Samuel Johnson was not an easy man to like

            London, 1763. My imagination had transported me to Doctor Johnson’s lair – a Fleet Street Coffeehouse. The Great Man fingered his cheap non-powdered wig, better to descant on the Americans whom he called “a race of convicts” who “ought to be thankful for anything we allow them short of hanging.”

            Johnson’s table manners were squalid to the point of splattering those adjacent. He now elected to twit the hapless Goldsmith on the failing of Goldie’s “She Stoops to Conquer,” and then to twit his biographer Boswell on the failings of being Scottish. But the Doctor’s smug magnanimity was for the colonies: “I am willing to love all mankind, except an American.”

            This was, safe to say, insufferable to me, an American in London. Were it not for Boswell’s adulation, Johnson would be dismissed as a quaint lexicographer. If you ask me, the book might better have been Johnson’s Life of Boswell, rather than Boswell’s Life of Johnson. But now Doctor Johnson’s animadversion on Americans set me afire.

            David Garrick, the acting profession’s contribution to Johnson’s Literary Club, was uncharacteristically at a loss for words, offering only a sharp intake of breath.

            As I rose to respond, the coffeehouse quieted.

            “Sir, I rise above your taut. Moreover, looking to the future, should any foreign power ever menace England – let’s say the Germans, hypothetically – we Americans hope you’ll call on us for help.”

            “Indeed,” scoffed someone from the back. “Yankee Doodle to the rescue.”

            Doctor Johnson’s bemusement seemed more muted. There was a sense that I had given him pause, on which note I exited, tripping over his gout-ridden foot on the way and prompting a Johnsonian bellow.

            The Doodle strikes again.

•••••

            Postscript: Goldsmith’s “She Stoops to Conquer” endures today as a comedy of manners. It is regarded as a classic.

            England did solicit American assistance in two world wars, both involving Germans.

            Dr. Johnson is today best remembered as a conversationalist, which was his true métier. He never in his long and dramatic life lost his disdain for Americans.

How to make your politics more satisfying

           Face it, there’s little you and I can do to improve the US political culture which has gone bipartisanly rancid. It’s time for each of us to protect our political sanity. A few suggestions:

            1. Don’t let the TV pundits tell you what to think. Especially don’t let Rachel Maddow of MSNBC tell you what to think. Or Karl Rove with his insufferable chalkboard thing. These people see themselves as molders of opinion. My opinions are moldy enough.

            2. Pollsters would have you believe that an American shopping for a political home must choose between liberalism and conservatism, the one excluding the other. In fact, one can admix elements of each. The two philosophies exist in symbiosis or they do not exist.

            3. Or, disdain these labels altogether. Ask not what is liberal or conservative. Ask what is true, and let the answer fall where it may on the political spectrum. Franklin Roosevelt was a fiscal conservative who became a Keynesian when he saw the need. And Dwight Eisenhower found truth everywhere. “I think most Americans are both liberal and conservative,” he said.

            4. Because a few politicians err or are corrupt, it is possible to adopt a general cynicism about the entire class. Resist the temptation. And keep it civil. There is no governing idea that cannot be undermined by meanness of spirit.

            5. “Kum Bah Yah” is a perfectly good song and not, as some would have it, an anthem of false conciliation.

            6. Will panelists on news shows ever realize that five people talking at once is not discourse? Ideas profit when we allow one another the dignity of a completed thought. Being loud is not the same thing as being bold.

            7. It is possible to believe that most politicians (and most lawyers and most bureaucrats) are men and women of rectitude. Most want to help, despite the backbreaking burden of regulations under which they work.

            8. Goes the cynic’s plaint, “If you want a friend in Washington, get a dog.” You don’t have to get a dog. There is still honor. There’s still kindness, and you and I may rely on it.

            9. If “Kum Bah Yah” is discredited, have Congress belt out a bipartisan rendering of “Give My Regards to Broadway.”

            10. If a pundit invites you to lunch, let him pick up the check. Most of them have expense accounts.

What if someone went on Wheel of Fortune while slightly inebriated? A fantasy

            Early in the show is the contestant chat wherein Pat Sajak ritually belittles each participant using his smug grin to subtly mock the goings-on. I was in no mood for it.

            PAT: Alan, your life sounds like a total cliché. But I’m betting you have some kind of interesting hobby.

            ALAN: No, nothing like that. I’m here for the money. Now if that young lady could bring me a martini….

            PAT: That’s Vanna White and she is not a cocktail waitress.

            ALAN: Oh. I’m sorry. I guess it was the slutty outfit. By the way, I’ll skip the half-car and the trip to the Turks and Caicos. Just cash! (spinning the wheel) Uh oh, my hand slipped.

            PAT: $300.

            ALAN: Can I spin again? (Vanna shakes her head no). Aw shut up Vanna. Gimme an X. Naw, just kidding. Gimme a T.

            PAT: Sorry, we have to go with your first response and there are no X’s. But I think we’ve discovered your hobby (makes tippling gesture). OK Madeline, our dairy farmer from Wisconsin, it’s your turn to spin (wheel stops on $900).

            MADELINE: May I have a T please.

            ALAN: She heard me call a T. That’s not fair.

            PAT: There are three T’s. Madeline that’s $2700. Not bad.

            ALAN: Can I spin now?

            PAT: Not your turn, you incredible oaf. Go ahead Ralph, our fireman from Santa Fe, New Mexico (wheel stops on the million dollar space).

            ALAN: Lissen Ralph, I hope you win the million. Pat doesn’t like me so I don’t have a chance. Let’s all go for drinks later.

            RALPH: (to Alan) Why don’t you put a sock in it? You’re gassed.

            ALAN: Oh yeah? Prove it! (Ralph grabs Alan and tosses him onto the wheel. Pat spins the wheel and Alan goes round and round to the audience’s delight.) Hey Pat, look – I’m on the half-car space. I’ll take half a Mercedes.

            PAT: Forget it Alan. It’s all over.

            ALAN: I’ll take the thousand-dollar consolation.

            PAT: No you won’t.

            ALAN: OK, OK, I’ll take the Turks and Caicos… Turks and Caicos… Turks and Caicos… (Alan awakens and finds himself at home in his easy chair, sweating copiously.) It was all a dream! Pat and Vanna! The wheel! Actually I’ve never liked spinning. I couldn’t even sit through Vertigo despite the reassuring presence of Jimmy Stewart. So anyway, that’s how a stupid game show taught me to stop drinking.

           

            

Hemingway and his movies

When they took his stories to Hollywood, even Ernest Hemingway didn’t have the clout to get everything he wanted – but he got most of it. For example, they shot Old Man and the Sea in Peru, not Cuba, I think because Hemingway wanted a 1,000-pound Pacific marlin as Spencer Tracy’s co-star.
Consider this: Of the seven big budget Hemingway stories-cum-movies, not one was set in the U.S. although all were about Americans. Hemingway appears to find Americans more interesting in Pamplona than in Kansas City and we probably are, the expatriate experience being what it is.
So here are the seven major movies from Hemingway books with some carping by me. Generally I think Hemingway worked well on the screen because he didn’t like to write physical description and movies didn’t require it:

For Whom the Bell Tolls – Nobody understood the Spanish Civil War (1936-39) then or now but they trundled the cameras up to northern California in 1943 and got stoicism from Gary Cooper (Hemingway’s personal friend and ideal movie star) and legitimacy from Ingrid Bergman who had just finished Casablanca.

To Have and Have Not (1944) – This is remembered as the Bogart/Bacall picture and actually it’s a pretty good story about chasing Vichyite Nazis in Martinique. Some called it Casablanca in the Caribbean and there’s truth in that.

Snows of Kilimanjaro (1952) – The original was a short story, not a novel. I find it tough to summon rooting interest in a protagonist who is a) unpleasantly self-indulgent and b) terminally ill. Gregory Peck tries but is miscast as a cynic.

The Sun Also Rises (1957) – Written in 1925, it is (my opinion) Hemingway’s best. Couple it with Green Hills of Africa and A Moveable Feast and you’ve got Hemingway in précis. Ty Power and Ava Gardner are fine, but Errol Flynn, as a roué, swipes the picture while enhancing it. I think TSAR stands with Scott Fitzgerald’s Tender Is the Night as the best American novel. And both made splendid movies.

A Farewell to Arms – It was filmed twice, in 1932 with Helen Hayes and Gary Cooper and in 1957 with Rock Hudson and Jennifer Jones. That was back when they gave actors lapidary names like Rock and accepted performances in kind. As a New York Times book reviewer declared in 1929, “The part which will sit least comfortably with the reader is Lt. Henry’s desertion.” This is a much-admired story, although not by me. Desertion in wartime (yes, even from the Italian Army in World War I) is not justified by a lyrical romance.

The Old Man and the Sea (1958) – Hemingway admitted, in the 1930s, that marlin were being “depopulated” in the Cuba/Key West/Bimini fishing grounds. And Hemingway worked to preserve the game fish even as he caught far more than his share and more than anyone could ever eat. For sharks, the bogiemen of the sea, to attack an injured game fish was just a day’s work. Hemingway used to shoot sharks with a tommy gun, so his character, the old man, could hardly have been surprised by a shark attack.

Wise guy responses to classic quotes

One way to keep your intellectual appetite whetted is to duel with famous wise guys from history. Each attributed quote is followed by my response. The plan is to prove that classic wisdom isn’t always classic. OK, so it’s a pugnacious little premise. I don’t care. It’s fun.

“My definition of a philosopher is of a man up in a balloon, with his family and friends holding the ropes which confine him to earth and trying to haul him down.” – Louisa May Alcott
“My definition of a drudge is one perpetually hauled to earth,” I told her. We’d clashed before. I deeply resented her habit of pouring tea onto my trousers.
•••••
“Poor Mexico, so far from God and so close to the United States.” – Profirio Diaz
I asked Diaz, “Would Mexico’s lot be improved by adjacency to, say China?” The plain truth startled him. In tequila veritas, I shrugged.
•••••
“There is a Northwest Passage to the intellectual world.” – Laurence Stern
“And an exit that’s like one of those flume rides at a theme park,” I observed.
•••••
“The public be damned.” – William Henry Vanderbilt
Now look, Mr. V, I’m guessing that you don’t mean it … that you’re in a mood, that you’ll retract immediately, right? … What? ... Oh. Well same to you!
•••••
“The absurd is the essential concept and the first truth.” – Albert Camus
Camus was spouting nonsense. “That which makes no sense is almost impossible to refute,” I told him, illustrating with plot nuances from the Three Stooges whom Camus dismissed as irrelevant.
•••••
“I will not accept if nominated and will not serve if elected.” – William Tecumseh Sherman
And, to make it more Shermanesque, if dragooned to the Inaugural Ball, I will not dance.
•••••
“What a horrible invention, the bourgeois, don’t you think?” Gustavo Flaubert
“What would you propose, Gustave – a nation of boulevardiers?” He was shocked at my prescience, having thought me a dolt, and hurried away surely to write Maupassant in whom he confided his intellectual crises.”
•••••
“I am willing to love all mankind, except an American.” – Samuel Johnson (1778)
That’s an insult, right? Because seriously Dr. Johnson, a lot of us Americans would pay to come and be insulted by the Great Dr. Johnson in a real London coffeehouse. Oh, and if the Germans ever give you guys any trouble, who you gonna call?
•••••
“I love creditable acquaintance; I love to be the worst of the company.” – Jonathan Swift
As do I. It becomes tedious: I smash a flagon of ale; Swift smashes two. I comport myself as a jester; Swift becomes a blithering idiot. Let it end.

Escaping conventional wisdom

You know those opinions you hold but no one else shares? The ones at which people gasp and say, ‘You can’t possibly believe that!’ Well it is - precisely those - opinions that help define you. Covet them, for they are you.

            Herewith a dozen of my opinions with which most people disagree:

            • The best-ever host of The Tonight Show was Jack Paar. Carson had longevity but Paar was electric.

            • Today’s America is as polarized as it’s been at any time since the Civil War.

            • We should still have tented circuses. The indoor kind just aren’t the same.

            • In baseball, 3 balls should be a walk. Watching pitcher and catcher toss the ball back and forth is tedious.

            • Two gentlemen who would man well the office of U.S. President: Jeb Bush, Evan Bayh.

            • Jonathan Winters was the funniest man ever.

            • Want to rebel against something? How about the necktie. What earthly good do they do? They’re not even decorative since most are absurdly mismatched.

            • People should have more arguments. Used as a cordial learning tool, arguing is how ideas get examined. Granted arguments can turn toxic, but they needn’t, given civilized ground rules.

            • The best American movie ever was 1953s From Here to Eternity based on James Jones’ novel. Ironically, it was made by a minor league studio – Columbia – but rarely does a picture so honestly capture a story’s ethos.

            • The all-time silliest American fad was the Twist. It was grotesquely awkward and unappealing to watch or perform.

            • Whatever happened to music? You know – pleasant songs with lyrics like I’m in the Mood for Love.’

            Sean Connery is the definitive James Bond. Connery’s secret: Have fun with the character who is, at essence, comedic.

            So, when that moment comes in which you deliver a thoughtful opinion that’s greeted with derision, you may be taken as a naysayer or an eccentric. Maybe so. But you also have intellectual courage.

Some Christmas traditions you may never have heard of – and for good reason

Here they are, just for the sheer enjoyment. At least I hope so:
1. Send a card to someone with whom you’re on the outs. (If you’re on the outs with more than, say, 30 people, just ignore this.)
2. Arrange an equine cultural exchange. Send the Lipizzaner Stallions to St. Louis to pull a beer wagon, while the Budweiser Clydesdales clomp around Vienna. This will work; no room for neigh-sayers (please note pun).
3. Forgive yourself for one egregiously dumb mistake you’ve made earlier in life. Never think of it again. In fact, make it two mistakes. A Christmas special.
4. You know those guys who jump into an icy lake to show how hardy they are? Let them not do it this year. For one Christmas let sanity trump vanity.
5. The country is politically polarized this Christmas. Let’s do something about it. Maybe hoist a toast to George Washington who didn’t want political parties at all.
6. Keep in mind that those Christmas movies and TV specials are mostly filmed in mid-summer – a testimony to the enduring spirit.
7. If I’m on your gift list, please don’t give me a scarf. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the scarves of Christmas past. In fact, I’ll give you a scarf. A really nice one, only slightly used.
8. Have a contest to see who can do the best impression of Bing Crosby singing White Christmas. Incidentally, the Irving Berlin classic is actually an Angeleno’s lament. The rarely sung prelude: “The sun is shining, the grass is green, the orange and palm trees sway. There’s never been such a day in Beverly Hills, L.A. But it’s December the 24th and I am longing to be up north.” And we all know how it goes from there.
9. When it’s time to have someone play Santa, pick the biggest grump in the group. The role is transformative. By feigning jollity, Santa may actually acquire it. I’ve seen it happen.
10. If for some reason you can’t get into the holiday mood this year, go ahead and fake it. You won’t be sorry. I’m not sure how that works but it does. Seriously.

A new kind of advice column

            Most columns offer good advice. My column is unique in that it offers bad advice. So let’s go directly to the Q & A:

            Q: Please give me your advice. How can I stop smoking?

            A: Take up Latin dances. Rumba, samba, cha-cha. It’s almost impossible to smoke in a conga line.

            Q: That’s absurd. Why would anyone do that?

            A: They probably wouldn’t. That’s why it’s bad advice.

            Q. Next question: What’s the best way to get rid of unwanted houseguests?

            A: I differ from conventional wisdom in that I don’t use poisonous snakes. A better solution: exploding bars of soap. BOOM-A-CLEASE is good, or any detonating soap product.

            Q: That’s the worst advice I’ve ever heard.

            A: Thank you.

            Q: Try this one: How can I stop beating my wife?

            A: Wife beating is definitely wrong. As a substitute try wife polishing. WIFE-SHEEN is a spray-on product. Apply with a soft cloth and you’ll bring her to a high gloss in 10-12 minutes. BUFF-A-SPOUSE is also good.

            Q: I’m curious – Does anyone ever take your advice?

            A: Not that I know of.

            Q: An anxious parent writes: Our 14-year-old son is turning to lawlessness – stealing hubcaps, robbing vending machines, extorting lunch money. How can we keep him from becoming a petty criminal?

            A: Why be petty? The Mafia publishes a booklet: Career Opportunities in Organized Crime. A must-read for anyone considering crime as a career option.

            Q: Next question: I need a vacation that’s totally stress-free. Any suggestions?

            A: Adventure, that’s the ticket. Become a cab driver in Naples, Italy. Learn to drive-by-horn, dodge scooters, flee Mafiosi. And as part of the cultural exchange, a Neapolitan cabbie comes to America and drives your car for two weeks.

            Q: That’s supposed to be relaxing?

            A: No.

            Q: Here’s an oft-heard question: I’m afraid to go to the dentist. I can’t stand pain.

            A: Explain to the dentist that if you experience any pain, you will bite him. Give the dentist a crazed, wide-eyed look, then relax and enjoy a pain-free dental experience.

            Q: A woman writes: I want to offer a memorable surprise when the dinner group comes to our house. I know you’re not a chef but I thought you might make a suggestion.

            A: Who needs a chef? Drama is the key – perhaps something in a flaming dessert! First you light it up – KAWUMP – then have your husband enter in a fireman suit and douse it. Your dinner group will cheer and with any luck no one gets hurt.

            Q: Have you ever considered giving good advice?

            A: I tried it once. Couldn’t get the hang of it. With bad advice, expectations are lower.

You might NOT be a redneck if….

Great premise, huh? For example: You might not be a redneck if you call security when Jeff Foxworthy comes on your property.

Or if you own alligator shoes from a gator you haven’t wrestled.

If you have a Swiss bank account and write checks against it at the grocery store, you probably are not a redneck.

If you wish Larry the Cagle Guy would stop saying, “Git ’er done” and simply do his job, you might not be a redneck.
When you’re asked if you like the Grand Old Opry and you reply, “Oh yes! I love La Boheme,” you aren’t a redneck.

Same if you wish the Georgia Bulldogs would join the Ivy League so they’d get to play Dartmouth every year.

If you enjoy a bubble bath now and then, you might not be a redneck.

Or if you have a sign at the end of your half-mile-long driveway that reads “NO RIFFRAFF, you probably aren’t a redneck.

You might not be a redneck if you wear a polo shirt to play polo.

Or if, when it comes to girls’ names, you reject Candi, Taffi and Brandi in favor of Victoria, you may not be a redneck.

If you buy a French poodle instead of a pit bull, you probably aren’t a redneck. On the other hand, if you try to give a pit bull some kind of coiffure, you may or may not be a redneck but you probably are dangerous.

Who knows – maybe we all have a little redneck in us. It’s good to enjoy life in elemental ways whether one is a redneck or not. The French have a term for it: joie de vivre. Please note that anyone who uses French phrases may be an exemplar of virtue and lead a life of avowed purpose. But, if you’ll forgive me for saying so, this person is probably not a redneck.


[For more of the same, visit Alan’s blog, essentialba.com]

The Oscars for words beginning with R

Someone once said, “A human life is like a single letter in the alphabet. It can be meaningless. Or it can be part of a great meaning.” For me, the R is the noblest of letters and the one I revere.
S is a villain of a letter, hissing with sibilance. B is bland. T needs the companionship of H to do its best work. The letter G can denote gallantry but gives way to ignoble noises like gush, gurgle, gargle and groan.
So it is that for flexibility and force combined with raffishness, I’ll cast my lot with R.
And the Oscars for excellence in words beginning with R go to the following:
Hardest Word to Spell – rhythm. Ask 10 intelligent people to spell the word. None will be able. It is unspellable: five consonants held together by one Y serving forlornly as a vowel.
Most Onomatopoeic – ratchet. My oink-brained dictionary recognizes the word only as a vowel although its principle force is as a pleasingly grating verb.
Word Most Sullied by a Silent Letter – wrong, as in ‘I hate to use the R word but you’re wrong.’ It is technically the W word. The glory-seeking W feigns preeminence when in fact it isn’t even elocuted. Maybe on my deathbed somebody will tell me the purpose of the W in wrong, or wrath, or wreck, or wrestle. The heroic R triumphs over the parasitic W.
Hardest to Pronounce – rural. In fact, the word is unpronounceable even if you live there. One comes no closer than sounding like a car laboring to start on a cold morning. Tigers say the word to one another as a sign of affection.
Best Use of an Accent Mark – risqué. Face it, without the accent the word is nothing, like Mary Moore without her Tyler.
Most Flexibility of Meaning – rascal. It serves as accusation or accolade. When you meet a rascal you don’t know whether to lock him up or invite him for drinks.
Most Pretentious Word for a Simple Concept – risible. It means funny or causing laughter. Nobody ever uses it, which is why it’s useful to stump people.
So anyway, here’s a turn in the spotlight for the letter R. Tomorrow it’ll go back to work heading everything from riot to recherché, from Ramblin’ Rose to Roy Rogers. It’s a letter you can pal around with.

Shakespearean Football

            If the Elizabethans had played the gridiron game, the dialogue would have gone something like this:

            TO YOUR TEAMMATES WHEN THE OPPONENT FUMBLES – Hasten good fellows! Pounce upon the spheroid lest those of careless prospect seek to retrieve it.

            TO A CHEERLEADER – Fie! I revere your womanliness too profoundly to hurl you skyward, perchance to drop beauty’s own projectile. Dos’t thou bounce? I fear not.

            WHEN A COACH SEEKS TO INSPIRE HIS PLAYERS – They castigate you as layabouts. Faith tis better said of the craven sluggards across the greensward. To them belongs calumny, to you glory. Now go forth and commit slaughter with heroism’s own impugnity.

            WHEN A PLAYER LEAVES COLLEGE EARLY TO JOIN THE PROS – Better to embrace the prose than the pros. This noble campus offers you the poetry of education – that which sustaineth when empty stadia confront your diminished talent.

            ORDERING A HOT DOG  - Hail yeoman vendor! Four dogs, that I may consume three and still extend charity’s mite to my abstemious colleague. Mustard atop, and lavishly applied.

            CALLING A PASS PLAY – The coach offers a suggestion: Hurl the piggish projectile downfield then snatch it from the sky. Speaketh the coach: On fourth down with thirty yards yet untraveled, what in hell’s own dominion can we do?

            ON HAVING YOUR PASS INTERCEPTED – Weasel! Marplot! You take unto yourself that which is vouchsafed to another, my boon companion, the wide receiver. Take from me my wife, my stead, but never my football. Drat! The noble quarterback now victim of my own folly!

            THE COACH, AFTER ENDURING A KOOL-ADE DOUSING – Jackals! Douse me in defeat if you must, but not in my moment of triumph. If a headcold attends this treachery then may jeopardy attend your scholarships.

            THE CHANCELLOR, SPEAKING TO THE TEAM AFTER A L OSING SEASON – As I watch our season harden to the consistency of a soufflé, I calculate that brigands of the high road could triple your quotient of dexterity.

            TO A PRIZE RECRUIT – Well done, wrestling those bears. Would’st consider an academic alternative to the bear pits?

Cheap and easy ways to find peace of mind

Inner peace emanates from a higher power. Mine are merely musings from a temporal and flawed point of view. How do I achieve peace of mind? In the most quotidian ways:

1. Avoid arguments with jerks. Some calculate the odds of winning an argument. Better to calculate the level of civility. Jerks know all the answers. They can be interviewed but not enjoyed.

2. Find nature. If you live in New York City, the Catskills are only an hour away. Same with Atlanta and the Blue Ridge. Same with London and the Cotswolds.

3. Locate a mountain creek and immerse yourself, literally if possible but at least figuratively. Listen to the burbling, which is more coherent than one would think. The creek is refuting the assumption that you have to be ruthless to get where you’re going. The little creek gets where it’s going, nurturing everything it encounters.

4. Do one thing at a time and do it well. If you’re in conversation, do not say, “Oops, I have to take this call; it’s important.” To which the appropriate response is, “Oh yeah? Am I not important? Tantrum to follow!” The taxonomy of people into levels of importance is to be avoided.

5. When you have nothing to say, enjoy the luxury of saying nothing. No clever retorts to rehearse. Simply bask in the assumption of your own wisdom which is often beyond expressing.

6. Take yourself as seriously as you want. I’ve always disliked the admonition, “Don’t take yourself so seriously.” Why not? Is my life an endeavor to be taken casually? Learning to laugh at oneself is a pain.

7. Whether you play it safe or take a risk, don’t second-guess yourself. You weighed the evidence and made a decision. Take comfort in your decisiveness. Even when you go wrong, there’s benefit to be had.

8. Embrace spectator sports. It’s recreative to watch adults desport themselves in games of ball. One who observes such contests is a sportsman seeking inner peace, not, as sometimes alleged, a lazy good-for-nothing chore-avoiding lout.

9. Think about things. When you do, someone will inevitably ask, “Are you okay? You seem preoccupied.” Respond by reciting the lyrics to Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered. It’ll get ’em off your back for awhile.

10. Know that you possess the means of improving the human condition. Maybe it’s nothing more than a smile and a nod to someone on the street. Try it, if you feel like it. Peace of mind attends those who try, and who experiment with ways peace can be spread around.

America’s least competent Answer Man answers your questions

            Q: How do James Carville and Mary Matalin stay married?

            A: Fear. Mutual and incapacitating.

            Q: If you had a choice between inviting Bill O’Reilly or Jon Stewart to dinner, which would you select?

            A: I’d go to Burger King. Or maybe Wendy’s. They have a salad with avocados.

            Q: I read somewhere that the New York Giants have no mascot. Why is this?

            A: Some of their players approach 400 lbs. How many giants do you need?

            Q: What’s the worst thing a political candidate can do in a debate?

            A: Break into a moonwalk.

            Q: Have you seen the new Clint Eastwood picture Trouble with the Curve?

            A: Yes. Mr. Eastwood’s character in Gran Torino was a more plausible old-Clint, although my hat’s off to any actor in his 80s who can carry a picture. Some of the close-ups are brutal but Clint didn’t beg off.

            Q: What’s the answer to America’s budget crisis?

            A: Numbers in the billions and trillions are incomprehensible to the layman. That calculator that shows the ever-increasing national debt? Get rid of it; it’s irritating.

            Q: Why do credible actors do commercials or voice-overs? Robert Vaughn. Donald Sutherland. Tommy Lee Jones. What can they be thinking?

            A: They are thinking as follows: ‘Proper roles for someone of my stature are scarce. I’ll accept this commercial and make a great deal of money.’ Incidentally, Eleanor Roosevelt in 1960 made a television commercial for Bluebonnet Margarine with fees donated to a particularly worthy charity.

            Q: I dislike political attack ads. Why does no one challenge the assumption that going negative works?

            A: Such a challenge would be akin in stature to Jackie Robinson breaking the color barrier in baseball: difficult; not impossible.

            Q: I’ve read some of your Answer Man observations all of which bring to mind a single question: Are you out of your !!@§ mind?

            A: Thank you for your inquiry. Let me answer your question this way: !!@§!

            Q: Is it true that your Answer Man credentials have been revoked?

            A: No, it is not true. My credentials were briefly suspended in a dispute involving a turtle which has now been resolved. I had nothing to do with it.

Why kids don’t care about history, which is too bad because it’s exciting.

            Instead of dates and treaties, we should emphasize drama. Herewith a few sidelights from the big pageant:

            Christopher Columbus had a brother. Bartolomeo Columbus was an accomplished mapmaker who crossed the Atlantic several times and ultimately became Governor of Hispaniola.

            As revolutions go, the American one was relatively benign in its aftermath. This is especially true in comparison to the later bloody aftermath in France. In America, the losing Tories either immigrated to British Canada or simply stayed where they were and became Americans. Recriminations were relatively rare.

            The 1815 Battle of Waterloo, victoriously generaled by the Duke of Wellington, was not exclusively a British victory. It required a combined force of British, Prussians, Austrians and Russians to finally suppress Bonaparte.

            During the Civil War, Irish immigrants just off the board were regularly impressed into the Union Army. Customs Officer One: “Congratulations, you’re a US citizen. Move along.” Customs Officer Two: “Congratulations, you’re a private in the US Army. Go fight for your country.”

            Abe Lincoln was not above political image-making. At the 1860 nominating convention in Chicago, Lincoln operatives handed out rail-splitter lapel pins.

            President Theodore Roosevelt did not get along with Winston Churchill. The two were in many ways alike. Both were described as “imperial, bold and prolific.” They met on several occasions and simply didn’t hit it off. With Franklin (Teddy’s cousin) and Winston, as we know, things were better.

            Charles Lindbergh was not the first man to fly the Atlantic. A pair of Britishers, Alcock and Brown, had done it east to west in 1919. Lindbergh was the first to do it solo, and Lindy’s jaunt, while brave, was something of a stunt.

            In 1941, before Pearl Harbor, 80 percent of Americans did not want to go to war against Germany and Japan. The isolationist movement in America was strong. It took Pearl Harbor to alter American thinking toward the inevitability of war.

            Teddy Roosevelt’s son was a combat general in World War II. Teddy Roosevelt, Jr., 57, a Brigadier General, led troops onto Utah Beach during D-Day. He was a wiry little guy with a fibrillating heart whose presence on the beach, under fire, had a stabilizing influence so profound that when his heart gave out days later he was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor.

            The authors of historical fiction have a point: history is the narrative of courage, the seedbed of romance. I can’t let it go. It would be like ignoring life itself.

How Yankees and southerners can live in harmony

            I grew up in West Virginia, which vantage point allows something like objectivity. Let me posit a few attitude adjustments that could finesse some of the old rifts.

            For example, southerners could forgo the conceit that college football is not played outside the Southeastern Conference. It is, although not as belligerently.

            And southerners could forgo calling The Civil War the War Between the States, an awkward construct that only obfuscates while failing to make the intended point. Let reenactors on both sides conjoin to reenact the Battle of Iwo Jima with Stone Mountain as Mount Suribachi. By the way, not all Civil War buffs are southerners. Mario Cuomo and Richard Dreyfuss are cases in point.

            Northerners could be encouraged to embrace NASCAR with a couple of dirt tracks in, say, Massachusetts. Maybe throw in some Waffle Houses which would render obsolete all the stupid jokes about grits.

            The two regions might agree that southern novelists are no more eccentric or gothic than northern novelists. For every Flannery O’Conner there’s an Edgar Allan Poe.

            And by the way, Pennsylvanians (not southerners) fought a small war for the right to make whiskey at home. President George Washington himself led the army that quashed the Whiskey Rebellion in 1794, and forced trans-Allegheny frontierspeople to pay a whopping 25 percent whiskey tax to the new U.S. government.

            And perhaps some northern real estate developer could create a Yankee version of The Villages where southern retirees could play hockey and learn ice fishing. Escapees bent on reaching the Florida Villages would be incarcerated at the Village Prison.

            But seriously, we could all acknowledge that there is no such thing as a southern accent. There is a New Orleans accent, an Atlanta accent, a Charleston accent, all with variations. There are also accents distinctive to Boston, Chicago and New York. Why one is more subject to parody than another is something I’ve never understood. On a recent visit to a north Georgia high school, I noticed that the kids seemed accent-free, unless there’s such a thing as a Disney Channel accent.

            The thing is, we’re learning to like one another. Mason-Dixon is disappearing, except for a few unreconstructed denizens like the elderly lady who still blamed “the Abraham Lincoln administration for The War of Northern Aggression.” Seated with her around the bridge table were natives of Milwaukee, Hartford and rural Vermont, all of whom smiled politely, unwilling to challenge the sensibility of their friend.

            

How To Deal Sensitively With Women

It’s a matter of giving dismissive, smartaleck responses to their concerns. Women appreciate caustic wit above all else. Just try this sampler of male retorts:
Her Concern: It was a formal dinner and you ate like a pig.
Retort: I have never been a slave to etiquette.
••••
Her Concern: How dare you insult my friends!
Retort: Everybody needs a hobby.
••••
Her Concern: You’d rather watch sports than spend time with me!
Retort: Yeah, but you’re a really strong second.
••••
Her Concern: We’re going to counseling!
Retort: Ah, then you’ve met my bartender.
••••
Her Concern: The movies you like are too violent.
Retort: Actually I have an idea for a chick flick. Ladies share their feelings for 90 minutes then everything explodes and Bruce Willis rescues them.
••••
Her Concern: You are not playing golf; we’re going to the gallery opening.
Retort: (having seen an inclement weather forecast) As you wish my dear.
••••
Her Concern: You are driving recklessly.
Retort: I prefer to think of it as driving wrecklessly.
••••
Her Concern: Are you crazy?
Retort: No, I don’t think so. Oh look, there goes Woodrow Wilson.
••••
Her Concern: Do you ever stop to think what’s the meaning of life?
Retort: I have a theory but I’m keeping it to myself in case it’s wrong.
••••
Her Concern: You can just wipe that smirk off your face, Mr. Smartypants.
Retort: Grover P. Smartypants at your service.
••••
These retorts are not half as clever as they seem. But if your goal is to return tedium to the relationship, just go around saying, “Have a nice day!” The thing is, being a smartaleck actually does contribute to a nice day. At least it always does for me.
[For more of the same, visit Alan’s blog, essentialba.com]

How to win arguments

            I don’t endorse these techniques. Arguments should be won on merit, not via some cheap conversational ploy. On the other hand, if you appreciate cheap ploys, here are some tricks you can use to win arguments:

            1. Declare victory and leave the room. It resolves nothing, providing only a momentary one-up. Shallow but effective.

            2. Throw a few Latin phrases into the discourse. Example: Ergo ipso facto persona non grata. Rough translation: Get outta here. Your opponent will be thrown off balance just long enough for you to marshal a real argument. It’s a slimy ploy but we’re not dealing with ethics here.

            3. Render your opponent’s point of view absurd. No matter how salient your opponent’s point, respond by quacking like a duck. Warning: You render yourself vulnerable to a charge of trivialization. Quacking is really not much more than a smokescreen.

            4. Patronize your opponent. Feign agreement: “You’re absolutely right. Everything you say is true.” Then yawn with elaborate ennui, like one of those smug characters in a Noel Howard play, as if to say ‘Arguing with you is not worth the trouble.’ Not widely used; you may get away with it.

            5. Engage in a shouting match. Can manifest itself in violence. The upside is that you can shout pretty much whatever you want since logic is not a factor.

            6. Be a pacifist. Announcing “I’m not looking for a fight” gives you the moral high ground, from which position you can launch a real donnybrook.

            7. Accuse your opponent of filibustering. Then take the floor and deliver a 60-minute diatribe on the evils of filibustering.

            8. Don’t argue about religion. If someone says, “My religion involves snake handling,” don’t ask, “Isn’t that dangerous?” Of course it is. That’s probably the point.

            9. Ask an “objective” third party to settle the argument. Then invite one of your drinking buddies to be the objective third party. This is a little transparent and probably won’t work.

            10. Be honest and forthright, even if it means losing the argument. There are worse things than losing an argument, such as winning by being a mindlessly combative street fighter. Again, I do not endorse the above techniques. I may use one of them occasionally, but only in intellectual desperation.

            And of course there’s the ultimate strong-arm tactic: If you can’t win the argument on merit, attack the personality of your opponent. The thing is, even if you win, you feel lousy afterward.

            There is such a thing as a principled argument from which both parties emerge enhanced. I’ve had a few of those, and they’re rare and sometimes almost noble.

Etiquette for people who rarely consult etiquette books

            What if you’re at a formal dinner party and a fight breaks out among the guests?

            I normally side with the host, who probably has control of the security arrangements.

            What if you’re served a seafood course in which the seafood isn’t completely dead?

            First establish which fork to use because you’ll need some kind of weapon in case the thing comes after you. Then bellow heartily, “I’m the Gorton fisherman and I’m off for Nantucket,” and make for an exit.

            If you spill wine on your hostess’s expensive gown, what response is mandated?

            Find a way to check the label on the gown to ascertain whether it’s a knock-off. This can be awkward, but since one has already made a blithering idiot of oneself, what’s to lose?

            Is chicken properly eaten with the fingers?

            Chicken is normally eaten with the mouth.

            If the hostess flirts with you in full view of her husband, how do you respond?

            Don’t be manipulated. The hostess is using you to make her husband jealous. Try diverting attention by launching a donnybrook between your wife and the hostess. But be subtle. Do not say something like, “Two out of three falls. Winner take all.” You’ll want to retain the moral high ground, assuming there is any.

            If you receive a gift you don’t want – say a snapping turtle – is it acceptable to return the gift?

            Yes, if you want to be conventional about it. But why not up the ante? Your accompanying note could read, “Thanks for the turtle, but perhaps this Burmese python will say it better than any words of mine.”

            At the company picnic, you’re unexpectedly summoned by your boss to say a few words. You’ve just imbibed a quart of bourbon-laced lemonade. What do you do?

            Run for the nearest body of water, dive in and swim for the opposite shore. Later when asked why, announce that it was your tribute to Johnny Weissmuller who was the only really credible Tarzan. Nobody will buy this, but it’s probably better than any available alternative.

            After being someone’s houseguest, is it polite to send a thank-you note?

            Yes, absolutely. Reminds me of the time I accidentally put a Viagra order form in with the note. Embarrassing, although at 50 pills for $100, the price was right.

            Recently I attended a funeral on a very hot day and decided to wear Bermuda shorts. Is this attire acceptable?

            Maybe in Bermuda, but elsewhere it is perhaps as acceptable as a fungus sandwich.

            Speaking of funerals, what’s the best tone to strike if you’re asked to give the eulogy?

            The last time I spoke at a funeral I decided to eschew a boring eulogy in favor of doing 10 minutes of stand-up comedy. This was not well received, especially by the family of the deceased who tried to have me hauled away from the rostrum, which was unnecessary, as I’d have gone voluntarily if they’d been nicer about it.

Meet Goofy Thunderton!

Goofy Thunderton sees his bathroom not as a functional adjunct so much as a spiritual retreat center.
“Is he in there now?” Fawn Underwood inquired during the Tour of Homes.
Del Thunderton nodded resolutely and banged the bathroom door with wifely chagrin. “Goofy, I know you’re in there. Come out. We have guests.”
From behind the door: “The Tour of Homes?”
“That’s right. They’re all here.”
“I don’t like the Tour of Homes. I like it in here.”
Goofy’s annoyance at the Tour dates from 1999 when the pilgrimage found him three martinis to the wind. Remarks were made, none of which Goofy forgot.
Del, having none of it, drummed the door. “Fawn Underwood wants to see inside.”
Fawn Underwood stood by, tapping her foot.
“I’ll describe it to her,” called Goofy. “It’s charming. Wood paneling. Books. A sort of soigné understatement. You’d love it, Fawn.”
Fawn Underwood was livid. “Open that door, you Cro-Magnon. If you didn’t want us, you shouldn’t have signed up for the Tour! .... Goofy. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, I hear you. Bit of a crisis in here. Dropped an olive in the bidet.”
Others had gathered outside the bathroom door. “He’s got a pitcher of martinis in there,” remarked Roy Underwood.
Del tried her sweet, plaintive voice, “’Goofeeee, you’re embarrassing meeee. Come out an say hello.”
“I’ll say it from here. Hello everyone. This is Sylvester Thunderton, your host. I wish all of you could be in here with me. This is my world, so to speak. However, I know you have other homes to infest.”
Shrugged Roy Underwood, “You know what they say: A  man’s home is his castle.”
“More like his bunker,” sniffed Fawn Underwood, who solicitously patted Del’s arm. “I know how embarrassed you must be.”
Smiling primly, Del inserted a key into the lock and pushed the door. Fawn’s eyes lit up. “Ready or not Goofy,” she smirked. As the door cracked, Fawn wedged a leg inside. Goofy pushed back.
“Fawn, get your leg out,” warned Roy, tugging his wife.
“Yeah, it’s turning blue,” agreed Goofy. Fawn extracted her leg with an “ungh” and hobbled away, the others following, showering Fawn and Del with solicitude.
From inside the bathroom: “Leaving so soon? Loved having you. Come again.”

Want to rewrite history? Go ahead!

Certain classic American utterances could frankly use some punching up. I’ve appointed myself history’s public relations guy, with the following results. We know what they really said; here’s what they might have said:
Washington’s farewell to his troops: “And may this day herald the end of those #*@^ powdered wigs. I hate those things.”
Lindbergh in Paris: “When they make a movie, could Jimmy Stewart play me? Course he’d have to dye his hair.” (Note: that casting did occur for the movie Spirit of St. Louis with Mr. Stewart a truly inauthentic blonde.)
Neil Armstrong on the moon: “They wrote something for me to say, but frankly I hate scripted historic utterances. Actually I’m just up here to, you know, fool around. There’s really not much to do. It’s not like you can order a pizza.”
Rosa Parks in Montgomery: “Hell no, I’m not moving to the back. It’s full of exhaust fumes.”
Ilsa (Ingrid Bergman) in Casablanca: “Play it Sam. Play the German National Anthem.”
William Faulkner accepting the Nobel Prize in Oslo: “And to those geezers and codgers sitting around the square in Oxford saying I’d never amount to anything…. nyah nyah nyah.”
General Anthony McAuliffe at Bastogne: “Tell the Germans I said nuts and then did an impromptu samba around headquarters. By the way, Georgie Patton is coming, right?”
Bert Parks reflecting on the Miss America Pageant: “Face it, it hasn’t been the same since I left. It was never about the girls.”
General Eisenhower on D-Day: “Yesterday, June 5, 1944, one of the reporters asked me, ‘Hey Ike, anything on for tomorrow?’ I told him yeah, right Pal, we’re invading Europe. He told me his readers demanded a serious answer.”
Stephen A. Douglas in Illinois: “So anyway, Abe wants to go around the state in a series of debates. Is he out of his rail-splitting mind? I’ll cream him.” (Note: Douglas did win the Senate seat, but the debates were nevertheless Lincoln’s ticket to the 1860 presidential nomination.)
General Douglas MacArthur upon his return to the Philippines: “Ok I’m back. Got my pants legs all wet walking ashore. Could one of you guys get me some dry socks?”
Mahatma Gandhi during his fasting period: “I don’t want to obsess over this thing. Maybe just a club sandwich and some iced tea.”