Posts by Dr. Boli
TIPS FOR CLEARING SNOW FROM YOUR ROOF.
INVITE YOUR LOCAL symphony to rehearse Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture in your attic.
Start melting the snow with a hair dryer. By April or May, the snow will be gone!
Fit a broom to the landing gear of a remote-controlled model airplane.
Tell the neighborhood children that there’s pirate treasure buried somewhere under all that snow. Make them promise they won’t go up on your roof to try to find it.
Set up a trampoline in your attic, put on a football helmet, and bounce as high as you can.
Turn the house over and shake vigorously. If that doesn’t work, shake the house vigorously.
PLODLEIGH’S ANCIENT MYSTERIES.
Program 43: Mall Builders of the Monongahela.
KENNY PLODLEIGH HERE with another edition of Plodleigh’s Ancient Mysteries. Today we venture once again into the ancient and mysterious valley of the Monongahela, a landscape littered with the remains of lost civilizations.
These magnificent ruins behind me, still impressive after literally decades, once formed one of the most remarkable constructions of the remarkably advanced peoples who inhabited this storied valley. We know from their ancient writings that these people called this palatial structure a “mall,” but as yet there is no agreement among archaeologists as to what its purpose might have been.
Some believe that it may have been a vast religious complex, perhaps housing hundreds of monks dedicated to the service of the gods Gimbels and J. C. Penney, the names you can still see in faded letters at opposite ends of the structure.
Others suggest that it may have been the palace of a powerful chieftain, whose many retainers occupied the numerous large cells arranged along a corridor between the two large throne-rooms; on this hypothesis, Gimbels and J. C. Penney may have been the names of the chieftain and his queen.
But I think the most plausible hypothesis is that the whole complex was a sort of primitive Internet, where goods of all descriptions could be purchased. According to this view, each of the stalls along the central corridor would have been a separate Web site dealing in a particular specialty, while the magnificent chambers at the ends were megasites, similar to our Amazon.com, in which a wide variety of merchandise might be procured. This hypothesis has the advantage of solving the longstanding mystery of how primitive peoples carried on commerce on a large scale before the introduction of even a rudimentary form of hypertext transfer protocol.
I wish I could show you how magnificently preserved the interior is, but our insurance company won’t let us take the cameras in there. So join us next week, when we’ll be exploring the world of chivalry and romance as we delve deep into the secrets of the Knights of Columbus. Until then, I’m Kenny Plodleigh for Plodleigh’s Ancient Mysteries, and after that I’ll probably still be Kenny Plodleigh. There—you told me to put some jokes in, so was that funny enough?
ANNOUNCEMENT.
THE DUCK HOLLOW Museum of Art is holding an open audition for roles in a new work of performance art by Eli “Bonkers” Johnson, entitled Open Audition. Mr. Johnson has not yet revealed the exact content of the piece, but promises a “big surprise.” Come any time during regular museum hours, and bring blueberry muffins.
From DR. BOLI’S ENCYCLOPEDIA OF MISINFORMATION.
Golf. In the original game of golf, the clubs were used against the other players. It was only when the game spread beyond the borders of Scotland that the current refinements were introduced.
ON THIS DAY IN HISTORY.
ON THIS DAY in 1814, The Corsair: A Tale by Lord Byron was published, and ten thousand copies were sold the first day. The next day 9,874 copies were returned by irate readers who had discovered that, notwithstanding the title page, the so-called “tale” was in fact a poem. The remaining 126 copies not returned made The Corsair the best-selling work of poetry of all time.
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THE WONDERFULL AUTOMATON.
Continuing the narrative that began here.
Part 33.
Letter the Fortieth:
Sir George Purvis to Miss Amelia Purvis.
My dearest Amelia,—
I am a lost Soul; but in my Heart I do yet sense the Prickings of Conscience, upon which, were my Will to act, I might yet be saved. O Amelia! I believe I have lost Honoria; yet tho’ Conscience prick me, I find that my Heart answers not the Prickings, and I face my own Dishonor, to say nothing of hers, not as an Husband wrong’d, nor yet as a Lover spurned, but as a christian Gentleman bemoaning the Damnation of the Heathen, without bestirring himself to preach to ’em. Such Lassitude springs up in my Soul, that I have neither the Will, nor even the Inclination, to avenge my Wrongs, nor yet to make such Inquiries as would determine positively that I have been wrong’d.
I beg you to forgive me, dearest Sister, for imposing upon you my indelicate Suspicions, which, were I not aware that your wide Reading has exposed you to the Ways of the World, without diminishing that modest Virtue which is ever your chief Ornament, I should not have ventured to confide in you; yet, with the single Exception of Miss Smith, there is no one else in whom I may confide. In a Word, I believe my Honoria to be engaged in a scandalous Relation with the eminent Doctor Albertus; and, having writ those Words, I find that I have no more to say. O cruel Love! O monstrous Fate!—Such is the Stile of Utterance I believe to be customary upon such Occasions: Yet my own Heart will not Utter what Custom and common Usage demand from it. Like a Stone I am battered, and broken, and feel nothing. Is it not my Duty to be overcome with Wrath? If she has aroused Suspicion, must I not demand an Explanation, as one having no little Interest in the Matter of her Virtue? Why am I not red with Choler, or bedew’d with Tears, or, at the least, earnestly inquisitive? Why do I not demand Satisfaction from the Doctor, either under the Form of an Explanation, or, if he cannot render one, upon the Field of Honor? Am I less than a Man, or more than a Saint? The cold Lethargy which overcomes me whenever I think on Honoria and her Betrayal,—if indeed she has betrayed me,—is something more or less than natural. I consider the Matter, and am unmoved; I have been pierced, but cannot feel the Wound. Shall I die of it? I had rather almost that I were wounded unto Death, for then I should know by undeniable Inference that I had been alive.
My Suspicions did not arise gradually, but all at once, and prompted by the suggestion of Miss Smith, who more and more has become my Companion: For I am idle, and she is idle as well, when she is not required to paint her Flesh, and drape herself in Gauze, and impersonate the Automaton. Indeed, Doctor Albertus gives her no other Duties, lest her Hands be marred by Laboring.
—No, I shall not recount that painfull Conversation, in which my fondest Hopes were dashed, and my Soul exposed for the blank and empty Thing it is;—I had thought to record it, but I have not the Will;—I should end the Letter here. Yet this much more I will say: That, as I am now in London, where the Post is more certain, I have some Reason to suppose that my Letter will reach you; and O! Amelia! One Word from you, whether of Advice, or Censure, would make my Sorrows lighter, and brighten the Shades of my Existence; wherefore I pray you to write, if no more than a Line, to
Your constant Brother,
George.
ASK DR. BOLI.
Dear Dr Boli: I would like to request your opinion regarding an agreement that was ventured into over 12 months ago. In order to settle a dispute regarding certain business matters, signed contracts were exchanged that contained several restrictive clauses in relation to practices of trade.
The question I would like to present you with is that if the restrictive clauses were not bounded by date parameters, does this mean the clauses are in effect for eternity?
Prior to writing, I obtained another opinion from a person well versed in such matters. The advice given was the in the normal functioning of such restrictive clauses and if no date parameters are given, the default period for such clauses is the period of 12 months from the signing of the agreement.
Thank you in advance for any assistance that is rendered. —Sincerely, Daryl Griffiths.
Dear Sir: Dr. Boli is sorry to report that no single answer will apply in all cases. In English common law, the term of such clauses, when not otherwise specified, was assumed to be till the conversion of the Jews (Marvell v. Coy Mistress, 16—). This formulation was rightly regarded as offensive, and most states in the United States have passed laws amending the common-law provision. It is unfortunate, however, that there has been no uniformity in these reforms. In Alabama, for example, the specified terminal date is when hell freezes over; in Oregon, on the other hand, the law states that the restrictions will terminate if it ever stops raining. In Pennsylvania law, the matter is decided according to who remembers the judge most generously on his birthday, as is the usual practice in similar cases.
The opinion you received from your other correspondent is not without merit. You might try forwarding that opinion to the judge hearing your case, along with the keys to a new Lexus. If, on the other hand, you were hoping that the restrictions would continue into eternity, Dr. Boli would caution you against undue optimism in that regard. In the heavenly hierarchy, such contracts are placed under the scrutiny of the Principalities, who are known to take a dim view of poorly worded agreements.
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