole letter at once, but she writes half at a time and sends them in by partial post.

Finally Prince Charmin, a paper-thin guy, gives a ball (autographed by Willie Mays), and Sender Ella decides she’s going to go and dance with the prince. Her furry godmother shows up to help out and fixes her up very micely. The furry godmother turns a pumpkin into a coach and six mice into referees.

At the ball, Sender Ella finds Prince Charmin, and the prince finds her charming too. But she runs out of the palace at midnight, because if she doesn’t return the rent-a-coach, Avis is going to charge her for an additional day. Despite the sign outside that says KEEP OFF THE GLASS, Sender Ella walks on it, and slips, which makes her a glass slipper.

She hires F. Lee Bailey and sues the king and queen for damages. This gives them a royal pain, but they settle out of court, with Sender Ella agreeing to drop her suit (she’s wearing very fancy underwear beneath it) if she can marry the prince.

Most of the brooms in fairly tales (and even unfair tales) belong to witches, but one heroine who’s famous for her broom is Sweeping Beauty. But as this is another story of a wicked old crone and a beloved heroine and a handsome prince, it often gets mistaken for a Summer Rerun.

Another story features a famous apprentice chef, named Jack. He tries to make a good vegetable stock out of beans. He does so well that his fame spreads far and wide. Everyone wants to meet Jack and taste his bean stock.

Food figures in many of these stories. The heroine of one story is even named after a salmon—of course I’m talking about Goldie Lox. You know the story of Goldie Lox and her forbears. And since you know it, I’d better forbear to repeat the whole thing here. It’s too confusing, anyhow—the story tells us she was eating “poor rich.” Which is it?

Like Goldie Lox, Old King Coal is also a fish—the new sewery rhyme tells us he was a merry old sole. But even if his story sounds fishy to you, you’d better believe it, ‘cause Old King Coal is Santa’s unsung helper. He’s the one who visits all the bad boys and girls and leaves something unwanted in their stockings.

His musicians fiddle around while he smokes his pipe. Then he goes bowling. But the Lung Association gets on his case, and he quits smoking. We wouldn’t want to have unsuitable roll models—or bread models or cake models—for our kids. So of course Old King Coal had to give up his pipe. Now his favorite treat is Coal’s slaw.

But we’re confusing our kids. What are they to believe about the Three Little Bigs—which size were they? (Obviously the wolf thought they were portion-sized. But Portion was a Shakespearean character and has no place in this discussion.)

(more tomw)

SOME FUNNY ORCHESTRAS

by Cynthia MacGregor

(cont'd from Friday)

Another instrument you blow into is the bagpipes. Not usually found in a symphony orchestra, the bagpipes is (are?) nonetheless a venerable instrument, one that in looks resembles a cross between a handbag and an octopus. The sound is that of a Scotsman who has had someone reach underneath his kilt to see what’s there.

The first and most difficult lesson in learning to play the bagpipes is learning which pipe to blow into. Tissues are easier—you know where to blow. Bagpipes are considered a party instrument—there are enough pipes that a gang of friends ought to be able to play all at once—hopefully all playing the same tune. It would get pretty messy if one person were playing Brahms’ “Lullabye” and another were playing “Yankee Doodle” while a third played “Yellow Submarine” and a fourth played “There’ll Be a Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight.” Opinions are divided as to whether the bagpipes are an instrument of music or an instrument of torture.

Yet another instrument you blow into is the breathalyzer.

Besides the bagpipes, there are other instruments played with the breath that are not normally part of an orchestra. These include the kazoo and the ocarina, a large okra. You cannot, however, play music on okra in its natural state. Most people cannot even eat okra. The ocarina is also called the sweet potato, but nobody has ever played a candied ocarina.

Some musicians are really little kids at heart. They just like to bang things and make a lot of noise. They play instruments of a type collectively known as percussion. They make a lot of noise, like a percussion grenade—although that is only considered an instrument of death, not a musical instrument.

The drum is the most common percussion instrument. There are various kinds of drums (not including oil drums). Bass drums should not be confused with the string bass, or with first base, or with man’s baser instincts, though those may be what drives a percussionist to make all that noise and try to pass it off as music.

Tympani is actually the name of an instrument and not a lisped mispronunciation of a type of orchestra. Really “tympani” is another name for the kettle drum. The musicians cook their dinner in the kettle and then beat the drum to announce that dinner is ready. The snare drum and traps are used by musicians who are also hunters. If they didn’t like what was cooked up in the kettle, they can always try to catch a rabbit or other animal to take home and cook after the concert.

Another noisy instrument is called symbols. I’m not sure what they’re symbolic of—maybe dessert, since they look a little like pie plates. Then there is the try angle, so called because the musicians who play this soft, gentle instrument need to try almost any angle to get a chance to be heard. The musicians who play the gong have no such problem. The chief use of the gong is not in orchestras but by auctioneers, who announce the sale of each item with, “Going, going, GONG!”

Instruments that are hard to classify include the xylophone, the glockenspiel, the accordian, and the organ. The xylophone’s chief usage is not as an instrument but as in illustration for the letter “X” in children’s alphabet books. It’s hard to describe the sound of the glockenspiel, so I won’t try. The accordian is an instrument played a lot at peace talks, to help the factions reach an accord. The concertina is a small—as its name implies, teenage-sized—accordian. And the organ is only sometimes an instrument. Lots of men in certain books and magazines are forever talking about their organs. Pipe organs are instruments, even though their name makes them sound like something you’d smoke tobacco in. If you want to hear organ music, go to church or to the ballpark.

Of course, not everyone who makes music does it with an instrument. Some people simply use their voices. Singing voices fall into five basic ranges: soprano, auto, tenure, berrytone, or baste. There are two kinds of sopranos, Technicolor sopranos and messy sopranos.

Some of the most famous operatic arias were written for sopranos. A common question arises when the auience has to listen to them: “Aria finished yet?” Singers often vocalize an arpeggio to warm up. This vocal exercise got its name from the challenge posed by many music teachers: “Arpeggio can’t reach the high notes.”

There are two lines of music written on sheet music—when you sing or play certain instruments, you want the trouble cleft, but other instruments use the boss cleft. The piano uses both at once, which can get awfully confusing. You read the boss cleft with your left eye and play those notes with your left hand; you read the trouble cleft with your right eye and play those notes with your right hand. If you have to play a cross-hand piece, you are likely to wind up cross-eyed.

The eight notes of the scale comprise an octave, which is, of course, a way of rating gasoline. Those eight notes are do-re-mi-fa-sol-la-ti-do, and there is much that can be said about them, but Rodgers & Hammerstein have already pretty much taken care of it, so we won’t go there.

SOME FUNNY ORCHESTRAS

by Cynthia MacGregor

Despite the word’s pronuncication, “music” does not have anything to do with the cry of a cat who’s ill. Although some violins sure sound like a sick cat. (There was a girl in my school whom some kids called Vile Lynn, but you didn’t need a bow to play on her.)

Besides violins, there are many other instruments. They make music in varying ways. Another that creates music when you draw a bow across the strings is the base vile.

The bow an narrow is not a musical instrument but was occasionally used to execute bad musicians in the Olden Days. One fellow who was proficient with the bow an narrow, and was later recognized in music, was named William. Because he told the story of his exploits over and over, he was known as William Tell. He shot an arrow at an apple. (His descendents many centuries later all bought PCs and shot insults at Macs.) Despite being married, William was quite the ladies’ man, and in the evenings he would down a few pints at the local tavern and make advances to all the ladies. He had a classic come-on and invariably used the same approach. It was known as the William Tell Overture.

Another stringed instrument is the harp. When two harps in an orchestra take turns carrying the melody, one seeming to answer the other, this is known as a harp-to-harp talk.

“Piano” is an Italian word meaning “softly.” Anybody who equates “piano” with “softly” has never turned a four-year-old loose on a keyboard.

The guitar is a stringed instrument that frequently comes unstrung. I know people like that, too. The autoharp, despite its name, was not designed for playing in a car. Its close cousin is the zither, which is also a kind of gentle breeze. It is not the thing you use to close your pants.

But not all instruments require strings or bows. Many instruments make music when you blow into them. For this reason, politicians make excellent musicians, since so many of them are full of hot air.

Instruments you blow into are subcategorized as either brass or reads. To play a read instrument you have to know how to read music. To play brass, you just have to have enough brass to get up there and fake it.

The trumpet is a very popular instrument. It is also used a lot in bridge games. Also, elephants are said to trumpet, but I have never seen one in an orchestra or band. Or playing bridge.

By the way, the difference between an orchestra and a band is how well they play. If they play well, they are called an orchestra and are invited to play all over. But if the musicians need a lot of practice and keep hitting sour notes, the group is barred from playing in many sites, or banned.

Let’s get back to our discussion of instruments you blow into. Another of these is the piccolo. The piccolo is green and juicy and makes your mouth pucker. Dill piccolos are the most popular. The cello, despite its name, is not fruit-flavored and wiggly. Some of the other instruments that are played by blowing into them include the buffoon, the sexyphone, the clarionet, the toobad, and the oboy, also known as the hobo because some people would like to tramp on it. In that it is similar to the tromp-on, an instrument that makes so much noise that listeners are tempted to do as the name suggests

There are different kinds of horns that are musical instruments. The French-fried horn can be differentiated from the English horn in a number of ways. The French-fried horn always sounds like it’s whining, and we all know the French love a good wine. Additionally, like any patriotic Frenchman, it refuses to play any notes in English. The English horn is, of course, the color of warm beer.

The flute is named for an archaic past tense of “fly.” This is because some of its notes seem to soar. When it’s not played well, its listeners’ eardrums get pretty soar too.

(contd on Monday)

SPURTS

by Cynthia MacGregor

Good sports are not necessarily good at sports. One hopes for both. Sometimes one hopes in vain. (Which is not the thing that sits and spins and shows you which way the wind is blowing. It is also not how some sports figures feel about themselves. It is also not what some sports players feel like opening when they lose.)

Golfers are called duffers because they get their exercise by riding around the golf course on their duffs. They play the game by setting the golf ball down on a small peg on the ground and swinging. Many novices miss altogether. They feel the little peg is taunting them. For this reason, the little pegs are called “tease.”

The word “golf club” has two meanings. One is the instrument of torture used to beat up on that poor, defenseless little ball; the other is the organization—as much social as athletic—to which the golfer belongs. It can get confusing. But if a man says, “My wife got me so angry I swung at the dining room table with my golf club,” you can assume that he had not swung at the furniture with an organization of five hundred members.

And speaking of violence (which we will when we discuss music), soccer is fun, but hitting a woman is against the law.

From the name of the game, you’d think the downfield progress in football is measured by the foot. Actually it is measured by the yard. These are not nice suburban yards, full of tulips and jonquils and marigolds. These yards are full of nothing but dirt and some torn-up grass. Under the circumstances, you’d think the game would be called yardball, but nooooo.

When the players kick the ball between the fenceposts, it’s called a field gold. There is no such thing as a field Silver (unless you count the Lawn Ranger’s horse).

Basketball is colloquially known as “hoops.” This is because when the players miss they holler, “Whoops!” Close enough.

Baseball is played on a diamond, proving that, after all, men do like jewelry. It is played with bats, which do not suck blood despite the feelings of many losing players. The guys who decide if a player is safe or out are called umpires. When the umpire’s call goes against you, it’s often said that the Umpire Strikes Back.

Tennis is played with a racket. The racket is mainly made by certain ill-termpered bad sports. The racket is strung. The players often come unstrung. Tennis is a game in which “love” often comes up. But try telling that to your opponent.

LaCrosse is a popular sport among Christians. Jews play LaStarre.

Polo is a sport invented by Ralph Lauren.

Croquet players hold their sticks away from the other players to show that they bear mallets toward none.

Rest sling is engaged in during nap time.

Boxing is a sport most familiar to people in the gift wrap department at Macy’s.

The favorite sport of shoppers everywhere is buy cycling.

Wannabe brides participate in many marrythons.

If you’re good at lining up in orderly files, you can probably do well at rowing.

Some people think fencing is what makes good neighbors, but many folks know it’s a sport involving foils—not aluminum—and masks—not Halloween.

How fast can you throw objects at a designated target? You may be good at hurtles.

Can you jump over a high stack of eyeglasses? You may be good at optical races.

You auto be familiar with car racing. There are stock cars (made out of chicken, beef, fish, or veggies); there is formula racing (babies love it!); and there are other varieties from monster trucks (Frankenstein’s fave) to phony cars (which aren’t real at all).

Then let’s not forget fission, the favorite sport of nuclear scientists everywhere. They have a reel good time at it, though when they come home and brag about the one that got away, their wives know they’re line (and hook and sinker).

What’s your favorite sport? Do you enjoy participatory sports or speckled tater sports or both? Every sport needs its fans—and frequently air-conditioning too. Get on board—preferably a 2x4. Are you ready to rumble? Or rhumba? Or samba? Samba of these sports can get pretty rough. And others are so expensive that you’ll be in hockey for life.

THE GREAT WIDE WAY

by Cynthia MacGregor

(cont'd from yesterday)


But speaking of culture, one of the most popular forms was that which was available on Broadway. The theatre was growing ever more popular. Of course in the early years it wasn’t all high-tone attractions. Burlesque certainly helped make Broadway famous and wasn’t highbrow at all. The same could be said for vaudeville. (So why don’t we all say it? Together now: “Vaudeville wasn’t highbrow at all.” There, didn’t that feel good?) Broadway was home at different times not only to opera and ballet but to many less high-toned forms of entertainment including flea circuses and “freak shows.” At one time, P.T. Barnum displayed Bigfoot there. Barnum had his newest attraction dramatically lit to emphasize the size of his most noteworthy feature, thus inventing “footlights.”

Later shows were of a more respectable variety, both dramatic and musical. Many have even been recognized with awards. Broadway’s most prestigious awards are named Tonys, after the actors’ favorite pizza parlor. Many great shows have won this prestigious award over the years. Many other shows have become famous through not winning, sort of like the Susan Lucci of Broadway.

Famous shows over the years have included one about a baseball player who always got the ball over the fence, known as “Okla Homer,” and another musical, about a bus driver who always had to stop non-paying passengers from boarding. This show was, of course, called, “My Fare, Lady!” and was based on “Pigmillion,” which in turn was based on “Charlotte’s Web.”

One half of the team that wrote “Okla Homer,” was a member of a baseball team himself. He even included that information whenever signing his name: “Richard, Dodgers.” His partner was famous for a carnival act involving breaking beer mugs (“Oscar, Hammer Stein”). The duo knew they didn’t want to be known as one-hit wonders. (Oscar’s perennial hit on the beer steins didn’t count.) So they decided to write another show for Broadway. They paced their offices in Manhattan, pondering and pondering what to write about.

“Maybe we need a change of scenery,” Richard suggested helpfully.

“Where should we go?” Oscar asked.

They debated that one for another week and were no closer to deciding where to go to get away and be creative than they were to deciding what their next show should be about. Finally Richard said, rather vaguely, “Let’s head south.”

Oscar impatiently barked, “South? Specific!”

So they vacationed in Georgia, at a half-finished hotel, watched the plumbers at work, and came home to write “Pipe Dream.” After their return to New York, they stopped in at Madison Square Garden (which is a pretty silly name—aren’t most gardens more or less square?), took in a basketball game, and commented on one particularly tall player. “He looks like he’s wearing stilts,” said Richard.

“I bet he’s still getting taller,” said Oscar.

Thus was born the idea for their next show, “A Leg Grow.”

But the Times Square area was home not only to the so-called “Legitimate Theatre” but also to some pretty raunchy presentations. It was after taking in one such show one day that Richard and Oscar had the idea for their next great musical, “The Kink and I.” At a neighborhood store whose business was strictly cash-and-carry, they had the idea for yet another show, “Carry Sell.”

Although the duo were the darlings of Broadway, other composers, lyricists, and playwrights wanted to get their plays seen and heard too. One such was an immigrant fellow named Irving, whose plays were sure-fire hits. Many a theatre owner whose playhouse was in trouble would beg Irving to bail him out by staging a show there. Thus he became known as Irving Bailin’. Another popular songwriter of the day whose plays did well on Broadway was a very kind, considerate, thoughtful guy who earned the moniker Jerome Carin’.

Like the city, Broadway theatre was ever growing, ever changing. In the late ’60s, Broadway had its first rock musical. One day an actress went to a new salon to get her hair done. She discovered the stylist who was working on her was actually straight. This was such a novel concept that her songwriter/playwright friends decided to turn it into a musical. Thus was born “Hair.”

Of course, not all shows that are put on in New York are “Broadway shows.” There are “off-Broadway shows,” “off-off-Broadway shows,” and “so-far-off-Broadway-that-they-might-as-well-be-in-Yonkers” shows. Even Broadway shows are not all literally on Broadway, as most of the theatres are actually on the side streets, but false advertising has always been a problem in New York, and besides, “West Forties-and-Fifties Theatre” doesn’t have the same ring to it as “Broadway.”

Every decade or two, somebody Important decrees, “Broadway is dead,” but since there is no cemetery space left in Manhattan, it’s impossible to bury it, so it just reinvents itself and carries on stronger than ever.

Most recently, Disney has moved in on Times Square, opened a couple of shows in Broadway theatres, and cleaned up the surrounding neighborhood as well. Some New Yorkers actually miss the slightly seedy atmosphere of “the real Times Square,” though others are glad that they can finally take their kids to the heart of Manhattan without having to answer, “What’s that lady with the short skirt doing? Why does she keep walking up and down the street? Can’t she find the bus stop?” Still, we’ll know things have gone too far in the Disneyfication of New York if Mickey Mouse is ever elected Mayor, or the official song of The Big Apple becomes “It’s a Small World After All.”

THE GREAT WIDE WAY

by Cynthia MacGregor

Probably the most famous street in New York is Broadway, a name that is synonymous with Theatre. The street name derives from an incident in the early days, when an opera diva, a Valkyrie type, stood outside the opera house and a passing theatregoer asked, “How much does that broad weigh?” The theatrical neighborhood is sometimes known as “The Great White Way.” Contrary to popular rumor, this is not because of the former scarcity of actors of any race other than Caucasian.

Back in pre-Colonial days, New York was known as New Hamster Dam. This was because of an early experiment that failed, in which the Dutch settlers tried to change the course of the Hudson River using small animals intended to emulate beavers in their work. When the little critters, who had been imported by the million, proved to have the wrong kind of teeth to get the job done, the Dutch settlers gave up on the project and resigned themselves that water would always separate Manhattan from Staten. “Water we going to do?” they despaired.

“What are we going to do with all these hamsters?” was an even more immediate question, one resolved with a culinary solution, by way of a dish then known as hamster-and-eggs. Over the years, the pronunciation (and the chief ingredient) have changed slightly.

The junior settlers were thrilled with the fact that the project hadn’t worked. Now they could go around saying, “The dam project failed, the dam project failed,” and not get in Dutch. This is because increasing numbers of them were now English.

Some of these early settlers put on amateur theatricals up and down Broadway. This gave other settlers somewhere to go on Saturday night. The Indians liked to spend Saturday night playing poker. They couldn’t play Draw Poker as they had no pens or pencils, but they did play another variety of poker. In their version, the winner was required to go off into the forest and search for wild donkeys. Of course you’ve heard of their game—it was called Poker Hunt Ass.

But the early settlers weren’t very big card players, so they put on shows instead. In the beginning, there were no theatres, and the shows were put on in the middle of the street. The settlers chose Broadway, because it was the widest street. It later became known as “The Great Wide Way,” but as you have already seen above, that name eventually got corrupted—like so much else in New York.

Broadway starts at the southern tip of Manhattan and goes clear up to the northern end. It thus became known as the longest-running street in town, so naturally it became host to some of the longest-running shows.

Food was scarce in the early years of New York, so the settlers were reluctant to pelt bad actors with rotten tomatoes or eggs, as was the quaint and charming custom of the day elsewhere. Instead, it was decided to punish them. Those were the days when thieves, witches, and butchers who weighed their thumbs with your rump roast were sentenced to be put in the stocks. Soon bad actors were added to the list of miscreants who were subject to that treatment. This was the origin of actors playing in summer stock…though only summer stock—some aren’t.

The stocks were located in the southern end of the island, and if there was no good show playing uptown, the settlers would all troop down to the tip of the island to enjoy watching people get punished. Vendors sold peanuts, popcorn, and Cracker Jacks in open stalls nearby, in an area that came to be called The Stocks Market.

As more and more settlers move into the fledgling city, some of them started businesses, and they got the money to do so in some cases by selling shares in their burgeoning companies. (Or their fishing companies or their trading-with-the-Indians companies.) Most of the sales of these shares took place just a few blocks from the southern end of Broadway. Over the years, many companies failed to succeed, and the shares became worthless. About all these shares were good for was papering over the rough-hewn lumber that formed the walls of those early houses. People would leave the exchange with worthless shares in hand and say, “I’ve got more wallpaper. Anyone want to buy some wallpaper?” Thus the area became known as Wall Street.

Just a few blocks from the area where the stock market was flourishing was the stretch of water where the proposed Hamster Dam had failed to block the Tide ... or Fab or Cheer or Ivory. Since the water still flowed there, people fished there, as well as gathering oysters in search of pearls. Since New Amsterdam—or Noo Yawk, as it was now called—was already becoming a cultured city, naturally the fisherman who opened the oysters found cultured pearls. There were in fact many pearls to be found—and there have been many perils to be found in New York ever since.
(cont'd tomorrow)

GOOD SPIRITS

by Cynthia MacGregor

Some folks can hardly beer the thought of drinking, while others make rum in their schedules to stop and sip a couple every night. The average person has a strong preference for one or another brand of booze—if you ask most any person what brandy likes, he’s bound to have an answer. And if he has to drink some other kind, it makes his evening go all a-rye and his disposition turn sour.

What makes a person like a particular alcoholic drink over another? I’m martini bit suspicious that it’s an inherited characteristic—in other words, it’s in your gins. My mother was a scotch drinker, and so am I. I don't care for beer at all. It’s not just the gastric eruptions after drinking beer—quite apart from all the bourbon you do, I never even cared for the taste of the stuff. It’s ale I can do to take a tiny sip.

Many people hate it when they can’t get their favorite drink, or their favorite brand. They’ll grouse and wine about it. This may be okay behavior in a bar, but it’s hardly mannerly in someone’s home. It’s far cooler to be polite to your host, who after all is trying to be cordial to you.

Booze makes people behave in odd ways. I’ve even heard of women getting down on the living room floor and wrestling after losing their inhibitions to inebriation. “I can liquor with one hand tied behind my back.” “No, you’ll be the lickee. I’ll be the liqueur—just watch!”

I haven’t a moment’s stout that alcohol does strange things to people. I recently got bock from a trip up north, where I spent an evening in the company of a woman I’d never met before. Right before my eyes, I saw this woman change character completely as soon as her husband porter a drink. She was insufferable—oh, how I missed my far-off foam in Florida right then.

I should have stopped at my friend’s house nearby before the visit—he’s scotch just the thing to show someone how booze changes them—a videocamera, to re-cordial last few minutes sober and your subsequent behavior as you imbibe. By the time the evening was over, this woman had spilled peanuts all over the rug and broken a glass anisette of dishes.

The last I saw of her, she was out on the street, having a conversation with an orange traffic cone. She was talking to it a mile a minute and really believed it was not only answering her but outtalking her by a mile. When I walked over to her, she said to me, in absolute amazement, “Just listen to that cognac!”

If that woman had seen the way she carried on, the visible tape recorded proof, she would have really been hurting. I mean, it would have caused her real pain, not just champagne.

TAKES NO SKILLET ALL

by Cynthia MacGregor

(cont'd from yesterday)

My problem is usually with barbequeing. In the kitchen I know what I’m doing, but I’m never sure of cooking times on the grill and sometimes mess up. And if I don’t, the weather gives me problems, and halfway through my cooking it starts tureen.

At least I don’t have a small child anymore. It’s difficult for those women who have to cook and supervise children, and it’s hard to manage in the kitchen when you’ve got a small boy underfoot who’s put his capon and is zooming all over the kitchen yelling, “I’m faster than a speeding pullet!” Any woman who tries to cook under those conditions shell surely have a problem, and that’s no yolk.

Cooking can be very tiring if you’re doing something ambitious. I’m normally up at 5 AM but on Thanksgiving I always wake up earlier, knowing what’s ahead of me, and am tempted to get out of bed then. Last year I succumbed to the temptation and got up at 4, but because I roast too early, I got very tired later.

And talk about temptation—how do you keep from tasting everything as you cook?! Two handfuls of olives for the salad and a few for my mouth; some bacon for the salad and some for me. Before I start cooking, I bend down and touch my toaster remind me that I need to still be able to do that when the day is over.

When kids are at the table, you can expect squabbling to mar the enjoyment of your dinner. Some nights you’d be glad of just peace and carrots. In fact, if you’re a parent and the dinner table is peaceful, do you really carrot all how the food tastes?

Kids have a way of messing up the house five minutes before your guests are due. They get muddy feet and go margarine across your clean floor leaving big tracks. And no matter how cereal you are about keeping the house looking nice, there go all your plans. You may have mustard all your best intentions, but you’ll find yourself yelling all the same. This isn’t a case where you can ketchup to the cleaning chores later. So you wind up yelling, “Olive you very much, but right now you’d better get out of my sight before I lose it.” Should you finish making the gravy first or mop the floor first? You know whichever you pickle be the wrong choice.

So, you see, there’s a lot more to having guests for dinner than simply cooking. There’s setting a nice-looking table, providing a congenial atmosphere for your guests, and keeping your kids, if you have them, or any tactless or abrasive guests from ruining the evening. Kids pick the damnedest time to get out of hand. They’ll sit across the dinner table from each other and play catch: “Betcha can’t casserole I throw at you overhand. Think quick!”

Some hostesses even worry about having even numbers of men and women as guests, which has never been my concern. If I have more lads or molasses at my table, so what? But I’ve bean majorly stressed by unruly guests. I’ve even had unexpected company turnip and expect to be invited to stay. And it was a real problem—I didn’t have mushroom at the table. The situation should have been a pear ant. But they stayed. It was a grape challenge to make the food stretch to feed two extra. I guess they were thinking, The mayo, the merrier.

If this ever happens to you, and you have an unexpected guest invite himself, don’t give in and jelly won’t leave and you’ll just get more upset. I jam speaking from experience. When I soda car pull into the driveway that night, my heart sank. Sure enough, it was a self-invited guest. But we managed. You will too. Want to try getting rid of the uninvited guest through hinting? You consomme take the hint and leave, but others will stay all the same.

Since there’s so much effort and strain involved in having company, why do I enjoy entertaining so much? Beets me! But I relish the challenge.

TAKES NO SKILLET ALL

by Cynthia MacGregor


Do you have the skillet takes to be a good cook? The first thing required is patience—chopping up onions and garlic very finely, for instance, can be a real pan in the neck. The drudge work of cooking is hardly a-peeling. The mundane work can really a-salt you. Good cooking takes thyme. But I bay leaf the results are worth the effort. My neighbor thinks he can turn out fine food without using any herbs or spices. He claims friends come over to his house for dinner all the time, which he says proves he really can cook well. But I don’t curry really ought to know better.
There is a range of knowledge needed, but you don’t need to be a Cordon Bleu-trained chef; you can turn out a decent dinner with only half fridge skills. And nobody will pan your cooking. Creativity is very helpful for cooks, but following directions also plays an important pot.
It’s also valuable to use wine in many foods. A good wine is, “How come you never help with the cooking?!”
Last Thanksgiving I rosemary despite the work ahead, but when I opened my fridge I was brought back to reality. I never sausage a stuffed refrigerator. I had to cook almost all that stuff before my guests got here! Suddenly I felt bird under an avalanche of tasks! There were roast and roast of veggies in the fridge, and I yam not kidding when I tell you I had potatoes aplenty too. But the turkey would be the main event. Fortunately I’ve cooked enough of them over the years that I knew I could even do it in my sleep without gobbling the directions.
I rarely mess up when I cook, though one year I did fork get to serve the cranberry sauce. The bird was a knife, big, fresh turkey. It was a ladle bigger than we really needed, but leftovers work fine for me. When I saucer Tom sitting in the fridge, all majestic and fat, I wondered if my roasting pan was big enough, and I had to look cup in surprise that a fifteen-pound bird would be that wide.
I plate around with my stuffing recipe—it’s no fun cooking exactly the same thing every year. Experimentation is the fun pot of cooking. (So is eating the results—every Thanksgiving I stove myself even more than I stove the bird! But how oven do I cook a big meal like that?)
I have one perennial guest who is a highly critical diner, freezer Cordon Bleu graduate. But omelet you in on a secret: I ate at his house one night, and the food wasn’t that good! I’ll be much more relaxed the next time I know he’s cumin to see me. And I won’t let him egg me on.
If you have guests of that sort, washer step in the kitchen but don’t let them sink your aspirations. Most guests will be happy with any well-cooked food unless they burn their tongs, but there are a few guests who are always hard to please no matter how well you cook.
Try to have everything you need on hand in the way of both ingredients and equipment. You don’t want to have to run out to the store when you’re halfway into a recipe, nor do you want to have to run next door. You know…neither a borrower nor a blender be. If you don’t check first to make sure you have everything you need on hand, you’re taking a real whisk of not being ready to cook.
And that includes mundane equipment too. I had a friend who made sure she had all the ingredients, all the utensils…but she forgot she’d thrown out her old pot holders and hadn’t yet replaced them. She thought she could get by making do with a couple of kitchen towels instead, but she knew she would probably burner hands all the same, and she was right.
(cont'd tomw)

FEUD—OR, SOMEONE’S IN THE KITSCH CHIN WITH DINNER

by Cynthia MacGregor

Most people eat three meals a day, except for black widow spiders, who eat three males a day. If your Aunt Edna sends you cookies, you might eat one mail a day. Not everybody calls their meals by the same names. Some people eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Others eat breakfast, dinner, and supper. Some people combine two meals and eat brunch, but no one I know eats dupper or linner.

Food is fun to eat and fun to cook, except for wry bread, which is always sort of sorry, and shellfish, who don’t share, even though certain kinds are shrimply delicious. Lobsters are also known as crusty shins, even though they don’t have any identifiable ankles (or aunts). They do have claws, but no flying reindeer. Crabs have bad dispositions. Clams are the silent type, even though the people who fish for them, clammers, are noisy. I oyster be ought to name all the fish in this category, but when I try, I usually forget scallops, which not only have no shell but also no hair, which is why the scallop is so visible.

I love eating certain kinds of fish with all my heart and sole, and apparently many of my neighbors agree, as fish are a strong drawing cod at many local restaurants. Some people eat fish because they’re so healthy and others just for the halibut. At the rate this nation is consuming seafood, if we don’t empty out the oceans in a few more years it’ll be a major mackerel. Some fish restaurants are very informal in decor, while in others you’re served with much pompano and circumstance.

Some fishermen fish off the dock, while others, in search of such delicacies as fish eggs, roe out to sea. When the fish see the boat coming, they get out of there in a hurry—salmon time and others not. Fish travel in schools, usually in a very orderly fashion, tuna row, but apparently they don’t learn much in these schools, as they still haven’t learned to avoid getting caught.

Although fish is delicious, my personal favorite food is chicken. Watching a hen run across a field is poultry in motion, but I’d rather see a chicken on my plate—upper or lower. Chickens have no cholesterol, hens they are very healthy to eat. Eggs have cholesterol, though, and I wonder eggsactly where that cholesterol goes when the egg becomes a chicken. I have enough chicken recipes in my recipe box to create an all-chicken cookbook—most of my other books have been for parents or kids, so if I wrote such a book, it would be a real pullet surprise.

The cattlemen have a real beef with folks who tell you not to eat red meat more than three times a week. Of course, they have a steak in getting you to consume more of their product.

There there is a very pig market for pork products. I ham a fan of well-prepared pork myself. A good cook knows about the danger that lurks in pork and how to overcome those little worms—the trick he knows is to cook it adequately.

Here is an assortment of odd facts—some of them very odd indeed—pertaining to food:
• It must rain a lot in Hungary—they sell a lot of goulashes.
• Most bakers have good manners because they are well bread.
• An arthritic cake master spends her day among bakin’ and aches.
• A considerate cook never peas in the carrots.
• Fish are great singers—they have the scales for it—but bakers always get stuck at the beginning of the scale—all they have is Dough.
• Baking soda is not found in the store’s beverage department!
• Swallow a little yeast when you go to bed at night and you’ll rise easily in the morning.
• If your electricity goes out, you still can power your fridge off the currants in the jelly. If you don’t have currant jelly, though, then you’re in a jam. If you have only damson jam, you’re plum out of luck.

Not everyone’s taste in foods is identical. Some people eat sweet breads, while others eat sweetbreads, and I have heard there are people who eat a food made from sheep’s stomachs, though I think that’s a lot of tripe. Pigs feet are popular with some folks, but I think swallowing them is a feat, all right. Some people are liver lovers, while others speak up in favor of eating tongue. The cow, unfortunately, can’t say anything about the matter. There are even people who are partial to a dish called “prairie oysters,” but I think that’s so much bull!

Some people like waffles, but others show more determination. Some folks like bagels for breakfast…if you want to be funny and eat a musical instrument, that’s your privilege, but I take breakfast more cereally than that. Horror movie buffs like their bagels with scream cheese, but the headbanger crowd prefers butt-her.

Some wag once pointed out that you’ll never starve in the Sahara because of the sand which is there, but I’d like to add that an insult comedian’s audience will also never starve—with all that ribbing, there are spare ribs for all. Similarly a failed stage show, even if the audiences stay away, at least provides food for its cast and crew—obviously the show is a real turkey. And if you’re hungry in your living room, just go to the sofa and eat the stuffing.

CATTLE GOT YOUR TONGUE?

by Cynthia MacGregor

(cont'd from yesterday)

By the way, speaking of Washington, which we sorta were, it’s interesting how Washington D.C. got the latter part of its name. It got that appellation (and pearlation and plumlation) because it was the home of most current events, and D.C. is a type of current. (The currant farmers got a subsidy every time it was used.)

The wheat, which we were talking about just a few minutes ago (are you paying attention?), would have been harvested with wheat-whackers, except that those didn’t get invented for another century.

Meanwhile the fruit farmers were up in arms that they were being ignored in favor of the vegetable farmers and the cattlemen, so they invented Steve Jobs, who pays the apple farmers a royalty for every picture of their product that he uses on his product.

This treatise is being written on an Apple Macintosh. That’s why it’s so juicy. (Did juicy what I wrote earlier?)

Some of the other fruit farmers were plum disgusted at being left out of the loop. A pear of them marched on Washington together, but they were two small a group. They had a grape deal of difficulty getting heard, despite raisin their voices, so they decided to go home and send in their complaints by post. After a while of fruitless (pun intended) labors, they despaired, “Watermelon in all these letters going to accomplish?” they sighed. They suspected that the mail carrier wasn’t even delivering their gripes (or grapes), he being too busy going for fittings for his new bulletproof vest, a requisite if you’re going to work for the Post Office. Thus was born FedEx.

The chicken farmers thought the name was FedEggs and decided their product was finally being recognized by the government. They wanted a royalty or subsidy for every time the name “Eggs” was used. A lot of eggs-husbands got upset at that. They thought their divorces were costly enough already without this additional burden.

“Go lay it on the camels,” they said. “They’re used to being beasts of burden.” Unable to find a camel in the U.S., the farmers invented cigarettes.

Meanwhile, over in Rome, the Pontiff issued a papal bull. The cattle ranchers threw up their hands in despair, crying, “Everyone wants to get into the act!” They retaliated in a number of ways. First they tried to make the meat of their young cows more universally popular. They did this by selling the meat in calfeterias. Second, they got into the beer-and-beef-restaurant business, joining the many popular chains already in existence, with a new one of their own, which they named Whole Stein.

Gertrude Stein immediately sued for royalties.

CATTLE GOT YOUR TONGUE?

by Cynthia MacGregor

In the days of the Old West, fellows would try to steal cows, but the cows, who belonged to Carnation and were therefore all Contented, didn’t want to be stolen and put up a good fight. The thieves had to get the cows in half-nelsons in order to get them to submit to being stolen, and thus became known as cattle wrestlers.

Carnation wanted to keep the remaining cows happy so they wouldn’t leave with the rustlers voluntarily. The company asked the cows what would please them. The cows asked, “How about a ’56 Chevy convertible?” Carnation supplied the cars, even though they hadn’t been invented yet, but now instead of rustling the problem was rusting, so Carnation erected canvas structures over the vehicles to prevent the weather from damaging them. Thus the Carnation Cows became car-in-tented cows.

But eventually the cows met their fate at the hands of cooks all across America. As our land grew, so did our appetite for beefsteak. Rich or poor, man or woman or child, East Coast or West, everyone wanted beef. And the cows had to grow accustomed to winding up on dinner plates. Fortunately long days on the scorching prairies made them acclimated to the heat, so they didn’t object to the temperatures of the stoves across our great land; yes, truly they were at “Home on the Range.”

The cows did have one problem: They minded that the plural of cow is “cattle.” They felt that if they were stuck with this Miss Nomer, then felines owed them one in reciprocation and the plural of kitty ought to be cowl. They sent representatives to march on Washington (the town, not the president, who was long out of office by now, with no hope of getting re-elected by virtue of the fact that he was long dead). The representatives picketed up and down the corridors of the Federal buildings and thus became known as the Beef Lobby.

Another century later and male strippers became the rage in certain nightclubs in D.C. (Washington, not direct electricity). These strippers became colloquially known as beefcake, a term that angered the cattle, who felt their trademark had been infringed on, so they went on strike. When that didn’t work, they rolled another ball and went on spare. Pro bowlers immediately protested as they objected to finding cow patties on the lanes.

Meanwhile, the anti-beef people, who ranged from vegetarian health fanatics to PETA members, started seeking a substitute for beef. One such was soya, used in soya burgers It derives its name from, “I soya try to pass that off as a hamburger.”

“Hamburger” is itself an interesting word, since it has no ham in it. It derives from the very first cow who was ground up into beef for one of these dinners. A little-known fact is that this cow had been used onstage in a production of Gypsy (remember the cow?), but it constantly upstaged the two-legged actors, who threatened to quit the production if the cow wasn’t replaced. “She’s too big a ham!” the actors protested So she was yanked out of the cast and served for that night’s dinner ... a ham-burger.

A little-known fact is that she learned of her intended fate beforehand and tried to make an escape. This led to the first recorded usage of, “Where’s the beef?” later co-opted by Medicine Avenue, so named because of all the ad executives on it who live on Mylanta and ulcer preparations. Meanwhile, though the cow took it on the lam, she was captured, thus becoming the nation’s first lam-burger.

Soya substitutes became known as sham-burgers.

The nation’s vegetable farmers, upset at their product being overlooked, what with all the furor over beef, declared “We will have peas in our time.” But the cattle lobby didn’t carrot all for that approach and decided to beet them at their own game. They marched on Washington, also aprilled and mayed. But the vegetable farmers said, “We’ve bean overlooked once too often. We’ll squash your rebellion. We’ll turnip evidence that you have a congressman in your pockets.” Of course, cows don’t have pockets, so the claim was udderly ridiculous.

The wheat farmers, meanwhile, succeeded in getting a picture of their product on every penny minted by the government. (And with all the congressmen’s lunches and dinners the taxpayers were paying for, there were a lot of after-dinner mints. And before the dinners there were a lot of liquid refresh-mints.) For each stalk of wheat that was impressed on a penny, the wheat farmers got paid. This was known as the Wheat Subsidy.

(Cont'd tomw)

BUY BULL STORIES

by Cynthia MacGregor

The first man was Edam. He was a cheesy character. His wife’s name was Eve. Some people believe that Edam had an earlier wife, named Lilith, but she isn’t mentioned in the Bible. She was either the world’s first miss or its first myth.

Eve was so important that they named a time of day after her. Just as Edam had, in Lilith, another partner besides Eve, Eve had another partner too. You may have heard of the pair—Eve ‘n’ Steven?

Eve was the first woman to raise Cain, and I don’t mean sugar. Her two sons were famous. One must have been very skilled—he was even known as Abel. Her other son was often put down by his brother—you know how brothers tease each other. He would say, “You can’t do it—you’re not Abel.” And his brother would reply, “Yes—I Cain!”

Moses had a run-in with a bus driver. The bus driver kept challenging Moses, “Fare? Oh!” But Moses didn’t think he should have to pay to ride the bus. He thought it was very unfare! In fact, he thought that it was a lot of bul…rushes. Supposedly Pharoah’s daughter fished him out of a stream. This was before the stork story was invented. The bit about the stream seemed highly improbable even then, but plenty of inopportune conceptions have been explained away by far more unlikely stories than that.

History’s consensus is that the Bible’s first shipbuilder was nothing but a Noah-count. God sent an ark-angel to watch over him, but he still looked around in despair and said, “Water we going to do?” When the flood receded, Noah sent out a dove, who came back with an olive branch. Noah knew what this meant: that he’d soon be able to have his first martini in forty days and forty nights. Thrilled, he picked up the branch and crooned to it, “Olive you.”

Methuselah lived to be over nine hundred years old. This made it very hard to find a suitable SWF in the personals.

Jonah was an unhappy character—he did a lot of loud whaling. Some students confuse him with Captain Ahab. Or Gepetto. One of the more famous characters in the Bible was Ruth. Many others were ruthless. David killed the giant with a slingshot, after which he climbed the beanstalk and…no, wrong story.

Daniel went into the Cub Scout den and emerged with roast tenderlion. King Ahashuerus’s wife was very agitated—the Bible says she was a-stir. Like many modern parents, Abraham made great sacrifices. But God told him, “Only kidding!” Ezekiel invented the wheel. When asked to do some chore at work, he’d always say, “Wheel get it done later.”

Onan is a misunderstood character. The so-called sin named after him has often been assumed to be a matter of taking matters in hand, but a careful reading of the Bible shows otherwise. What he did do, however, was just as serious—he broke the conservation laws during a drought, watering the earth when it was forbidden.

The book of Psalms is famous for having a silent “P,” which many people today in public restrooms also try to achieve.

Although the Bible is not a funny book, it is full of references to paradise, the singular of which is “pairody,” so several people in the Bible apparently had a sense of humor. And paradise, of course, is what you shoot craps with. To judge from the frequent Biblical references, a lot of those characters must have been dice-players. Moses got so upset over all the gambling that he got a headache. God said, “Take these two tablets and call me in the morning.” Elijah rode to the games in a cherry yacht, which is a virgin vehicle. What it was vergin’ on was not disclosed in the Good Book.

You know too that many of the guys in the Bible were gamblers because they knew all the angles…spelled “angels” in those days.

People were always rewriting documents even in those days before Delete keys were invented. The first couple of books of the Bible had barely been written before the Ten Amendments were drafted. (What they were drafted for was the Major League Discus Team, but that’s another story.)

The book of Numbers was the Earth’s first phone directory.

We do know people in those days didn’t make a lot of money, from the references to “minor prophets.”

The New Testament has many famous characters, including the first person to fly an aircraft—Pontius Pilot.

One of the gospel writers asks us to Mark his words. But the gospels keep eagerly pointing out what went down in those days, telling us, “Luke!” There is also much preoccupation with matters of plumbing—witness the many references to “John.”

Though there is much dispute over who actually wrote the Bible—was it God or a bunch of his scribes, and if so, who were they?—the mystery is solved in the last of the five books of Moses. We know now that there were two writers, one of whom was named Ronald (not McDonald!), as they submitted the bill for writing, and labelled it Due to Ron and Me.

BOTANY GOOD PLANTS LATELY?

by Cynthia MacGregor

Botany is the study of things like plants and flowers—things that grow in the earth. That’s the name when you are studying it formally; when you are just having fun with it, it’s called gardening.

Some of the names in botany can be confusing. Take “rose.” It really doesn’t grow in rows at all…very misleading. You should never confuse “rose” with “roes.” These latter are supposedly eggs, though there’s something fishy about that claim. Roes don’t smell at all like roses. They also have no thorns. That makes it easy to tell them apart. Also easier to eat.

Even the name “plants” can be confusing, as plants are also people who are really part of a magician’s, mentalist’s, or hypnotist’s show but are seated in the audience. Some factories are also called plants. They may be painted green and may even still be growing, but you don’t need to water them.

Bushes are green and leafy and sometimes have flowers on them. Some well-known ones are privet hedge, lilac, rhododendron, and “Dubya.”

Flowers are very popular at Valentine’s Day and when you are baking a cake. One very popular flower is violets, but I don’t know why—I’m opposed to violets! There is too much violets in the world already...we have violets in the schools, violets in the workplace...!

If you are going to do gardening, you need the right tools. One common tool is a spade, which is also what the vet did to my dog. Many famous songs have been written about gardening tools, including, “High Hoe, High Hoe, It’s off to Work We Go,” and “Shovel off to Buffalo.” (And if you have buffalo in your backyard, trust me, you’re going to need a shovel!)

An annual is a flower or plant that has to be planted every year. The Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue is an annual too.

There are also perennials, which are flowers or plants that, even if you don’t do anything, come back every year without fail. I have known houseguests like that.

Contrary to popular belief, dandelions did not get their name either from “dandy lions,” because they are lion-colored and jim dandy easy to grow, nor from the French dents de leon, which means “teeth of the lion,” a popular myth. (Myth America is another popular myth.)

Actually the name derives from “dandle lion,” because it is just as risky to let the things grow unchecked in your yard as it would be to dandle a lion. This is because dandelions are actually weeds. Weeds come into your garden uninvited, just like the neighbors’ kids. And, like the neighbors’ kids, they’ll kill your flowers if you don’t watch out.

Weeds and reeds are confused only by Elmer Fudd. A reed is tall and thin and straight. (In my lifetime, I’ve dated several guys like that, and when I told them they were reedy, they each agreed eagerly, “I certainly am! Are you?”) A good reed is what you call a book you can’t put down.

A reed is also a kind of instrument. The three Bs could not have composed their works without reeds. (The three Bs are Bock (a kind of beer), Bait Oven (a small heated enclosure for heating clams and worms to make them more attractive to fish—don’t you think haddock or grouper would be more attracted to a nice home-cooked meal?), and Bronze (a composer who was years ahead of his time, since heavy metal music didn’t become popular till over a century after he stopped composing and started decomposing). The three Bs are not the escapees from your neighbor’s apiary.

Now there’s a word that’s connected to gardening and thoroughly confusing: Wouldn’t you expect an apiary to be a place where they keep chimps and gorillas? But no, it’s a place where you need to bee hive nice and quietly lest you startle the residents. If you live near an apiary, your flowers will benefit from the pollen nation. (Bees have their own country.)

Many flowers and bushes are named for women, like the earlier-mentioned Rose and Violet, as well as Lily, Iris, and Rhoda Dendron.

Don’t confuse g-ranium with its latter-day relative, u-ranium. G-raniums appear as props on many TV shows, while u-ranium is more radio active.

People who prevaricate have very showy gardens. This is because gardens do well when you tell them fertile lies.

Flowers lead an easy life. They like to stay in beds, although I have yet to see one using a pillow. Some of them have very misleading names. Sunflowers don’t really shine. Peonies won’t really wet your leg joints. Carnations are not really countries inhabited by autos. And we all know tulips can’t kiss you. As for marigolds, flowers can’t even cross-breed with other flowers let alone with precious metals.

Pine trees are Jewish. You can tell by all the Pine Cohens. Pine trees are always sighing because they miss their departed loved ones. (They didn’t depart due to death—they simply decamped because they couldn’t take always being needled.) Fir trees, despite their name, do not grow cats or dogs or chinchilla coats. Spruce trees are called that because they are forever fixing themselves up to look nice. Balsam trees cry intermittently. Maples are what you dance around on the first day of May. Oak trees need their feet soothed—they frequently have ache corns.

Of course some people prefer to grow edibles in their gardens. They like to enjoy the fruits of their labors, and this is a vine thing, indeed. Sometimes animals make raids on vegetable gardens. If the gardener doesn’t stand gourd, his vegetables could get squashed. (Orange you glad when the animals leave the gardeners alone in peas?)

Some people, especially apartment dwellers, have only potted plants. Others prefer to get potted themselves.

Some people even have rock gardens, though why anyone would want to grow rocks is beyond me.

A MERRY CAN HISTORY

by Cynthia MacGregor

Back in ’76 we passed a resolution to free ourselves from England. This led to the Resolutionary War. We were freeing ourselves from the Mother Country because it was aptly named, behaving like a typical mother and saying, “Look both ways before you cross the ocean,” and, “Don’t go overseas in all that water without your rubbers.,”

We had to get ourselves free of the ruler (also the yardstick), a character given to orgies for entertainment, who was thus known as Kink George. To confuse the people into not realizing there had been a change in leadership, which would make them more willing to obey our New Leader, we selected for our first president a same-named fellow (“George,” not “Kink”).

Just like the You’re Up Peein’ monarch, he too had no last name, which made it hard to tell the two apart. The people clamored (also oystered) for a last name for our new president. Now, in those days the head of the country did not earn a munificent salary. So he had to do additional work to help bolster his income. Georgie’s wife took in laundry on the side. Therefore they hung a sign outside the White House that said, “George and Martha, Washing Done.”

Thomas Jiffyson was a leader of the young country who was known for getting things done quickly. He took a look at these new developments—not the housing developments, which came later—and saw that we had a preseident, our first First Lady, and the beginnings of graft and corruption. And he said to the American people, “Well, all the ingredients are in place. You’re a nation.” He was a real pisser!

Of course, I committed an error back there when I referred to “The White House.” That is how we know it today. It was puce in those days. It has faded over the years. And a good thing. We would never have been taken seriously as a world leader with our president living and working in a Technicolor palace.

It was George who started the modern-day practice of having a home office. Owing to the size of the presidential living-and-working quarters, it was known, in those early days, as “the Wide House.” When the original color faded, George Washing Done gave orders to have it re-painted. But his tongue had picked up splinters from his wooden teeth, and he couldn’t talk clearly.

Ben Frankly, another early leader, who was known for his forthrightness, got the painting contract. But misunderstanding Georgie’s orders to paint The Wide House, he painted the building white. Washing Done, angered when he saw the finished job, told Ben Frankly to go fly a kite. Ben, by the way, was known for his interest in voting hanky-panky, which is why his name has become synonymous with elect tricks.

George Washing Done is not the only president whose last name has been mangled by history. Our first Jewish president, Abe Lincohen, is another example.

George is also not the only president who, when elected, had only a first name and acquired his last name while in office. The two Johns are another example. The first John came to office known only by his name. But the Secret Serviceman at the front door was hard of hearing. (He was also low in his supply of pickled fish, which made him short of herring, but that’s a different story.) When visitors, arriving after a long horse ride, would reach the White House in need of the rest room, they would ask the Secret Serviceman at the door, “Where’s the john?” But he, hard of hearing, would think they had just asked, “Where’s John?” and show them directly in to see the president. The carpet around the Oval Office had to be cleaned frequently as a result.

It was decided that John needed a last name in order to distinguish him from the facilities. In an underreported assassination attempt right at that time, a fellow with a sword arrived and tried to cleave President John right down the middle. Since the wannabe assassin had tried to split the president, it was decided the president must be an atom. So he came to be known as John Atoms.

“But we’re not scheduled to split the atom for another couple of centuries,” the Secret Service complained. The assassin was tried on charges of Trying to Alter the Course of History, and since all the country’s alterations were still being handled by Martha Washingdone, who was doing tailoring along with the laundry, that made it a treasonable offense.

But the judge thought the prosecutor had charged the assassin with a “reasonable offense.” So the judge gave him a reasonable sentence. The sentence was “Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers.” The assassin was condemned to keep repeating it till he could say it twenty times in a row without tangling it.

Unable to do so, he shot himself in despair. (But since it was da spare, he still had one left.) Thus he saved the country from having to send him to the electric chair, which was a Very Good Thing since electricity hadn’t yet been discovered.

As for President Atoms, as I said earlier, his last name, just like Georgie’s and Abe’s, got transmogrified over the years. His son, who had a sour face, was known as John Quince-y Atoms. His great-grandson, who never held a steady job and rode the rails a lot, was known as the Atoms bum.

Other interesting characters in American History whose names got changed over the years include Wall Jackson, who toked frequently and came to be known as Stoned Wall Jackson; a Southern leader who screwed like a bunny and was thus known as Rabbitty Lee; and the General who became famous for leading us through W.W. II despite a variety of pains plaguing his body, Ache Eisenhower.

HYSTERICAL FIGURES

by Cynthia MacGregor

(cont'd from yesterday)

But let’s move on into the 20th century, where we find such famous figures as Francisco Franco, whose battle cry of, “Franco, my dear, I don’t give a damn!” led many beavers to join the Spanish Revolution. A contemporary of his was Charles deGaulle, who wanted to be president for life and couldn’t believe deGaulle of some people in opposing him. Meanwhile, in Argentina, the folks in Buenos Aires had decided that Juan Peron was enough for a lifetime.

It was a great century for dictators (also commentators and french fried taters). Ghadaffi won a prize for having the most different correct spellings of his name. Idi Amin said, “Amin business—now listen up!” And Saddam Who’s Sane? proved he wasn’t.

Not everything in the twentieth century was bad news. Sun Yacht Sen-Sen, the licorice-flavored ruler, made powerboating popular in a land that had previously known only junky boats. And Mikhail Garbage Chef showed the starving Russians how to go dumpster diving and come up with some fabulous meals. Then there was Imelda Mar Cosine, who sined a bunch of checks and then went off on a shopping tangent. Her husband’s re-election was a shoe thing.

But it was not all good news, either. Mayo Tea Tongue, who had exotic tastes in foods, ruined a fine set of China. And Chiang Kai passed a bad Shek. Everyone had their doubts about Kaiser Will He? (Unfortunately, he did.) And another certain Bad Guy who followed him, in Germany, was too bad to even make jokes about.

Things were busy in Russia. While Leon Trotsky put the pacers through their paces, Josef quit Stalin and got on with the deepening grip of communism. Vladimir Lenin was one of the most famous of the rushin’ rulers, and after Lenin changed his first name he began a whole new career with a Merzey beat, though as a Rushin’ Ruler he had shown no mercy at all.

The vatican meanwhile elected a new pup who hounded the Catholics to be more attentive to their religion.

Back in the States, the 20th century was filled with a plethora of good guys and bad guys. Willie Satin was a bank robber who enjoyed the fabric of his life. Franklin Delano Rosenfeld was our eminent Jewish president. Walt made people Dizzy on the rides in his amusement parks but had trouble answering the question, “Are you a man or a mouse?” Al Capone made a lot of money off that other Al, Cohol.

Jimmy from Georgia retired from the presidency but lived up to his name at his next job, standing at the door of a club and making sure everyone who entered was of legal age. He was followed by Ronnie Ragin’, who failed to live up to his name but got an “A” in napping during cabinet meetings, giving every child who dozed in class an excuse: “I was practicing being presidential.”

George was our most direct president—he never beat around the Bush. Danny Boy didn’t Quayle but did eat crow after making a fool of himself over a lowly potatoe. President Billy-Bob earned a variety of disrespectful monikers and one very awed Monica. His presidency suffered a crushing blow. And Ken starred in the most vile proceedings since Sen. McCarthy, not to be confused with Charlie McCarthy—the latter was wooden headed, while the former simply wooden leave a bad issue alone. There’s no boogeymen under your bed, darling, just a lot of Communists, so go to sleep.

But sleeping through the 20th century was tough to do (unless you were Ronald Ragin’, who wasn’t a president but played one on TV). Perhaps the “Naughty Oughties” will be more restful. But don’t count on it.

HYSTERICAL FIGURES

by Cynthia MacGregor

The study of history goes way back to…well, way back in history. And there are fascinating facts about folks even then that are in some way parallel to modern times. Take, for instance, the queen who tiptoed around the Egyptian palace—I’m referring, of course, to Cleo Patterer. Just like many modern folks, Cleo had a drinking problem and wouldn’t admit it; she was the queen of de Nile. Several of her contemporaries were equally famous and remain so. Julius Scissor is still remembered for his cutting remarks.

He is also remembered for his speech on the occasion of his friend Brutus’s bankruptcy. (I told you their problems had modern parallels.) When Julie’s friend Brutus declared Chapter 11, he tried to lay the blame on the popular entertainers of the day, who had enticed him to attend their many performances (and thus spend too much money). But ol’ Julius set him straight, saying, “Default, dear Brutus, lies not in the stars.”

Cleo tried to leave Mark Antony for Julius. She floated down the river and barged right in on him. But Mark wasn’t having any of this desertion nonsense and called to his private guards, “Seize her!”

Another fellow with similarities to modern times is the guy who crossed the Alps on all those elephants. His elephant wasn’t equipped with directional signals, a steering wheel, or even a rear-view mirror, not to mention a GPS system. History doesn't record whether Hannibal ever got lost in the Alps, but if he did, since he was a man, you can bet he didn't stop to ask directions.

A leader whose moniker derived from his habits is that famous Roman emperor who had a strange belief—he believed you could tell how brave a warrior was by the knobbiness of his knees. Therefore he required all new recruits for the army to line up before him weekly in a straight line, raising their togas to mid-thigh so he could examine their degree of knobbiness. He of course became known as Knee Row. Knee Row would have been a much better ruler if he hadn’t fiddled around so much.

But as modern figures are generally easier to relate to, let’s take a look at some more recent folks who, like the kid who didn’t bother to study for the test, have gone down in history.

Religious leaders are always worth studying…if they stick around long enough. Sometimes it seems they are Gandhi minute we notice them. Sometimes they get lost in all the Confucian. But some make the headlines—like Bernadette, who is famous for incinerating her church’s mortgage.

France is an absolute treasure trove of famous names. Napoleon invented the first flushable water loo. Madame du Bury made sure her competition wound up six feet under—whether they were dead yet or not. And then there was a certain marquis who swore he was so serious about the politics of the day that no one could make him crack a smile. His contemporaries all tried. The top 40 radio station in Paris even started a contest, offering a basket of truffles to the first person who could get the guy to grin. Now, the French never trifle with truffles, but alas, the answer remained No every time the sponsors of the contest asked, “Is the Marquis laughy yet?”

The French didn’t think everything was a laughing matter, though. They certainly were far from giggly when they invented the guillotine. The French revolutionaries won their war because they had the best heads in Europe. But it was hard to keep your head on during the Revolution.

It was over in Europe, too, that a prize was first awarded for honesty. If you were—and, to this day, still are—completely honest in your product advertisements, you are eligible to win the No-Bull Prize.

Another famous European from a relatively recent century was King Gorge, who loved to eat. He was veddy veddy Briddish, and only got high on high tea, which is several octaves higher than high C.

King Gorge was followed (not too closely) by Queen Victorious. (Actually she hired a Private Eye to do the following for her.) Queen Victorious was famous for winning every battle. That’s why she was known as an old battle-axe. If you axed her, she would tell you so herself. Queen Victorious was the world’s most famous prune, or prude—I’m not sure there’s much of a difference. Under Good Queen Bess (well, not directly under her), Will Shakes and his peers had felt free to be bawdy—everybawdy did it. But Queen Victorious ushered in a new era of prudery, which caused Edgar L.N. Poe to write The Fall of the House of Usher, even though summer had barely started.

There was also Mary, Queen of Scotch, whose favorite drink was Dewar’s.

...And a few others, but we'll save them for tomorrow's installment.