Your new investment expert.

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Dear Dr. Boli: I just got a letter from Investomat, a company that describes itself as “a registered investment adviser and on-line technology provider.” Investomat claims to work with my broker to provide me with investment advisory services, which is news to me, because I thought my broker came up with his advice by getting roaring drunk and throwing darts at a list of companies on the wall of his office. They say they’re sending me this letter to provide a summary of material changes to their company, and my first problem was that I couldn’t figure out what material they were talking about. But that’s not the main thing. The main thing is that I had trouble understanding this sentence: “Investomat, Inc., the parent company of Investomat, was acquired by affiliates of vehicles managed or advised by Trade-O-Rama Capital Private Equity, LP,” and a date and some other stuff, but when I got to the “vehicles” part my brain stopped processing, and I was wondering whether you think I should bail out of the stock market altogether. What does it mean? —Sincerely, Trust-Fund Tillie, the Belle of Blawnox.

Dear Madam: It means that your investments are now managed by an assortment of people associated with a 1983 Ford Escort, so you have nothing to worry about. The Escort has about as good a record as anyone else at predicting the fluctuations of the stock market, and it has the advantage of being more economical to operate than other antique vehicles.

By Nergal-Sharezer the Rabmag.

The stars are in a peculiar alignment right now, with Mercury in the House of Blues and Jupiter up to his usual tricks with various celestial bodies, and under these circumstances it is advisable to moderate your expectations for the new year. Fortunately, the stars have spared you the trouble of making resolutions for yourself, and you would be wise to adopt their custom-tailored suggestions.

Capricorn. You resolve to eat only steel cans this year. Aluminum disagrees with you.

Aquarius. You know that bottled water you keep buying? It’s not monitored by the government, and it all comes out of a rusty spigot in Jacksonville, North Carolina. You resolve to drink nothing but Pittsburgh city water from now on.

Pisces. You resolve to eat more chicken. Other people ought to be eating more fish, but for you that would sort of qualify as cannibalism.

Aries. You resolve to wear more tweed. Tweed is always in good taste, and it wears well.

Taurus. The stars are particularly keen on having you resolve to avoid china shops.

Gemini. The stars think you ought to get out more. They suggest square dancing. You meet all kinds of people when you go square dancing.

Cancer. You resolve to follow your mother’s advice about not saying anything if you can’t say something nice. Crabbiness is funny in comic-strip characters. You just annoy people.

Virgo. You resolve to eat more vegetables, and you resolve to remember that Theobroma cacao is a member of the vegetable kingdom.

Libra. The stars say it’s a cliché to resolve to lose weight for the new year. Instead, you resolve to patronize that nice Uzbek restaurant that just opened two blocks away.

Scorpio. According to Wikipedia, your colors are red, maroon, black, and brown. The stars think you should resolve to put together a more cheerful wardrobe.

Sagittarius. You resolve to support Nergal-Sharezer the Rabmag on Patreon. Somebody has to do it, and the other eleven have been slacking off.

“Everybody else is doing it” is an excuse we would not accept from a five-year-old, and yet it seems to suffice for year-in-review articles in grown-up publications like this one. To begin, then:

In January, we printed some emojis for Stoics, and the Stoics in the audience showed their appreciation by not changing their indifferent expressions.

We spent the entire month of February celebrating both International Typewriter Appreciation Month and International Anything-but-Haiku Month, so you may pick your favorite from twenty-eight non-haikus. Dr. Boli was especially happy with “The Siren” and “The Proud Philosopher.” But it would not be fair to our readers if he did not point out that his poetry provoked some protest.

In March, we dispelled an Internet myth about Wiliam Torrey Harris. Nevertheless, the Internet continues to repeat the myth, almost as though not everyone in the world monitors this Magazine for important corrections of Internet misconceptions. We also sorted out the various types of professors.

In April, we explained the different forms of government. We also published a vaudeville patter meant to challenge the bourgeois notion of “funny.”

In May, we explained how hybrid cars work. For our younger readers, we had an exceptionally exciting episode of Space Chicken.

In June, we published every speech you have ever heard, so that you have no need to listen to speeches by club presidents, managers, motivational speakers, and the like in the future. We also caught a suspicious character in the act of posting a bill.

July brought us a meditation on trends in art, provoked by a Bouguereau painting. We also gave some very bad advice to children about dealing with our tiger friends.

In August, we learned the truth about ancient grains, and we heard the first of Mrs. Cheswick’s Educational Stories for Children, though unfortunately not the last.

In September, Sir Montague Blastoff made first contact with a strange extraterrestrial race, which went about as well as you might expect. We also worked ourselves into a furious lather about the International Phonetic Alphabet.

In October, we learned how to stay secure on line. For the benefit of smart people, we also explained stupid people.

In November, we heard the touching and instructive ballad of “The Sponge.” We also printed a list of filmstrips that should prove useful to teachers looking for ways to calm hyperactive children, and perhaps even render them comatose.

In December, we learned the truth about madeleines. We also solved a longstanding literary mystery. And on December 31, we looked back over a year of dubious accomplishments and thought we really ought to do better next year.

Annual Christmas Number.

Fruitcake.—In a three-day study conducted by scientists at the Institute for Culinary Amelioration, more than 78% of participants reported that fruitcake was greatly improved by rum. The results were so encouraging that, for next year’s study, the ICA scientists plan to try adding the rum to the fruitcake.

Julbocken.—In Sweden, Norway, and Denmark, Father Christmas traditionally arrives on a Yule goat or Julbocken. In the Faeroe Islands, for reasons lost in the mists of the mythological past, he arrives on a Soemmerring’s gazelle (Nanger soemmerringii).

Père Noël.—In Quebec, on Christmas day, the children of the household invite Père Noël to come in and join them in throwing marshmallows at the screen while they watch the king’s Royal Christmas Message.

Pudding.—In Ireland, the traditional Christmas pudding is brought to the table flaming. Dinner guests watch as the pudding burns to ash, after which there is a round of cheers and the guests devour the foil-wrapped chocolates they received on Christmas morning.

St. Nikolaus.—In Liechtenstein, children leave their boots in front of the door for St. Nikolaus on Christmas Eve, and when they wake up Christmas morning, the boots are neatly polished.

A few days ago, our friend Father Pitt published this picture of a small commercial building in Mount Oliver, which is a borough in Pittsburgh, in the sense that you cannot go in any direction from Mount Oliver without going through Pittsburgh, but it is not technically under the government of Pittsburgh, or at least half of it is not, but the other half is, which is why there is a city neighborhood called Mount Oliver as well, but this building is in the independent borough. Life in Allegheny County is complicated. At any rate, this is the picture:

Now, Father Pitt thought this building was interesting for its layers of architectural history, and it may well be. But what caught Dr. Boli’s attention was the wide range of services offered by the current tenant of the ground-floor storefront.

The sign is a little hard to interpret for the uninitiated, and Dr. Boli must count himself among the uninitiated. Why, for example, do people have their eyes waxed? It seems that people are willing to pay $12 for the privilege of having their eyes waxed—and that is just the starting price for brown eyes. We assume it is more expensive for blue or green or hazel eyes.

And then, when a man gets an express gel, what is he getting? Is it some sort of exceptionally thick Italian coffee? If so, why is the price specific to men? How much would a woman have to pay for the same thing? And once you have had too much of the thick Italian coffee, are you then “fullest with gels”?

Some of these services seem very involved, but that is probably the reason for the “+” after so many of the prices: you must take the stated price and then add to it some quantity so huge as to be unprintable. For example, it must cost a fair amount to have your organic mani pedi gels dip ombre 3Ds acrylic solar design waxed. In fact, no price is listed for that service at all, implying that, in the words of the old adage, if you have to ask, you are probably in the wrong establishment.

Signs like these are the things that keep Dr. Boli up at night. But for tonight he has decided to go to sleep anyway and let his readers interpret this sign in particular. What do you think the various services are, and how are they different from the services offered by that nice Mr. Torquemada during the Spanish Inquisition and Full-Service Nail Spa?

Dear Dr. Boli: Sometimes someone says something, like, really stupid, and I really want to make some sarcastic remark. But then I think I should wait till I cool off before I say something I’ll be sorry for. Am I right to wait? —Sincerely, Katie, Age 34.

Dear Miss: No; you must strike while the irony’s hot.

Howdy, happy chefs! We’ve got great news for you! Your friends at Howdy Helpings^® brand Home-Cooked Meal Kits, the Meal Kit with Everything Included, have been listening to our customers! A number of you fine folks have mentioned in correspondence or other places that everything isn’t really included, because where’s the water? Good point! So now, in every recipe that calls for water, we’ll be including a packet of freeze-dried instant water with your meal kit! Just add ordinary home tap water according to the packet directions to make up the requisite amount! And for all you rocket scientists out there who are saying “How stupid do they think we are?” right now, well, sorry, but according to Google reviews you don’t seem to be our target demographic, so just throw the empty packet away and go back to your slide rules.

From the Startpage search engine. Reproduced for the purpose of commentary and mocking and fair-usey things like those.