Posts by Dr. Boli
FROM THE ILLUSTRATED EDITION.
MATERIAL FOR A CRANK THEORY.
Call up any Wikipedia article about literature—a book or an author or a poem or whatever. Now search on that page for the word “bad.”
Dr. Boli predicts, based on a number of experiments, that you will not find it, unless it is in a quotation from the subject of the article, or in a title (like The Bad Child’s Book of Beasts, the only appearance of “bad” in the article on Hilaire Belloc). The word will not appear in the text of the article or in any quotations from modern critical assessments of the subject.
From this observation, when you need a hobby, you may spin a whole diatribe on the extinction of moral and critical clarity.
PUZZLE TIME.
ASK DR. BOLI.
Dear Dr. Boli: A bunch of people I work with said they were going out to a “gastropub” after work, and they invited me to go along. I said I had to go home and practice the ukulele, because I didn’t know what a gastropub was, and I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of it. What is a gastropub? —Sincerely, A Guy Who Just Wanted a Hamburger, That’s All.
Dear Sir: For a moment Dr. Boli thought of having a little fun at your expense and telling you that a gastropub was an establishment that catered to proctologists, gastroenterologists, and other members of the innards professions. But that would not have been kind, and Dr. Boli regrets even entertaining the idea. Actually, a gastropub is a pub in which gastropods are prepared and served. If you like snails, whelks, slugs, and whatnot, you will probably enjoy it.
DR. BOLI’S VERY BAD ADVICE FOR CHILDREN.
No. 2.—A Place to Play.
It’s hard to play your games inside
And keep your bedroom neat,
But luckily the space is wide
Out in the big broad street.
NOW IN PRESS.
Fugitive Poems, by Irving Vanderblock-Wheedle. A reward of $37 is offered for the safe return of these poems, which were last seen in a bar in Glassport picking a fight with the notoriously muscular barmaid.
DR. BOLI’S VERY BAD ADVICE FOR CHILDREN.
No. 1.—The Lion.
The gentle Lion loves a hug
And wants to give you one,
So if he asks you, you just shrug
And say, “That sounds like fun.”
DR. BOLI’S ENCYCLOPEDIA OF MISINFORMATION,
Independence Day Number;
or,
Fun Facts About the Signers of the Declaration of Independence.
William Floyd, Idol of American Schoolchildren.
William Floyd. “Two centuries from now,” said William Floyd as he carefully inscribed his name on the Declaration of Independence, “every schoolchild in these provinces will remember my name.”
Button Gwinnett. Eight-year-old Irving “Button” Gwinnett, known as the cutest of all the signers of the Declaration, insisted on signing his mother’s favorite nickname rather than his Christian name.
Joseph Hewes. Mr. Joseph Hewes of North Carolina signed the Declaration of Independence under the mistaken impression that it was a life-insurance contract.
Arthur Middleton. Disdaining education as a degrading mark of the merchant classes, Arthur Middleton of South Carolina delegated one of his slaves to sign the Declaration for him.
John Witherspoon. In spite of his name and the reputation that invariably went with it, John Witherspoon admitted to close associates that he was completely incapable of withering a spoon.
IN HONOR OF THE HOLIDAY.
This announcement is playing over and over in the subway stations in Pittsburgh today:
In honor of the Independence Day holiday, July 4, 2021, all Port Authority vehicles will operate on a Sunday schedule.
KNOW YOUR ROAD SIGNS.
