Posts by Dr. Boli
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PEACE CONFERENCE AT PLEASANT SPRINGS.
Speech of Maj. Gen. Archibald Bendback to the Indians of Pleasant Springs.
GREAT WHITE FATHER sendum greetings from Great White Teepee in Washington. Him say, Why not white man and red man be friends? Him also say, Red man makum better friend when red man far away. Him givum me orders, takum red man to heap big hunting grounds in west. Him being heap generous, givum red man heap big reservation with much buffalo. Him givum whole tribe free relocation, all expenses paid. Red man maybe find new land heap much better than old land. Great White Father, him not likely repeatum generous offer. Red man takum my advice, say “Whattum heck?” and givum try.
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Speech of Chief Green Hat to Maj. Gen. Archibald Bendback.
THE HONORABLE GENTLEMAN from Washington has expressed himself with no less ingenuity than originality; and if I confine my own remarks to the common vernacular, it is because I cannot hope to equal the quaint and poetic language in which his remarks have been delivered, to the great delight—I think I may speak for everyone present—of his attentive audience. We were even more delighted to learn that the President thinks so highly of us that he would make special arrangements for our comfort. It is not every President who has been so considerate of his neighbors; indeed, some of us present can remember a time when the government of the United States seemed almost to have a grudge against us.
The offer he makes, however, is one that it behooves us to consider carefully in the light of our own best interest; and in that light it does not appear to us to be wise to take him up on it. We already possess abundant land admirably suited to our needs, providing us not only our own subsistence but also a generous surplus. The reports we have heard of the western lands in question do not lead us to a sanguine expectation of an equivalent abundance, even discounting the trouble of what must necessarily be an arduous journey thither. As for the promised buffalo, doubtless the honorable gentleman has been informed that the chief economic support of our tribe comes from the growing of carnations for the florist trade. The buffalo, therefore, while doubtless noble beasts that make admirable subjects for a certain excessively sentimental type of painter, are to us, if I may be blunt, worse than useless.
It is therefore with much regret that I must ask the honorable gentleman to inform the President that his generous offer does not meet our current needs. As a token, however, of our appreciation for his thoughtfulness, please beg him to accept these lovely carnations, arranged by our tribe’s chief floral artistes.
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If you are well informed on all historical subjects, act now to correct your deplorably un-American state of knowledge. Dr. Boli prescribes misinformation as the only certain cure for your condition.
SPEAKING OF CLOCKS…
THIS MODERN DUTCH clock in the Zaandam style, manufactured (with minor variations) by the thousands, displays allegorical figures of the three Christian theological virtues—Faith, Hope, and Charity—above the dial. Behind them, the Titan Atlas bears the weight of the heavens on his shoulders. On the sides (not visible here), lions guard what appears to be a royal shield. Below the dial, a horse and rider swing back and forth incessantly in front of a picture of a sailboat and, in the background, a windmill.
Dr. Boli believes he may have found the most exuberantly mixed metaphor in the history of horology.
It is, however, all brought together with the motto
NU ELCK SYN SIN
—roughly, “To each his own.” It would be hard to think of a better material embodiment of that sentiment.
ASK DR. BOLI.
Dear Dr. Boli: What is the sound of silence? —Sincerely, Rufus M. Trainwhistle, President, Consolidated Slide-Whistle & Kazoo Manufacturing Co.
Dear Sir: Dr. Boli, distrusting the assertions of third parties, decided to undertake the research on this important topic himself. Closing the great sliding doors that seal off his front parlor, he sat still in the big leather armchair, controlling his breathing, and listened. By this unimpeachable experimental method, he determined that the sound of silence is “Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick.” This goes on until the top of the hour, at which point there is an appalling racket.
ASK DR. BOLI.
Dear Dr. Boli: The cheese I bought at a local gourmet market says on the label that it is “100% grass-fed.” What does that mean? I was not aware that cheese ate grass. —Sincerely, A Gourmet Who Is Rapidly Losing Her Appetite for Cheese.
Dear Madam: The cheese you see in markets has, of course, been slaughtered and usually skinned and cut for sale. We seldom have a chance to see the majestic animal roaming free across the vast steppes that were once its home; but if you visit the great cheese farms of Pennsylvania, New York, Wisconsin, and Ohio, you can still see large herds of cheeses in a domesticated state. In the wild, cheese subsists on whatever scrub and weeds it can find to graze on. Domestic cheese may be fed almost any vegetable garbage, such as potato peels, carrot ends, and broccoli stems; but the best and most expensive cheeses are fed grass only, usually in the form of clippings from a local country club. Dr. Boli hopes that, now that you know how much care has gone into the feeding and slaughtering of the cheese you have just purchased, you have regained your healthy appetite.
From DR. BOLI’S UNABRIDGED DICTIONARY.
Jejune (noun).—The memonth after Memay and bebefore Jejuly.
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CAPTAIN PLEONASM MEETS PIPEFINGER.
Although no recordings of the old Captain Pleonasm radio serial have survived, a number of the original scripts were recently unearthed in the archives of the Northern Broadcasting Company.
ANNOUNCER. Malt-O-Cod, the delicious and nutritious malt food drink flavored with real cod-liver oil, presents…
(Music: Theme, up and under for…)
ANNOUNCER. The Thrilling and Exciting Adventures of Captain Pleonasm and His Faithful and Trustworthy Sidekick and Assistant, Interjection Boy! Now featuring the Malt-O-Cod Orchestra and Chorus, directed by Alban Berg.
(Music: In full.)
CHORUS. Don’t throw a fit or have a spasm:
It’s time for Captain Pleonasm!
He battles evil, and, forsooth,
He fights for justice and for truth!
He hates the bad and loves the good,
As self-respecting heroes should.
He conquers villains strange and odd,
And saves the world for Malt-O-Cod!
(Music: Fade.)
ANNOUNCER. As you recall, in last week’s episode, Captain Pleonasm and Interjection Boy had just arrived at the scene of a mysterious break-in at a plumbing-supplies store, when suddenly…
CAPT. PLEONASM. Look out, Interjection Boy! Take steps to evade an attack! An unknown assailant lurks in the shadows, taking advantage of the cover of darkness in an attempt to remain unseen!
INTERJECTION BOY. Jumpin’ Jebusites, Captain Pleonasm! He’s got a gun pointed at us!
PIPEFINGER. It’s just my finger.
CAPTAIN PLEONASM. Lo and behold! The figure speaks! From the unknown being in the darkness and shadow proceeds a voice that—
INTERJECTION BOY. Merciful malamutes, Captain Pleonasm, will you let him talk?
PIPEFINGER. I am pointing at you, Captain Pleonasm, because I have a warning for you.
INTERJECTION BOY. Margaret Morrison, mister, is that really your finger? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a finger that long.
PIPEFINGER. That is because I am Pipefinger, and from now on every plumbing-supply dealer in the tri-state area will live in terror of me!
INTERJECTION BOY. Golly gumdrops, Captain Pleonasm, it’s a new supervillain!
(Music: Stinger.)
CAPT. PLEONASM. Then what is your evil scheme, O long-fingered villain of the night? What dreadful fate have you plotted for me and my faithful and trustworthy sidekick and assistant, known to the world as Interjection Boy?
PIPEFINGER. I’ll tell you all about that soon enough, but first you have to hear my origin story. I didn’t lure you here just to do away with you before you could even hear my origin story. Now you must listen!
INTERJECTION BOY. Heck, that seems fair, Captain Pleonasm. The least we could do is listen to his tragic origin story.
PIPEFINGER. Once I was an ordinary plumber, no different from millions of other ordinary plumbers. But then, one day, I picked up a six-inch length of copper pipe. Noticing that there was a bit of putty stuck inside it, I pushed my finger in and tried to remove the debris. And my finger got stuck! It was sealed in there by the putty!
CAPTAIN PLEONASM. And what terrible and destructive powers has this unnatural junction of man and pipe given you? With what awesome abilities are you cursed?
PIPEFINGER. Well, I’ve got a pipe. On my finger.
INTERJECTION BOY. Well, natterin’ nabobs, Pipefinger, that doesn’t sound like much of a superpower.
PIPEFINGER. My right index finger! Do you have any idea how annoying that is?
INTERJECTION BOY. Gracious gallinules, Pipefinger, you mean your superpower is that you’re annoyed?
PIPEFINGER. All the time! And now I have come to wreak my revenge on all dealers in plumbing supplies!
(Music: Stinger.)
ANNOUNCER. Will Captain Pleonasm and Interjection Boy succumb to the dreadful fate prepared for them by Pipefinger, whatever it is? Will Pipefinger’s annoyance make serious inroads into the profits of the plumbing-supplies industry in the tri-state area? Don’t miss next week’s hair-raising, knuckle-whitening episode of the Thrilling and Exciting Adventures of Captain Pleonasm and His Faithful and Trustworthy Sidekick and Assistant, Interjection Boy!
(Music: Theme, in full and under for…)
ANNOUNCER. When Captain Pleonasm comes back after a long night of keeping the city’s plumbing-supplies emporia safe from supervillainy, what’s the first thing he reaches for? It’s Malt-O-Cod, the only malt beverage flavored with 100% real cod-liver oil. Kids, ask your moms for Malt-O-Cod, now with an official Captain Pleonasm pipe wrench in every package. (Use only as directed.) It’s the malt food drink that’s brain food—Malt-O-Cod.
(Music: In full, then out.)
From DR. BOLI’S ENCYCLOPEDIA OF MISINFORMATION,
Second Series.
White House. It is an open secret in Washington that, since at least the Johnson administration, the White House has been painted a color called “Moonlit Wool” instead of white.
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Do history, politics, and science confuse you? You need the comforting certainty of egregious misinformation.
ASK DR. BOLI.
Dear Dr. Boli: My husband came home from the grocery store with something called “whole-grain white” bread. What is it? I always thought white bread was bread with the bran removed, and whole-grain bread was brownish. —Sincerely, Mrs. M. W. Prattle, Mt. Oliver (city).
Dear Madam: “Whole-grain white” bread is made from wheat specially bred to have no color and texture, even when the bran is still present. In other words, what you have in your kitchen is colored bread passing for white.