From "The Straight Dope" Column

Cecil Adams answers my questions:

Dear Cecil:

Recently I purchased a 1957 Information Please Almanac just to see if I had missed anything of importance. And indeed I had! Its table of "Grounds for Divorce" shows a mystery category of "Indignities," which I had never heard of. What are these "Indignities"? They cannot be "Crimes Against Nature," for footnote number five reveals that this is grounds only in Alabama, Virginia, North Carolina, and Arizona. Hurry, Cecil--I would hate to inflict indignities on my wife out of negligence or ignorance. --R.M. Schultz, Chicago

PS: What exactly is the "Loathsome Disease" that is grounds for divorce in Kentucky? If it's hay fever I'm in trouble.

Silly boy. Prior to the introduction of no-fault divorce in the 1970s, "indignities" was the catchall term for whatever bugged you about the old battle-ax (or inconsiderate pig) your adoring spouse had turned out to be, and as such was the most common grounds for a split. Sample indignities, lifted from a Pennsylvania lawyer's Web site: "vulgarity; unmerited reproach; habitual laziness; studied neglect; intentional incivility; manifest disdain; abusive language; [and] malignant ridicule"--any of which can supposedly "render [the injured party's] condition intolerable and his or her life burdensome." Loathsome disease, a traditional grounds for divorce in many cultures, is commonly understood to mean something like leprosy--not your typical marital problem these days. Manifest disdain, on the other hand . . . if I were you, I'd be careful about leaving that toilet seat up.

--CECIL ADAMS

I guess that's pretty obvious ...

I get home and, right after I close the front door, Bean-Girl runs up to me stark naked and gives me a big hug.

So I ask, "Why are you naked?"

"Because I haven't got any clothes on!"

Car Stuffed With Trash

This car was parked on LaSalle Street in front of Sandburg Village. Only the actual driver's seat was not stuffed to the ceiling with garbage, mostly newspapers, Dunkin Doughnuts coffee cups, and Pepperidge Farm cookie wrappers.

Bean-Girl at War Protest

An Unsolicited Offer

Letter to Mr. Eugene Sunshine, Senior Vice President for Business and Finance, Northwestern University, Evanston, IL:

Dear Mr. Sunshine:

Recently, my son and I took a tour of the Charles Gates Dawes Mansion where the Evanston Historical Society is now housed. During the course of this tour, the docent mentioned that General Dawes had left the mansion as a bequest to Northwestern University, and that the Historical Society leases the premises from the university for an annual rent of one dollar.

Well, on the way home, my son made mention of how nice it might be to live in the former Dawes Mansion and suggested that we should offer the university a higher rent. While the sum of $1— might have reflected the market conditions of 1956, when the university took possession of the properties, let me assure you that conditions have changed. They have, in fact, changed so radically that I am prepared to offer the university twice this amount annually to lease the house! That’s right: $2— cash American! Think of what a wind-fall it would be if Northwestern could double its return on this investment! While I am not intimately familiar with the economics of running a major institution of higher learning, I should think that doubling your return might just prove sufficient to endow a professorship!

I know that this offer might sound too good to be true, but I am willing to sign a lease immediately! Given the tremendous financial pressures upon private institutions today, I am more than certain your board of regents will snatch up this offer post haste, so I have enclosed a check covering both the first month’s rent and a month’s rent as security deposit (i.e. 2/12ths of $200, or 33 1/3¢, rounded up to the nearest whole cent).

I look forward to hearing from you. Please let us know in your letter of reply how soon we can move in.

Yours For A Better World, R.M. Schultz

P.S. Rest assured that we are clean living, church going folks that have no pets and can supply the most reputable of character references.

Haloween 2001

Glinda and Dracula

Spreading Christmas Cheer

Wife-mate and I were downtown and deiced to have lunch at Marshal Field’s cafeteria. So we headed for an elevator up. In the elevator already were two middle-aged white women and a very tall black woman. I could tell immediately that the older women were there for their annual trip to have lunch in the Walnut Room right next to the justifiably famous three-story Christmas tree. Their mothers had probably taken them on just such a trip back in the 1950’s and now, even though they lived someplace like Schaumburg, they would drive downtown (despite the risk!), park as near to Field’s as possible (just to be safe!), and have their lunch, careful to leave the city before sundown. The black woman, on the other hand, was a transvestite. I suspected from the height, checked and saw the man sized shoes and the recent shave.



The transvestite got off on four and, as we began to ride up to seven, I commented:

Dutchman: Hey, he almost passed, didn’t he?

First Lady: Pardon?

Dutchman: Oh, that was no lady, that was a man. You can tell from the big shoes and close shave.

First Lady: Really?

Second Lady: Oh, I just don’t know why a person would do a thing like that.

Dutchman: Yeah, I don’t know either. I mean — unless you were going to dress up as a nurse.

First Lady: A nurse?

Dutchman: Yeah! Then you would have that white dress, and those white stockings with the lines down the back, and the white shoes that go squeak-squeak-squeak as you walk down the hallway, and the white starched linen hat ...

Wife-Mate (interrupting): You’re not giving me an enema!

Dutchman (stomping his foot): Damn!

So the elevator got to seven and we stepped out and headed for the cafeteria. I looked back and didn’t see the two ladies leave the elevator even though this was their floor. I’ll bet the went right back down and headed home to Schaumburg.