Santa Blogs XXXIV

     In my previous life as a blogger, I acted as a conduit for two or three letters every year involving another individual.  I was a little surprised to be pressed into service again this Christmas Eve by some familiar sounds from the old North Pole letters column.

Dear Santa Blogs, You Dufflebag Doofus:

     I was kind of hoping, you red-coated dingbat, that the pandemic had led to your croaking, as I did not see any of your blather this time last year.  Imagine my dismay to find that you are still alive, and no doubt still spreading that ridiculous propaganda about giving used books (and postcards, I guess, to look at your present slish) at Christmas, when up to date young ladies like myself would just as soon have the latest volume of a postapocalyptic dystopian fantasy.  My parents, as you may have guessed, are still giving me books in which cute little children learn nature lessons from cute little bunnies and raccoons, until I have to crawl under the couch and look for last year’s hard Christmas candy just to get away from all the cheer.  Why a demented old guy with a dented sleigh wants to go on spoiling my holiday is beyond me.

                                                                                    Notably Mystified

Dear Not Myst:

     Not hearing for you, Sweet Sieuz, was, of course, one of the great sorrows of the pandemic.  I am so happy to learn that you have not changed an iota since our last exchange.

     Then, as now, I think the problem is simply one of your own imagination,  Too many young people today are showing themselves restricted by the edges of a screen: they cannot expand beyond what they see.  Come, Porkrind Brittle, where are your wits?  You must have seen a few of the nature documentaries which were so much in vogue a few years ago, which wished viewers to understand about death and violence in the natural world.  You can extend the story  toward what some peapods today call the “deleted true ending”.  Why it is wrong to end a story before everyone dies—as they must do unless they are Santa Blogs or some other supernatural character–eludes me, but it’s considered more authentic now to point out that happy isn’t EVER after.  Write your own Director’s Cut version of these stories, showing what happened the next day, when Dinky ran across hungry Daddy Bear in a bad mood, or ate those poisonous berries.

     How nice of you to mention the possibility of used postcards as Christmas gifts!  I have shipped off so many in the past couple of weeks that I am sure some will be found hanging on Christmas trees (though I am a bit dubious about all those outhouse cards.)  Round People cards were there, and fishing cards, and I hope all will find their proper homes (Spoiler alert: I DID ell a couple of cute puppy postcards to an address which looked kinda familiar.  Try to look surprised…or at least not nauseated.)

     Hope all your own shopping is done, and I hope everyone enjoys what you got them.  Been working on my own wish list, and I think this year I’ll go with wishing everyone a warm place to sleep where they know they’re safe: lost cute puppy or just lost soul.  As always, Not Myst, l’chaim!

Those Blessed Ghosts

     There are people who think Ebenezer Scrooge is a wimp.  They point to his graveside pleading.  “Come on,” they tell me.  “He had to go through ALL those pages just to realize he was going to die some day?  That’s the big payoff?”

     These are the People Who Do Not get It.

     I admit Charles Dickens does not often pick up points for subtlety.  But he has been a touch too subtle here, and people don’t see what has horrified old Scrooge.  Let’s look over the Ghost:  shrouded in a dark garment which hides its head and form, scattering gloom and mystery.  Give it a scythe, and it would look like…..

     And that is what has just struck Scrooge.  Marley lied to him!  He died, in fact, just before old Jacob got there, and he has already started on his eternal punishment of, what was that, witnessing what he cannot share but might have shared.  Scrooge had already, when the Ghost of Christmas Past was leading him around, starting to think of ways he could change (filmmakers frequently ignore these bits, as it would cut into their dramatic conclusion) but that was all for nothing.  THIS is what has hit Scrooge so hard.  He CAN’T change.  He CAN’T fix the stuff he ruined.  It’s all going to happen, right down to that one person who felt genuine emotion that Ebenezer Scrooge had died.  (“Thank God!” is her reaction, but Dickens lets us guess this.) Now that he wants to, he CAN’T help.

     Thank you for letting me point out something you already knew.  (A lot of filmmakers don’t.)  But this is the third in our series of studies of Christmas carols a Lot of People Don’t Have Time For.

     The number of versions made of this work since 1843 is probably not countable, if you include puppet shows, slide shows, plays, movies, TV versions, and all the spinoffs: the Dobie Gillis Christmas Carol, the Pooh Christmas Carol, the Barbie Christmas Carol.  But I thought we could spare a little time for the worst versions of A Christmas Carol I ran into while writing a book on the subject.  My book was circumscribed and tightly controlled: only Christmas carols taking place in Victorian England were allowed.  Even here I found fascinating variations and trivia to play with.

     For example, you may well be aware of great actors like Basile Rathbone, Ron Haddrick, Basil Rathbone, and Seymour Hicks, men who not only portrayed Ebenezer Scrooge, but were filmed doing it at least twice.  Alastair Sim, for example, made two classic versions, twenty years apart.  Ron Haddrick starred in two abysmal version, just a couple of years apart.

     Mr. Haddrick passed from this mortal stage a year ago, aged ninety, after years of work in Australian television.  In the period of 1979 to 1982 (dating these gets iffy) he starred in made-for-TV animated versions which are amazing in their badness.  One, oddly enough, is one of the most faithful-to-the-text versions I ran into.  This badness cannot be attributed the Mr. Haddrick: the animation, the staging, and…at one point, Scrooge and his nephew launch into a duet in which they debate the merits of Christmas.  Not bad, not unusual except…it’s the only song in the whole blessed movie.  There isn’t even a musical soundtrack.  They just bust into song for no apparent reason.  It’s a bad version that way: fun and forgivable.

     What would you think of Vincent Price as Ebenezer Scrooge?  I had such visions of seeing an undiscovered classic when I picked up this, yeah, made for TV version from 1949.

     Fuggetaboutit.  This is another crammed into a half hour version in which Yalor Holmes and Patrick Whyte—not names which echo in MY movie memories—act out a dull, lifeless series of high points while Vincent, urbane and welcoming in a study, reads to us from the book to bridge those dreary scenes.  Vincent reading us the whole blessed book would have been more interesting.

     Let us leap next into this 1991 animated version, brought to you by the same folks who brought you VR Troopers.  Bob Cratchit comes dashing into his boss’s office to start the show, panting, “Thir, here’the the money Louis thent you to invetht.”  (Dickens himself gave Cratchit a lisp in public readings, so we’ll pass over this.

     “Fine” says Scrooge, “Justy enough to buy a new jet ski.”

     :But thir!” says Cratchit.  “Louis expectth you to invetht that in health food resthtrauntth!”

     “Cratchit!  It’s 1843!  No one’s going to be eating bran muffins for another hundred and fifty years!”

     First of all, let’s make it clear: this is NOT meant to be a parody.  It is meant to be a heart-warming half hour cartoon.  So what to make of the three Ghosts, who are fairies with poufed skirts and wands?  Or the narrator pointing out the exact moment when Scrooge realizes he is the villain in this movie?  Or the first straight explanation of what may happen to Tiny Tim?  (Well, he’s little, see.  So his parents are training him to be a jockey.  But Scrooge is so tightfisted with salaries, the Cratchits can’t afford a horse with four legs.  So one day, when Tim isn’t paying enough attention, the three-legged horse tips over and…this is in the script, mistletoe brittle…Squish!)

     This is NOT up there with The Muppet Christmas Carol, but again, it has so much fun being so bad, and it IS just another half hour….

     Speaking of time, I see I have grossly outspent my own, which leaves me no time at all to discuss what I consider the very worst screen version of A Christmas Carol I have sat through.  But why should I do any advertising for that piece of jetsam?  Go switch on Charlie brown and wash this all out of your head.

Oops!

     Ah, the Monday before Christmas, and what can you expect as a surprise gift from your Uncle Blogsy?  Old Jokes?  Not much of a surprise. Was it?  The selection of gags from the Old Joke Quizbook comes from the section covering mishaps, faux-pas, and straight accidents, the sort of thing life tosses at you to make your existence more interesting, even if you didn’t want it touched up in that particular way.

     J1.The man jumped out of his car to check on the woman he had just knocked down.  “I’m sorry this happened, Ma’am, he said, but I can’t really see how this could be my fault.  After all, I have been driving for over twenty-five years.”

     “Well, don’t blame it on me,” she snapped, “(          )”

J2.”It amazes me, Captain,” said the passenger to the skipper of the steamboat, “How you can travel these narrow rivers without an accident.”

     Well, Ma’am<,” said the skipper, “Experience plays a big part.  I’ve been on boats in these parts for fifty years, man and boy, so I know ever snag and sandbar along the way.”

     The boat shuddered, and there was a loud scraping sound/  The captain said, “(          )”

J3.”What are you?” demanded the driver of the smaller vehicle in the crash.  “Blind?”

     “Waddya mean blind?” demanded the driver of the SUV.  “(          )”

J4.”The man pulled up next to a dejected woman sitting next to ther crumpled car.  “Have an accident?”
     “No, thanks” she said.” (           )”

J5.A woman on a country walk came across a man with one ear to the ground.  “A two-tone ’57 Chevy,” he said, A man and a woman in the front, an Irish setter in the back.  The dog’s name is Crumble.  The woman just bleached her hair.”

     “Wow!” she said.  “You can tell all that just by listening to the sounds in the road?”

     “No,” he said, “)           _”

J6. They tell the tale of Ernestine Schumann-Heink, an operatic diva of equal talent and size, tried to get on a streetcar in Vienna, only to find this impossible.  “Perhaps if Madame would turn sideways,” suggested the conductor.

     “Mein Gott!” she replied.  “(           )”

J7.”That singer has a large repertoire.”

“Yes.  And (          )”

     J8.“What have you done with your hair?  It looks like a wig!”

     “It is a wig.”

     “Is it?  Well, (          )”

J9.Three elderly men, all slightly hard of hearing, were strolling down the street when a gust of wind blew dust in their face.  “Windy today,” said the first.

     “I thought it was Thursday,” said the second.

      Wiping dust from his face, the third said, “(           )”

H19.Hildegarde had just stepped out of the shower when the doorbell rang.  “Who is it?” she shouted.

     “Blind man!”

     “These beggars,” she grumbled, but she grabbed up her purse, took out a dollar and went to the door.

     “Here!” she said, throwing the door open.

     Thank you, Ma’am.  (         )?”

J11.  “Sun Tribune,” said the receptionist at the newspaper’s main office.  “How may I help you?”

          “This is Ladislas Brosniky!  You have me listed in yesterday’s obituaries!”

     “”Yes, sir? (          )?”

Nome of this has ever happened to you of course, but if it ever does, these are the ANSWERS.

A1.I’ve been walking for sixty-three

A2.There’s one now

A3. I hit ya, didn’t I?

A4.Just had one

A5.They just knocked me down

A6.U HAFF no sidevays!

A7.And that dress just emphasizes it

A8.No one could tell

A9.Me, too.  Let’s have a drink

A10.Where shall I put these Venetian blinds?

A11,And where are you calling from?

Twelve Blessed Days

     I was not planning an all-out series on Christmas songs some people have no time for, but just hunker down and we’ll get through this together.

     In 1780, in a little publication called Mirth Without Mischief, the verse appeared in print for the first time, only slightly different from the way we sing it today.  It was a chant, not a song, a kind of playground verse like “This is the House That jack Built” and began “The first day of Christmas, my true love sent me.”

Yes, that song that seems to go on forever has been going on for about two hundred and forty years.  That version was remarkably similar, aside from the not very rhythmic opening, to the Correct lyrics we know today, although it did put the lords and ladies last, possibly as they were the most important.  And for how many years people have been explaining the hidden symbolism of the lines, I cannot realty say.  I know I started seeing thee things as filers in the newspapers when I was about ten, and I remember thinking, “What a waste!  Who cares?”

     But I hope YOU are not like that, egg nog enchilada, for we are about to discuss this line by line.

     The partridge in the pear tree is fairly simple.  A partridge was a gentle, pleasant bird, lovely to listen to and (remember, these were savage times) pretty good eating.  A pear tree was considered in some cultures to be a symbol of generosity, for the way it gave its fruit.  (Never mind that you jad to stand on tiptoe to pick it.)

     Two turtle-doves is nearly as simple.  Turtle doves were also gentle birdfs and the symbol of love.

     I suppose it should be just as easy to figure out the three French hens: once again, mighty good eating.  But why French?  There is a clue in a version which makes it three fat hens, but I just don’t make the connection.  Why would French hens have been fatter than English hens?  Maybe the French fattened them specially for export.  More research is required here.

     We start to get into real trouble with the four calling birds.  I love the illustrations of this which show magpies on the phone, but every commentator has to point out that this was originally four “Colley” birds.  This is an archaic term meaning black: one version of the song actually makes it four coal-black birds.  (The Interwebs has tried to explain to me that this is also where the collie gets its name, but the changes in dog breeds over the centuries is beyond the scope of this blog.)  I cannot help feeling just a twinge of regret that the world decided not to go along with the version that made it “four curly birds”.  Anyway, birds were calling from the sky long before we even had phones.

     Where I most thoroughly resent the intrusion of logic into this song is in the Five Golden Rings.  Sending jewelry to your true love is certainly traditional (and makes more sense than anything else on the list in  our citified notions.)  Alas, everybody needs to nudge you and say “Look at the other verse so far.  This is five ring-necked pheasants.”  Humbug.

     Six geese a laying continued the theme of poultry, and, you’ll notice, continue the theme of giving the true love things which can enhance her financial status.  A regular supply of eggs (presumably available from the other poultry as well) will be a step up in her assets, and, if she happens to be from that part of the world which eats goose at Christmas, why, she can spare one.

    The seven swans a-swimming continue the poultry theme, and and give that true love some elegant birds which a. look nice, b. lay eggs, and c. were actually eaten at feasts.  So the triple use of poultry continues.

     With the eight maids a-milking, however, we abandon the poultry yard without a backward look.  Oh, yes, there is a minor tradition which makes this Eight Hares A-Running, but that’s only for folksingers who want to be different.  Milkmaids were a part of folk culture going back centuries.  I presume, they brought their cows with them, as eight maids a-milkin’ without cows would be unsightly  They can’t milk the geese.

     From here on out, there is a genial confusion of who comes in what order, though the last four are fairly constant (despite some versions giving us lambs-a-bleating, bulls a-roaring, men-a-shearing, and so on.  Bells a-ringing has its followers.)  In most versions, ladies dance, lords leap, pipers pipe, and drummers drum, just not always in the same order.

     I have been wondering about the ppipers piping.  Is there a chance that we’re discussing bagpipes here?  To judge by the versions which make it fifers fifing, I guess not.

     My, this column has just gone on forever: I wonder whether it would take longer to read it aloud or to sing the song.  Oh, and the Twelve Days of Christmas are December 25 through January 6, the day the Wise Men arrived at the manger (they had the best GPS available, so maybe it was the camels.)  This negates the wonders of the quite excellent parody “The Twelve Days After Christmas”,  but like every other trivia merchant I knew you’d want to know.

That Blessed Drum

   All she wanted to do was compose a Christmas song suitable for girls’ choirs, and in 1941,   Katherine Kennicott Davis became obsessed with the traditional French carol Pat-a-pan, and wrote her version with pa-rum-pa-um-pum, in place of it.  She published it as C.R.W. Robinson, and her Carol of the Drum did reasonably well, being picked up by the Trapp Family Singers in the early Fifties.

     Then the Harry Simeone Chorale got hold of it, renamed it “The Little Drummer Boy” and had a Top Forty hit every December with it from 1958 to 1962.  That recording is still one of the  most popular versions, William Shatner’s recording of it notwithstanding.

     That is one really popular song.  And one of the most hated Christmas songs in the repertoire.  It happens that way, sometimes.

     Zx a new hit Christmas sng, it was played over and over and over.  (The number one song of 1958, oddly enough, was another song that ticks people off at Christmas: The Chipmunk Song.)  SPME people do not like songs sung by children’s choirs.  And we have the precise bozos, who want to know why someone is playing a drum for a newborn infant.

     Bur the somg expresses a very popi;ar theme.  The lad with the drum males it clear he has no gifts to bring that are worthy of a newborn king.  All he’s got is that drum. Which Mary AND the Baby Jesus enjoy.  (Joseph, who was a stock humorous character in medieval literature, was probably pressing hos hands over his ears._

     We find the same plot in The Littlest Angel, a reasonably popular book of the 1946 Christmas giving season, but much more popular after illustrations were added in 1963,  The Imterwebs informs me that it is the fifteenth best seeking children’s book of all time.  This tells the story of a naughty little boy who happens to be dead.  He makes a mess of heavenly worship and respect, and when he is called to judgement, he is terrified, only to find the angel in charge of this to be warm and understanding.  The thing Is, he missed Earth.  Heaven’s very nice, but Earth also had its appeal.  If he could just have that box of stuff he kept under his bead, to remind him of Earth, he thinks he can behave.

     Thebn be datym, word goes out that God is sending his son to Earth, and every angel prepares some special gift for this unprecedented occurrence/  The Littlest Angel wants to be part of this, but all he has is the box of boy treasures.  He slips this into the gift array. and on the great day is horrified by how cheap it looks.  He has actually insulted the Baby Jesus with this box of garbage.

     You know how this works out.  God says his son will learn to value the things of earth (or the whole mission is for naught) and turns the little box into the Star of Bethlehem/

     The magic is a little less show in le Jongleur de Notre Dame, another tale which has been animated for Christmas by R.O. Blechman.  This is a short story from 1892, dealing with a jongleur, a word often translated “juggler”.  But the jongleur was a specific type of medieval minstrel: the lowest of the low, the kind who would balance on one hand so his tunic would slide up and show the audience his backside, the fellow who knew all the oldest fart jokes.  Th sine decided to retire to a monastery, and he ran into the same problem as our other heroes.  He could paint a beautiful picture, or write a delicate lyric.  But he WANTS to give something to the Virgin Mary and Baby Jesus, represented by a statue in a niche.  So on the holiday he slips down to the statue late at night, pushes some of the beautiful gifts to the side, and goes to work.

     The abbot hears a sound he can’t identify, and takes a couple of the brothers to see what’s going on.  The Jongleur is balancing on one hand, juggling with the other hand, and spinning hoops on his legs.  One of the brothers, offended by this blasphemy, starts forward, but the abbot pulls him back.  The jongleur is working very, very hard, and sweating like a horse.  And as the btiohers watch, the Virgin thanks the jongleur by reaching out and mopping his forehead.

     In fact, this theme goes right back to the New Testament, in the story of the Widow’s M9te.  Jusus notes that all she has given is a tiny coin, while other people are giving grandiose presents in the offering box.  But He values the little coin because it is, in fact, all the money the woman has in the world

     That was a long way to run, and I assure you, the words Pa-Rump-Pa-Pum=Pum are not in script8re.  But they COULD have been.

Easy as A B…um

     Why, what do you know?  It’s Monday again!  Let joy be unconfined at the return of the week as well as another Old Joke Quiz!  (Look, get some of that leftover egg nog from the weekend and put it in your morning coffee.  Maybe that will help unconfine your joy.)  This set of jokes deals with people whose I.Q. is so low, they can’t even SPELL I.Q.  We all have moments like this, of course.  If you take those moments and make jokes of them, attributing them to your second cousin Bronk, you might have a career in comedy coming.

J1.”Where were you born?”

“Wisconsin.”

“What part?”

“(          )”

     J2.”What’s todays date?”

     “I’m not sure.  Why not check that newspaper you’ve got?”

     “That won’t help.  (          )”

J3.”My sister tried one of those cosmetic mudpacks on her face.”

“Did it make her more beautiful.”

“For a while.  (         )”

     J4.”What time is it?”

     “I don’t know.  What does your watch say?”

     “It (         )”

J5.The captain rushed to the communications room.  “:”If those reinforcements don’t arrive soon, we’re lost!  Any messages from Headquarters?”

     “Not yet, sir,” the radio operator said.  But just then, a signal came through in Morse code: dit dit dit dit dah dah dit dah dah dah dit dit dah dit dit dit dit dit dit dit

     “Did you get that?” said the captain.  “What’s it say.”

     “Got it, sir.  It says (          )”

J6.”It takes three sheep to make one sweater.”

“Wow!  (          )”

     J7.”Weird.  You’re wearing one red sock and one green sock.”

     “You know what’s weirder?  (          )”

J8.”Is the diamond in your ting real?”

“If it isn’t, (         )”

     J9.”This baby is your fourth child, isn’t she?”

     “Yes, and my last.”

     “Really?”

     “I don’t dare have another.  (          )”

J10.”Did you hear Carmen had twins?”

“Yes.  Isn’t it wonderful?”

“And they say that happens only once every six hundred births.”

“My goodness!  (          )”

     J11.My sister started walking when she was only nine months old.”

     “Wow!  She must be (          ).”

J12.”Do you like Kipling?”

“I don’t know.  (          )”

     J13.”Why are you writing so slowly?”

     “(          )”

J14.”Why are you writing so quickly?”

“(          )”

     If you are reading this blog, I know you have a very high I.Q., so you probably already know all these ANSWERS.

A1.All of me.

A2.It’s yesterday’s paper.

A3.Then it fell off.

A4.doesn’t say anything.  You have to look at it

A5. dit dit dit dit dah dah dit dah dah dah dit dit dah dit dit dit dit dit dit dit

A6.They can teach animals to do anything these days!

A7.I have another pair at home just like these.

A8.I’ve been cheated out of fifteen cents

A9.I read that every fifth child born nowadays is Chinese

A10.When does she have time for housework?

A11.tired

A12.I’ve never kippled.

A13.I’m writing to my brother and he can’t read very fast

A14.I’m trying to finish this letter before I run out of ink

Heaping Helping

     In our last thrilling episode, we continued out discussion of Round People by considering Round People in Love.  Because we are avoiding the whole catchphrase “Nobody loves a Fat Man” and its descendants, this quickly turned into a discussion of the Round Woman and Love.  We saw a number of postcards which suggested that a Round Woman and a Round Man could live happily ever after, the subtext being that no one else was likely to want either of them.

     And yet…maybe I should pause for a warning label here.  The concept is controversial, and you will see glimpses of it in every generation and every phase of fashion.  Whatever is in fashion is natural and understandable, and all old styles are now exposed as utterly baffling and laughable.  In my high school days, one of my classmates was snickering at the yearbook pictures of young men with crewcuts, and was told by an older person that this is the sort of thing everyone says about other generations.

     The older person was informed, “Oh, people won’t laugh like this at long hair.”  (I should mention that my high school days were at an awkward time when everyone—men and women alike—seemed to be trying to look like Cher.)  The Older Person snickered a little to himself.

     I’m not taking up generational questions here.  I wish to state that there is always a significant proportion of the population that likes what it likes, whether that is in fashion or not.  The insistence in fashion for a straight silhouette, starting somewhere around the days of the hobble skirt, was rejected by some folks, and certainly by some cartoonists who expressed their opinions on postcards.  In fact, in the 1930s, when the Flapper look with minimal curves began to fade, there were those who celebrated the change.

     Note here, for example, that the object of the discussion is not someone who would fit the long, straight lines of Flapper fashion.

     We must not ignore the contribution of Walter Wellman, the postcard artist whose work stretched from his high-pompadoured Edwardian ladies around 1909 through the World War II era.  Once he decided styles had changed, he embraced, and even promoted, a much curvier figure than even the fashion of the 1930s encouraged.

     The 1849s made up a decade of austerity, and slim, severe figures were once again in fashion.  (There has been a lot of research on why the focus of pinups during World War II was long legs; I’ll let you look that up yourself.)  But the followers of Walter Wellman refused to give up the ladies with wide curves.

     Men on postcards sang out the wonders of having a girlfriend triple their own size.  (This particular caption can be found on numerous postcards with different couples.  It was either a case of mass theft or this was a slogan/catchphrase I just haven’t been able to trace yet.)

     I am sorry to report that, in discussing this matter with random acquaintances, I have had some resistance.  “Of course they were glad to have fat girlfriends,” someone informed me.  “Obese chicks are easy because they’re so desperate.”

     And yet the Round Women on postcards don’t seem all THAT anxious.  They are not prepared to fall for men just because the night is clear and the moon is yellow. 

     Which is not the way they would behave if they were desperate for any kind of appreciation.

     The Round Woman is just as leery as any other woman about the date who is too forward.  They may be large, but this does not mean their self-respect is tiny.  (“Obese chicks” indeed.)

     What it comes down to, I think, is that we cannot predict what will appeal to any human being, when it comes to romance.

     And size and shape are no bars to a conventional happy ending.  (Although with any luck, your honeymoon trip will not be planned by a postcard cartoonist.)

Round and Round

     About an eon and a half ago, there was a one woman show in Chicago in which a plumpish wallflower mused on a romantic misadventure with a man who was leading her on just to make her look ridiculous.  I am afraid I have forgotten the name of the actress AND the play, as well as, fortunately, the name of the reviewer who absolutely trashed the play for having an unbelievable premise.  Since no obese woman could  be considered attractive, even by herself, the play was absurd from its very outset.

     I hope the actress went on to great success and I hope the critic has grown older and wiser, and has gained at least eighty pounds.  In any case, as we have studied the phenomenon of Round People on postcards, we have had hints that our ancestors did NOT automatically exempt fat folk from romance.  Why, they seem to have felt, should the pleasures of the flesh be denied those who had so much of it?

     We will primarily consider postcards featuring Round Women, as men seem to have gotten involved in a catchphrase of the day which I haven’t quite been able to extract from history.  The “Nobody loves a Fat Man” gag is a bit shadowy, despite the massive number of cards issued to prove or disprove the assertion.

     The slender woman and the postcard came into fashion at roughly the same time, as the hobble skirt trimmed down the ideal figure.  Yet even in the Forties, there was an appreciation of women who did not fit the pattern.

     This young lady’s hat pretty much tells the story here and, by the way, I hope you don’t think she’s writing to her father.  (If you don’t know what a “sugar daddy” is, you have been culturally deprived.)

     This farmer seems to be pleased by this summer’s crop of tourists.

     And this young lady, if you can read the shipping labels on her trunk, has been around, as she notes.

     But perhaps this is all a hoax.  Perhaps the lady above is so large simply so the artist can put more jokes on her labels, and perhaps that size is merely something for us to laugh at.  After all, the picture of two Round People in love strikes some artists as hilarious.

     If you toss in a line about flying, you make it even more ridiculous, of course.  (Hey, see what’s in the sky?  Blimps were flying more than airplanes were at that point in history.  What’s the big fat joke?  Let me rephrase that.) 

     And yet, there are plenty of cards to suggest that even if it is funny, the people involved are enjoying the joke, as well as enjoying their round lives.

     I know there are people out there who regard such figures, and such ways of life with loathing, and yet, should we argue with happiness?

     And there are dozens of variations on this gag, which is  meant to represent the people who bought and mailed the postcard.  At the very least, this suggests that the Round Figure could be laughed with, and not just at.

     The vacations of Round People were just as open to romantic adventure (expensive though that might be) as those of people with slimmer physiques.

     Perhaps the message here is that the state of your mind is more important to your joie de vivre than the state of your body.  Or perhaps that’s all part of the joke: that Round People don’t realize how awful they are.  They can only really attract each other and that’s….

     But just you wait until Friday’s blog.

When in Doubt, Pun

 Listen, I know it’s Monday, but even I am appalled by this chapter in my quizbook of old jokes.  I had forgotten I had stooped this low.  Of course, how old a pun may be is irrelevant, since the audience is SUPPOSED to groan.  But if we all stand together and hold hands, we can get through this.  Would you like to sing Kum-Ba-Ya while we’re doing it.  Sing loud enough, and we might not hear the jokes.

     J1.The jester claimed he could make a joke on any subject.  “I dare you to make a joke about the King!” said Sir Reptitious.

     “Bah!” said the jester, “(          )”

2.Sir Reptitious was out questing on a cold and snowy night, and rode up to the front door of an inn.  “I require a room,” he told the innkeeper.  “I can ride no farther.”

     “Sorry, sir,” said the innkeeper.  “We’re full up.”

     “:O don’t require much space,” said Sir Reptitious.  “Just a corner for me and my dog.”

     “We have….”  The innkeeper frowned.  “Your dog?”

     Sir Reptitious dismounted, and it could be clearly seen that he had ridden through the snow on an Old English Sheepdog, its fur matted with the snow and rain.

     The innkeeper sighed.  “Very well, sir.  I can find you something.  I wouldn’t (          ).”

J3.”I’m writing an ode to a Grecian urn.”

“What’s a Grecian urn?”

“Oh, (          )”

    J4.The Great Flood was over, and Noah was walking through the ark one last time, to see if anybody had left behind any towels or something.  He found a pair of snakes coiled up in a corner of the third deck.  “What are you doing here?” he demanded.  “Didn’t you hear the command to go forth and multiply?”

     “Oh, yes, Father Noah,” they said.  “But we can’t do that.  We’re (          )”

J5.Pat and Mike, walking along the street. Stopped in front of the opulent display of jewelry at Tiffany’s.  “Oh,” said Mike, “Wouldn’t you like to just have your pick?”

     “That I wouldn’t,” said Pat.  “I’d rather (          )”

J6.”You are accused of engaging in illegal gambling after hours in the gentleman’s club.  How do you plead?”

     “Not guilty, Your Honor.  I am a locksmith, and I was there working, not gambling.”

     “:Indeed!  And what would you have been doing there at 3 A.M., when the police raided the club?”

     “I was (          )”

J7.”Mommy,” said the baby ear of corn, “Where did I come from?”

     “You know that,” she said, “(          )”

J8.”It’s raining cats and dogs, isn’t it?”

“It sure is.  I just (          )”

     J9.”What do you make these boots out of?”

     “Hide.”

     “Why should I?”

     “No, I said ‘Hide”.”

     “Where?  Why?”

     “No!  Hide!  Hide!  The cow’s outside!”

     “Well, heck. (          )”

J10.”I heard a noise in the kitchen last night, and got my shotgun.  I crept downstairs and just as I got to the kitchen, this huge rat ran from under the stove.”

     “Did you shoot him?”

     “Couldn’t.  (          )”

Though we have suffered for the knowledge, at last we have all the ANSWERS.

A1.The King is not a subject

A2.put a knight out on a dog like this.

A3.About a buck and a half an hour

A4.We’re adders.

A5.have my shovel.

A6.making a bolt for the door.

A7.The stalk brought you.

A8.stepped in a poodle.

A9.Who’s afraid of a cow?

A10.He was out of my range.

Round Roast

     The whole history of Round People in culture is beyond the scope of this blog.  Fashion has been fashion and social life has been social life for eons.  For centuries, the poor were thin and the rich were fat, and once over-the-counter medicine became big business, some of the most popular nostrums sold were those to bulk you up and give you that rounder figure people appreciated.  John D. Rockefeller, Jr. was a favorite of cartoonists, for example, because he was one of the very few skinny tycoons of his age.  He was an eccentric for not growing a figure like that of J.P. Morgan, or, more popularly, Diamond Jim Brady.  (Until recently, a restaurant in Chicago still advertised the Diamond Jim cut of prime rib, a single serving weighing about four pounds.)

     This could be one reason that so many postcards I have seen, while poking fun at Round People, nonetheless imply that the plump model is in on the joke.  Cartoon men and women look out at us from the postcards with a smile, as if saying, “Yeah, I’m fat.  Ain’t life grand?”

     But leave us not ignore facts.  There are more pointed jokes aimed at the round and tempting portions of the Round Person’s anatomy.  Take the mournful lover above.  He is concentrating on his complex wooing, and we are laughing at how long it will take him to waste away for love.

     The rump as billboard was a popular way of drawing attention to the size of that derriere.  This is just one of a dozen different designs which swipe the ad slogan of ivory Soap and print it across the backside of a bathing suit.

     And we devoted a whole column to the variations on big butt humor, especially the “I’m All Ears” gag.

     Another gag with dozens of variations is the vacationer (or vacationers, in extreme cases) finding shade on a sunny beach, thanks to an unknowing Round Person.

     As for the accidental exposure and the cheerful onlooker, that exists on scads of postcards.

     What I have seen, though, is that in the majority of postcards where the Round Person is the butt (ahem) of the joke, that person is there because when it comes to slapstick, things just seem funnier when happening to someone who comes XXXL.  It would have been funny if a thinner soul was involved, but whose underdrawers are funniest attached to a barbed wire fence?  Ms. Roundperson’s.  (The barbed wire fence was a boon to cartoonists and slapstick moviemakers, as well as to the makers of party films, where the hapless city girl gets caught on the fence and MUST remove every stitch she has on just to get away.  But the plots of naughty movies—as predictable in their own way as hallmark Christmas flicks—are something for a whole nother blog.)

     Another joy of the cartoonist (and the naughty moviemaker) was the Come As You Are Party, which mandated that the recipient of the invitation had to set off for the party at once, without makeup, without party clothes, or without important parts of one’s wardrobe.  This was judged funny at any time, but if it involved a Round person, the laughter rolled large.

     That last one sort of violated our basic premise, that the Round Person be clueless about the joke, like this lady.  The doctor gets it, and WE get it, but she is oblivious to the joke.

     As for all of those Round Women who seem to dive off diving boards or fall from the clouds at the wrong moment for a cheerful vacationer, those are legion.  Obviously, if you’re going to laugh at a diving mishap like this, the size of the people involved is irrelevant.  But it IS funnier where large abdomens can add to the bounce.

     By the way, the Round Woman is not herself immune to such airborne surprises.

     The adventure of the woman and the random mouse, much more alarming in the day when skirts were long and might invite a rodent to take shelter in the folds, survived to become a staple for the postcard cartoonist (and, again, the naughty filmmaker).  This joke would not have been the same had her skirts been longer…or her figure less generous.

     It was apparently a basic principle that a funny joke could be made funnier (or a so-so joke at least funny) if the person involved was a Round Person.

     (Coming soon: Round Romance)