Holiday Advice: Use at Your Own Risk (Guest Blogger: Lemony Snicket)
By means of a procedure whose byzantine intricacies we ourselves have only the barest hint of--we do know for certain that dog sleds, semaphore flags, and cereal-box prizes were involved--we have, as promised, transmitted the questions we've received to the author Lemony Snicket and received his replies, filled with so-called "advice," in return. (It's a procedure, I'm told, identical to that used by the late Ann Landers, who spent the last twenty years of her career living not as claimed in a Chicago apartment but in a ramshackle lean-to in Honduras made from beach logs.)
At this point I ought to say it is an honor and a privilege to have Mr. Snicket joining us as a "guest blogger" this month, but I mistrust his motives too much to honestly do so. But I do, reluctantly, urge you to continue to submit questions to him in the comments field below, if only to give him something to do in his three other visits to our blog this month (every Tuesday, if you haven't heard). He throws tantrums when he's bored.
And in that same spirit of reluctance, I also mention some of the books he has written, though I hardly endorse their contents. In addition to the well-known Series of Unfortunate Events (a series I was pleased to see end, although, bizarrely, it remains in print), he has "authored" two picture books that treat the holiday season with nowhere near the respect it deserves: The Latke Who Couldn't Stop Screaming: A Christmas Story and, this year, The Lump of Coal. (And next March, look for--or look out for--his first book with musical accompaniment, The Composer Is Dead. Killed, no doubt, by an accordion.)
And as for recommending his holiday advice, well, reluctance doesn't even begin to describe it, but here you go:
Dear Mr. Snicket: Every Christmas I have to buy gifts for my nieces and nephews who I only see once a year. Anything they might have been into the last time I saw them is deeply uncool by the time I see them again (and they let me know it). How do I stay ahead of the curve? Thanks!
--Uncle Joe
Dear Uncle Joe: An important model for any adult who sees the same children regularly but intermittently is Herr Drosselmeyer, the godfather in Hofffman's tale The Nutcracker and the Mouse King, frequently produced in ballet incessantly during the holiday season. Herr Drosselmeyer brings his young goddaughter a nutcracker, a gift which is neither fashionable nor appropriate but turns out to be quite handy indeed, given what occurs shortly after bedtime.
The trick, therefore, is not to stay ahead of the curve, but to remain firmly behind it. The novels of Robert Louis Stevenson, the poetry of H.D., the music of Milton Babbitt, the films of Guy Maddin, french-cuff shirts, ascots, formal gloves, highball glasses, croquet sets, fondue pots, and cacti are among the unfashionable items that come to mind, and any niece or nephew not grateful to receive them deserves to be attacked by man-size rodents.
Dear Mr. Snicket: Every year, my mom makes the most delicious cheese potatoes for the holiday dinner. This year, however, I am away from home, and will be dining with friends at a new house. The catch is that the person hosting will allow me to bring the cheese potatoes, but she is not a fan of onions. The onions are the third-most key ingredient to the cheese potatoes! How can I enjoy a holiday dinner without cheese potatoes as they were meant to be? Also, is this hostess insane?
--Third-Cousin Alex
Dear Third-Cousin Alex: "Cheese potatoes" is an unnerving name for a dish, which should be named something alluring rather than simply a list of ingredients, the way nobody names a child Blood Bones And Assorted Organs. I would suggest that you call your dish potatoes au gratin, which sounds gloriously culinary. Gloriously culinary items frequently use shallots instead of onions. Shallots, of course, are a close relative of the onion, just as potatoes au gratin are a close relative (albeit a French, pretentious relative) of cheese potatoes, which will lead to the following conversation:
Hostess: Are there onions in this?
You: You asked me not to put onions in my potatoes au gratin. [Notice how this statement is truthful.]
Hostess: But what is this?
You: That is a shallot.
Hostess: What is a shallot?
You: A close relative of the onion.
Hostess: So there are onions in this?
You: You asked me not to put onions in my potatoes au gratin.
Hostess: Then what's this?
You: A shallot.
Hostess: But a shallot is a close relative of an onion.
You: Yes.
Hostess: So there are onions in this!
You: You asked me not to put onions in my potatoes au gratin.
etc.
If she is not insane, she will be driven insane by the end of this conversation, and you can enjoy your meal in peace.
Dear Mr. Snicket: Why does it always have to be coal? Why shouldn't a concerned parent give their ill-behaved youngsters something more accessible for modern times, say, a stick of firewood or a dried lump of mud?
--Woody
Dear Woody: Under enough pressure, a lump of coal may eventually become a diamond, but a stick of firewood, in the hands of an ill-behaved youngster under pressure from a concerned parent, invariably becomes a prop in a nice rousing game of Joan of Arc. Does anyone smell something burning?
Dear Mr. Snicket: What is mince meat? Why do people seem to like it so much? Do I have to eat it?
--A Loyal Reader
Dear Loyal Reader: I am afraid to try mincemeat, as it appears to be made from the innards of ungrateful nieces and nephews, demanding hostesses, and concerned parents. Apparently some people like such things. One of the great things about the world, even at holiday time, is that you do not have to eat it.
Susan on December 03, 2008 at 06:04 PM
I recently came across your blog and have been reading along. I thought I would leave my first comment. I don't know what to say except that I have enjoyed reading. Nice blog. I will keep visiting this blog very often.
Susan
http://www.car-insurance-choices.com
Holiday Shopper on December 05, 2008 at 02:39 PM
Dear Mr. Snicket,
When you enter a store and see holiday volunteers (often dressed as Saint Nicholas) asking you to donate change to the needy, do you give money on your way into the store, and ignore them on your way out? Or do you ignore them on your way inside, feeling guilty through your shopping expedition, and donate on your way out? Or, do you divide your change up evenly so that you can donate half as much, twice as often? What is proper donation etiquette?
Chris on December 06, 2008 at 02:42 PM
Who are your literary enemies?
Nikolas on December 07, 2008 at 12:45 PM
Dear Mr Snicket,
This Christmas I will be traveling abroad and will be attending a party with my in-laws. Would they find it weird if I attended the party dressed as a dinosaur? Would YOU find it weird if I attended one of your parties (assuming that you have parties) dressed as a dinosaur? What if I attended dressed as a dinosaur and brought muffins? But what if one of the party guests is allergic to something in the muffins and has an allergic reaction? And this allergic reaction causes them to be angry at me? Do you think I could sooth their anger by roaring for them? Or would this just make them even more angry?
Oh please Mr. Snicket! Help me!
-Nikolas (I'm a dinosaur. Rawr!)
Alfred on December 07, 2008 at 01:10 PM
Mr. Snicket,
What is fruit cake, why is it considered a holiday food, and why do so many people give it out as a gift? Does this mean that I should eat it if I receive it as a gift? My cousin told me that my uncle is a fruit cake, so does this mean that I should eat him too?
Thank you,
--Alfred Jones.
Santa Claus on December 07, 2008 at 04:31 PM
Dear Mr. Snicket,
How can I fit down someone's chimney without ruining it? I do not want to lose weight, that's too hard; especially in the North Pole.
Gill Fuqua on December 09, 2008 at 06:03 PM
I am confused. While it is true that the late Ann Landers lived in a ramshackle lean-to; I was told it was in the California desert in Needles, California, not Honduras. She told me this when I was traveling through Winslow, Arizona at a pancake house and saw her being interviewed by Charles Kurault. She had dropped her keys and I picked them up and handed them to her. I told her I had seven women on my mind. She said, "Take it easy. Take it eaeasy." She then said she had to leave to meet Salvador Dali to go fishing on the Colorado River. She said that he used dotted line. Now that I think back, that would explain why she said he usually caught every other fish.
Susan on December 10, 2008 at 10:08 PM
I recently came across your blog and have been reading along. I thought I would leave my first comment. I don't know what to say except that I have enjoyed reading. Nice blog. I will keep visiting this blog very often.
Susan
http://www.car-insurance-choices.com
667 Dark Avenue on December 17, 2008 at 07:37 AM
Dear Mr. Snicket: What is the most effective means of keeping those well-intentioned but pesky holiday carolers from disrupting our evenings and obstructing our fire exits? Every time the doorbell rings and our labors are interrupted by their unfailingly cheerful faces, our secret organization teeters closer and closer to the brink of disaster.
With all due desperation,
--667 Dark Avenue
Cheap NFL Jerseys on August 17, 2011 at 06:30 PM
The two Wild Card teams (labeled Wild Card 1 and 2) are seeded fifth and sixth (with the better of the two having seed 5) regardless of their records compared to the four division winners.