The Library | Write to Sir Charles | Cast of Characters | Credits | This Week

19 May, 1995

"Sir Charles," write one's many readers. "Sir Charles, your wit astounds us. We know we will never be as highly educated as are you, and know we will never have your advantages (especially socially) or your refinement." One heartily agrees with this point. (Once again, one is paraphrasing, as no common reader could put these sentiments as well as one.) "Yet," they continue, "perhaps you could share with us a few insights of how we might become as grand as you. Are there books we might obtain?" One says most decisively: Indeed not. One's demeanour is the result of hundreds of years of good breeding. Were such a thing so cheaply and readily available, the masses would not have to turn to one for advice. One finds that this is exactly as it should be. One thus remains, Sir Charles Grandiose Surfer writes: Sir Charles, I have a totally bogus problem. My, like, modem is attached to my, totally, hip, and I like can't turn it off and when I'm like, sposed to be doing like my homework, I can't, like, keep myself from turning it on and totally surfing the net. It's like my parents won't get off my case because I'm flunking school and it's not gnarly, d00d. My, like, Kb compression rate is like totally scrubbed cause of my most heinous emotions. How can I, like, balance my surf-time with time for stuff my non-non-non-non-non-non-heinous parentals totally are making me do? Surfer in San Pablo Sir Charles replies: Sirrah: One takes no interest in your problem whatsoever, as one cannot understand a single word of the vulgar patois in which you speak. One reminds you, however, that the use of six nons in front of an adjective constitutes a double negative. Such blatant abuse of the Mother Tongue will surely prompt polite society to shun you. Rather pleased at this notion, one remains Sir Charles Grandiose Ticked writes: Dear Sir Charles: I have this cat who keeps leaking on my carpet. Since you seem full of worldly advice why don't you help me out. P.S. Prozac did not work for either me or the cat. Ticked in Tallahassee Sir Charles replies: Sirrah: Although one loathes the beasts, one apparently is being mistaken for an expert on feline affairs. As one's correspondent did not specify the type of leak, or the conditions under which the leak occurs, one cannot be too specific about the solution. One's manservant, however, assures one that a concoction called "Kray-Zee Glue" (one shudders at what passes for intelligence in Commerce, these sad days) is a versatile substance that will plug most leaks indefinitely. Happy to dispense these household tips, one remains, Sir Charles Grandiose Bob-Alike writes: Sir Charles: I have a problem which brings me a great amount of anguish each day. The great God-reincarnated-in-a-singer Bob Marley is my idol! my hero! and I strive to look like him as much as possible, by putting my hair in "dreads" (it is a hairstyle, Sir Charles, because I am sure you are not acquainted with such low, common matters) and wearing clothing like his. My friends all say I even look like him. Now my problem is this: I want to know how to start my own career so I can follow in his wonderful footsteps. Is the World Wide Web a good place to advertise my talent? Should I try Yahoo? Do you think I could become a Bob Marley impersonator like those Elvis impersonators in Vegas? Bob-Alike in Berkeley Sir Charles replies: Sirrah: It sounds to one as if one's correspondent already has become a Yahoo. As for blatant self-promotion, one cannot truly endorse it. It is vulgar to have one's name appear in public print at any time save birth, marriage, and death. Unless, of course, one is providing a public service in dispensing advice to pitiful creatures such as one's own correspondents. Hoping you will recognize the benefits of a good bath and a closely-cropped coiffure, one remains, Sir Charles Grandiose Tepid writes: Hey Sir Charles, Are these things a joke or real? Tepid in Texas Sir Charles replies: 'Hey' Gentle Reader: One must assume that one's secretary--the lazy rotter!--mislaid the first half of one's correspondent's letter. However, on the off-chance that one's correspondent will be so misguided as to write again, one will advise that one is not interested in dispensing advice upon the cosmetic implants of one's correspondent's wife. One remains, indisputably, Sir Charles Grandiose