The Invitational Week 62: Hi, Anxiety!

Tell us some funny ways to stress yourself out. Plus winning diary entries by historical figures.

Before he became Vlad the Impaler, Mr. Tepes knew he had to change his less impressive sobriquet. See today’s Invitational results for historical “diary entries.”

Hello. This is Invitational Thursday, and a fine Invitational it will be, but first we must alert our audience to the vice-like grip of evil and stupidity under which we have fallen, and urge all of you with the influence and standing to make a change …. make it, before it is too late.

Look at that paragraph above. Do you see anything wrong with it? You should. It is awful if you don’t. You must atone.

The expression is “a vise-like grip.” The simile is to a vise, a metal bench tool with one movable jaw and one stationary jaw. It clamps things tightly. A “vice” — pronounced identically — is a wickedness or moral depravity. The only connection between the two words is that it would be fitting and proper to define as wicked or morally depraved the editors of American dictionaries who have recently decided that since this word has been ludicrously misspelled by ignorant Americans for the last 20 years, they had to shrug and meekly surrender. According to Google, the expression “vice-like” is out there on the Web in significantly greater numbers than “vise-like.” So, ipso facto, dictionaries are now accepting that patent misspelling.

These editors have fallen under the evil thrall of Usage Autocrats, who insist that language is a living breathing thing — which it is — but also that it is a thing that must be robotically altered and broadened whenever a word can be proved to have been abused in the same doltish way enough times — which it is not.

Dictionary editors make a big show of requiring a statistically high number of usage examples by prominent, influential people in order to consider adjusting a spelling or definition. It’s the way the Roman Catholic Church insists on “authenticating” miracles before they confer sainthood. Both are processes of disingenuous sanctification.

Let’s starve the editors of their phony pretext. Let’s blacklist “vice-like” foreverafter. Thank you!

This is stressing me out.

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OUR NEW INVITATIONAL CONTEST: Stress Yourself Out by Inducing Anxiety

This week’s contest, suggested by reader Joan Witte, is based on a little gem of 1960s humor, the book How to Make Yourself Miserable, by the late Dan Greenburg (himself a regular winner of the late New York Magazine Competition, the template from which The Invitational was modeled stolen).

Adapted from the original book’s section on dinner parties:
If you’re at someone else’s house, alternate between (a) worrying that they’re wishing you’d leave already and (b) worrying that they’d be terribly hurt if you left so soon.
If you’re the host of the party and the person says he guesses he’d better get going, be sure to (a) worry that he’s actually hoping you’ll ask him to stay, but also (b) worry that he’s trying to get out of your house.

Adapted from the book’s “Exercise in Anxiety”:
You have an important business trip out of town. The night before the morning you have to leave, you drive your car around and around until it has juuust enough gas left to get to the airport. In the morning, leave your house in juuust enough time to catch your plane so long as there are no unexpected delays such as bad traffic or having to stop for gas.

And an example we just now made up: Bring your two-year old to your audience with the Archbishop of Canterbury. To make the lad seem all grown up and precocious, put him in his big-boy pants, which cannot accommodate diapers, on the theory that he can’t possibly have to go dooky twice in three hours.

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For Invitational Week 62: Tell us a funny strategy for increasing your anxiety, like those above. Don’t make it any longer than those unless they’re immensely readable; much shorter entries would be perfectly fine as well. (As in many Invite contests, they might be “signed” by some famous person, fictional character, etc.)

Click here for this week’s entry form, or go to tinyURL.com/inv-form-62. As usual, you may submit up to 25 entries for this week’s contest, preferably all on the same form. Also as usual, please submit each individual entry as one single paragraph; i.e., don’t push Enter until you’re starting the next entry.

Deadline is Saturday, March 16, at 9 p.m. ET. Results will run here in The Gene Pool on Thursday, March 21.

The winner gets a copy of How to Make Yourself Miserable. We actually have two! So you have your choice between a well-used 1966 first-edition hardcover, donated by Richard Franklin (who’s both a 32-time Loser and a commercial airline pilot, so who better to know about miserable people?) or a good-condition 1987 paperback update, called How to Make Yourself Miserable for the Rest of the Century, given us by Joan Witte along with her contest suggestion.

Runners-up get autographed fake money featuring the Czar or Empress, in one of eight nifty designs. Honorable mentions get bupkis, except for a personal email from the E, plus the Fir Stink for First Ink for First Offenders.

Meanwhile, send us questions or suggestions, which we home to deal with in real time. You do this, as always, by sending them to this here button:

Make (Up) My Day: The ‘diary entries’ of Week 60

In Invitational Week 60 we asked you to write up diary entries of famous people throughout history. (There were allowances. Yes, we know that the Chinese emperor didn’t date his journal with “B.C.”) Meanwhile, we’re thrilled to welcome two First Offenders this week into Loserdom — one of them in the top four — breaking a sixteen-week FirStinkless prize drought.

Third runner-up:
Dec. 20, 1898 : We are so close!  I truly believe we are on the precipice of achieving our goal: a watch you can read in the dark. — Marie Curie (Sam Mertens, Silver Spring, Md.) 

Second runner-up:
29 December, 1924: Still need a last line for this novel. I could go with “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past,” though I’m still partial to “That’s all, folks!” — F. Scott F. (Duncan Stevens, Vienna, Va.)   

First runner-up:
April 6, A.D. 33: Must remind J that we need thirty pieces of silver by Friday or they'll repossess the donkey. — Myrtle Iscariot (Ann Fisher, Marquette, Mich., a First Offender)  

And the winner of the jointed wooden hand:
March 30, 1946: After Mrs. Braddock chided me at last night’s party, “Winston, you’re drunk!” I threw up in her lap. Must hire a publicist to spin this into a devastatingly witty anecdote. — Churchill (Frank Osen, Pasadena, Calif.)   

Today’s Gene Pool Gene Poll:

If, after voting, you prefer one of the honorables (below) to any of the above, tell us in the Comments. And tell us if there are any entries you didn’t “get.”

In Diarist Straits: Honorable mentions

Aug. 15, 1962: Can’t help but feel like we’re just missing one critical piece that’s keeping us from making it big. I wonder if the other lads feel the same way. — Pete Best (Malcolm Fleschner, Palo Alto, Calif.)  

December 26, 1776: We successfully took Trenton, though the attack was almost too late! My fault for slowing us down crossing the river—I never should’ve let that guy persuade me to pose for an oil painting en route.—G.W. (Duncan Stevens)  

October 10, 1838: - . ... - .. -. --. --..-- / - . ... - .. -. --. .-.-.- / .. / .... .- ...- . / - .... .-. . . / -. .. .--. .--. .-.. . ... --..-- / .- -. -.. / .. .----. -- / ... - .. .-.. .-.. / .- / ...- .. .-. --. .. -. .-.-.- / .... .- .... .- .-.-.- / -. --- / --- -. . / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / . ...- . .-. / -... . / .- -... .-.. . / - --- / .-. . .- -.. / - .... .. ... .-.-.-   —Samuel F.B. Morse (to read the message, click on this link to a Morse Code translator, then copy the code into it, beginning with that first dash)  (Leif Picoult, Rockville, Md.)  

April 2, Year 1: Baby J took his first steps on water today! — M. (Rob Cohen, Potomac, Md.) 

April 1, 1814: It’s bad enough that the British fake news says I wear lifts and look funny in white boots. Now Josephine compares my imperial truncheon to un petit champignon! — N. Bonaparte (Frank Osen)

220 B.C.: I’m going to build a big, beautiful wall and the Mongols are going to pay for it. — Emperor Qin Shi Huang (Kevin Dopart, Washington, D.C.) 

December 17, 1903: Can’t believe we invented flight! Two high school dropouts! Next project: putting peanuts in little bags—Wilbur Wright (Leif Picoult, Rockville, Md.)  

April 28, 1945:  Oh happy days!  He’s finally putting a ring on it! — Eva Braun (Sam Mertens) 

July 15, 2013: Driving me nuts to be losing the publicity battle to Zuckerberg.  PR flacks say we need a plan to get my name in the paper every day. — J. Bezos (Steve Smith, Potomac, Md.) 

January 14, 2009, LaGuardia Airport Marriott: Arrived to clear skies this evening and saw a flock of several hundred Canada geese. Beautiful. Should be good weather to fly to Charlotte tomorrow. — Sully (Kenneth Enright, Setúbal, Portugal, a First Offender) 

Sept. 13, 1996: Big audition today for the movie remake. Director said I’m perfect for the part, but studio wants Jeremy Irons to play Humbert. — Woody (Steve Smith)  

1026 B.C.: The Amazons won’t deliver my new helmet until next week because I didn’t pay for fortnight shipping. It won’t matter, whoever the Israelites send out won’t get close enough to touch a hair on my head. — Goliath (Jeff Hazle, San Antonio) 

1-11-67: Recording session was far out, but the uptight suits were a downer. Apparently Middle America isn’t ready to hear a man sing “ ’Scuse me while I kiss this guy.” — Jimi  (Steve Smith) 

2/25/1922: Took a long trip into the forest today in the sleigh. Whose woods they were I did not know. I wrote my name there in his snow. —  Robert Frost  (Roy Ashley, Washington, D.C.)   

2-27-2024: So busy today! Asked Tyler to grab a few things on his way home. — L. Boebert  (Steve Smith) 

Long Ago: I always knew my husband was handy with his tools, but wow, Noah’s been really banging out that boat!  Shouldn’t surprise me, though — after all, 600 is the new 450! (Judy Freed, Deerfield Beach, Fla.)  

March 19, 1942: I need to cap my speech with a zinger.  “I’ll be back” sounds too Austrian. — Gen. Douglas MacArthur (Sam Mertens)  

5/14/1987: Doctor tomorrow, gotta pee in a jar. Also behind on my next commission, so I may be multitasking….  — Andres Serrano (Mark Raffman, Reston, Va.) 

April 4, 1590: That Sam-I-Am! That Sam-I-Am! I do not like….  Argh. It’s no good. I need to write something a tad weightier. — William Shakespeare (Leif Picoult)  

August 20, 1889: Went for a walk with little Adolf. Such a sweet baby! But once again, such a strange incident:  An oddly dressed man pulled something from his pocket, but an identical twin appeared and wrestled him to the ground, shouting, “No, it creates a paradox!” Then they both disappeared. I don’t understand why this keeps happening. —  Klara Hitler (Tim Livengood, Columbia, Md.)   

Feb 21, 1582: My wretched brother’s family has announced his intentions to visit this fall from October 5 to October 14. There has to be a way to keep this from happening.  — Pope Gregory XIII (Sam Mertens) 

From the recovered log of Captain Billy Tyne of the Andrea Gail, Oct. 28, 1991: 44N, 56.4W. Possibly my last entry. Weather has worsened badly. Seas at 30 ft. Wind gusts to 80 kn. I wish there were a term I could use to describe such a perfect storm. (Jeff Contompasis, Ashburn, Va.)   

July 17, 1969: Those two overgrown brats keep whining about who has the middle seat and who gets the window. I swear I’m going to turn this thing around if it gets any worse. — Michael Collins (Diana Oertel, San Francisco) 

July 20, 1969: Today’s film shoot with the guys in spacesuits wasn’t perfect but it’ll do. Armstrong flubbed his big line a little; not too noticeable, though. — Hollywood set designer (Lee Graham, Reston, Va.)  

June 5, 1770: Won my 15th consecutive poker tournament tonight! Surely the name Sandwich will forever be synonymous with “champion.” (Scott Ableman, McLean, Va.) 

June 1, 1987: Wrote a new single, but it’s not my best work. Maybe I should just record over it? Should probably just give it up. — R. Astley (Duncan Stevens)  

June 10, 1994: I was juking my way through Bloomingdale’s today when I spotted a nice pair of brown Aris Isotoner gloves. They just barely fit, but they’ll do. — Orenthal (Jeff Hazle)    

June 26, 1997: My trainer says I should fight hungry.  I think I’ll try that against Holyfield. —  Mike Tyson (Sam Mertens) 

November 29, 2004:  Day 52:  Today, I shared my favorite recipe for toilet wine with the girls in Cellblock D.  Note to self: Destroy this diary. — Martha Stewart (Lee Graham) 

May 17, 1935, April 10, 1942, April 2, 1949, November 5, 1962, March 9, 1966, January 21, 1975, August 27, 1976, April 13, 1983, August 14, 1986:  Dear diary: Today I married the most wonderful man in the world. Our love will endure forever!  Zsa Zsa Gabor (Jonathan Jensen, Baltimore) 

May 22, 1927:  The crowd in Paris took some “souvenirs” from my airplane, including a full beer bottle. I can only hope that they didn’t know what was actually in that bottle after a 33-hour flight, and took a healthy swig. — C. Lindbergh (Pam Shermeyer, Lathrup Village, Mich.) 

November 18, 1863: I was reading tomorrow’s speech to Mary and she thought starting with “87” sounded “too common.”  Her edit seems way too pretentious to me, but if I don’t use it, I’ll never hear the end of it. (Jon Gearhart, Des Moines)   

2 November, 1914: Cousin Grete told me about a pleasant dream of being transformed into a  cuddly bunny and thought it would make a sweet story. I promised I’d consider it. —  F. Kafka (Frank Osen) 

October 12, 1960:  I was finally able to bang that loose shoe nail into place during the U.N. meeting today.  Sheesh, that was really bothering me for a while. — Nikita  (Duncan Stevens) 

October 2, Long Ago: I think we’ve got all the animals on the boat, including Terry and Pat the unicorns.  I hope Shem and Ham remembered to do all the gender checks.—N. (Duncan Stevens) 

October 7, 1871: Had an amusing time in the barn today.  I discovered that Bessie has a ticklish spot, and if you touch it she kicks like the dickens! — Catherine O’Leary (Sam Mertens) 

September 10, 1465: I gotta raise my game. The Turks aren’t at all intimidated by “Vlad the Wedgie-Giver.” I’ll think of something. — Vlad Tepes (Duncan Stevens) 

September 30, 1935: Finally finished my novel. My editor thinks it still needs some tweaks, but fiddle-de-dee, what does he know — readers are gonna love Chartreuse O’Hara!—M. Mitchell  (Duncan Stevens) 

Thor Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Trial Journal, April 2, 1947, Callao, Peru: Outboard motor now repainted — blends perfectly with raft under the banana-leaf canopy.  (Stu Segal, Southeast U.S.) 

And Last:  Sept 24, 2006: It might be fun to enter this Style Invitational thing in the paper. What the heck—it’s not like it’s going to take much of my time.  —Me (58-time Loser Terri Berg Smith, Rockville, Md.)

The headline “Make (Up) My Day” is by Stu Segal; Tom Witte wrote the honorable-mentions subhead.

Still running — deadline 9 p.m. ET Saturday, March 9: Our Week 61 photo caption contest. Click on the link below.

The Invitational Week 61: Captions Courageous

Here comes the real-time segment. If you are reading this in real time, please keep refreshing your screen so you can see your observations and Gene’s responses. Many of the observations are related to our prior calls for oddball dieting regimens you have tried, or sexual betrayal, or connubial privacy.

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Oh, wait.   This is Gene.   First, you have to watch this short video of Donald Trump at a very recent public appearance. Sound up, please. Trump’s sniffling snortle, a familiar sound to all us former degenerate stoners, has now reached spectacular, epic proportions.  Also, he makes no sense and cannot complete sentences or intelligibly navigate trains of thought, but you knew that.  

Okay, now your questions and observations.

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Q: Your polls, and the discussions that followed, raised a legitimate question that is seldom asked, possibly for sensible reasons. Regarding marriages, are legal and societal strictures requiring promises of permanency, and punishing transgressions, outmoded? About half of all marriages are “failures” that end in divorce. Are they really “failures”? Are we to feel embarrassed by them?

A: Let’s find out!

Please only vote in your category; I will provide running commentary on how BOTH genders are doing in the poll.

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Q: Late 70s in college, a diet was needed as I had used the previous several months eating my way around France. A semester abroad with fickle friends and moronic teacher/advisors was so stressful I did more than just sample the local fare, I Hoovered it. The ubiquity of patisseries in almost any city or town made it possible to hit at least two on every foray to school or errand. Plus wine. 

By the time I got on the plane home, I'd porked up 20 pounds. My father didn't recognize me at the airport. Back at the university, a new roommate told me about the Spinach & Egg Diet. That is the entire diet, any spinach, any eggs. No bread, no alcohol, no butter, limited olive oil, no fruit - you get the idea. I liked both well enough, was two weeks so hard? 

The first three days, no problem. Carried hard boiled with me to class, made plenty of scrambled and over-easy [PAM spray only] at home. Spinach is less versatile, a "salad" with oil and salt, or cooked. By day four, I wasn't too sure this was wise but damn if I wasn't losing weight already. The scale consoled me and I kept on. Everything was turning a slight green by week two, if you understand me.  Day Twelve I could barely bring any spinach to my mouth. I recall staring at some in the bottom of a big cup and wanting to cry big, green tears.  I might as well been Ivan Denisovich with an eyeball.  But my jeans were baggy! My belts were two holes tighter. It worked. I hung on through Day Fourteen. — Lynne Larkin

A:  You see the eyeball scene here, at around 2.18 to 2:30. Hope you’re not having lunch.

TIMELY TIP: If you’re reading this on an email: Go back to the top of this post and click on "View in browser" to see the full column live and online, and to read and make comments.  If you are doing it in real time, keep refreshing the screen to see the new questions and answers that appear as Gene regularly updates the post.

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Also, we are now required by federal statute to urge you to upgrade your subscription to “paid.” I’m not at liberty to discuss details, but we can say that the IRS is behind it. We wouldn’t be too worried if we were you.

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This is Gene.   In the last chat, I published a post from someone wondering why “I caught my wife cheating” has vastly more Googlehits than “I caught my husband cheating.”  The reader wondered why, since women cheat far less often than men.   I wondered, too, and threw the question open to the masses.  To me, it was a puzzlement!

It shouldn’t have been.  A Commenter named J.T. weighed in with:  

“Could a lot of the "I caught my wife cheating" results come from cuckold porn?” 

Yes, of course! D’Oh.  

The issue was then nailed by April Albertine, who Investigated:

“I Googled these: 

"I caught my wife cheating" and,

“"I caught my wife cheating" minus “porn,” excluding all the hits that have the word “porn” in them. 

First search: 1.6 million hits. 

Second search 86,000 hits. 

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Case closed.

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Q: In re the address “Airport Dr.” as rendered by a robovoice “Airport Doctor”

In preparation for an appointment at a local hospital, I received an email listing things I should bring with me such as a photo ID.

A couple hours later I received a robo-call from the hospital in which a voice synthesizer attempted to read the email, rendering that item as "photo id".

When I arrived for the appointment I told the registration clerk that I do not have a photo id, but I offered to provide a photo superego.

Apparently registration clerks are not trained in Freudian analysis. Nonetheless, I was treated.

A: This reminds me of a conversation I once had with Johnny Hart, the creator of “B.C.” and “The Wizard of Id.”  I have told this before.   I asked Johnny what made him call the kingdom “Id.” – what sort of psychological point was he trying to make?   “Psychological point?”  he asked.   I explained.   He said he had never, in 50 years, heard of the Freudian term.   “I just called it Id so I could call the peasants “Id-iots.”

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Q:  I am a guy with a 34” waist. To slake my appetite, when I sit down for a meal i cinch in my belt to 28”. Is that wrong?  – Dennis

A: No.  It is brilliant, maybe!  I have proposed more ridiculous things:  Eating all meals naked in front of a mirror.   Or using a mirror to inspect all food after you have chewed it but before you swallow. 

Please note, I AM in receipt of a communique from a smart and thoughtful reader who has advised me that it is harmful to be airing these whacko dietary ideas, because people are really emotionally anxious about weight.  I get that, but, y’know, neurosis about food is perforce food for humor. 

Q: I once tried the cabbage soup diet. Sure, I lost weight. But I also lost friends. 

A: A remarkable number of people have mentioned something similar.  For example:

Q: Way back when, my sister and her friends in the dorm read about a surefire diet. Each day, the dieter was to eat the same thing for breakfast, lunch, and dinner: a boiled egg, a banana, and a plain boiled hotdog. I don’t know if any of them lost weight, because after three days, they were farting so noxiously that they all had to quit. I think it was years before my sister could eat a hotdog again.

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This is Gene.   Two more Barney and Clydes have been published based on jokes from Losers.  The attributions are in the gutters, as always.   This, by Dopart/Steinbrocker, and the second by Richard Franklin. 

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This is also Gene. Pat and I are curious. Instapoll:

Q: We were young and foolish. We were teenagers. We had an event in a few months. I don’t remember what it was now but we were a group of neighborhood girls, inseparable most days. We all decided we needed to lose weight for the event. The diet we chose was the Ice Cream Diet, so instead of eating 3 meals a day  for a month we had ice cream—for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and any snacks in between. It started out great! We inveigled our parents to get our favorite flavors. Rocky Road, Cherry Garcia, Rum Raisin—we got them all. We weighed in every week. The first week we all lost between 3-5 pounds each. We were so excited! The second week, maybe a pound each. By then, we started to hate ice cream. By the end of our fourth week, at least one of us vomited at the sight of ice cream and she was the only one who had maintained the weight she lost that first week. We were devastated! It would take years for me to look at ice cream as a treat. Even now, the thought of all that ice cream set my salivary glands working and not in a good way. —Caro

A: PSA – It will not surprise you to learn, this is not a good diet.  https://www.healthline.com/health/diet-weight-loss/ice-cream-diet-weight-loss#risk-factors

I think the need for variation in food is innate, and not innately human.   Lexi will enjoy a particular dog food immensely, but if we give it to her more than three or four days in a row, she turns her nose up at it.  It’ll be fine again in two weeks.   

Q: I lost 70 pounds in 12 weeks during my sophomore year in college. All it took was a broken heart. Briefly, I had a huge crush on a woman who was out of my league. My best friend at the time, to whom I'd confessed all, made a move on her anyway -- successfully, more or less. When I found out about the betrayal, I lost my appetite for the remainder of the semester. My doctor was alarmed and suspicious when I next saw him, suggesting that it was impossible for me to have effected such a precipitous change in my avoirdupois without drug abuse. I do not recommend this method of weight management to anyone else, but you might as well take advantage of it if you have shitty friends.

A:  Here’s another not recommended weight management strategy: frostbite, followed by amputation.

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Q: I'm middle aged and have been a skinny guy all my life. A few times I've made a concerted effort to gain weight; after a few years of regular heavy weight lifting and pushing myself to eat more than I want to, I gained maybe 10 pounds. On the other hand, to lose any unwanted weight, I'd just skip the second dessert and in a few weeks I'd lose a couple of pounds. Until this year. In the past few months, I've actually had to eat a tiny bit less than I wanted and had fruit for dessert instead of cake. (And yes, I know how lucky I still am.) It reminded me of something, and I just figured out what: The scene in Superman II when he gives up his super powers to be with Lois, and is shocked when he is injured, now that he's just like a normal human. 

A: Okay, first, fuck you.   (I once had a middle-aged doctor shaped like Dagwood Bumstead, and hated him for it, too.) And second, explain the Superman comparison.  I don’t get it.

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Q: Avuncular. Is there an equivalent word meaning like an auntie?

A: Whoa. I can’t think of one. Can anyone think of one? Can anyone make one up? Bavierish, like Aunt Bee from Andy Griffith show, played by Frances Bavier?

You can do better. And Timelier. I don’t think Lydianish works, though.

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Q: At college, breakfast was free and we had a voucher for lunch or dinner each day.  I would sell a few for beer money and get really hungry at the end of the semester!  We got cooking oil from someone, bought potatoes, smuggled bread rolls out of breakfast, and made fried potato sandwiches.  I do not think any 3 star Michelin restaurant will come near the satisfaction we got from those!

A:If you had fried potatoes, why the hell would you put it in a … sandwich?

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This is Gene:  The votes are trickling in on the question of marriage vows – there was some disturbance in the Force, and some of the early votes were lost – but so far, based on limited data – MEN AND NOT WOMEN show a preference for keeping the “till death do us part” part.  

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Q: Gene, your diet: "Only egg whites, no bread or pasta, no fatty meat, no tasty, oily fish like salmon or even raw hamachi, no parts of a chicken except breast meat trimmed to be wanly fatless. No fruit...." Gene, you just described the opposite of my breakfast, ha. Salmon on a baguette. Sunny-side-up egg. Also had chicken and pasta earlier in the week.

A: Sigh.

And I only lost the four target pounds.   In the end, I cheated a little.  You can’t do that.   Rachel didn’t cheat — she actually was using it strategically, to be more svelte for an acting role — and lost ten.

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Q: "It’s about in what position to put your infant to sleep." No. No. NO NO NO. For god's sake, no. Like, do-you-want-dead-babies-on-your-conscience no. Putting babies to sleep on their backs reduces the tiny but real risk of SIDS. This has been the position of the American Academy of Pediatrics since 1996. It is true that from 1992-1996 they recommended putting babies to sleep on their back OR side, but they revised that 28 years ago. 

A: Yes, yes.  1996.  I was not advocating other positions.  But what I was talking about was historical.  I remember, specifically, being told in 1981 and 1984, when I had newborns, to store them on their bellies.  That was the cutting edge of science.  Before that, the cutting edge was “on their side, like adults spooning.”   It was sort of a compromise scientific position. 

From another Gene Pool post, from physician:  (I think there was a trend decades ago to put babies on their tummies because it results in less issues with their heads getting flat… but “baby alive” seems highly preferable to “nice round head”)  

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Q: Since someone brought up the Scarsdale Diet and Herman Tarnower, and we're talking about cheating, here's a little story about that. I taught at a private all boys boarding school that used to sponsor dances with the all girls Madera school. I was brand new and right out of college and wasn't aware that most faculty at my school knew Jean Harris. I was at a cocktail party, hosted by a student's mother who had written a diet and exercise book,  and met Tarnower, who was NOT with Jean Harris.  Not long after was the murder. Talk among the faculty at my school was that it was no surprise as most of them knew he was cheating on her.

Tom Logan - Sterling, VA  

A: Well, that’s interesting.   Surely nobody predicted violence, though.  I mean, look at her.  The quintessential schoolmarmish schoolmistress.  

The Tarnower - Harris case links two of our subjects of the day, when applied to my own life.   After Tarnower’s death, the New York Post did a very New York Postish article – on its front page – playing off the autopsy report.  It was a UPI story. The wire service had consulted ideal weight tables – this was before BMI – and concluded that at 5 foot ten and 175 pounds, Tarnower, the diet doc, had been “10 to 15 pounds overweight.” Scandal! 

As it happens, at the time – fairly newly married and into a regularly fed, sedentary lifestyle – I was five foot ten, 175 pounds.   Auugh.   I never thought of myself as lean and handsome again.

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Q: I already know where this is going based on personal experience. I have never discussed my sexual relations with my wife with anyone, ever. However, I know for a fact that my wife has done so - I have heard about it! Men are MUCH more reluctant to discuss this than women - probably because men want other men to think their wives are perfect while women are happy to discuss how horrible their husbands are. 

A: I think you give men too much credit here.  They don’t want their wives to seem “perfect”, they want their wives to seem satisfied with their manhood and seeking nothing else. They will not discuss disconsolateness.   They MIGHT discuss exciting and arousing things, but I have never known a man who is willing to breach that trust.  I have never had any intimate idea about the sex life of any male OR female friend. 

Q: Regarding your take on telling on cheaters, there has to be at least a little irony in a career reporter advocating for not reporting information.

A: It’s not “reporting,” it’s tattling and titillating.   You’d be surprised how often a reporter is reporting, and the decision is made to withhold the story because it is really not the business of the newspaper to reveal it.

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Q:  Okay, the title of the song “25 or 6 to 4.”   What DOES it mean?  

A: It means it is either 25 or 26 minutes to four o’clock.   It was the time of day (in the a.m.!) when the song was recorded, and the words were uttered by a band member, innocently, in reply the the question: What time is it?  Another band member was intrigued by the meter of the line, and how opaque it seemed. This amused the band, Chicago.

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This is Gene. I am declaring us down. Please keep sending in questions and observations to this here button. I will respond to them thoughtfully and/or dismissively, on Tuesday.

And finally, that little matter between you and the IRS: