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The Louis of France and How to Tell Them Apart

vlcofa@gmail.com — 2008-01-24T09:45:54-05:00

Louis X
The first of all the Louis, despite his moniker “the Tenth.”

In the days before Roman numerals were commonly understood, he was frequently referred to as Louis the Xth. Louis is given credit for joining the feuding city-states of Medieval France into a profitable chain of roadside convenience stops, and also for enlarging the number of things French people could refer to, by creating the masculine article, le.

Louis X sired two sons, Louis XI and Louis XI.5, who, in a terrible incident indicative of the education levels of the time, mistook the name cards at the table for the menus; they ordered each other and had completely devoured themselves before anyone realized the “gaffe.”

Louis XII
Known affectionately as Louis the Twelfth, except in French, of course. Louis as a boy already adopted a regal bearing. But he was forced to return it to the woodlands when it became listless in captivity and refused to eat. Always posterity-minded, Louis had built several sets of ruins to trick future historians. He is best remembered today for just treatment of the peasants (Ray and Clara Peasant, his brother and sister-in-law), curbing the excesses of the nobles (Clark and Langston Noble, proprietors of “Friendly Pawn”), and the twenty-six pound wide-mouth bass he caught at Lake Pomme de Terre in April, 1166.

Louis XIII

King of France, although not a Frenchman. He was in fact an Englishman with a penchant for croissants, and just got carried away. Louis was a good and wise king, much loved by his adoptive people, yet some aspects of the monarchy eluded him, partly due to the fact that he never learned the French language. As a boy, the term dauphin referring to the current King’s brother (and heir to the throne), was mistaken by the young Louis as dolphin, and he spent several formative years trying to find a surgeon who would implant a blowhole and a dorsal fin. No easy task considering the level of medical knowledge of the time!

Louis XIV
The famous “Sun King.” Louis began wielding supreme executive power at the tender age of twelve, which caused many of the French to confuse him with “Louis the Twelfth,” except in French, of course. Young Louis was present when his father, Louis XIII, had a sudden attack of some sort and stopped breathing. The boy attempted artificial blowhole to blowhole resuscitation, but it was too late. Well-respected by history for the transaction known to the French as The Louisiana Sale.

Louis Armstrong
Best known for ending France’s bloody war with Spain, bringing to an end the corrupt power of Cardinal Richlieu, saving the flagging economy of the nation, and the trumpet breaks on Back o’ Town Blues. Married Marie Antoinette after Louis XV, and, unfortunately, after she had been beheaded. Lost popularity when it was revealed that Bunny Berrigan had played trumpet on Back o’ Town Blues.

Louis XXIII
Just a guy. Not well known at all. Wears a crown, but who doesn’t these days? Holds court on Thursdays, but etiquette is noticeably lax.

Post Office, the

vlcofa@gmail.com — 2007-11-28T09:55:45-05:00

It is common knowledge that Benjamin Franklin invented the post office when he one day spilled acid on his lap and ordered a comforting poultice for delivery from his assistant in the next room. Watson promptly mailed the item but Franklin was unable to sign for delivery since his torso was, at the moment, on fire.

Franklin was able to look back on the event with his usual good humor, noting in his famous brass and ivory diary: "My lappe is now most singed and indeed it would not surprise me to know that my most intimate friends should call me 'Old Singed Lappe.'"

Many of Franklin's friends did; though some misunderstood "singed" to be the past tense of "sing" and took to calling him "Old Sung Lap" instead, thinking the verb more correct. (See also: Sunglap Family of Boston).

In its earliest carnation, the Post Office was more than just a place to send or receive lap poultices. It was a meeting spot, a place to see and be seen, to hear and be heard, and, in the case of our nation's earliest psychics, to sense and be sensed.

It was these psychics who had the most to lose if the post office was a success--after all, why pay someone for telepathic communications when you could just send a letter?

This fear of competition led indirectly to the French and Indian and Psychic War of 1767, which, oddly, was more than twenty years before the invention of the Post Office, thus proving, claimed the Psychics, that the French and Indians really could foretell the future, just as the Psychics had predicted they would be able to nearly twenty years earlier.

Acknowledgements

vlcofa@gmail.com — 2007-09-20T17:43:47-04:00

No cyclopedia entry is written in a vacuum, and thus there are many people I have to thank, except that this particular entry actually was written in a vacuum, so the only people I need to thank are the dedicated staff of technicians from NASA, and Debbie from over at Electrolux, who made this astounding breakthrough possible.

HOW IT CAME TO PASS

When I first started this acknowledgments column, it was 1975, and my advisors called me "mad" to attempt it. Dedications had been common, of course, and although acknowledgments were not unheard of, my people feared that such a far-out move might harm my reputation.

But I insisted. "After all," I said, "no entry is written in a vacuum." Little did I suspect how those words would haunt me, lo these sixty years later, when, like so many David Blaines, I would find myself alone, unable to breath, and--but I get ahead of myself.

My first draft of the "Acknowledgments" started off with, what I must say, was some of my snappiest writing to date: "I'd like to thank my family for their understanding." Wow! My editor literally called it "hot stuff," and my publisher insisted on toning it down! Call me a sell-out, but I agreed.

And yet, every subsequent draft was somehow...less. As an artist, I truly felt that thanking my family represented a large part of what this acknowledgments piece needed to be. I tried and tried again, but found myself running up against the metaphorical brick wall that I'd had built the summer before to keep the neighbor's dog from pooping, metaphorically, on our lawn.

I complained to Eddie (my aptly named editor) and Pubby (his brother, my publisher) that the acknowledgments was going nowhere, and they suggested just scrapping the whole idea. And that's where things stood when Remembery, a young nephew from Toronto, remembered my casual comment in that summer of long ago: no newsletter is written in a vacuum.

An electric thrill ran through the room.

"Surely," said Logicky, a visiting cousin, "you can avoid thanking your family--or having to thank anyone--by actually writing your Acknowledgements IN A VACUUM.

Part of me feels that I should thank my creative team for developing the idea. A guilty part of me feels that I still should thank my family, especially after the unfortunate deaths of Timmy, Sarah, Elizabeth, and Rob, when they ventured (against house rules!) into the Vacuum Unit. Still, they really had nothing to do with this actual entry. So a tip of the hat to Debbie at Electrolux, and, of course, dear reader, to you.

The Pigskin of Youth

vlcofa@gmail.com — 2007-06-22T10:47:00-07:00

Ah, college! The rinky-tink of the ukuleles, the clitter-clatter of the nickelodeons, the piercing shrieks of the soon-to-be raccoon coats.

They were magical times, and I mean that almost literally, considering how we were able to pass incorporeally through walls, navigate the earth ectoplasmically, and communicate entirely via thought transmission.

Of course, in today's world, what with "affirmative" action, things we once took for granted are, alas, no more.

Of all my college memories, none stands out more than the excitement of football!

Many think of football of that long-ago time as a "pigskin," and picture something, not unlike a pig, but inflated with air, being passed and punted around the field.

But, mind you, the game is called "football"! The item was not so much a pigskin, but an inflated human foot. Usually, a friend in "med" would be able to easily provide us with the necessary appendage, but in a bind, any freshman could be bribed (or forced!) to accommodate us with one of his own.

Although these freshmen were then unusable for playing football, we did have the number one hopscotch team in the state.

But more than studies, more than sport, it was the girls and their ha-cha-cha that made college special.

I had a girl named Hannah and little F-Model Scour-About that was made by the little-known Henderson Motor Company of Dort-Munder, Mich. She sucked down gas like you wouldn't believe, and coughed up tons of black exhaust, but she was my Hannah, and I'll never forget her.

There was a whole world of delights that this generation will never know: the wind-up phonograph; the wind-up telephone; and, perhaps most useful, the electrical winder.

Still I look back on those days, the mad chanting of an excited mob, their torches and pitchforks waving, the clatter of iron-rimmed wheels of a tumbrel on the cobblestone, the the almost silent swish of the guillotine--it is these, the simple pleasures that mean so much, and yet, which seem so very forgotten.

Louis Pasteur, Famous French Scientist, 1822-1895

vlcofa@gmail.com — 2007-06-21T11:15:22-07:00

12 Jan.
Noticed body is covered with "dirt." Unpleasant.

16 Jan.
When I don new clothes, this “dirt” is transferred to them--thus soiling the clothes.

17 Jan.
If dirt can be transferred to clothing, could it not be removed from the body in some other way? Or is clothing key?

18 Jan.
Experiments underway. Instead of clothing, have covered myself with wood. Tomorrow I will know if wood will rub off the dirt.

19 Jan.
Failure. Upon removing wood, I found that not only was I still “dirty,” but that I had splinters in several embarrassing spots.

2 Feb.
Have decided to cover myself with tomato juice in attempt to remove dirt. Have ordered two barrels-full from Vienna.

12 Feb.
Success! By “laving” my body in tomato juice, I have succeeded in removing all dirt from my body. Unfortunately, I am now covered with tomato juice. I feel I am very close to a breakthrough.

13 Feb.
Encroyable! Remaining tomato juice on body actually attracts dirt. Still, feel that liquid, in some form, is essential.

4 March
I hesitate to be certain, but I believe I am finally "clean." I used plain water and a device I call the "washcloth" to wipe all surface pollutants away. I feel fresh and invigorated. The final test will be to try on new clothes.

4 March
(Evening) Dressed for dinner in new shirt, collar, and coat. Received many comments on "something different." Later I excitedly undressed in my laboratory and upon examination, my clothing was still clean!

6 June
Though I feel my washing system is a success, am experimenting with something I found in the maid's pantry. She calls it "soap."

8 July
Mother tells me people have been washing with soap and water for years and why wouldn't I listen to her before? I am despondent for I've already printed posters for the lecture tour. Regardless, I am happy to be clean, and I think right now I'll go ponder future experiments over a glass of milk.

Restoring the Arts and Crafts Bungalow

vlcofa@gmail.com — 2007-04-27T16:59:20-07:00

The Arts and Crafts Movement dates back to the 1860's as a dramatic rebellion against the formalized style of the Victorian period.

We recently purchased our own little slice of heaven, a bungalow of 1911, a glowing example of the Arts and Crafts movement. Restoring and re-decorating this could-be jewel to its original Arts and Crafts glory is largely a matter of detective work.

The fireplace, for example, now brick, we discovered was once made of macaroni necklaces--one of the most visually impressive of the arts and crafts.

The bathroom is still mostly original arts and crafts, with Gods-eyes covering the floor, and felt bookmarks with glitter initials all around. What was once a wonderful old laniard keychain has been updated, tragically, with a sink.

And so through the rest of the house. The parlour still has some of its original spoon puppets, and the clothespin sailboat has somehow remained untouched, but the egg-carton flowers were pulled out during an "improvement" in the 1950s, and, even more tragic, the tuna-can pin cushion that would have once been the jewel of a house like this has vanished.

Most Arts and Crafts items are much sought by collectors--and expensive. One can try eBay or estate sales, but I've found, surprisingly, that any kindergarten classroom is rich in these valued treasures of our architectural past.

My Enemy, My Friend

vlcofa@gmail.com — 2007-04-20T20:59:17-07:00

Three weeks after the war started, Henderson volunteered. He was just one of thousands who volunteered, so he wasn't really needed. Which is why he volunteered to be an enemy.

It wasn't easy being an enemy, surrounded by one-time friends who now despised him. Of course they weren't allowed to harm him physically in any way until they'd gotten through bootcamp and shipped out.

The training was rigorous. Uncle Sam didn't want his boys fighting some weak, under-trained enemy, so Sarge was particularly tough on Henderson.

Of course, a soldier is just a man with a gun until he truly believes in his cause, so Henderson underwent gruelling sessions learning to despise his friends.

First was an all-day work-out in which fellow soldiers taunted him with embarrassing childhood nicknames. That night, they formed a paddling machine to which Henderson was forced to submit. Finally, the soldiers all took turns dating his old girlfriend.

Almost unnoticeably, Henderson metamorphosed into a superb enemy. Well-trained, filled with a bitter hatred, champing at the bit to get away from the men he was training with so he could meet up with with the men he’d been training with--on the field of battle.

The only thing he lacked was a uniform. It’s one thing to train an enemy into a respectable opponent, but another thing to supply his clothes. Thus Henderson was faced with the ignominy of reporting for enemy duty dressed as the enemy.

This served him well in the long run. Dressed as an enemy of the enemy, he was mistaken by his enemy as a friend. Surrounded by friends, Henderson remembered where his true loyalties were, and began to fight the enemy, until he remembered that it was these "friends" who had trained him as an enemy, and what kind of friends were those?

Henderson is remembered today by a monument on the border of the two nations he fought both for and against.

Celsius vs. Fahrenheit, a video to watch

vlcofa@gmail.com — 2007-04-10T09:48:46-07:00

Back in the olden days, your InAccuFacts researcher belonged to a group of researchers called Houseful of Honkeys. We made several short videos in the course of our live, performed encylopedia, but this was the only one with content that meets the InAccuFacts criteria of being almost totally inaccurate.

The Haircut of Creativity

vlcofa@gmail.com — 2007-03-21T21:23:01-07:00

It was the Gay 90s, long before gay meant gay, and 90 was only worth about 70. The chart-topper was “(She's Only a) Bird in a Gilded Cage,” gold was transforming California from a sleepy Roman outpost into a big place with lots of gold, and Mark Twain, the popular author, was about to challenge legal code that had been in place since Hamurabi, by patenting his haircut.

Twain, one of the 19th Century's most creative individuals, gave full credit for his genius to his haircut. “I modeled my haircut,” said Twain, and reporters who didn't let him finish assumed he meant he'd modeled it in some kind of hair show, and that's why it's called the gay 90s.

But the under-reported full sentence was, “I have modeled my haircut on that of Beethoven.” And sure enough, recent scientific lock by lock analysis of the two haircuts show striking similarities.

So pleased was Twain with the impact of the Haircut of Creativity on his prose, that he later grew the Moustache of Nearly Incomprehensible Dialect.

Twain's contemporary, Charles Dickens, once tried to pull himself out of a creative slump by visiting Twain's own barber, Ed, at Ed's Sheer Genius. The savvy barber, though, recognized his best customer's literary rival, and, though Dickens walked out with the Shoe Shine of Social Consciousness and the Manicure of Funny Character Names, the Haircut of Creativity remained Twain's alone.

Years later, Albert Einstein adopted the Haircut, little realizing the patent infringement that would lead the estate of Twain to file suit. The suit looked nice with the haircut, Einstein claimed, though he was heard to remark, “Imagination is more important than --whoa! That rise is a bit snug."

In 1997, Twain's patent expired and now the Haircut is available to all.

What the Stars Mean

vlcofa@gmail.com — 2007-02-27T10:26:28-08:00

The Night Sky.
For millennia, man has looked—and marveled. Read on so that you, too, may learn to see what they saw.

Pleiades, or The Sisters:
A cluster of stars in the constellation Taurus, usually known as the Seven Sisters. The Seven Sisters are visible to the naked eye. However, using a powerful telescope, they are actually visible naked. This makes them one of the more popular star sightings, and the only one that charges 25 cents for two minutes.

Pleiades on a Saturday Night with Only One Bathroom they have to Share:
In this constellation, the seven sisters seem to squabble. The “Bathroom” (which many astronomers believe should be considered a separate constellation), isn’t big enough to contain them all. The three stars that make up the “Curling Iron” complete the constellation.

The Pajamas of Bo Didley:
The gaseous clouds that surround this pajama-shaped constellation cause its stars to appear to “twinkle.” This is not unusual, except that the twinkling seems to occur in the rhythmic “hand jive” rhythm made famous by popular entertainer Bo Didley. Legend is that sailors of ancient times used the Pajamas of Bo Didley to answer questions like “What is my longitude?” “What is my latitude?” and “Who do you love?”

The Huge Fireworks Display Constellation:
Oh, wait, that’s not a constellation. It’s a huge fireworks display. After a while, one bright thing in the sky looks pretty much like another.

The Sun:
The Sun is an unusual constellation in that it’s made of only one star. It is also the only constellation visible in the day time.

The Evolution of Evolution

vlcofa@gmail.com — 2007-02-21T10:00:29-08:00

While sailing with Darwin on his famous Discovery of Evolution trip, kitchen worker, Bill Tomlinson, actually evolved. It was gradual at first; he evolved from assistant cook to cook when the original cook came down with malaria.

Darwin was too busy having fun with the fauna of the Galapagos Islands to notice the miracle on his own ship.

Tomlinson continued to evolve, losing his long prehensile tail, which he served poached in light wine sauce, and eventually, developing an opposable thumb, which allowed him to finally grasp a spatula. And Darwin did notice. His diary for that night read, “Dinner tonight unusually good--for the first time, cooked on both sides!”

By the time Darwin’s ship returned to England, Tomlinson had evolved into a glowing ball of pure intelligence--just perfect, it turned out, for braising pork on a spit, just the way Darwin liked.

Although Tomlinson has long since moved on to another plane, the London restaurant he founded, The Ape and Man, still exists. The fish legs are especially good, and if you’re feeling brave, order the spicy hot missing links.

About the War

vlcofa@gmail.com — 2007-02-08T07:02:32-08:00

As the war drew to a close, the pessimist would have, with good cause, seen the glass half empty, while the somnambulist would not have seen the glass at all, walking right past it in his sleepy netherworld.

It was into this latter camp that Little Jackie Sewall fell, and, indeed, falling into camps was his speciality. Nothing surprised "Jerry" more than the unexpected arrival of an enemy sleepwalker!

Of course after several surprise attacks, the Germans developed their own sleepwalkers, but the sleep state was often induced by a local stage hypnotist, leaving the soldier at huge risk of discovery when he began squawking like a chicken.

Even more efficient than Sewall, was Madam Duranda, a Gypsy woman fighting for the American cause. Her "out of body" experiences allowed her to spy on the enemy from an unseen position hovering in a cloud of invisible light particles. She brought back many valuable secrets, including, "A loved one is trying to contact you," and "You have lost something; something...blue?"

But it was Jerry who lost something blue in the end, and that blue thing was called the War.

The Roots of Comedy

vlcofa@gmail.com — 2007-02-07T21:40:53-08:00

Brothmeir's initial interest in jokes was purely academic. He had attended the Purely Academy for four years, majoring in jokes. "And yet," as he himself put it, "what did I really learn?"

Travelling with just a notepad, a hand-held tape recorder, and seven-man video crew, he set out to discover--the Roots of Comedy.

He travelled through darkened nightclubs and to USO stations.

He sat through hours of television sitcoms, especially enjoying the funny "gay" characters, and the way they were accepted even though they were different; but not finding the source he sought.

He sat through hours of old-time radio shows, especially enjoying the funny "colored" characters and the way they were colored even though they were played by white people; but not finding the source he sought.

He watched "Coupling," and wished that some of them were either black or gay.

His search took him through the Catskills, where he perfected the cat skills for which he later became so well known. But he did not find the source he sought.

Finally, late in the summer of last year, deep in the Indiana Delta, he met a grizzled old man with an almost indecipherable accent. "I know vat seeken thee."

These words were the key to Brothmeir's discovery: The Amish.

Brothmeir: "Hidden away in the hills of Pennsylvania, work those industrious folk who still adhere to the Old World ways. Each joke individually hand-crafted using only Nature's own pure materials. Each antagonist, lovingly melded from Antiquity's classics. Each punchline, the work of a team of Masters and Apprentices, working together to devise laugh-getters that will last for generations to come. Although the Amish eschew a pun in much the same way that they disdain to use an automobile, they are an obliging people and will leave empty spaces in which comics can insert their own."

He had done it. He had discovered the roots of comedy.

And satisfied with a job well-done, he accepted the proffered professorship at his Alma Mater, married his long-time sweetheart, Alma Mater, and lived out his days teaching cat skills to America's brightest young kittens.

The Martinez Bros.

vlcofa@gmail.com — 2007-02-07T21:07:05-08:00

Gordon, who inherited his father's mustachios on the death of his father's mustachios, was the first of the three brothers born and yet somehow, strangely, also the last to be born. That's why I can't remember the third brother. There were only two boys, but Gordon was born twice. In later life, he became a fireman, with the specialty of running back into a burning house to rescue a baby. He claims this is what he did, as an infant, with his younger (and older) brother "Jangles." As his mother's womb was actually on fire, due to a mishap in the delivery room, this view of Gordon's is as likely as any other.
His younger (and older) brother "Jangles" always felt overshadowed (and undershadowed) by his older (and younger) brother. Certain that he could never live up to his parents' expectations, "Jangles" set about an intense program to lower his parents' expectations.
Tragically, by succeeding in this so thoroughly, they were impressed and he actually raised their expectations again. He was right back where he started, except thirty-nine years old.
When he joined forces with his brother, "Jangles" finally felt complete. Billing themselves as 'Gordon and "Jangles": The Martinez Trio,' they toured what would later become the Oklahoma Territory with their homespun humor and homespun wool. They eventually dropped the humor and wool from the act and focused entirely on homespun. At first they sold homespun homespun, but popularity soon drove them to manufactured homespun.
It was the eve of the Industrial Revolution, and the great Northern factories belched black smoke into the cold Pennyslvania air. A nine-year-old orphan, Jackie Seawall had already spent half his young life milling factory-made homespun for the likes of the Martinez Trio and the hordes of slavish imitators cashing in on their popularity. Because most of the trios actually consisted of three people, the need for cheap, ready-made homespun was insatiable, and, for little Jackie, the opportunities seemed boundless. But was it true opportunity, or fickle illusion disguised as opportunity in the disguise of fickle illusion?