Uncle John's Great Big Bathroom Reader (50 page)

Some late-night comments from a guy with a really big chin.

“The essential difference between men and women is that men think the Three Stooges are funny, and women don’t.”

“The Supreme Court has ruled they cannot have a Nativity scene in Washington, D.C. This wasn’t for any religious reasons. They couldn’t find three wise men and a virgin.”

“In New York crime is getting worse. I was there the other day. The Statue of Liberty had both hands up.”

“I looked up the word ‘politics’ in the dictionary and it’s actually a combination of two words: ‘poli,’ which means many, and ‘tic,’ which means bloodsuckers.”

“A new report from the government says raw eggs may have salmonella and may be unsafe. In fact, the latest government theory says it wasn’t the fall that killed Humpty Dumpty—he was dead before he hit the ground.”

“On Presidents’ Day you stay home and you don’t do anything. Sounds like Vice Presidents’ Day!”

“I heard that Evelyn Wood just lost a lawsuit. A guy sued her because his eyeball blew out at ten thousand words a minute.”

“The atheists have produced a Christmas play. It’s called
Coincidence on 34th Street.”

“The reason there are two senators for each state is so that one can be the designated driver.”

“Scientists believe that monkeys can be taught to think, lie, and even play politics within their community. If we can just teach them to cheat on their wives we can save millions on congressional salaries.”

“It was reported that sex is good for people who suffer from arthritis—it’s just not that pleasant to watch.”

Superstitions are intriguing, even if you don’t believe in them. Here are some very old ones relating to animals, collected by Edwin and Mona Radford in their book
, Encyclopedia of Superstitions.

“A strange dog following you is good luck. A dog howling is a sure sign of death.”

“If a rooster crows near the door with his face towards it, it is a sure prediction of the arrival of a stranger.”

“Good luck will attend anyone upon whose face a spider falls from the ceiling.”

“If a cat sneezes, it is a sign of rain. If a cat sneezes three times, a cold will run through the family.”

“Living pigeons cut in half and applied to the feet of a man in fever will cure him.”

“To cure illness in a family, wash the patient and throw the water on a cat. Then drive the cat out of doors, and it will take the illness with it.”

“If blind people are kind to ravens they will learn how to regain their sight.”

“If you find a hairy caterpillar, you should throw it over your shoulder for good luck.”

“If a dog passes between a couple who are going to be married, much ill-luck will result to them.”

“Mice, minced, given to a sufferer, will cure the measles.”

“Dried rat’s tails will cure a cold.”

“If a white weasel crosses your path, it presages death or misfortune; but if one runs in front of you, you will be able to beat all your enemies.”

“If a cat sneezes near a bride, it means she will have good luck in her wedded life.”

“When mice swarm into a house hitherto free from them, a member of the household will die.”

“If the rooster crows at midnight, the Angel of Death is passing over the house.”

“If a man should kill a glow-worm, it will endanger his love affair, and may cause the death of his beloved.”

Some bets achieve the status of legends because of the unexpected results they produce. Here are two classic examples of bets that got out of hand...and became folklore.

T
HE BOTTLE HOAX OF 1749

The Wager:
In the first week of 1749, the Duke of Portland bet the Earl of Chesterfield that if he were to advertise the public performance of something obviously impossible, “there’d be enough fools in London to fill the theater and pay handsomely for it.” Chesterfield took him up on it.

The Duke then placed this ad in the London papers:

At the New Theater in the Haymarket, on Monday next, is to be seen a Person who performs most surprising things....He presents you with a common Wine Bottle, which any of the spectators may first examine; this Bottle is placed on a Table in the midst of the Stage, and he (without any equivocation) goes into it, in the sight of all the Spectators, and sings in it. During his stay in the bottle, any person may handle it, and see plainly that it does not exceed a common Tavern Bottle.

The Result:
The Duke won. Soon all London was talking about the upcoming event. The theater was sold out well in advance of the day—with people paying as much as 7 shillings, 6 pence a seat to see it. But, obviously, there wasn’t anything to see and things got ugly quickly. After about 20 minutes, when it became apparent that they’d been had, the audience rioted...they destroyed the theater, stealing everything in it...and then they burned the building down. The Duke had covered his tracks, and the true story of the bet didn’t leak out until several years later.

THE BERNERS STREET HOAX OF 1809

The Wager:
A well-known practical joker of his day, Thomas Hook, was walking in a quiet residential neighborhood near London with a friend. He pointed to a particularly quiet-looking house on Berners Street, No. 54, and bet that “within a month, that house will be the talk of London.” His friend took him up on it.

According to one account: “Hook went into action. No. 54, he
discovered, was occupied by an elderly widow, a Mrs. Tottingham—and he rented a room in the house opposite. Then he wrote and posted more than a
thousand
letters—it took him two weeks—and when ‘zero hour’ dawned, he and his friend were sitting in their window to watch the fun.”

The Result:
Hook won. Here’s how Curtiss MacDougall describes it in his book,
Hoaxes:

It began early in the morning, with the arrival of about a dozen chimney sweeps from all parts of London, summoned by a letter to sweep the chimneys of No. 54. While the agitated housemaid was still arguing heatedly with these disappointed men, there converged upon No. 54 several coal-carts, each with a ton of coal, “as per your esteemed order.” Then came a van-load of furniture, a consignment of beer, in barrels, a huge chamber organ (carried by six men), a cart-load of potatoes, and even a hearse, with a train of mourning-coaches. Shopkeepers of all kinds—confectioners, wig-makers, opticians, clockmakers, fancy-goods dealers, dressmakers and many more—arrived in large numbers, all bringing samples of their wares. Two fashionable doctors and a dentist did their best to struggle through the ever-growing crowd and pay professional visits to the unfortunate Mrs. Tottingham—who could really have done with medical attention, for she was on the verge of hysterics.

By this time, Berners street was choked up with carts, furniture, barrels of beer, and a large crowd. The police had been called out—and to make matters worse, all sorts of notables began to arrive, all headed to No. 54. The Duke of York, Commander-in-Chief of the Army, came in reply to a pathetic note telling him that a brother-officer was lying dangerously ill at No. 54, and begged a parting interview. The Lord Chief Justice came—so did the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Governor of the Bank of England, and the Lord Mayor of London. Apparently, he’d been victimized by a very similar letter to the one that bagged the Duke of York.

One gets the impression that if it had been possible, ‘the architect of this most outrageous deception’ would probably have been hanged, drawn, and quartered. As it was, nothing happened to them—because, while everybody suspected a lot, nothing could be proved. Still, Hook left his Berners Street lodging very quietly as soon as the mob had been dispersed, and he wasn’t seen in London for a long time afterwards.

Here’s another Greek/Roman tale from
Myths and Legends of the Ages.
This one tells us how springtime and winter were created.

F
ar down under the surface of the earth lay the lands of Pluto, god of the underworld. Pluto, who despised light and avoided cheer, rarely left his dark and gloomy kingdom. But one day, he paid a short visit to the surface of the earth.

As he sped along the earth in his black chariot drawn by four black horses, he was seen by Cupid.

“What great good luck!” thought the mischievous god of love, as he fitted an arrow to his bow. “Here’s a target I may never get a chance at again!”

Cupid took careful aim and shot his arrow straight into Pluto’s heart.

Now, anyone who is hit by Cupid’s arrow doesn’t die but instead falls in love with the first person he sees. The first person Pluto saw was Proserpine, the lovely daughter of Ceres, goddess of the harvest. Proserpine was gathering lilies beside a gay, bubbling stream. When Pluto saw her, he was overwhelmed with love. He swept Proserpine up in his arms and carried her off in his chariot. The terrified girl screamed for help, but there was no one to hear her cries.

Pluto struck the earth with his great three-pronged spear, and the ground opened up. Into the opening, Pluto drove his plunging black horses. The earth closed again, while down, down, deep into the earth the chariot sped with Pluto and his beautiful prisoner.

Soon they arrived at Pluto’s palace. The underworld king spoke words of love to Proserpine. He begged her not to be afraid. “You shall be my beloved,” he said. “You shall reign as queen over all the realms of the dead.”

But Proserpine only shook her head and wept. She would not look at Pluto; she would neither eat nor drink.

Far away, on the surface of the earth, Proserpine’s mother, Ceres, was enveloped in despair. She searched the world over for her missing daughter, but she could not find her.

One day, weary and sad, Ceres sat down beside a river. The place she chose to rest was a fateful one. It was the very spot where Pluto had caused the earth to open so that he could pass in with Proserpine.

The nymph who lived in the nearby river had seen everything that happened. She was terribly afraid of Pluto, and dared not tell Ceres. Instead, she lifted up the sash which Proserpine had dropped and wafted it to the feet of her mother.

Ceres cried out with grief at the sight of her daughter’s sash. Now she knew that Proserpine was in the earth, but she did not know what had happened. In her grief and anger, she blamed the earth itself.

“Ungrateful soil!” cried Ceres. “I have given you richness and clothed you with greenery and nourishing grain. Is this how you repay me? Now no more shall you enjoy my favors.”

In her anger, Ceres sent too much rain, which killed the crops, then too much sun, which dried the fields. The leaves fell from the trees, cattle died, and ploughs broke in the furrows. The poor earth suffered terribly.

Finally, Arethusa, the nymph, interceded for the land. “Goddess,” she said, “do not blame the land. Unwillingly did it open to let your daugher in. Pluto carried her off to be queen of the underworld. As my waters seeped through the earth, they saw her there. She is sad, but she is not afraid.”

When Ceres heard this, she determined to get help. She quickly turned her chariot toward heaven and threw herself before the throne of Jupiter, the king of the gods. She begged him to bring Proserpine back to the earth—to force Pluto to give up her daughter.

Jupiter consented, but he was forced to make one condition. If Proserpine had not eaten anything while in the underworld she could return; otherwise, she must stay in Pluto’s kingdom.

Mercury, the messenger of the gods, was then sent to Pluto with Jupiter’s orders to return
Proserpine to her mother.

Pluto could not refuse an order from Jupiter. But first, the clever Pluto offered Proserpine a pomegranate. No longer afraid of Pluto, Proserpine started to bite into the fruit. In alarm, Mercury stopped her—but not before she had swallowed six pomegranate seeds. Now, Pluto was able to demand that Proserpine spend six months of the year with him—one month for each seed she had swallowed.

So it was arranged. For six months each year, Proserpine must leave her mother, Ceres, and be Pluto’s queen. During that time, Ceres is sad and unconcerned with the earth. Everything dies. It is winter.