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IN THIS ISSUE

• Dick Monaghan ponders two puzzling problems
• Tom Kyle sends another memory from his chequered past
• Catherine Nesbitt once had a connection with printers
• From the archives, a story by Keith Elliot
• Gerrit de Leeuw´s story has a surprise ending
• Catherine Green adds an ingredient to a familiar recipe
• Kate Brookfield sends a list that will make you feel old
• Marilyn Magid and Dick forward a sad tale of a yearly exam
• Sites are suggested by Barbara Wear, Carol Shoemaker, Dick, Gerrit, Jack Peaker, and Tom Williamson

Dick Monaghan contemplates

CONUNDRUMS

There´s a sign in a local graveyard that reads: "Cemetery Curfew" that has puzzled me for a long time. Whatever can it mean? After hours of thought, I´ve concluded that it means "Anyone not in his grave by 9 p.m. will have to stay out all night!"

And thats not the end of my confusion. Imagine my chagrin on finding, after reading the last "Tale Spinner," that an argument has raged for years about a fundamental rule of writing: the "Oxford comma." I hang my head in shame. I never heard of such a thing, while intellectuals battle each other with the verbal equivalents of axes, maces, and broadswords. I´m surprised that anything´s gotten published in the absence of a solution.

In my own defense, Ive been busy trying to figure out which is preferable:

1. "Anyone not back in his grave by...." (sexist);

2. "Anyone not back in his or her grave...." (awkward); or

3. "Anyone not back in their grave...." (doesnt agree in number).

Suggestions welcome.

Tom Kyle shares another

TALE FROM THE PAST

The year was 1952. I was living/working in Ontario cottage country, up near Owen Sound. A few friends and I went to an evening of dancing at one of the few special summer dance spots which featured travelling bands from the U.S.

Our pick was the one which was featuring Louis Armstrong (Sachmo). We had a great evening.

I learned that evening that Louis´s piano player was named Billy Kyle, so during intermission I walked up to the stage and saw Mr. Armstrong. He said "Hi!"

I said, "Mr. Armstrong, I would like to meet your piano player."

"Piano player!" said he. "Only him?"

I said, "Yes - he has the same last name that I have."

"Ooh!" said Louis. "Must be the black sheep of yo´ family!"

CORRESPONDENCE

Catherine Nesbitt, commenting on my printing story, writes: I have never worked in a printing shop, but in the 1950s I worked as a proof-reader for the American Mathematical Monthly.The printers (in New York) who set the type were not mathematicians, any more than I was, but they were so used to the material that they could proof-read as they worked. They often caught errors, and frequently they were better than I was at determining what hand-written symbol an author intended to use. In those days, many authors had to hand-write formulas; only the straight text would be typewritten.I don´t recall the name of the printing company, but the typesetters did excellent work.

I used to work as department secretary in the Mathematics Department of the University of British Columbia. The department head was the editor (a rotating position) of the American Mathematical Monthly. He asked if I wanted to try proof-reading the authors´ articles, which I did. It turned out that I have an aptitude for "nit-picking", and I enjoyed comparing the articles to the galley sheets.As you will know, authors find it difficult to proof their own material, because they understand the content. I knew nothing about the content, although, as time went on, I could follow the look of the formulas. My boss - the editor - and I made a game out of trying to catch more errors than an associate editor, who was a fantastically good proof-reader.

FROM THE ARCHIVES

Because there are no personal stories from readers this week, I have resorted to searching through back issues of the Spinner for interesting material. Readers are urged to write their own stories, and I would be happy to hear about how they lived during the "dirty thirties", or how they coped during the war years, or any unusual occupations they pursued, or visits to far-away places with strange-sounding names; or indeed, any subject whatever. They also serve who only sit and read, but they don´t help fill up empty pages!

Here is a piece from Keith Elliot, who wrote about Mexico:

THE BURROS

We had been touring Southern Mexico in the Taurus with light gear (tent, basic cooking equipment) so as to better visit the highlands, and came back to the Pacific at Zipolite, near Puerto Angel. Zipolite is a Mixtec word meaning Beach of Death, and in talking with some gringo denizens of the many hammock galleries in the shade of rustic beach restaurants, we found out why.

The beach is very steep, the undertow treacherous, the Pacific breakers very large, and the tequila and strange-smelling tobacco very potent; and the combination of these elements often leads to fatalities among the vacationing northerners. [Two weeks prior to our visit, five German lads had been washed out to sea, as each in turn had tried to help another. Word was that their bodies had washed back into shore 25 k north, at Puerto Escondido.]

The camping area was very primitive - no facilities whatsoever, but then there was no charge. If one needed the toilet or a shower, arrangements could be made with a restaurant on the adjacent beach. A few tents were set up among a stand of coco-palms left over from a long abandoned plantation.

The palms were very tall, and at the time of our camp set-up, other tenters warned us of two things - firstly, not to set up too close to the palms, else a coconut dropping from a height of 60´ could not only leave an interesting depression on one´s car roof, but might crash through one´s tent roof (and skull).

And secondly, not to set up at mid-point between the palms, for there the wild burros (jack-asses they called them) periodically ran through for exercise, and one would certainly not want to be sleeping in the path of a jack-ass stampede.

Now these burros were descendents of those kept by the owners of the abandoned plantation - guess the owners had just turned them loose when departing, to live off the land. The present generation of burros had adapted well, learning how to also live off the campers, and to this end they often operated in pairs, where one burro would lift off an icebox lid in the dark and the second would steal the food.

The braying sound which a jackass makes is one of nature´s marvels. It´s a series of explosive hee-haws alternated with whistling gasps of air intake. One day we heard a jack braying and whistling down at the far end of the plantation, and an answering call from a nearby jenny which was foraging with her yearling. Now we´re not all that fluent in the burro idiom, but the braying and gasping and responses between those two did seem to take on a certain intensity - jack in any event seemed to have heard what he wanted to hear and suddenly, as though some a switch within him had been flipped, he thundered by, braying and whistling up a storm.

The jenny, coy vixen that she was, had by now turned her back on jack´s charge and gone back to foraging behind her yearling, but she must have been watching the onrushing love-blinded Romeo out of the corner of her eye, because just as he launched into his best mounting leap, jenny kicked back with both heels and the sound of her hooves connecting with poor jack´s head sounded like a machete splitting a coconut. We were much impressed, as we were a good 100´ away from the point of impact. Jack landed back on his arse in a heap.

At this point the yearling got into the act, and lashed back at his Ma´s head. This resulted in another machete-split-coconut sound, and jenny crumpled over old jack.

Courtship is always a tricky business.

Gerrit de Leeuw forwards this groaner:

TRANSYLVANIA VACATION

Bob Hill and his new wife Betty were vacationing in Europe, as it happens, near Transylvania. They were driving in a rental car along a rather deserted highway. It was late and raining very hard; Bob could barely see the road in front of the car. Suddenly the car skidded out of control. Bob tried to control the car, but to no avail - it swerved and smashed into a tree.Moments later, Bob shook his head to clear the fog. Dazed, he looked over at the passenger seat and saw his wife unconscious, with her head bleeding. Despite the rain and unfamiliar countryside, Bob knew he had to get her medical assistance.

Bob carefully picked his wife up and began trudging down the road. After a short while, he saw a light. He headed towards the light, which was coming from a large, old house. He approached the door and knocked.

A minute passed. A small, hunched man opened the door. Bob immediately blurted, "Hello, my name is Bob Hill, and this is my wife Betty. We´ve been in a terrible accident, and my wife has been seriously hurt. Can I please use your phone?""I´m sorry," replied the hunchback, "but we don´t have a phone. My master is a doctor; come in and I will get him!"

Bob took his wife in.An older man came down the stairs. "I´m afraid my assistant may have misled you. I am not a medical doctor; I am a scientist. However, it is many miles to the nearest clinic, and I have had a basic medical training. I will see what I can do. Igor, bring her down to the laboratory."With that, Igor picked up Betty and carried her downstairs, with Bob following closely. Igor placed Betty on a table in the lab. Bob collapsed from exhaustion and his own injuries, so Igor placed Bob on an adjoining table.

After a brief examination, Igor´s master looked worried. "Things are serious, Igor. Prepare a transfusion." Igor and his master worked feverishly, but to no avail. Bob and Betty Hill were no more.

The Hills´ deaths upset Igor´s master greatly. Wearily, he climbed the steps to his conservatory, which housed his grand piano, for it was there that he had always found solace. He began to play, and a stirring, almost haunting melody filled the house.

Meanwhile, Igor was still in the lab tidying up. His eyes caught movement, and he noticed the fingers on Betty´s hand twitch, keeping time to the haunting piano music. Stunned, he watched as Bob´s arm began to rise, marking the beat! He was further amazed as Betty and Bob both sat up straight!

Unable to contain himself, he dashed up the stairs to the conservatory. He burst in and shouted to his master:

"Master, Master! ... The Hills are alive with the sound of music!"

(I am soooooo sorry ... but you really should´ve seen that coming.)

Catherine Green vouches for this recipe, because she has tried it and found it good. It appeared here before, but cooks have asked whether it really works, and since I had not tried it, I could not reassure them. However, Catherine believes it is the most dangerous cake recipe in the world:

5-MINUTE CHOCOLATE MUG CAKE

4 tablespoons flour
4 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons cocoa
1 egg
3 tablespoons milk
3 tablespoons oil
3 tablespoons chocolate chips or (optional)
A small splash of vanilla extract and your favourite tipple

1 large coffee mug

Add dry ingredients to your largest mug and mix well. Add the egg and mix thoroughly.

Pour in the milk and oil and mix well. Add the chocolate chips (if using), vanilla extract and a drop or two of your favourite tipple, then mix again.

Put your mug in the microwave and cook for 3 minutes at 1000 watts (high).

The cake will rise over the top of the mug, but don´t be alarmed. Allow to cool a little, and tip out onto a plate if desired. EAT! (This can serve two if you want to feel slightly more virtuous.) If you´re feeling very, very naughty, cover liberally with Bailey´s Irish Cream. And why is this the most dangerous cake recipe in the world? Because now you are only five minutes away from chocolate cake at any time of the day or night!

Kate Brookfield sends these observations to remind us that

PEOPLE STARTING COLLEGE THIS FALL WERE BORN IN 1991

They are too young to remember the space shuttle blowing up.

Their lifetime has always included AIDS.

The CD was introduced two years before they were born.

They have always had an answering machine.

They have always had cable.

Jay Leno has always been on the Tonight Show.

Popcorn has always been microwaved.

They never took a swim and thought about Jaws.

They don´t know who Mork was or where he was from.

They never heard: "Where´s the Beef?", "I´d walk a mile for a Camel ", or "De plane, boss, de plane!"

McDonald´s coffee never came in Styrofoam containers.

Marilyn Magic sends this familiar tale of

THE YEARLY EXAM

I went to the doctor for my yearly physical. The nurse started with certain basics. "How much do you weigh?" she asked.

"135," I said.

The nurse put me on the scale. It turned out my weight was 180.

The nurse asked, "Your height?"

"5 foot 4," I said.

The nurse checked and saw that I only measured 5´2".

She then took my blood pressure and told me it was very high.

"Of course it´s high!" I screamed. "When I came in here I was tall and slender! Now I´m short and fat!"

She put me on Prozac. What a bitch.

THIS WEEK´S SUGGESTED WEBSITES

Barbara Wear forwards this site for a video of a duck in a truck: http://www.nbclosangeles.com/news/weird/Trucking_Duck_All__National_.html

Carol Shoemaker sends this site for people with too many books:

http://arunaurl.com/3164

Dick Monaghan gives the site for a video of enormous waves hitting lighthouses:

http://www.flixxy.com/lighthouse-waves.htm

Gerrit de Leeuw wonders if this video about the regeneration of cells could be a look at the medical equivalent of the invention of transistors and computers a few decades ago:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qxhi4Q8EDTU

Jack Peaker suggests this site for people who are fed up with bad news: http://www.happynews.com/

Tom Williamson sends this American comment on a video about the mayor of Mississauga: "Maybe we should make her an American citizen and elect her to the office of the president as she runs a debt-free city with over 700 million dollars in the black. She has been the mayor of this city for over 30 years. Maybe we should sent our Congressmen and Senators up there for some on-the-job training on how to run things. Here´s the kicker: wait till you hear her age!" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fY79KbCptTo