Our discussion of men's ties brought us this bit of whimsy, penned in 1982 by Frances P. Billeaud and called "The Ties That Bind":
"The western male a problem’s got
And that is mastering the necktie’s knot:
The four-in-hand, the string, the bow,
Each one of them he’s got to know.
Just why with them has he been afflicted?
Or of what dire crime has he been convicted?
That he’s condemned for life to grapple
With that cloth encircling his Adam’s apple?
Some, I know, identify his school or group,
But most just get splashed with gravy or soup.
Yet none will keep his body warm,
Nor add one whit to his manly form.
But custom demands the thing he wear,
Tho’ we’ll all agree it isn’t fair,
And convicted criminals, it’s my belief
Are simply thrilled to find relief:
Not one of them would ever defy
An order to surrender valuables and tie.
And when the prison uniform he’s required to don,
He’ll find that there is no tie to be put on.
And that’s the reason — it’s not to be doubted —
That all our prisons are over-crowded!"
Tigers and Wolves, oh my!
Irving D. Goldstein, of New Orleans, who was in the Loyola University Music School from 1938-42, recalls when the school had a football team and played LSU a few times.
The Wolf Pack even beat the Tigers 7-0 in 1922.
But LSU won in New Orleans 13-0 in 1925, then took three games in Baton Rouge by scores of 52-6, 47-6 and 20-0 in 1937, 1938 and 1939 respectively.
Irving, 97, says he might be the only person who remembers the Loyola football cheer: "Oh ou ah, oh ou ah, Loyola Wolves eat 'em up!"
Living with danger
Olive M. Campbell, of Baton Rouge, describes what must be the most dangerous household appliance ever invented:
"When my mother upgraded from a wood stove to one that burned kerosene, there was no way to heat the flat irons for ironing our clothes.
"We got an iron with a small tank on the back. It was filled with 'white gas,' pumped up and lighted with a match.
"I was deathly afraid of that iron. I thought it would blow up in my face."
Perry Snyder, on his annual trip to Wisconsin, reports that the finest lutefisk in that state can be found at Ole & Lena's restaurant.
Lutefisk, popular in Scandinavia, is dried whitefish (cod, pollock, haddock) treated with lye to a gelatinous consistency, then soaked for days to remove the caustic lye and make it more or less fit for human consumption.
And no, I don't know how it tastes. …
Feed the hungry
Nobey Benoit comments on a recent trend we've seen more of lately:
"Although the act of picking up the tab for someone in restaurants, often mentioned in your column, is a charitable and feel good thing to do, wouldn't it make more sense to make a contribution to some soup kitchen or meals-on-wheels type organization, who feeds someone who can't afford to eat out in the first place? Just thinking."
Nice idea, Nobey, but it seems to me that someone who picks up the restaurant tab for strangers is also the kind of person who would indeed be contributing to such worthy causes as food banks, etc.
A TGIF moment
Marsha R. says she was coming around from sedation during a medical exam when she was asked "if I knew what day it was:
"I tried to visualize my calendar and answered 'Thursday.'
"The nurse made it clear that if I were working, I would damn well know it was Friday."
Groaner of the week
Pat Cougevan is to blame for this one:
"Boudreaux and Thibodeaux were driving their rental car back to the airport for their return flight from a California vacation when Thibodeaux ran over an armadillo.
"Not wanting to waste a good 'dillo, the boys took it with them.
"At the airport, the ticket agent noticed Boudreaux standing in line holding the dead armadillo by the tail.
"'Hey,' said the agent, 'you wanna check that thing in?'
"'Mais no, cher,' says Boudreaux. 'C'est carrion!'"