Prince Charles the Adulterer
 
Shortly before the wedding, Princess Diana discovers a carton of Marlboros that Prince Charles bought as a gift for Mrs. Camilla Parker Bowles.
 
Shocking evidence comes to light: Charles slept with Camilla between the wedding and the reception.
 
Princess Diana realizes that the “something borrowed” on her wedding day was Prince Charles.
  
The Princess Strikes Back
 
Princess Di grants a tell-all interview to the BBC, the state-sponsored channel infamous for revealing that there are no bluebirds over the white cliffs of Dover.
 
Diana tells the BBC, “There were three of us in this marriage: me, Charles, and that horse-faced trollop.”
 
She also reveals her own affair with the Royal Pool Boy, Ken Kensington III.
 
In her most explosive statement, Diana observes that Prince Charles would make a lousy king “because he can’t even pull his knickers on straight, and the palace staff all giggle about him behind his back.”  

For her fairytale wedding, Diana arrives in a pumpkin coach pulled by 12 white mice. Her gown has a 25-foot train of taffeta, ivory, arsenic and old lace.

That other guy, Prince What's-his-name of Wales, arrives in a VW bus. 
 
The congregation at St. Paul’s Cathedral consists of 3,502 dignitaries, old nobility, social climbers, and a few people Diana actually knows. 
 
Music during the ceremony includes “Pomp and Circumcision,” “Theme from the Mickey Mouse Club in D Major,” and “Good Luck, You’re Gonna Need It” by Spike Jones and the City Slickers. 
 
The Windsors covered the vast majority of the wedding expenses. The Spencers paid for Diana’s wedding gown and the open bar at the reception. 

In November. . .     
. . . no matter how poorly your favorite NFL team is doing, there’s still a theoretical chance of making the playoffs.   
. . . you don’t have to slather on sunscreen whenever you go out.
. . . you can finally put away the lawn mower (unless you live in Florida, in which case you should skip the rest of this article).
 . . you no longer need to spend your lunch hour watering the outdoor plants, because they’re all dead.
November offers. . .
. . . fifty distinct shades of gray in the daytime sky.
. . . midterm exams, and a chance to determine whether this semester's $75,000 tuition has been worth it.
. . . a good test of your new SAD full-spectrum light box. 
November. . . 
. . . makes all the other months (except February) look good.
November is . . .
. . only 30 days long,  not 31.
 

 

 

If you’ve never heard of the Farter’s Almanac, you’re probably younger than 100. Yet despite your callous indifference, the Almanac has just issued its traditional long-range winter forecast after checking all the usual signs (wooly-caterpillars’ coats, toad entrails, USDA computer data).
 
North   Cold, with snow and ice from December through March.
West   Cold. Drifting snow in high mountain passes.
South   Warmer than other regions.
East   Who knows?
Caribbean  Warm and pleasant, with higher-than-average chance of Germans in Speedos at the beach.
Vatican City  Crisp, clear days which will attract a mass of cardinals.
Moon  Cold. Low levels of gravity and oxygen.
Mississippi River  Wet.
Washington, D.C.  Typical cloud of hot air over Capitol Hill.
Las Vegas  Rain falls in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

Home canning expert Betty Cracker explains how to convert your mountain of garden veggies into mushy jars of explosive botulism.

Q. Can I eliminate salt from a home canning recipe?
A. Yes, indeed. The resulting product will help both your blood pressure and your waistline, since you’ll never want to eat it.

Q. I’ve inherited a pressure cooker. How should I use it?
A. Pressure canning is the method of choice when you want to convert large quantities of fruits or vegetables into a mushy mass that’s splattered all over your kitchen walls and ceiling. Fill the cooker, turn it on, and get the heck out of there until you hear the explosion.

Q. How can I tell whether canning recipes from family and friends are safe to use?
A. First, consider who’s offering the recipe: a rival for the state fair blue ribbon for canned beets? A beneficiary in your will? Second, examine the recipe. If it says something like “test the boiling jam by sticking your finger in the kettle,” I’d be suspicious.

Q. How can I tell whether my home-canned food contains botulism?
A. Invite your neighbors over for a tasting party. Be a good hostess; serve yourself last.

Running out of things to do this summer?  We were, too, so we spent hours making a cake and wrapping presents for three close personal canines.

It turns out they’re the best party guests we've ever had. All three promptly RSVP’d to our invitation. They showed up on time, shook hands pleasantly, and barked only when barked to. Nobody whined about having to wear a costume, either. 

The cake was a huge hit. Maybe we shouldn’t have let them eat it all at once, but after barfing on the rug, they dutifully licked that up too, and this time it stayed down.

We closed out by singing “Yappy Birthday to You” as everyone howled along in his/her own key. 

Copyright (c) 2022 by Leah Carson

Got a last-minute urge to appear in a major metropolitan parade even though you don’t possess valuable skills like baton twirling or tuba playing? Here's a step-by-step plan that’ll get you into the parade and noticed by all.

1. Borrow or rent a black SUV or limousine with tinted windows.

2. Ask several friends to dress in dark suits with white shirts and ties. Your own clothing should also be conservative: no flip-flops, cargo shorts, or bare midriffs. 

3. Fasten small U.S. flags, upright, to all four corners of the vehicle. 

4. During the height of the parade, approach the route from a side street. Have your driver inch the vehicle into the route as your bodyguards ask spectators to move aside.

5. Once you’re in the parade, step out of the vehicle and walk the route. Wave to spectators, “recognize” some people, and shake hands without making eye
contact. 

6. Every so often, your bodyguards should speak tersely into their suit collars.

7. To test the effectiveness of your charade, hand out ballpoint pens imprinted “Vote for [your name].” Come November, see how many write-in votes you get.

Most municipalities ban retail sales of all but the wimpiest fireworks. To find out where to buy the good kind, ask your cousin Melvern, the guy with two fingers missing from his left hand.

Fireworks that burst in two or three phases are called multi-break shells; those that send spirals outward in skittering paths are called serpentines; and those that set fire to your neighbor’s roof are called Exhibit A.

Some websites offer safety tips for setting up your home fireworks show, but you aren’t going to read them anyway, so we won’t list the websites here.

Experts warn that ordinary sparklers can burn skin, set clothing on fire, and produce  permanent eye damage — so they may be more fun than you thought.

Dispose of all smoldering remnants in a metal container that’s been wetted down. That empty half-barrel of beer you and your friends just finished off would be ideal.

Independence Day picnics are a festive tradition — if you’re a human. For wildlife, they’re a major pain in the butt. 

Just imagine if a crowd suddenly invaded your back yard, bringing tantalizing food and then shooing you away when you came to investigate. No fair!

That’s what we like about this makeover, as a brown bear takes matters into his own hands … er, paws.

Notice the serenity of the “after” shot, with humans  banished and the bear partaking of chilled Gatorade and salami sandwiches. Tonight he’ll sleep comfortably in a Coleman camper, wrapped in the luxury of a $650 Eddie Bauer sleeping bag.
 
COMING NEXT MONTH
Moray eels reclaim their beach at an oceanside park.