Posts by Dr. Boli
FROM THE ILLUSTRATED EDITION.
IN THE NEWS.
Vandals broke into the still-unfinished Tower Two-Sixty condominium on Forbes Avenue and installed a tastefully carved mahogany railing on the mezzanine level.
This is the thirty-eighth time the construction site has been vandalized since building began, starting with the surreptitious erection of two large Ionic columns shortly after the groundbreaking.
According to police reports, each act of vandalism has been accompanied by a note or “screed” with what officers described as “incoherent rantings about ‘beauty’ and ‘proportion.’”
The notes are variously signed Arzbo, Zorba, Brazo, Zorab, Orbaz, Broaz, Robaz, Orzab, Boraz, and Daniel Burnham, among other names.
Police have not made any arrests, but a source (speaking on condition of anonymity) told the Dispatch that they have a suspect in mind.
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MYSTERY OF THE WIND-UP AUTOMOBILE.
This curious engraving is printed in an 1853 issue of The Illustrated Magazine of Art, along with an equally curious article. You may read the article for yourself, but the gist of it is this:
A certain John Hanstch of Nuremberg “made chariots which moved by a spring, and went two thousand paces an hour.” The engraving shows Herr Hanstch himself driving the thing. The rest of the short article is mostly filler about how amazed the people of olden times would have been if they could see our steam locomotives of today rocketing across the landscape.
Taking what seems to be the generally accepted estimate of two thousand paces to the mile, the thing moved at a rate of one mile per hour, which is not shockingly fast. In fact, it is about a third of the average person’s walking speed. At least the thing would not be very dangerous to pedestrians. The most decrepit among us could probably have seen it coming in plenty of time to shuffle out of the way.
Now here is the more curious thing: in his admittedly brief and lazy searching, Dr. Boli has not found a single reference to John Hanstch (or Johann Hantzsch, or any of the other variant spellings Dr. Boli could think of) who made clockwork chariots in the 1500s. The only results that come up are this article from this issue of this magazine. The article itself is no help: it gives as the source of its information “several special works upon the history of chariot building, and improvements in locomotion in the fifteenth and following centuries.” That is not very specific, though it sounds scholarly. The engraving leaves us with more questions: if the thing existed, it was so lavishly decorated that it could hardly have been the mechanic’s first attempt. One would not spend so much money—or rather, one’s patron would not spend so much money—on chimeras, seahorse-tailed dogs, and other grotesqueries unless the principle had already been demonstrated satisfactorily.
So Dr. Boli puts the question to the Internet at large, or at least to that elite (which is Internet-speak for “small”) group of readers who visit his Magazine: Is there any other record of this sixteenth-century wind-up chariot? Or is this a rather expensive hoax, in which an engraver put considerable effort into a fanciful conception of what a fifteenth-century clockwork chariot would look like if such a thing had existed?
From DR. BOLI’S ENCYCLOPEDIA OF MISINFORMATION,
Second Series.
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Inuktitut language. By interviewing more than a thousand Inuktitut speakers, linguist Carloman Dental-Sibilant has determined that the Inuktitut language has 53 words for “snow” and 285 words for “gullible southerner.”
IN THE NEWS.
Photo by Michael Vadon, licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license.
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DONALD TRUMP SUES AMERICA FOR $1.3 TRILLION.
Asserting that Americans have been “systematically belittling and degrading” him, Mr. Donald Trump has filed suit against the citizens of the United States of America for intentional infliction of emotional distress.
According to Mr. Trump’s attorney, Otto Teufelsklave, the entire population of the United States, “or a significant portion thereof,” has been making fun of Mr. Trump on Facebook, on Twitter, and even on blogs.
The suit asks for damages in the amount of $1.3 trillion.
“The number of persons who have participated in this behavior is shocking,” said Mr. Teufelsklave. “It is time Americans learned that Donald Trump, at least, will hold them responsible for their actions. Furthermore, even those persons who did not personally belittle Mr. Trump had the responsibility to prevent or report acts of belittlement.”
If Mr. Trump wins the suit, each American citizen will owe him approximately $4,333.34, according to a fourth-grade arithmetic teacher consulted by the Dispatch.
As an incentive to “do the right thing,” however, Mr. Trump has instructed his lawyer to deduct 10% from the amount of damages if Mr. Trump is nominated as the Republican candidate for president, and 20% if he wins the general election.
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THE ADVENTURES OF SIR MONTAGUE BLASTOFF, INTERPLANETARY SPACE DRAGOON.
ANNOUNCER. And now Malt-O-Cod, the only malt food drink flavored with real cod-liver oil, proudly presents…
(Music: Fanfare)
ANNOUNCER. The Adventures of Sir Montague Blastoff, Interplanetary Space Dragoon!
(Music: Theme, in and under for…)
ANNOUNCER. Tonight we find Sir Montague busy at his desk with some paperwork, when suddenly a very flustered Colonel Wilhelmina Darling rushes into the room.
COL. DARLING. Monty! Oh, Monty! I’m really freaked out.
SIR MONTAGUE. Language, colonel! Now, what seems to be the trouble?
COL. DARLING. Well, I found this big book—more of a binder actually—with the funniest title. It’s called “Show Bible.” And I thought, “Is that a Bible you show to people for some reason?” But I took a look in it, and it’s not like I remember the Bible, although there are some, um, begats. No, it’s about us, Monty!
SIR MONTAGUE. You mean, you and—and me?
COL. DARLING. Everyone in the station! Like right here, on this page, there’s a whole section about the station master. And it says he’s a career bureaucrat, and he likes Swiss cheese but hates rye bread, and the “season finale,” whatever that is, will reveal that he’s been in the pay of the Wombat People since he arrived. Is a “season finale” some sort of truth serum?
SIR MONTAGUE. In a way, my dear. You might say so.
COL. DARLING. And here it says that the janitor has been sweeping muffin wrappers under the rug for seventeen years. Is that why the carpet is so…squishy? And it says old Mrs. Feeble who runs the commissary always thickens the sausage gravy with sawdust on biscuit mornings. Wouldn’t that disqualify her if it got out?
SIR MONTAGUE. I’m sure it’s against regulations somehow.
COL. DARLING. And it says…
SIR MONTAGUE. But, I say, old girl, you don’t really believe any of that, do you?
COL. DARLING. Well, I don’t know.
SIR MONTAGUE. Why, we’ve known these people for years. This book you’ve found must be full of the most egregious bally nonsense.
COL. DARLING. Do you think so?
SIR MONTAGUE. Well, for example, let’s see what it says about you.
COL. DARLING. Um… You don’t have to…
SIR MONTAGUE. Let’s see… Wilhelmina Darling… Colonel, 58th Interplanetary Space Dragoons… Nineteen and ravishingly beautiful… Well, look here, it says that before you were captured by the Ant-Lion People, you were working as a ten-cents-a-dance girl in a tawdry ballroom in one of the less desirable neighborhoods on Triton. Now, we know that can’t be true, can it?
COL. DARLING. Um, no. Of course not.
SIR MONTAGUE. Of course not. You’re a highly trained military professional. So, you see, clearly this is someone’s rather sad attempt at a practical joke, or perhaps a plot by one of our many enemies to undermine our confidence. But we shan’t fall for it, shall we?
COL. DARLING. No. No, we, um, shan’t.
SIR MONTAGUE. So if, hypothetically, there were a section on me, and if there were—hypothetically—some absolute rubbish in it about my growing up in Hoboken and learning my accent from reruns of Are You Being Served, why, you wouldn’t believe it at all, would you?
COL. DARLING. No. Not a word of it. I mean, just like you don’t believe the thing about the Dance-a-Topia Ballroom. Or, I mean, whatever the name of it was.
SIR MONTAGUE. Splendid! Glad we cleared that up, old girl. Now give us a hand with this paperwork. Was it before or after 5 p.m. when we fell into the clutches of the Marmoset Men?
(Music: Theme, in and under for…)
ANNOUNCER. And so, once again, Sir Montague and Colonel Darling are victorious over the forces of angst. Don’t miss next week’s exciting episode: Sir Montague Blastoff Requisitions a Requisition Form! Till then, kids, don’t listen to anything you hear about shipments of Malt-O-Cod being seized by the FDA. There are still plenty of shipments they didn’t get, and there will be no shortage at your local grocery store. Always remember to beg your parents for the rich, satisfying flavor of Malt-O-Cod every morning. It’s the malt food drink that’s brain food—Malt-O-Cod!
(Music: In full, then out.)
ASK DR. BOLI.
Dear Dr. Boli: There was supposed to be a blue moon tonight, but when I looked at it it was the same grubby white color it always is. Why isn’t it blue, and what can be done about it? —Sincerely, An Astronomer Who Prefers to Remain Anonymous.
Dear Sir or Madam: The moon is not blue because it is impossible to feel sad when such exciting discoveries are coming in from Pluto. The celestial bodies exhibit an exemplary emotional solidarity, and we could learn much from them. If you still have complaints, however, you may refer them to Mr. Lorenz Hart and see where that gets you.
FOR THE BACK OF YOUR CAR.
