Irishman thoroughly in strong disinfectant. Place in cold oven with whiskey and allow to marinate. Remove bottles and set oven to 325 degrees. Place vegetables into a large pot of boiling water and simmer for thirty minutes. When a fork leaves clean holes in Irishman, remove from oven and chop–and don’t ye be talked out of it! Add Irishman to vegetable stock and simmer ‘til the cows come home, or about two hours. Serve on paper plates and garnish with a pinch of damp peat moss.
Baked Alaskan
1 yellow cake mix
1 quart vanilla ice cream
3 cups fresh fruit
1 fresh-frozen Alaskan
Thaw Alaskan for forty-five minutes in the ’fridge. Clean, bone, and skin. Track and shoot a wolf from a helicopter and make oven mitts from its hide. Bake yellow cake in a greased sheet pan according to package directions. When cool, cut in four inch squares. Place thawed Alaskan in blender and set on “chop” function for six minutes. Top each cake square with Alaskan, ice cream, and fresh fruit. Warm in 225 degree oven, about four minutes.
Scotch Broth
pot of boiling water
1 Scotsman
Prepare one large haggis according to the recipe on p. 76 and then discard. Render Scotsman down in boiling water. Skin off fat and reserve. Save bones for soup. Ladle into dishes and serve piping hot with croutons and warm ale.
German Chocolate Cake
2 tsp. vanilla
1/4 lb. melted butter
1/2 cup sugar
4 eggs
4 cups flour, sifted
2 cups chocolate, semi-sweet
1 German, medium size
Trick German into taking his clothes off by telling him it’s time for a shower. Salute German and pin a medal on his chest, if desired. Place in food processor and puree, about six minutes. While humming “Ode to Joy,” slowly pour German puree over flour, sugar, eggs, butter. Melt chocolate with a flame-thrower. Fold into mixture. Grease two nine-inch round cake pans with an Italian’s head. Pour batter into pans–don’t spill!–and bake at 400 degrees for one and a third hours exactly. Remove. Allow to cool thoroughly before icing.
French Fries
cooking oil
16 ounces dry Chablis
salt and pepper
4 good-sized Frenchmen
With great finesse, heat oil to 400 degrees. Untie, clean, and slice Frenchmen into one-inch strips. Float slices in a dry Chablis for twelve minutes. Season to taste and place strips in oil, retreating from the spatter, as needed. When they float, they’re done! Drain on absorbent paper and serve on either side of the plate, as a side dish, or by themselves on celery.
Noodles Romanov
2 pounds fresh egg noodles
1 cup diced onions
2 cups sliced mushrooms
a member of the Romanov family
Prepare noodles according to package directions. Sauté onions and mushrooms in butter. Dance around the kitchen with the Romanov and get him or her staggering drunk. Pound with a wooden mallet until tender. Sear in a large frying pan and slice when brown. Add three tablespoons cooking sherry to sautéed onion and mushrooms. Add slices of Romanov. Simmer mixture twenty minutes, stirring occasionally. Drink half a bottle of cooking sherry, then pour Romanov and sauce over well-drained noodles. Serve by candlelight with balalaika accompaniment.
Boola, Boola!
I have just now stopped laughing at the news that episodes of “I Love Lucy” have been inadvertently reaching what exobiologists think are extraterrestrial intelligences in our neighboring star systems. Yet another news report says our star neighbors are going to be treated to a very deliberate and expensive broadcast of the Yale school song, “Boola, Boola.” The scientists behind the project think the song is friendly sounding and harmless.
It is.
But while we are about the business of broadcasting friendly earth sayings, I think we should consider these: Yabba-dabba-doo, Yippy-yi-yo-kiyay, Hootenanny, Yankee Doodle went to town, and so on.
I think it’s a little late to try to think up anything profound to say to our star neighbors, if they are, in fact, listening. Because if they are listening, they already know all about us. Nothing we can say now can ever recover Lucy’s “Ethel, do I have a plan!”
I’m sure Lucy, as our first interstellar ambassador, has explained everything to them, and yet has told them very little about us.
Certainly, they would now rather fly their light ships into the Gravity Cauldrons of Amber Arcturus Nine than land on our little world and announce their arrival like Michael Rennie in the original The Day Earth Stood Still. (They shot him, remember?) Without a doubt, on their star charts, three dots out from Sol, is a little red flag on a pin. To any inquisitive traveler of this part of the galaxy, the flag says “Beware: Earth.”
And that explains it all, and explains nothing.
I have a suspicion there’s a maxim in use out in the big blue universe that has been recognized everywhere, like American Express.
The maxim is: “Speak, for heaven’s sake, when you’re spoken to.”
Most three-year-old children on earth learn this advice as a matter of casual etiquette, but somehow retain only a very vague sense of the precept.
In the same way, Earth is one of the little children of the universe; we babble and squawk and pump out megawatts of disorganized radiation molded to the shape of our minds, interstellar maxims be damned.
We are somewhat egotistical in thinking that every capable intelligence out there is beating a path to our little mote. Even the Thumb People of Orb Cycle 49 think of Earth as some sort of practical joke invented by their radio astronomers. If intelligences have been receiving early television signals for years, they have better sense than to blunder into our missile sights.
There used to be a wonderfully effective TV commercial (perhaps our star neighbors have seen it) of a crowd of people in a stadium, watching a tennis match. One man mentioned that his broker is E.F. Hutton, and E.F. Hutton says— and of course the entire paid attendance and the players turned to listen. Wouldn’t it be nice if all the universe were like that crowd, and good old Earth like the unwitting fellow in the midst of it, ready to say something of cosmic import?
Imagine the surprise of our star-friends, if they were so whimsical as to train their ears to Earth and hear the last, frustrated strains of “Boola, Boola!” when all we meant to say was “Hello, how are you?”
Your Astrological Forecast
Virgo
August 24 to September 23
Impose your values on an ambivalent person. Taurus individual will not see things your way; go to lengths to convince this person. You are a dominant personality. Influence small children to become bilingual. Do not take no for an answer. You are immortal.
Libra
September 24 to October 23
Evaluate your options. All is not lost. Do not throw stones at glass houses; get off the fence; take a few risks. Take life easy; speed things up. Knock off early; stay late. Eat out; eat in. Use butter; use margarine. Sit down; stand up. Go to sleep; wake up. Make friends; get lost.
Scorpio
October 24 to November 22
You will have an accident. Learn to talk without using your hands. Don’t be tempted to strike out on your own. Success is transitory.