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.”

This column will literally knock you out

Okay, so it won’t literally knock anyone out; only figuratively. Thus is the adverb ‘literally’ misapplied.
Take Sen. Claire McCaskill of Missouri who spoke as follows on MSNBC: “Nine or ten years ago a dead frog could get credit. Literally.”
One certainly sees her point about the credit market, as vivified by the adverb. So, if a dead frog could literally get credit, the scenario might have gone something like this:
The loan officer was aghast. “What do you mean he wants credit?”
“A home loan,” explained the visitor.
“But… he’s a frog.”
“I’m speaking for him.”
“But he’s dead.”
“Yeah, he croaked.”
“What’s his occupation?”
“Actually he avoids all gigs. Just hangs around his pad.”
The loan officer rolled his eyes. “Is this an honest portrayal?”
“Yes. Warts and all.”
“Very impressive. Would $50,000 at 4 percent be satisfactory?”
•••••
A few more everyday uses of ‘literally:’
“He literally hit the ceiling!” (Yep, climbed up a ladder and punched the plaster.)
“She literally blew her top.” (What a mess; brains everywhere.)
“I literally could have strangled him.” One hopes this is a figurative usage but who knows? Can’t you hear Judge Judy from the bench? “You literally strangled him? Why’s he still alive?”
“Okay, not literally.”
“You’re free to go but watch those syntax.”
Judge Judy is to jurisprudence what Ronald McDonald is to cuisine. That woman’s voice literally gives me the willies.

How to annoy your friends with geography

How to annoy your friends with geography

            You’ll want to one-up your pals with this smug collection of global oddities. They’re also great for winning bar bets in the better bars:

            Fact: If you boarded an airplane at Miami, Fl., and flew 1,200 miles due south, you’d be over the Pacific Coast.

            Explanation: Check it on a globe. You’d pass over the Isthmus of Panama. Next landfall: Antarctica.

•••••

            Fact: The capital city of an inland U.S. state lies further west than Los Angeles.

            Explanation: It’s Carson City, Nv.

•••••

            Fact: The rain in Spain does not fall mainly in the plain.

            Explanation: This is what happens when songwriters practice meteorology. Spain’s rainiest area is its northern Atlantic coast, the aptly named Costa Verde.

•••••

            Fact: New York is the wildest state east of the Mississippi.

            Explanation: New York State contains vast tracts of wilderness acreage, especially in the Adirondack region.

•••••

            Fact: Adolph Hitler owned 9,000 acres of land in the American west.

            Explanation: It was pastureland in the State of Colorado.

•••••

            Fact: Charles Lindbergh was not the first man to fly the Atlantic.

            Explanation: A number of others – mostly military men – did it prior to Lindbergh’s 1927 crossing. Lindy was the first to fly the Atlantic solo.

•••••

            Fact: One of North America’s best-known natural phenomena is the result of a lake 570 feet above sea level emptying into another lake 245 feet above sea level.

            Explanation: Thus producing Niagara Falls. (The Niagara River connects the two lakes.)

•••••

            Fact: The easternmost, westernmost and northernmost points in the U.S. are all found in the same state.

            Explanation: The state is Alaska, easternmost in that the tip of its Aleutian chain extends across the line that separates east from west.

•••••

            Fact: One of the contiguous 48 states has approximately one-third of its land area separated by water from the other two-thirds.

            Explanation: The state is Michigan. The water gap between the upper and lower peninsulas is bridged at the Straits of Mackinac.

•••••

            Fact: The earth is not round.

            Explanation: The earth is a spheroid rather than a perfect sphere. It flattens slightly at both poles and bulges slightly at the equator. (Note: This is a specious point, the recitation of which will not win you any friends.)

•••••

            Fact: The world’s largest island was given its name as part of a real estate con job.

            Explanation: The Danish government gave Greenland its tempting but inaccurate name in order to attract settlers.

•••••

            Fact: The northernmost of the 48 adjacent states is not Maine.

            Explanation: It’s Minnesota, whose northernmost point is a detached bit of land northwest of Lake of the Woods.

•••••

            Fact: In 1926, it was possible to cross the Atlantic Ocean using scheduled, non-surface, commercial transportation.

            Explanation: By dirigible. Though the Hindenburg disaster quashed airship travel, veterans of successful trips deemed them pleasant and relaxing.

•••••

            Thanks for reading with us today. Please return your tray tables to their original upright position. This would probably entail ripping them out and taking them back to the factory, but never mind that.

 See part 2 in the March 1, 2012 Pickens Progress.

Bad attitude about morning television

All the networks and cable news outlets have a weekday morning show dispensing wake-up potpourri between 5 and 9 a.m. – an amalgam of hard news and ditsy features of the now-Brian-will-go-outside-and-wrestle-a-gator variety. The hosts sport what the networks like to call ‘a morning personality’: chipper, wide-awake and maybe just a little goofy.
Scenes I’d like to see on A.M. TV
Scene One: Jungle Bob comes on-set with his animal du jour, a Burmese ferret. Uh oh, the ferret’s loose. He’s trying to bite a cameraman. Now he’s after Jungle Bob who seems unconcerned: “Nothing to worry about. He’s more scared than aggressive. OW! DAMMIT!” An assistant grapples the gnashing ferret as J. Bob hobbles to a seat: “I’m okay, I’m okay. He’s not used to television.” Oh, really? We thought he had a union card.
••••••••
Scene Two: The host has been teasing an upcoming segment for fully an hour. “You’ll want to stay tuned. We’ve learned that the world is coming to an end but first here’s homemaker Betty Kitchens with her recipe for noodle casserole.” Chirps Betty, “It’s perfect for those pre-apocalypse parties. Festive but not too fussy.”
••••••••
Scene Three: Matt Lauer interviews me.
MATT: What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?
ALAN: Oh, well let me think. Probably the Lindbergh kidnapping.
MATT: Very funny. But we’re hearing that you’ve done bad things.
ALAN: Everybody’s done bad things.
MATT: You admit it! What one factor turned you into a bad person?
ALAN: Sometimes I fantasize about strangling journalists.
MATT: You’d like to strangle me, wouldn’t you?
ALAN: (nodding) You, Bill O’Reilly, Nancy Grace. Look, I’m confused. In the green room everyone was nice to me and there were pastries and juice. Then the lights go up and you turn into a werewolf.
MATT: That’s my job.
ALAN: Character assassination?
MATT: Finding the truth.
ALAN: The truth isn’t all bad. You have a rotten attitude.
MATT: So do you, pal. Listen, you want to go for martinis later?
••••••••
Scene Four: Stoner the Weather Guy finally goes over the top. “I’m a serious journalist, not some weather vane rooster on top of a barn. I hate the weather – all of it! You think it’s some kind of picnic, standing outside in a typhoon? I hate the weather!... No, no, leave me alone.” And they haul him away, ultimately to be with Willard Scott in a place where the sun always shines.

Striving for humbleness – and falling short

Meek? The faith expects me to be meek? Let’s take a quick look at the U.S. culture: The American Dream; the Greatest Generation; Super everything; megachurches. America is all superlatives! And I’m supposed to be meek?
Maybe humility is a more accessible virtue. I’ll try humility. Why? Because I’m tired of being aggressive/assertive/opportunistic/upwardly mobile in panting pursuit of success. (By the way, The American Dream is also The Swiss Dream.)
Maybe there’s another measure of success. I sense it sometimes when I lost an argument to a civilized adversary. Oddly, I come away enhanced. I can now say, “Valid point,” to a worthy opponent. I can even say, “I don’t know,” and it’s a relief to argue not to win but to learn.
Herewith a few phrases that have taken my conversation halfway to humble:
“On the other hand” – an irresistibly facile transition. Acknowledges point A while opening the curtain to point B.
•••
“A C-note for your thoughts.” – Quiet people can be irritating. It’s fine to be a person of few words, but in social situations the idea is to express oneself, i.e. talk. Reticent speakers need to be drawn out, like butter. Occasionally you meet one who doesn’t want to be drawn out and they just glare at you. Or, as one clever introvert put it, “I’m not quiet; I’m just dull.”
•••
“Credit where credit is due.” – Usually it’s me to whom the credit is due and I am loath to give it to anyone else. This is probably a character flaw.
•••
“I hate to use the R word, but I was wrong.” It’s tricky to be humble and witty at the same time. If this little joke is unappreciated, you may have fallen in with dullards.
•••
“I see your point.” – A tidy conversational confection that acknowledges without committing. Excellent as a response to “Shut up.”
•••
“Got time for a cup of coffee?” – Always say yes. If it doesn’t go well, guzzle the coffee and leave. But I’ve watched difficult people become engaging under this premise. Please, never tell anyone in word or manner, “I don’t have time for you.”
•••
So how about humility’s underlying assumption: that I’m no better than anybody else. Recently I was talking to a prison inmate and I recall thinking that I’m a better person than he by any objective standard ever devised. On the other hand he was forbearing and contrite and I arrogant. And I went away musing over Kipling’s hymn to classlessness, “You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din.”
And I realized that humility was a thing of the spirit and had little to do with what one had or had not achieved. So anyway, I’m not humble now and may never be. It is, however, worth a try.
[For more of the same, visit Alan’s blog, www.essentialba.com]