Top Ten Things Not to Do at the First Publication of an American Novel in 1789

January 21, 2019January 20, 2019 ~ John W. Howell ~ 58 Comments

This post continues the Top Ten Things Not to Do with a historical background. Today is the 230th anniversary of the publication of the first American novel. Its title was “Power of Sympathy,” and it was written by William Hill Brown. If you were there when this event happened, there are some things you should not have done. In case you have a time machine and plan to go here is a list of the Top Ten Things Not to Do to keep you out of trouble.

10 If you are there when published, do not complain about the nine shilling price. If you do, at best you’ll come off like a cheap skate. At worst, the publisher will take your name and vow never to publish anything you write. (I guess you can take this guy off your query list, Gael. Of course, you never got a response to the ten you did send already.)

9 If you are there when published, do not try to take more than one bookmark being handed out by Tiny the WWF champ. If you do, at best Tiny will merely take the extra back, At worst, Tiny, who has just been expelled from empathy school, will assume you are challenging his authority, (Looks like it is time to head for the door, Gino)

8 If you are there when published, do not wear your I love New York t-shirt. If you do, at best no one will notice. At worst, since the book was published in Boston, you might have to deal with rabid Bostonians who hate New York for whatever reason. (Don’t try to write it off as loyal Red Sox fans, Griffith. Baseball is still not played. The first game was in 1846 fifty-seven years from now.)

7 If you were there when published, do not write a review before you have read the book. If you do, at best no one will read it. At worst, the author will have his second call upon you. (The subject at hand is a duel, Gabian. I hope you know your way around flintlock dueling pistols.)

6 If you were there when published, do not ask when the Kindle edition will be available. If you do, at best you’ll get puzzled looks. At worst, once you explain the Kindle, you’ll be spending some quality time in the stocks. (They don’t exactly believe in witches, Gadhi, but you are as close to one as they can imagine. Look forward to some moments of panic in the dunking chair. I would just tell them you are a witch.)

5 If you are there when published, do not say to the author that you are thinking of writing a book as well. If you do, at best he’ll just laugh. At worst, you’ll experience the weightlessness that comes from falling through a trap door leading to the swamp. ( Now you know why the author stood in that one location with his arm resting on a lever, Gaelan. Authors hate it when folks think writing a book is so damn easy.)

4 If you are there when published, do not ask for an author autograph on anything but the book. If you do, at best he might sign your paper with the name of his carriage driver. At worst, the people behind you who are holding a book will shame you into a purchase. (By shame we are talking about that musket in your face, Gairbhith. These people really love the author)

3 If you are there when published, do not ask the author if he has been thinking of getting a real job. If you do, at best you will be shown the door. At worst, you will have asked the question that the author’s spouse asked over breakfast this morning. (This seems to be a sore spot with the author, Galeun. Time to think of a graceful way to get out fast.)

2 If you are there when published, do not ask the author when his next book is coming out. If you do, at best the author has another book coming out. At worst, the author has a bad case of writer’s block and is near insanity with worry. (Yes he is holding the cleaver that used to be on the sideboard, Galton. Yes, he has a fiery look in his eye. Yes, he is coming for you.)

1 If you are there when published, do not suggest a plot that you believe the writer will want to write. If you do, at best you will get a kind smile. At worst, the author, having heard ten other plot ideas already today, will walk away. (I wouldn’t call it rude, Galyn. I would call it your life-saving technique.)

Top Ten Things Not to Do at the First New Year’s Eve Celebration Held in Times Square (then Longacre Square), in New York City – 1904

December 31, 2018December 30, 2018 ~ John W. Howell ~ 59 Comments

New Year's eve 1904

This post continues the Top Ten Things Not to Do with a historical background. Since today is the one hundred fourteenth anniversary of the first New Years Eve celebration in Times Square, I thought the following list would be handy if you somehow get to go there.

10 If you are at the first Times Square New Year’s Eve celebration, do not ask about the dropping ball. If you do, at best you’ll get some strange looks since the first ball drop wasn’t until 1907. At worst, those you ask will assume you need help and will turn you over to the police. (How does it feel to spend New Year’s Eve in the mental ward, Godwine? Stop talking about a ball and you may get out in a few years.)

9 If you are at the first Times Square New Year’s Eve celebration, do not kiss the woman standing next to Tiny the WWF champ at midnight. If you do, at best she is alone. At worst, she is on a first date with Tiny who has just left his first group session on overcoming jealousy. (Had it been the tenth session you might have had a chance, Gofried. As it is that beet red expression on Tiny’s face will soon manifest into a pin wheel body slam and it won’t be the woman who hits the concrete.)

8 If you are at the first Times Square New Year’s Eve celebration, do not try to set a personal record for consumption of alcohol. If you do, at best your evening will close early. At worst, New Year ’s Day will represent your personal purgatory just begging for relief. (Finding yourself in a strange time also adds to the confusion, Goodwyn. You should quit asking people to call 9-1-1 for you.)

7 If you are at the first Times Square New Year’s Eve celebration, do not think your good will to mankind feeling left over from the holidays should be demonstrated by public displays of affection for everyone. If you do, at best most will try to ignore your advances. At worst, you will have violated one or more of the Victorian standards of the day. ( Don’t worry, Gorsedd, the term “sex fiend” won’t follow you into the twenty-first century. That is assuming you can get out of that straight jacket long enough to get home.)

7 If you are at the first Times Square New Year’s Eve celebration, do not think your stomach deserves to be challenged with copious amounts of strange food. If you do, at best your later hours will be spent in a degree of discomfort. At worst, your stomach will get even when you least expect it. (You should have known, Gottfried, that food made with lard and animal innards would not set well. You should have taken your own low-fat, low cholesterol, zero growth hormone, and gluten-free food with you. Maybe next time.)

6 If you are at the first Times Square New Year’s Eve celebration, do not think your off-key singing throughout the year will suddenly get better with the addition of boucoup amounts of Champaign. If you do, at best you will still draw the same looks you get all year-long. At worst, you will begin to gather around you stray cats and dogs who think your Auld Lang Sine is a last call for free eats. (You called them and now you need to find a way to take care of them, Gradon.)

5 If you are at the first Times Square New Year’s Eve celebration, do not wear your Chicago Cubs t-shirt. If you do, at best no one will notice. At worst, since the New York Yankees won the National League pennant in 1904 a few may think you are a sore loser. ( Since the Cubs came in second, I think you should cover that shirt, Grantham. Oh too late. A couple of guys from the docks want to talk to you.)

4 If you are at the first Times Square New Year’s Eve celebration, do not try to find “Rockin’ New Year’s Eve on your smart phone. If you do, at best everyone around you are too drunk to notice. At worst, someone will ask you about that device and you will draw a crowd. (How are you going to explain a cell phone, Gregar? Bad enough your clothes look funny, now you are holding something that looks like it is from outer space. One other thing. The cell signal doesn’t time travel.)

3 If you are at the first Times Square New Year’s Eve celebration, do not think everyone will welcome the noise from your stadium horn at midnight. If you do at best, you will find yourself alone after the first blow. At worst, the biggest guy who you’ve annoyed will help you to cease blowing the horn. (The doctor in the emergency room is quite puzzle how that horn got there, Gregorior. Don’t worry, he will figure out how to separate it sooner or later.)

2 If you are at the first Times Square New Year’s Eve celebration, do not think it a good idea to put that Tiffany lampshade from the antique store on your head. If you do, at best no one will find it funny. At worst, the shade was the only one made and is now laying on the street in one thousand individual pieces. (If you start now, Griffen you might get it back together before the shop owner notices. Oh yeah, you also have a lottery chance at about the same odds. That is if the lottery exists in 1904.)

1 If you are at the first Times Square New Year’s Eve celebration, do not think you have to stay up past a reasonable hour to see the New Year in. If you do, at best the next day’s activities will be less enjoyable. At worst, you might be so sleep deprived that you will forget how to get back to 2019. (Although 1904 is a peaceful time, Gru, I don’t think you want to be stuck there. Yes it is a slower pace but think of the advancements that have been made since then. Fine have it your way.)

Happy New Year Everyone.

Top Ten Things Not to Do at the First Singing of Silent Night in 1818

December 24, 2018December 23, 2018 ~ John W. Howell ~ 49 Comments

Silent Night.

This Top Ten list of what not to do continues with a historical backdrop. On December 24th, 1818 the Christmas carol “Silent Night” composed by Franz Xaver Gruber was first sung at St Nicholas parish church in Oberndorf, Austria. If you time travel there here is a list that might keep you from making a mistake and prepare you for a Merry Christmas.

10 If you are at the first singing of Silent Night, do not sing off-key. If you do, at best the crowd will cover you up. At worst, the choir director will call a couple of big guys and have you removed. (We know you love to sing, Gerrald. You just have to sing more quietly.)

9 If you are at the first singing of Silent Night, do not try to avoid making a contribution in the collection plate being passed by Tiny the WWF champ. If you do, at best Tiny won’t notice. At worst, Tiny who has just promised 10% of his earnings to the church, will take offense. (Being held upside down and shaken until the coins fall is not the best thing, Gerritt. Sure beats a windmill body slam though.)

8 If you are at the first singing of Silent Night, do not wear your “Happy Birthday JC,” Christmas sweater. If you do, at best most will not understand the message. At worst, a six foot seven Knight of the Templer will take it upon himself to eliminate your sweater ( I think I would offer to take the garment off and do some kind of penance, Giacomo. Otherwise, he is going to keep applying pressure to your head.)

7 If you are at the first singing of Silent Night, do not arrive late for the service. If you do, at best there will be a seat in the back pew. At worst, you will be directed to the front bench. (While you are taking that long walk, Gibson the director is holding his baton in mid-air waiting for you to reach your seat. Good thing you wore a red scarf. Your face matches it correctly.)

6 If you are at the first singing of Silent Night, do not think you know the words and avoid using the hymnal. If you do, at best you’ll only be noticed by a few. At worst, the entire congregation will be nudging each other and pointing as you get most wrong. ( You can almost feel the mocking, can’t you, Gille? Wait until you turn around to leave.)

5 If you are at the first singing of Silent Night, do not fall asleep during the sermon. If you so, at best only the priest will know. At worst, your snoring is the subject of more than a few giggles. (Sadly, the priest decides to use you as an example of the sinning world. Oh, and don’t compliment the priest on his sermon on the way out, Gimle)

4 If you are at the first singing of Silent Night, do not finish that 32-ounce tankard before you arrive at the service. If you do, at best the service will be short. At worst, the service turns into the highest mass with the most ritual possible. (After the first hour you are now beginning to openly sweat, Girisha. I would pray harder for mercy.)

3 If you are at the first singing of Silent Night, do not wear your Long Live France t-shirt. If you do, at best most will not remember the War of the Seventh Coalition in 1815. At worst, most of the congregation are veterans of the war. (It looks like you have hit a sore point, Guiliano. I think you might want to exit through the side door.)

2 If you are at the first singing of Silent Night, do not go a-wassailing for too many wassails before the service. If you do, at best the cold night air will straighten you out. At worst, you’ll accidentally do a header into the pew in front of you. (I know you just meant to bow your head, Gleipnif. Try telling that to the spinster on whom you are laying.)

1 If you are at the first singing of Silent Night, do not try to sneak out without shaking the priest’s hand. If you do, at best the side door will be unlocked. At worse, you choose the wrong door and realize you are now in the priest’s vestment room. (Funny how that door locked behind you, Godfrey. You will now have the pleasure of explaining precisely what you are doing here once the priest is finished shaking hands.)

Top Ten Things Not to Do at the Boston Tea Party in 1773

December 17, 2018December 16, 2018 ~ John W. Howell ~ 62 Comments

Top Ten Things not to do

This post continues the Top Ten Things Not to Do with a historical backdrop. Since December 16, 1773, is the anniversary of the Boston Tea Party the Top Ten list will help you avoid any trouble should you time travel to the event.

10 If you go to the Boston Tea Party, do not wear your “Stay Calm and Pay Your Stamp Tax,” sweatshirt. If you do, at best your outer coat will cover it. At worse, several colonists will notice it all at once. (Well, Garrick, it looks like you are going into the Boston harbor along with those 342 chests of tea. Hope you can swim.)

9 If you go to the Boston Tea party, do not stop Tiny the WWF champ if he starts throwing other stuff besides tea into the Boston Harbor. If you do, at best Tiny will be so engrossed trying to rip off the mast that he’ll think you are trying to help. At worst, Tiny who just failed his anger management course will stop tearing up the deck of the boat to concentrate on you. (Looks like it might be a good time to practice your rope climb, Garsone. I have it on good authority Tiny likes to rip things in two before tossing them in the harbor. It helps with his anger issue.)

8 If you go to the Boston Tea Party, do not tell Samuel Adams how much you enjoy his beer. If you do, at best he’ll give you a puzzled look. At worst, he will question you extensively about what you mean. (Good luck avoiding spilling the beans about time travel, Gaven. You’ll be lucky to escape a witches trial for what will sound like lies.)

7 If you go to the Boston Tea Party, do not ask the crew to save you some Earl Grey. If you do, at best they will think you are joking. At worst, such a request would be perceived as something a royal would make. (This is great. You are now being taken for a British royal, Gavyn. You are going to have a hard time floating once that chest to which you are chained becomes water soaked.)

6 If you go to the Boston Tea Party, do not try to convince the crew that the Mohawk Indian disguise is not politically correct. If you do, at best you’ll get some puzzled looks. At worst, the crew will think you are disrespecting them. (These guys have ways of dealing with disrespect, Gaynor. How’s that Mohawk haircut feel? I hope that ax was sharp enough to cut and not pull your hair out.)

5 If you go to the Boston Tea Party, do not try to convince the captain of the British ship Beaver that the name of his ship should be changed to a more socially acceptable name. If you do, at best he will be too busy trying to repel raiders to listen. At worst, you will be the only member of the raiding party to be clapped in irons. (How do you think you will raise the money to compensate for the tea loss, Gedalya? In today’s dollars the $18,000 loss is $553,254.15. You do know debtor’s prison terms are a real thing back then?)

4 If you go to the Boston Tea Party, do not bring scones and clotted cream. If you do, at best your fellow raiders will think you’re nuts. At worst, you’ll be sent home to write 1000 times, “I will not joke about the Tea Party.” (When you turn in your paper to Sam Adams, Genius, I would bring a gift. You just might save yourself from being deported to England. Not too many in England are amused about the loss of the tea.)

3 If you go to the Boston Tea Party, do not hum “America the Beautiful” while you dump your assigned tea crates. If you do, at best your fellow raiders are too busy to take notice. At worst, a raider might think you are humming “God Save the King.” ( His look is anything but comforting, Georgie. I think I would prepare to get wet if I were you.)

2 If you go to the Boston Tea Party, do not forget to mute your cell phone ringer. If you do, at best in the noise of the raid no one will hear it. At worse, the entire raiding party will stop what they are doing and look at you in stunned silence. (You gotta hope that whoever is calling you, Geremia will hang up now. If you pull out that cell phone, you might as well jump overboard and take your chances with the British.)

1 If you go to the Boston Tea Party, do not ask your fellow raiders if they are red sox fans. If you do, at best they will think you are talking about foot coverings. At worst, your fellow raiders will think you are talking in code, and since you used the color red, you are a British agent. (The key to surviving walking the plank, Gergor is to get those ropes wrapped around your arms off quickly. Sounds impossible you say? Fair enough. Can you hold your breath for twenty minutes?)

Top Ten Things Not to Do Landing at Plymouth Rock in 1620

December 10, 2018June 29, 2020 ~ John W. Howell ~ 67 Comments

The Mayflower

This post is a continuation of the Top Ten Things Not to Do with a historical background. On December 11th, 1620 the pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock. If you were there here is a list to help you stay out of trouble.

Top Ten Things Not to Do Landing at Plymouth Rock in 1620

10 If you land with the Pilgrims, do not suggest a beach party once reaching land. If you do, at best no one will understand you. At worst, there will be a realization on the part of the elders that you are possessed. ( You might as well confess, Gabriele. They won’t stop the water board treatment until you do. Of course, confession may lead to an old-fashioned stake burning. Tough decision.)

9 If you land with the Pilgrims, do not try to beat Tiny the WWF champ to a long-boat. If you do, at best you’ll trip and miss your chance. At worst, you’ll find yourself in the boat sitting next to Tiny, and he doesn’t look happy. (You’ll soon learn, Gadiel that Tiny promised his mom that he would be the first into the boat and first onto land. Now that he has missed his number one promise, it looks like you are about to be tossed overboard. If so, give that anchor he gave you to hold back to Tiny before you go.)

8 If you land with the Pilgrims, do not start telling everyone about planting a fish with the corn. If you do, at best you will be laughed out-of-town. At worst, since it is December and the ground is frozen solid, you might be taken for crazy. (Of course, you meant in the spring, Gair. The guys with that ball and chain could care less.)

7 If you land with the Pilgrims, do not mention anything about a turkey dinner for Thanksgiving. If you do, at best you’ll have to go hunting. At worst, the elders will quiz you closely about the reason to be thankful. It is cold, wet, and miserable. ( Now that they mention it, Galchobhar you may have tipped your hand about time travel. This can only lead to the thought that you are a devil. That thought never gets anyone anything.)

6 If you land with the Pilgrims, do not start talking about forming a football team named the Pilgrim Patriots. If you do, at best no one ever heard of football. At worst, you will immediately be accused of rule violations and will forever curse the team to public scorn. (So there is where all this New England Patriot controversy comes from, Galterieo. Might as well label it Pilgrimgate.)

5 If you land with the Pilgrims, do not wear your “I love Pope Paul V,” sweatshirt. If you do, at best no one will notice it under your black tunic. At worst, William Brewster will catch a glimpse, and reach an apocalyptic state of the highest order. (Good thing you were able to talk your way out of that one, Galvyn. Not sure anything Catholic would be welcome here.)

4 If you land with the Pilgrims, do not make jokes about the native tribe name Wampanoags. If you do, at best the native Americans will not hear you. At worst, Massasoit, their leader will take offense. ( Now we have another fine kettle of fish, Ganesh. The pilgrims need the Indian assistance, and the leader is mad at you. Guess who will be eliminated in this standoff?)

3 If you land with the Pilgrims, do not try to convince people to dig up clams for food. If you do, at best most will simply say, “No thank you.” At worst, you will be declared a food crank and banished. (You have to remember, Garbhach the idea of digging up something in the water and then eating it is not what most people think is normal.)

2 If you land with the Pilgrims, do not insist on building a split-level ranch home with a bay view. If you do, at best you’ll have to do it alone. At worst, the leadership will put you at the bottom of the priority list. (Nice move, Gared. You’ll be in this lean-to for another year at best.)

1 If you land with the Pilgrims, do not discuss your recipe for the perfect margarita with anyone. If you do, at best someone will report you. At worst, you’ll be asked to prepare a batch, and there is no tequila or limes anywhere. (How do these stocks feel, Garred? You only have thirty days to go.)

Top Ten Things Not to Do at Napoleon’s Emperor Crowning Ceremony in 1804

December 3, 2018December 2, 2018 ~ John W. Howell ~ 50 Comments

This post continues the Top Ten things not to do with a historical backdrop. On December 2, 1804, Napoleon Bonaparte himself Emperor of France. If you were there here are at least ten things that I hope you did not do. I hope you enjoy this list.

10 At Napoleon’s crowning, do not boo when he takes the crown from the pope and puts it on his head. If you do, at best do it quietly. At worst, you will be the new Emperor’s first guest at the guillotine. (This didn’t turn out the way you planned huh, Guy? Who would have thought the Emperor had no sense of humor? Hello, like everyone knew that, idiot.)

9 At Napoleon’s crowning, do not rush up to congratulate the new Emperor. If you do, at best, too many will be ahead of you. At worst, Tiny the WWF champ has been given the job of the Emperor’s bodyguard. (It is just your luck, Georgio that Tiny reacts to motion as opposed to intellect. Maybe the court doctor can reset those bones. In the meantime, drink more Champaign.)

8 At Napoleon’s crowning, do not think your old buddy is the same good guy as before becoming Emperor. If you do, at best, your hug of congratulations will be forgiven. At worst, you will wake up in the dungeon facing an assault charge. (For as many times as you and Boney partied together this comes as a complete surprise right, Garrett? Don’t worry I’m sure your buddy will reconsider. I would not hold your breath waiting though.)

7 At Napoleon’s crowning, do not wear your “Bring Back Louis XVI,” t-shirt. If you do, at best it will be taken as a joke. At worst, you will be the second guillotine guest of the Emperor. ( Whatever were you thinking when you decided to wear that shirt, Gunther? Sure it was your color but come on. )

6 At Napoleon’s crowning, do not overdo the champagne toasts. If you do, at best you have a terrible headache tomorrow. At worst, although you meant to say only complimentary comments in your last toast somehow it didn’t come out the way you planned. (Congratulations, Gallagher you are now a field marshal in charge of the Siberian front. Don’t forget your long underwear.)

5 At Napoleon’s crowning, do not ask Josephine to dance. If you do, at best she’ll say no thank you. At worst the full effect of the tap on the shoulder for a cut in by the Emperor will be realized. (What you didn’t know is the Emperor is a very jealous man. That tap signaled the home guard to drop you off in Spain, Garson. Hope you enjoy paella.)

4 At Napoleon’s crowning, do not fail to laugh at the Emperor’s jokes. If you do, at best you can feign a cough. At worst, even though the Emperor tells the lousiest jokes the laughing guards will see you out. (Maybe a lesson learned, Garcia. I’ll bet you are hoping these laughing guards are going to see you home safely. That dungeon straight ahead might mean otherwise.)

3 At Napoleon’s crowning, do not make comments about the Emperors New Clothes. If you do, at best every one read the story. At worst, Napoleon who has not read the story will believe he is naked. (You know what they say about the messenger, Giuseppe. Sayonara.)

2 At Napoleon’s crowning, do not do karaoke. If you do, at best your song will be Happy Days Are Here Again. At worst, your song will be The Bohemian Rhapsody. (Good luck with the Freddy Mercury part, Grover. Just your luck the Emperor is a big fan of Queen.)

1 At Napoleon’s crowning, do not offer to fire the cannon in salute. If you do, at best the wick will go out. At worst, your cannon is not aimed well, and you just took out the Emperor’s bedroom. (You could offer your place for sleeping, Gebek or maybe better, just start running.)

Top Ten Things Not to Do in the Great Flood of 2348 BC

November 26, 2018November 25, 2018 ~ John W. Howell ~ 55 Comments

This post continues the Top Ten Not to Do list with a historical background. Scholars widely assert that November 25th is the anniversary of the beginning of the great flood in 2348 BC. Pretend you were there and here is a list that will keep you out of trouble.

Top Ten Things Not to Do in the Great Flood of 2348 BC.

10 In the time of the great flood, do not mock Noah’s boat building so far from water. If you do, at best he won’t hear you. At worst, after forty days and nights of rain, you are going to wish you never had. (Good luck on treading water for a few months, Gregory. Those boat jokes seem a little lame now don’t they?)

9 In the time of the great flood, do not offer Tiny the WWF champ some help with that rhinoceros. If you do, at best he’ll pass on the assist. At worst, Tiny who has just finished his group session on self-esteem will believe you think he is incapable of loading that snorting beast into the Ark. (Now you have to worry about a loose rhinoceros and soothing Tiny’s feelings, Giovanni. I think the rhino might be an easier task.)

7 In the time of the great flood, do not ask Noah about who is playing in the show lounge. If you do, at best Noah will think you are joking. At worst, Noah will realize you think the whole boat thingy is a Carnival cruise. (I suppose you should feel grateful Noah allows you to ride in the dinghy, Graham. He could have just tossed you overboard.)

6 In the time of the great flood, do not start singing the Unicorn Song. If you do, at best Noah will think it cute. At worst, since Noah was not able to get the unicorns on board, he’ll feel bad. (Don’t forget Noah is 600 years old, Gilbert. He probably never heard of the Irish Rovers and now you are in the brig on bread and water.)

5 In the time of the great flood, do not smack a pesky mosquito. If you do, at best it will recover. At worst, you just killed one of the two on board. (Although it seems like you have done a service to humanity, Gustavo, Noah is going to be plenty pissed since he was supposed to have two of everything. I would lay low if I were you.)

4 In the time of the great flood, do not try to bring more than one carry-on bag on the Ark. If you do, at best the second bag will be floating. At worst, you’ll be caught, and Captain Noah will allow the bags to ride but toss you off. ( I don’t think the punishment is too harsh, Gustavo. What is every being brought two suitcases?)

3 In the time of the great flood, do not try to water ski off the back of the Ark. If you do, at best you won’t lose your grip on the rope. At worst, the Ark is not going fast enough, and you’ll sink like a stone. (It doesn’t do much good to signal for help, Gerard. That giraffe has no idea what you mean.)

2 In the time of the great flood, do not ask Noah for a turn at the tiller. If you do, at best he will turn you down flat. At worst, he will give you a spin. ( The fact that you don’t know North from South is not going to play well here, Gabe. Lucky the mountain tops are fourteen cubits under the water. What’s a cubit you ask? Go look it up.)

1 In the time of the great flood, when Noah asks you to release a dove, do not release that duck. If you do, at best the duck will come back. At worst, the duck will be able to float, so there is no need to return to the Ark. ( Noah is now asking you about how to determine if the waters have receded. “Wait until you see land,” is not the answer he is looking for, Gideon. Those water wings should help keep you up until you sight land. By the way that shark following you has not eaten for a couple of weeks.)

Top Ten Things Not to Do When William Tell Shot the Apple Off His Son’s Head in 1307

November 19, 2018November 18, 2018 ~ John W. Howell ~ 54 Comments

This post continues the historical backdrop for the Top Ten Things Not to Do. Yesterday was the anniversary of William Tell purportedly shooting the apple off his son’s head in 1307. If you were there at the time, there are ten things that you should take care not to do.

10 At William Tell’s archery challenge, do not sneeze at the critical point when he takes aim. If you do, at best William will bless you with a Gesundheit. At worst, your sneeze will throw him off, and you will be the next in line for the apple shot. (Lucky for you he missed his son’s head, Flavien. Now it is your turn, and William looks very angry.)

9 At William Tell’s archery challenge, do not ask Tiny the WWF champ to stand in for you. If you do, at best Tiny will eat your apple. At worst, Tiny who just left his veterans of the apple shot near miss support group will be traumatized by the offer. (Tiny works out his trauma by doing body slams, Florian. I think you better start looking for a soft place to land.

8 At William Tell’s archery challenge do not start humming the William Tell Overture. If you do, at best someone will like the tune. At worst, you may be accused of being a warlock since Rossini did not write it until 1829. (A couple of dips in the dunking chair will help clear that music out of your head, Florian. Can’t imagine why you would give in to an earworm anyway.)

7 At William Tell’s archery challenge, do not fail to bow in respect to the hat that the newly appointed Austrian Vogt, Albrecht Gessler, has placed on a pole. If you do, at best no one will see you not bow. At worst, you will be arrested for not doing the same thing William Tell did not do. ( I hope you know how to shoot a crossbow, Fonzo. It looks like you have to hit a crabapple off of Tiny’s head. If you miss Tiny is going to be very upset. Especially if you hit him.)

6 At William Tell’s archery challenge, do not wear your Austrians Suck t-shirt. If you do, at best the Austrians will think you are joking. At worst, the Austrians will think you are a leader of the Swiss independence movement. (Now you’ve done it, Forseti. The next time you see daylight, it will be at your hanging. Enjoy the brief view.)

5 At William Tell’s archery challenge, do not open a stand and begin selling swiss chocolate. If you do, at best the Austrians will like the chocolate. At worst, your chocolate will be declared contraband and you a revolutionary. ( I told you to stick with Speckknödel, Francesco. Now look at the fine kettle of fish you’ve gotten yourself into.)

4 At William Tell’s archery challenge, do not ask William for his autograph. If you do, at best he will blow you off. At worst he might give you to the count of five to see if you can outrun a crossbow bolt. (Don’t forget, Frandscus, William just shot the apple off his son’s head. I don’t think he thinks of himself as a hero.)

3 At William Tell’s archery challenge, do not offer William a contract to take his apple shooting show on the road. If you do, at best William will be in a good mood and ignore you. At worst, William will sign the agreement with the understanding that you will have the apple on your head. (Well a contract is a contract, Frannsaidh. Looks like you are signed up for a thirty city tour or one depending.)

2 At William Tell’s archery challenge, do not start selling T-Shirts that say I’m the Apple of my Daddy’s Eye. If you do, at best William won’t see them. At worst, William’s sense of humor will have hit an all-time low and your T-shirts pushed him over the edge. (Looks like those shirts are going to make a nice bonfire, Franziskus.)

1 At William Tell’s archery challenge, do not start taking odds on whether William will hit the apple or his son. If you do, at best no one will tell him. At worst, William will find out what your activities and come looking for you. (I would stay under that table, Frazier. I don’t think you want to explain yourself right now.)

Top Ten Things Not to Do at the First Sunday Football Game at Philadelphia in 1933

November 12, 2018November 11, 2018 ~ John W. Howell ~ 48 Comments

This is a continuation of the Top Ten Things Not to Do list with a historical background. Today marked the anniversary of the first Sunday football game played in Philadelphia in 1933. If you were there, some actions are a no-no.

Top Ten Things Not to Do at the First Sunday Football Game at Philadelphia in 1933

10 At the first Sunday football game in Philadelphia, do not sit next to your parish priest unless you have been to church. If you do, at best you can take confession right there. At worst, you will be invited to a special service titled Miscreants of the Week. ( Of all the seats in the stadium you had to pick this one, Farzad.)

9 At the first Sunday football game in Philadelphia, do not forget to tip Tiny, the WWF Champ and now stadium vendor, for your hot dog. If you do, at best that mustard stain on your back will come out. At worst, Tiny who believes tips are a showing of love will think you hate him. (The time to vacate your seat is now, Fedele. That large tray of hot dogs will not rest well when Tiny lets it go in your direction.)

8 At the first Sunday football game in Philadelphia, do not try to eat a Philly Cheesesteak sandwich and cheer for your team at the same time. If you do, At best the guy in front of you is wearing a raincoat. At worst, your expelled cheesesteak bite goes down the collar of the police chief in the row in front of you. (I don’t think you will be able to explain this as an accident, Felicien. Good luck on your first night in jail)

7 At the first Sunday football game in Philadelphia, do not cause yourself to be over-celebrating on your carry in hootch just because the blue laws in Pennsylvania allowed Sunday sports. If you do, at best you’ll find someone to take you home. At worst, you will need an ironclad excuse for spending the night in the bleachers. (Gotta wonder why none of the cleaning crew found you huh, Fenris.)

6 At the first Sunday football game in Philadelphia, do not sit in the Chicago section wearing your Eagles jersey. If you do, at best the fans around you think you have a mental condition. At worst, as the game progresses someone may get the idea to remove you crowd surfing you over the lip of the Baker Bowl stadium. (It is a long fall from the top to the parking lot, Ferke. Flapping your arms may help a little.)

5 At the first Sunday football game in Philadelphia, do not think you don’t have to pay off your bet because the score was tied at 3 and 3. f you do, at best the bookie consider your bet too small to collect. At worst, your bookie is the kind who believes any no pay a matter of honor. ( Those cement overshoes are styling, Fidal. Might prove to hamper treading water though.)

4 At the first Sunday football game in Philadelphia, do not blow your large and loud horn to cheer on your team. If you do, at best you’ll be sitting alone. At worst, your fellow participants will tire of losing their hats, hair, and hearing and will stuff your horn where the sun don’t shine. (I know I’m surprised as well, Finnbar. I think that high decibel honk is terrific. Might be better on a MAC truck though.)

3 At the first Sunday football game in Philadelphia, do not ask your neighbor to share their popcorn. If you do, at best the corn will be gone. At worst, your neighbor has just been diagnosed with the flu and is more than happy to share. (Don’t worry, Fionn. In the 30’s the flu only took maybe half of those diagnosed. Oh, look a guy in a black hoodie carrying a scythe. I don’t see any hay that needs cutting do you?)

2 At the first Sunday football game in Philadelphia, do not run out and attempt to ring the Liberty Bell to count the first field goal points. If you do, at best the Liberty Bell Center in Independence National Historic Park will be closed on Sunday. At worst, your attempt at goodwill has been seen as a terrorist act. ( Well, you’ve earned yourself a nice cozy room in Guantanamo, Firmann. I have no idea why it is so dark here.)

1 At the first Sunday football game in Philadelphia, do not dispute how the Eagles got their name. If you do, at best there was no money on the fact that they got their name from the Blue Eagle which was a symbol for economic recovery during the Franklin Roosevelt administration. At worst, you now need to walk home since you put your car up to back your bet that the Eagles were named after the great American Bald Eagle. (You could have been right too, Flanagan. You might try putting your thumb out. Maybe some hapless fool will give you a lift.)

Top Ten Things Not to Do If You Were with Edison in 1879

October 22, 2018October 21, 2018 ~ John W. Howell ~ 44 Comments

This is a continuation of the Top Ten on a historical backdrop. On October 21st after 14 months of testing, Thomas Edison first demonstrates his electric lamp, hoping to one day compete with the gaslight.

Top Ten Things Not to do if You were with Edison in 1879

10 If you were with Edison in 1879, do not say, “Watson come here I need you.” If you do, at best no one will answer. At worst, you will be escorted from the room and your 100 shares of Edison stock revoked. (You somehow got Alexander Graham Bell mixed up with Edison, Frici.)

9 If you were with Edison in 1879, do not elbow Tiny the WWF champ out of the way for a better view. If you do, at best Tiny will ignore you. At worst, Tiny, who has an aversion to being touched will use his hips to body check you out the door. (You didn’t think a big guy could move that fast huh, Friduwulf? Too bad the door was closed when you went through it.)

8 If you were with Edison in 1879, do not touch anything before the demonstration. If you do, at best you’ll avoid the live wire. At worst, you will inadvertently disconnect the main lead. (The test was a failure, Frisco. Thanks to you we are all living with gas lamps today.)

7 If you were with Edison in 1879, do not tell him how to improve his speech. If you do, at best he will do the speech the way he wrote it. At worst he will take your suggestions. (Thanks to you, Fynbar, the electric light bulb was named by Edison as “the better mousetrap of gas lamps.”)

6 If you were with Edison in 1879, do not mention to bystanders that the British had toyed with incandescent bulbs since the 1830’s. If you do, at best Edison won’t hear you. At worst, you’ll be talking with a reporter from the Wall Street Journal. (Well now you’ve done it, Fernando. The headline reads “Edison steals British Idea.” Good luck with your future stock options.)

5 If you are with Edison in 1879, do not make jokes about the Edison Screw. If you do, at best you better hope he doesn’t hear you. At worst, the joke carries a big laugh, and now you are unemployed. (You had no way of knowing, Francisco, that the Edison Screw is the standard set up for light bulbs and sockets. The joke was pretty funny though.)

4 If you are with Edison in 1879, do not trip and let the only bulb fall to the floor. (If you do, at best the carpet will prevent a disaster. At worst, the lab floor is made of concrete. (Well, there goes the demonstration, Franklin. Future generations of those who do not have General Electric to work for salute you.)

3 If you are with Edison in 1879, do not suggest naming the company. If you do, at best Edison will choose his own name. At worst, he will call the company after a significant advantage of the bulb. (Somehow the Less Gas Light Company doesn’t sound too good when you say it out loud, Frankie. Let’s hope he comes to his senses.)

2 If you are with Edison in 1879, do not try to talk him out of his idea about motion pictures. If you do, at best he will avoid you on the subject. At worst, you will be successful, and he will abandon the idea. (So where are you going with that tub of buttered popcorn, Freddy?)

1 If you are with Edison in 1879, do not suggest that he read from the newspaper on the first recorded conversation. If you do, at best he will choose his own literature. At worst. He will listen to you and select the classifieds. (So now the first recorded voice puts everyone to sleep, Fletcher. Mary Had a Little Lamb is so much better.)