Mystery #134 – True Love

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #134 – True Love

Once upon a time, there was a man named John and a woman named Lynn. They may have been many things, but those details matter not to our tale. The one thing you must know is that John and Lynn were in love.

Which is why, for Valentine’s Day, Lynn decided to give John something very special. It was a book of famous love poems, Sonnets from the Portuguese, by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. And on the inside cover, this is what she wrote:

Feb 14, 1990

John,
I guess I haven’t been very good at telling and showing you how I love you, so I thought a little help from a classic expert would do the trick. After reading, maybe you’ll understand: “How do I love thee?”

I’ll be counting the ways,
Lynn

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Unfortunately, things turned sour and John sold the book to a used book store, which is how I got it. Yeah, I know, that’s pretty much awesome. Ten points for John.

Mystery #135 – Shaken Baby Syndrome

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #135 – Shaken Baby Syndrome

There are certain things made to be shaken: chocolate milk, James Bond’s martinis, and, in some cases, yo’ laffy taffy. Shaking these things is good, it gives one a sense of satisfaction. “Yes,” you say to yourself, “I shook to the best of my ability.”

Why the hell would you shake a baby? I mean, I know why you shake a baby, because it won’t stop crying and mama is tryin’ to watch her stories, but where is the logic? How many things make LESS noise when shaken? Maracas? Rain sticks? Tambourines? Shaking generally means louder. You want your baby to shut up, you slip it a roofie.

Mystery #136 – Fudge

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #136 – Fudge

Fudge is neat. It’s just a fun word to say. Say it, say it with me. Fudge, hehehe, yeah. I think we should have saved the name fudge for something that gets more play in everyday speech. Like, shoes. Or even better, as what you say in reaction to something that happens a lot. I can’t decide which I like better, fudge when someone sneezes or fudge instead of I love you. I think the sneeze thing, just because I can see it happening in my head and it makes me smile. ACHOO! Fudge! Thank you. Then you’d have people on diets saying they don’t believe in fudge, and so it’s very rude for you to be saying that. They would explain that it is more politically correct to say something like “excuse you” or “lettuce”. There would be a lot of things like that if the world were more like the inside of my head.

Mystery #137 – The Santa Edition

Christmas has come and gone, the season is winding down, and so I thought it appropriate to post some great mysteries that have been on my mind. What, with all the holiday cheer, this cynical sarcastic heart of mine has just been dying to spoil some of the fun. And so, after our little break, it's…

Joey Presents: Great Mysteries of the Universe
Mystery #137 – The Santa Edition

I was dragged by my parents to the movies under the pretense of seeing I Am Legend. Needless to say, I was a bit perplexed when I ended up in the theater for Fred Clause. Now, disclaimer, the movie wasn't as bad as I thought it would be (bad, but not unwatchable. Elizabeth Banks made a significant difference).

In it, there is a scene where (hope I'm not ruining anything for you) Fred has to fill in for his brother delivering presents on Christmas. Willie, the head elf, makes sure to remind him that he MUST eat all the cookies or he'll hurt the children's feelings. In the ensuing montage we see Fred trying to cram cookie after cookie into his mouth.

Now this raises an interesting question. Santa already must be a candy cane away from adult onset diabetes. The last thing he needs is another cookie. But we aren't talking about one cookie here, we're talking millions. The argument goes that, because of Christmas magic, Santa is able to move super fast on Christmas Eve to do his job. I've never heard the one about his magic bottomless stomach though. Assuming Kris Kringle's guts are just like yours or mine, there's only room for so much cookies and milk. The only logical explanation is that ole Saint Nick is a follower of the old "binge and purge" school of thought. Enough to make me wonder if, in the original poem, he really laid his finger on the side of his nose.

Which proves there are worse things than coal in your stocking.