Posts by Dr. Boli
From DR. BOLI’S ENCYCLOPEDIA OF MISINFORMATION.
Pittsburgh. In spite of its reputation, Pittsburgh is actually less susceptible to zombie attacks than Fall River, Massachusetts.
ON THIS DAY IN HISTORY.
ON THIS DAY in 1535, Henry VIII declared himself the spiritual head of the Church of England. Dr. Boli has tried and failed to think of a way to make this fact more amusing than it already is.
NOTICE.
AS PART OF the city’s ongoing privatization of essential services, the Mayor was wondering whether anyone could give him a ride to the opening of the new Morningside senior center tomorrow at 2 p.m.
MR. MAGUNDI SPEAKS HIS MIND.
WITH A DISINTERESTED benevolence born of his age and relative prosperity, Dr. Boli is always willing to lend his support to a new literary enterprise. He has therefore, mostly as a personal favor to the young editor (who has asked that his name be kept private), taken under his wing a new magazine entitled Mr. Magundi Speaks His Mind. He feels compelled to warn his readers that they may find something there that offends them; but he suspects that his readers are the sort who will read that warning and immediately rush off to be offended.
The editor of this new publication has kindly provided the following explanation of the enterprise:
There’s a little group of us who wait on the same safety island for the Red Line streetcar every morning. We never had much to say to one another until Mr. Magundi joined us.
I didn’t notice him at first, but when I made an offhand remark about the weather, and the unreliability of meteorologists, he was ready with a reply that made me ashamed of myself, and very nearly induced me to write a note of apology to the National Weather Service. I asked his name; he seemed to think for a moment, and then replied, “Salvatore Magundi.” Some of us are of the opinion that he made up that name on the spot, but he has stuck with it.
Mr. Magundi has turned our little group from a clot of bored commuters into a conversation—always with the understanding, however, that Mr. Magundi will do most of the talking, and we will do most of the listening. We think he may be partly mad, because he says things no sane person would ever say in public. But he keeps us entertained for five or ten minutes at a stretch, and we’re all grateful to him for that.
If you are still willing to expose yourself to the opinions of Mr. Magundi, you may proceed to Mr. Magundi Speaks His Mind, always remembering, of course, that Dr. Boli accepts no responsibility for the consequences of your actions.
From DR. BOLI’S ENCYCLOPEDIA OF MISINFORMATION.
No. 375,328.
Snowflakes. Although it is commonly said that no two snowflakes are alike, in fact there are only 512,000 varieties of snowflake. Beginning with no. 512,001, the series repeats.
From DR. BOLI’S ENCYCLOPEDIA OF MISINFORMATION.
Verne, Jules. In L’Île à hélice, the noted pioneer of science fiction Jules Verne predicted the modern cardboard pizza box with astonishing accuracy.
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LOST. The Ruthenian-American Society has been unable to locate the nation of Ruthenia anywhere on a political map of the world, and respectfully requests the assistance of the public. A small reward is offered. The last place we remember seeing it was somewhere in the mountains of eastern Europe, if that helps.
ON THIS DAY IN HISTORY.
ON THIS DAY in 49 B.C., Julius Caesar spoke the famous words Alea jacta est, meaning “The die is cast.” Seconds later, his generals insisted that he cross the river Rubicon, and the game of Monopoly he had been playing with the ferryman was never finished.
On this day in 1776, Thomas Paine’s tract Common Sense was published, marking the first and last appearance of common sense in American politics.
PREFACE.
From the Preface to the Shorter History of the United States, by Irving Vanderblock-Wheedle.
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IT IS CUSTOMARY when placing before the public the fruits of one’s labors to begin by offering some apology or explanation for the work, especially when the field is crowded with similar offerings. In this case, however, no such apology is necessary. Although more than one history of the United States may be found on library shelves, and perhaps even not a few making some claim to brevity, the neglect in such productions of the manifold contributions of Mr. William Rufus DeVane King has become a byword among serious students of history. The snobbish elitism of professional historians is the only conceivable explanation for this scandalous omission, for among the common people the memory of King shines bright, as the numerous cycles of popular legends and ballads about him testify:
Mr. William Rufus DeVane King was Vice-President
Of the United States when in Cuba he was resident,
runs one jump-rope rhyme still heard in schoolyards across the nation. But there is no need to elaborate this point: we all remember the songs and stories from our school days, and the very land around us is littered with evidences of the popular devotion to the memory of this great American. King Street in Alexandria—King George Street in Annapolis (named for King and some man called George, otherwise lost to history)—the designation of Brooklyn as King’s County—all these and countless other tributes may be found scattered across the map by anyone with the ambition to consult an atlas.
Why, then, the notorious neglect of the man and his accomplishments in our standard histories? As we said, the explanation can only be snobbishness; but to what do we owe this peculiar outbreak of that literary disease?
Part of the answer may be found in political prejudice. William Rufus DeVane King was one of the founders of the state of Alabama; but no reasonable observer could hold him entirely responsible for that, since he could not possibly have foreseen the Alabama of today. There is also the matter of his name, of which there seems to be entirely too much, and perhaps historians have been reluctant to bulk up their productions with repeated references to William Rufus DeVane King when the same number of pages could hold many more years of history involving lesser figures with more economical names, such as John Adams. Andrew Jackson, who was noted for his urbane wit, referred to our subject as “Miss Nancy,” and if the name had stuck, we historians might have been spared a great deal of scribbling.
Finally, there is the embarrassing question of slavery. William Rufus DeVane King was one of the largest slaveholders in the South (measured, that is, by number of slaves; the man himself was rather petite), and this fact may have deterred some historians from addressing his other accomplishments. With these reservations we have considerable sympathy. In the present work, we have adopted the attitude of the recent revision of Huckleberry Finn, and have decided to address the issue of William Rufus DeVane King’s slave ownership by pretending that he kept Yorkshire terriers instead.