Read Do Penguins Have Knees? Online
Authors: David Feldman
Do Penguins Have Knees? (29 page)
The bottom line is that there is no reason on earth why the plastic bag should inflate dramatically. The oxygen bag itself might hold about a liter and one-half of gas. At 18,000 feet, the system might pump in about one liter per minute; at 40,000 feet, about three liters per minute. But unlike the
Ben Casey
resuscitator, only a small percentage of this gas is inhaled in any one breath.
At higher altitudes, the bag will noticeably inflate, both because the flow rate of oxygen is much higher and because the bag has a natural tendency to expand when air pressure is lower. As Richard E. Livingston, of the Airline Passengers Association of North America, put it:
Since oxygen, like other gases, expands at higher altitudes, maximum inflation will be obvious at high altitude. Conversely, gases are more compressed at low altitudes, so little or no bag inflation will be evident at lower altitudes.
Submitted by Charles Myers of Ronkonkoma, New York. Thanks also to Mick Luce of Portland, Oregon, and Stanley Fenvessy of New York, New York. Special thanks to Jim Cannon of Lenexa, Kansas
.
We don’t claim to be infallible. In fact, most of the time, we are experts in fallibility. Too often for our satisfaction, readers confront us with fascinating Imponderables that we cannot answer. These Imponderables tend to fall into two groups: mysteries that totally baffle the experts we consult; or mysteries that every expert has an opinion on, but for which there is no consensus.
Either way, our inability to answer these questions makes us frustrated. So, we throw Frustables (short for “frustrating Imponderables”) out to you in the fervent hope that you can do better than we can. It’s amazing how often you can, as demonstrated in the Frustables Update section that follows.
To lure you into sharing your wisdom, we offer a complimentary, autographed copy of our next volume of
Imponderables
to the first person who can lead to the proof that solves any of these Frustables. And of course, your contribution will be displayed and acknowledged in the book.
But don’t get smug until you see the new Frustables. Solving these will not be easy.
FRUSTABLE 1:
Why Do Doctors Have Bad Penmanship?
Even physicians we contacted agreed that the stereotype is, more often than not, true. You wouldn’t believe how many theories we’ve heard to explain/deplore/rationalize/excuse this phenomenon. We have been able to confirm that no medical school in the United States offers a specific course on bad penmanship. So is there any other explanation?
FRUSTABLE 2:
Why are Salt and Pepper the Standard Condiments on Home and Restaurant Tables? When and Where Did This Custom Start?
We look upon salt and pepper on the table as being as inevitable as the plate and silverware. But it didn’t have to be that way.
FRUSTABLE 3:
Why Don’t People Wear Hats as Much as They Used to?
The comeback of the hat has been bandied about as much as the return of big bands. But it never seems to happen. We have millions of theories about this but no consensus has emerged. Have any
Imponderables
readers given up wearing hats? If so, why?
FRUSTABLE 4:
How and Why Were the Letters B-I-N-G-O Selected for the Game of the Same Name?
Before bingo, many similar games existed with different names.
FRUSTABLE 5:
Why Do They Always Play Dixieland Music at Political Rallies When Dixieland Isn’t Particularly Burning Up the Hit Parade at the Moment?
Do political consultants hire Dixieland bands because that’s what politicians have always done? Is Dixieland the least objectionable musical form? If so, why don’t you hear it more often on the radio?
FRUSTABLE 6:
Why Does Eating Ice Cream Make You Thirsty?
Most of the taste experts and ice cream makers we’ve contacted deny that the premise of this question is true. But we’ve received the question several times and experienced the sensation ourselves. We even had a friend who loved malts and would drink one and then order an iced tea to quench his thirst.
FRUSTABLE 7:
Why Are Belly Dancers So Zaftig?
By Western standards, belly dancers are rather fleshy around the midriff, surprising in artists who are constantly exercising this region. Experts we’ve contacted differ violently on this subject. Some say that the muscles contracted to belly dance are not those that would make the belly look Sheena Eastonish. Some say that standards of beauty in the Middle East are different and that most dancers deliberately keep some flesh. And others denied the premise. What do you think?
FRUSTABLE 8:
How Was Hail Measured Before Golf Balls Were Invented?
Okay, we admit we’re being facetious here, but we would be interested if any readers have heard hail compared to
anything
besides a ball (golf balls and baseballs are about all we ever hear) by local weathercasters.
FRUSTABLE 9:
Why Did 1930s and 1940s Movie Actors Talk So Much Faster Than They Do Today?
Compare a Katharine Hepburn-Cary Grant comedy or a Bogie—Bacall melodrama with their contemporary counterparts, and they sound like a 45-rpm record playing at 78. What accounts for the huge change? We’ve heard tons of theories about this Frustable, too. But what are yours?
FRUSTABLE 10:
Why Does Meat Loaf Taste the Same in All Institutions?
We admit that this is a personal obsession of ours. Ever since we noticed that meat loaf tasted the same in every school we ever attended, we’ve sampled the meat loaf any time we’ve been forced to eat at a cafeteria in an institution such as a federal building, hospital, or college. Does the government circulate a special
Marquis de Sade Cookbook?
Not all meat loaf tastes the same, but somehow the meat loaf at an elementary school in Los Angeles tastes the same as the meat loaf at a courtroom cafeteria in New York. Why does it?
FRUSTABLE 1:
Does Anyone Really Like Fruitcake?
As expected, we received more mail about fruitcake than all the other Frustables in
Why Do Dogs Have Wet Noses?
combined. When we posed this Frustable, we suspected that there wasn’t one definitive answer to explain such a complex phenomenon as the perpetuation of this foodstuff, especially as a gift, that nobody seems to like. We were right.
Reader Bill Gerk, of Burlingame, California, was kind enough to point out that one of our favorite writers, Calvin Trillin, devoted a whole magazine column to this subject. Trillin claimed that “nobody in the history of the United States has ever bought a fruitcake for himself.” Trillin was besieged with letters from readers claiming they had bought fruitcakes, “although the receipts are never enclosed.”
Like Trillin, we can’t offer proofs of purchase, but we certainly heard from fruitcake lovers. Scores of readers, including Lilet Quijano of Livermore, California, Edmund DeWan of Urbana, Illinois, Anne Wingate of Salt Lake City, Utah, and Betty Begley of Cambria, California, offered to accept the unwanted fruitcakes of
Imponderables
readers. We’d include the full addresses of these folks, but fear lawsuits if the offers were simply a sick joke.
Several fruitcake-loving readers tried to ingratiate themselves by claiming that the silent majority would grow to love fruitcake
if they only tried a good one
. Claire Manning of Brooklyn, New York, not only admits to liking fruitcake (“a noble, beloved, memory-evoking little piece of heaven”) but to perpetrating said dessert on innocent friends and family:
Consider yourself among the underprivileged for this omission in your poor life. I not only adore fruitcake but I
make
it every year at the winter holiday season and do occasionally give it as a gift. So far, I haven’t
received
any…are they trying to tell me something?
Fruitcake can bring people together. Robert Tanner, of Naples, Florida, reports that he and his wife both love fruitcake. We are genuinely happy that they found each other but we must raise a sobering question: Should such a couple have children? Is the preference for fruitcake a hereditary trait? From the evidence of our mailbag, we think so.
Dorothy Lant, of Concord, New Hampshire, reports that her entire family likes fruitcake. Bisbee, Arizona’s Judy R. Reis notes that her daughters do, her sisters do, and her parents do. Her son doesn’t, but he only likes things with ketchup on them.
But fruitcake worship can cause family problems. Kim Anderson, of Alma, Arkansas, reports that because “My mom, my sister, my grandma, and my aunt like it, we always have fruitcake at Christmas, much to the dismay of me and the rest of the family members.” But Kim’s suffering is nothing compared to the shame of Melanie Morton, of Branford, Connecticut:
Yes, there are people who like fruitcake. I believe this is an indication of mental imbalance. I offer as an example my father. He is overly fond of the stuff. In fact, he is not content to wait to be gifted with it. He actually goes out
out in search of fruitcake!
As if this is not enough, he hates chocolate. He’s not allergic, mind you, he merely detests this wonderful creation.
Yes, fruitcake can wrench families apart.
So if the love of fruitcake is an unnatural preference, who is conspiring to foist this Milli Vanilli of foods upon us? Fred Steinberg, of Newton, New Jersey, thinks it is the evil of free enterprise. Fred once had a business professor who told the story of the marketing of the electric knife. Market research indicated from the start that consumers wouldn’t actually use the appliance once they owned it. Still, they proceeded with the introduction of the product because it was a perfect present,
a present for “kids” to give to their mom for Mother’s Day, for people to give as shower gifts. An electric knife is not inexpensive, not expensive, and appears to be useful. That’s why they were manufactured, bought by consumers, and now lie dormant in some remote drawer…
In other words, Steinberg’s theory is that enterprising bakers have created a food designed to be given away rather than eaten. When you think of it this way, fruitcake is the ultimate diet food, since it is never actually consumed.
Some readers thought that fruitcake was a foreign conspiracy, with the English cited as the usual culprits. Given their reputation for fine cuisine, we are inclined to believe that the English invented fruitcake. Jennifer Beres, of Norwalk, Connecticut, actually sent us a sample of her mother’s homemade fruitcake, which, even in the spirit of scientific investigation, we did not have the fortitude to sample. Jennifer veritably gushes with praise for the English art:
My mother is British born and professes the fruitcake’s existence originates in English tradition. Perhaps the reason that no one likes fruitcake is that the creation of a fruitcake is an art not to be duplicated in commercial factories by swiftly moving assembly lines. In order for a fruitcake to be made in the true English tradition, it must be meticulously and lovingly prepared by an experienced and appreciative fruitcake lover.
…After the fruitcake itself has been made, it is covered with a layer of marzipan, followed by a light and fluffy white icing of egg whites and confectioners sugar, which hardens to resemble snow. The cake is then decorated with Christmas scenes, using miniature wooden sleighs, plastic Santas, and the like.
Presumably, the diner can discriminate between the taste and texture of the cake and the plastic Santa.
But it is too easy to blame the English for what is now a worldwide problem. We are more concerned about the tight connection between fruitcake and alcohol. Timothy Taormino, of Baltimore, Maryland, admits to liking fruitcake, but is open-minded enough to concede that “when it’s bad, it’s
BAD
!” What he may not realize is that all fruitcakes might taste bad if it weren’t for the demon alcohol:
I know of a recipe from Ireland that replaces the usual brandy or whiskey with Guinness Extra Stout. My girlfriend made it for a pot-luck dinner and it was quite a hit (especially when served with an Irish whiskey hard sauce).
Why do we get the feeling that dessert, or for that matter, the appetizer, was preceded by a few cocktails?
Similarly, Jack Adams, of Valencia, California, reports that the only fruitcake he ever liked was his grandmother’s, and even this affection deserves a demurral:
She bought a fruitcake from the store and would put a shot glass of whiskey in the center hole of the fruitcake. After a few weeks of this the cake became so saturated you didn’t care what else was in it.
Anyway, please don’t publish my address. I’ve already got a shot glass and whiskey. That’s all I need.
Jack seems to have the right idea. If you want to drink whiskey, cut out the middleman (i.e., fruitcake) and admit what you really want to consume. If you don’t, you may end up like Nancy Schmidt, who not only admits to liking fruitcake but
so loving its distinctive flavor that I purchase surplus loaves at the holidays to stock up so I can savor my favorite sweet yearlong.
Whew, now that I’ve publicly confessed to my fruitcake fetish, I’ll either live a lauded life at the hands of other secret indulgers or, more likely, soon have uninvited guests in funny little white coats pounding at my front door.
Don’t put yourself down, Nancy. Admitting your problem is the first step in solving it.
Honestly, now, despite the naysaying of the apologists, the sympathizers, and the fetishists, fruitcake truly is awful stuff. If people really do like fruitcake, why can’t it compete on the open market? If anyone would ever order it, restaurants would offer fruitcake as a dessert. If fruitcake is so visually inviting and festive, why don’t cafeterias ever offer it to lure customers? Wouldn’t someone at Christmas dinner eat it (besides the baker of the cake, of course)?
We do not doubt the sincerity of the many readers who’ve had the courage to admit their dubious preference. We can only hope that greater minds than ours can someday finally figure out whether the preference is hereditary or environmental, mental or physical, spiritual or demonic. Until then, our mailbox is open to your theories, suggestions, and sordid confessions.
Submitted by Sheila Payne of Falmouth, Massachusetts
.
A complimentary book goes to Nancy Schmidt of West New York, New Jersey, who perhaps will spend her holiday period reading instead of roaming the streets in search of surplus fruitcake; and to Melanie Morton, of Branford, Connecticut, in the fervent hope that reading this chapter together will help heal her family from the wrenching tragedy of fruitcake friction
.
FRUSTABLE 2:
Why Does the Stroking of Index Fingers Against Each Other Mean “Tsk-Tsk”?
We still don’t have a definite answer to this Frustable, but two readers, Marsha Bruno of Norwich, Connecticut, and David Schachow of West Hill, Ontario, came up with the identical theory. Although neither claims to have any evidence to prove the contention, it makes sense to us. Since David was the first to write, we’ll quote him:
The two index fingers are generally the two that are used in making the sign of the cross (and the same fingers we use to cross our fingers for good luck, or make the sign of the cross to ward off vampires and relatives).
But why the stroking? Perhaps this is an evolved form of the whole cross (both fingers) being waved at or pushed toward the naughty-doer.
In other words, the “tsk-tsk” stroke is emblematic of pushing evil away.
Can anyone come up with anything better?
Submitted by Jim Hayden of Salem, Oregon. Thanks also to Mr. and Mrs. William H. McCollum of Oakdale, Minnesota
.
FRUSTABLE 3:
We Often Hear the Cliché: “We Only Use 10 Percent of Our Brains.” How Was It Determined That We Use 10 Percent and Not 5 Percent or 15 Percent?
A few readers found written references to this cliché, but they have had no more luck than we did in tracking down its origins. Jeff White of Etobicoke, Ontario, and Albert J. Menaster of Los Angeles, California, both remembered that Richard Restak’s 1984 book,
The Brain
, based on the PBS television series, mentioned the 10 percent theory. Menaster summarizes the contents:
Restak says that the claim is probably based on studies showing large portions of the brain being damaged without any observable effects…His conclusion is that since no one knows the number of neurons in the brain, it is simply impossible to determine how much of the brain is actually being used, and thus the 10 percent figure is without any basis and is unsupported by anything. I should add that I have read extensively on the subject of the brain, and I have never seen any scientific discussion of the 10 percent figure, which certainly supports Restak’s position.
Restak goes on to note that the destruction of even a small portion of certain areas of the brain, such as the visual area, “can have a devastating effect.”
One of the studies that Restak refers to obliquely is psycho-neurologist Karl Lashley’s, who removed portions of the cerebral cortex of rats without ruining their memory of how to run mazes. Reader Jeffrey McLean of Sterling Heights, Michigan, drew our attention to Carl Sagan’s
The Dragons of Eden
, which discusses this issue. Sagan warns readers that just because we cannot see any behavioral change in a rat doesn’t mean that there isn’t a profound change when humans lose a portion of their brains:
There is a popular contention that half or more of the brain is unused. From an evolutionary point of view this would be quite extraordinary: why should it have evolved if it had no function?
Sagan suggests that it is likely that the removal of a significant part of the brain does have a significant effect, even if we aren’t currently capable of measuring or quantifying the change.