SYBIL SEZ!!!… Hiccups: Mary Poppins May Have Had Something There...

Dear Sybil, I’ve heard that you have a foolproof cure for hiccups among your amazing bits of household wisdom!!  Is it true, or is this just another superstitious urban myth?... and what really causes them in the first place??  Sincerely, Gasping-for-breath!  

Dear Gasping, I DO in fact have a scientifically proved cure for hiccups, tried ‘n’ true, and handed down from one generation of great stage actors to another, family to family, dynasty to dynasty. It was used by the Booths, the Barrymores, Ellen Terry, Mrs. Fisk, Laurette Taylor, Filbert Dirndl, and even Sarah Bernhardt and Sandra Bernhard (who may actually be the SAME person, since they are never seen at the same party at the same time! ….but more on that later!).  The actual science of the hiccup is this; the vagus nerve which runs from the brain down the neck and into the abdominal area, branching out into the various organs, becomes irritated through common digestive problems, emotional upsets (known as “vapours” to the Victorians), blows to the head (sometimes with hatchets!), extended performances of ventriloquism (with or without dummies!), poor accessorizing at luncheons, and over-indulgence in alcohol (usually through so-called “ladies aperitifs” with paper umbrellas!).

Hiccups are little more than a reflex, a misfiring of the nerves leading to the diaphragm! And they're usually more a nuisance than anything else…unless of course, they’re fatal! (My poor great-uncle Wilbur, but that’s another story for another time!). Most home remedies involve two strategies: 1) Overwhelm the misfiring responses of the vagus nerve with other “information”. The vagus nerve informs the brain that something much more dire is happening, and the brain, as the so-called “corporate headquarters” of the body, issues other directives that supersede stupid hiccuping!…or 2) Or interfere with the breathing, as in increasing carbon dioxide levels, which again causes the brain to focus on more dire matters than hiccuping.

My cure, which I have inherited from great actors, performance artists, interpretive dancers, contortionists, ecdysiasts, and highly provocative animal acts is the following: Simply take two spoonfuls of ordinary white sugar, or two sugar packets if you’re on a stock tour and loitering in a diner in Akron! Place the sugar under your tongue and hold it there until it dissolves on its own. No cheating! Don’t chew it, roll it around, or move it in any way… Just let it completely dissolve slowly on its own. As it vanishes, you’ll notice that your hiccups have magically vanished as well. For those of us on nitro-glycerine (or recreational drugs taken orally), we know that the area under the tongue is one of the most highly absorptive places in the body both in completion and speed. The sugar goes instantly and completely into the blood stream and overrides the misfiring signals to the diaphragm, essentially misfiring the misfiring!! I have never known this to fail, and it was the classic cure for hiccups for people who couldn’t afford to be hiccuping in front of the public at the most serious times; Edward Askew Sothern yodeling in OUR AMERICAN COUSIN, Martin Van Buren accepting the presidential nomination of the Know-Nothing Party, and Pinky, the balloon clown at the Lucas County 4H Jamboree making his poodle-balloons make rude sounds!

There ARE, of course, other so-called cures which I will list here in descending order out of journalistic integrity, although I wouldn’t trust any of them on my coleus!  Don’t say I didn’t warn you!  

1) You’ve heard of “See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil”?? Well forget the 1st and 3rd, and play “Hear No Evil”! Supposedly, plugging your ears energetically can stimulate the branches of the vagus nerve which run nearby, and by stimulating the nerve endings there, the vagus nerve goes into action. Of course some people take home-cures too far and end up “over-medicating” themselves by putting pencils, oblong vegetables, and even power tools into their ears! Please! Don’t let this happen to YOU!  

2) There is the age-old Scared-to-Death cure!  Truly ridiculous, unless of course, you have a rich old Aunt Petunia with a severe heart condition, a castle in Monte Carlo, and you’re her favorite nephew!  Then have at it! Hiccups or no!!  Scare the crap out of her! If she survives and is cured, she’ll put you in her will! If she dies. Make sure all her paperwork was in order before you….um…”cured” her.

3) Gulp water! Lots of it!  NO REALLY!!!  LOTS!! …and upside down!!! I assume that’s what Dick Cheney was having the military do at Guantanamo Bay… “curing POW hiccups”….. this particular cure is infinitely more gentle than the old tried ‘n’ true “shotgun-in-the-face on a hunting trip” cure which can have harmful side-effects.

4) Speaking of torture, here’s a suggestion from the Inquisition; take hold of your tongue, and pull it out in front of you for 10 minutes! With pliers… This actually doesn’t cure hiccups, but it keeps you from complaining about them any further to your friends, and that alone is a kind of peace …for others!!!  

5) ON a lighter note (but only barely!) tickle them away; You can tickle the roof of your mouth with a cotton swab or other …ahem…object. Or you can ask someone to tickle any other sensitive parts of your body, inducing laughter… etc. Paying a professional in a roadside motel room for this service is optional… As is nudity… And other paraphernalia.  

6) Hold your breath… or have someone hold it for you. See cure #5 again… Specifically items “professional” and “paraphernalia”… Apply as needed. Try to avoid pillows at all costs though… and any heirs to the Roman Empire.

7) Bag your hiccups! Breathe into a tightly applied paper bag very rapidly and deeply until either the hiccups are gone... Or you wake-up two days later on the floor. Please do NOT try the Jerzy Kosinski version of this with a drycleaner bag and a bubble bath! (“Calgon Bouquet! Take me away!” indeed!!!!)  

There are other cures that have been handed down through the ages and from many different cultures, but I think that as modern people we should avoid shaking gourds, reading sheep entrails, and setting bonfires for a simple case of hiccups! I’m sorry, but drinking and eating too fast and too much strikes me as a much more likely cause for hiccups than witchcraft or Halley’s comet!  Just my opinion! And, as MY old Aunt Petunia used to say, “Sybil dear, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cured bacon!”… (I know! I had NO idea what that meant either!!). XOXOXO! Sybil.

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Charles Barsotti (Sept. 28, 1933 - June 16th, 2014)

For any animal lovers out there: Charles Barsotti (Sept. 28, 1933 - June 16th, 2014)

Many of you have known for years of my deep affection for the cartoonist Charles Barsotti whose work appears regularly in the New Yorker Magazine. His iconic little dog cartoons are always funny and often touching, but none more so than this one. I remember the day I turned the page in my copy of the magazine and this image was on it. I was in a little cafe in the Village just a block from home and enjoying my croissant and latte on a rainy but cozy morning. There were maybe six other people chatting at tables. I glanced at the picture, the image of the entrance to Heaven, the older man arriving, and the little dog bounding towards him.....and then I read the caption. I will never forget...ever, that moment...

I was stunned as tears began to literally flow down my face. When they started hitting the paper, the sight of them only brought more heavy tears, and I had to cover my face to hide a sob choking its way up my throat. I grabbed my napkin, but it was no use....It was clear that I was crying and I rested my elbows on the table and smothered my grief, but it was too late. People had started to notice because the nice waitress came over and whispered to see if I was ok. I looked at her and saw the other people looking over with gentle expressions of concern. I couldn't speak...so I turned the cartoon to her and pointed. She looked puzzled I think because she perhaps couldn't believe that it was something on a page of a magazine....and then her eyes widened...and stared. And they filled.... filled quickly! She blinked and looked like she had to read it again to be sure. She turned away and then back to me. Our eyes told us everything we needed to know. She put her hand on mine and pressed and then walked away wiping her eyes.

The man behind the counter asked her something, and I could see her explaining as his face grew solemn and then saddened... the lady at the table next to mine asked if I was alright, and (as best I could!) I mentioned the cartoon...she seemed nice so I held it out to her. Smiling softly, she took it and ....her eyes did the same thing... glancing, reading, widening...and then her eyes closed. She stayed like that for a moment, her mouth set for a second, and then two tears began to slip down... she opened her eyes, now changed completely and gulped a sound ...or a word but couldn't finish...

I don't need to tell you that we all shared the magazine that morning...all of us strangers in a little cafe with the rain falling outside on West 4th Street. Each person was deeply touched, and we began to chuckle through our collective tears at how simple Barsotti's lines are, both drawn and written. And we all marveled at how such a sweet image could express a humorous little joke on the surface, as well as a profoundly deeper message underneath.

I have shared that cartoon over and over on my page here on Facebook whenever a friend has posted about the passing of a pet. And I have said every time that this image is what I hope is waiting for us...certainly waiting for me.

Charles Barsotti lived to be 80, a good long life, but... when I think of his wonderful eye and voice and hand and spirit being still now... no more beautiful thoughts like this to be drawn and shared, well... I'm sure you know how I feel. And all I can do is to look at all the brilliantly simple cartoons he created, and this one in particular, and feel the gratitude, joy, and tears for a few black lines on a white page... drawn and written. And that they can live within you for a lifetime....and beyond...

http://www.kansascity.com/news/local/article567945/Beloved-New-Yorker-cartoonist-Charles-Barsotti-dies-in-Kansas-City.html

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SYBIL SEZ!!!..... Hotel Soaps: To Steal Or Not To Steal……

Dear Sybil, Now that Summer is coming, I plan on doing a lot of traveling, mostly to the Catskills and Adirondacks and on up into New England to the great old hotels and resorts that my grandparents and their parents went to. One thing I remember from them is the wonderful old miniature bars of soap they had in the bathrooms that had names different from the usual Ivory or Camay that we used at home. I would always take the bars home and keep the labels with the names of the hotels and resorts on them to remind me of our trips. They always seemed to be more luxurious than our soaps, and they lasted longer even though they were smaller bars…Is it wrong to steal them? Sincerely yours, Feeling Guilty.

Dear Feeling Guilty, DON’T! Those soaps are actually wonderful in a number of different ways. ….even ecologically! First of all, the companies that made them intend them to be promotional! A hundred years ago, the higher-end soap makers hoped to lure new customers into buying their brands back home by placing miniature versions of their product in vacationers’ rooms who would do just what you did as a youngster; link the look, the feel, and the smell of a soap with a glorious vacation in an exotic place. For middleclass Americans who were becoming affluent enough to “take to the open road” and stay at the so-called Grand Hotels that were previously restricted to the super-rich of the 19th century, every nuance of their stay was memorable, even the grand bathrooms with their giant fluffy and monogrammed towels and their beautiful incised bars of soap. The marketing ploy was so successful that the more common soaps (Ivory, Dove, Camay, Woodbury, etc.) responded by trying to flood the hotel industry with their own brands, but of course, there was nothing particularly “special” about sensible old Ivory. You could find it in every gas station washroom and backroad motel off the highways. Ivory may have been "99 44⁄100% Pure" and even floated!..... but that certainly didn’t mean much to Marion Crane at the Bates Motel. 
Another thing about the higher-end soaps that you noticed too, F.G., was the fact that they seemed to “last longer”! They did, and here’s why; better soaps are “hard-milled” or “French-milled”; terms which mean that they go through added steps which cause them to be harder, glossier, less full of emulsified air, and longer lasting. A bar of Crabtree & Evelyn, Caswell Massey, or any of the other classic luxury soaps may cost more per bar than the standards, but watch how much longer they stay because of that compulsive perfectionism that the French put into everything they design.... Hey, and do yourself a favor! Get an old-fashioned flower-frog from Grandma’s pantry or the local flea market (the metal criss-cross flower-holder that folks put in the bottom of a vase! No, not the deadly one with the 200 needles sticking up!) and use it as your shabby-chic soap dish. It’ll keep your fine soap up in the air between bath times and completely dry it out. Nothing turns soap “soupy” faster that letting it sit in one of those forlorn built-into-the-wall soap dishes that come with every high-rise apartment. And to make them last even longer, always unwrap soaps as soon as you bring them home, and store them either in your chest of drawers or on closets shelves. Not only do soaps get even harder when they’re allowed to “dry” out for a couple of weeks before use, but they also make a wonderful sachet for your clothes and linens, and they chase away moths and mildew too…..a triple bonus, n’est-ce pas? (That flower-frog soap dish and the sachet trick work equally well on the cheaper brands of soap too! Your bar of Ivory will last twice as long, trust me!) And remember that I mentioned that bars of good soap have an ecological benefit too? Well, the processes and packaging for hard milled soaps are much less stressful on the environment. The craze for bath gels and foams that started in the 1980s spiked the use of petroleum and other chemicals not only to make the products themselves but also the millions of bottles that remain completely unrecycled to this day. The packaging for a three bar box of Caswell-Massey “Number Six” (George Washington’s favorite, by the way….and mine too!) is basically some paper and cardboard….not your high-falootin’ spray-labeled faux-plexi-glass aero-dynamically designed squirt bottle for Aveeno that’ll be completely intact in a museum in 2000 years. Treat yourself to the luxury of great bathtimes with a luxury that turns out to be both economically smart and ecologically responsible too…. Now you can settle back into that hot tub and feel really relaxed. You’re a good person!….. even if you DID steal that bar of hotel soap!! Xoxoxox! Sybil.

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SYBIL SEZ!..... There's A Fungus Amungus!...

Dearest Sybil, We opened our house on Fire Island last week and walked into a disaster! It seems that with the very long, very cold, and very, very wet Winter this year, our place flooded from the roof and there was water and mold everywhere. Where, oh where do we even start??? HELP!! Mrs. Fuzzy Slippers.

Dear Mrs. F.S.,  You know it’s so funny! Folks always come up to me on the boardwalk, on the beach, or in a bistro and tell me that they think I float unharmed and never inconvenienced by life’s troubles and tragedies…and I have to reassure them that I get knocked around just as much as everyone else waiting for their clam chowder… even out here in beautiful Fire Island. And I TOO have walked into a house completely trashed by life’s merry little pranks! (Remind me to tell you about the Manson Family wannabes who broke into a place I had in the Pines and lived for maybe 4 months without any running water but still used the toilet!.... Yes! YOU do the math on that one!!). When you walk into a house that has been thoroughly soaked and is becoming a finalist for the Miss Hazmat-Most-Contaminated-Places-To-Visit-Before-You-Die Contest, there are definite rules and protocols to follow to get your home OUT of the running!!! Many of us learned a lot about this after Hurricane Sandy wreaked such havoc all over the Northeast, and the hew and cry over and over again was “MOLD”!!! Suddenly, perfectly healthy folks were coming down with strange skin and respiratory problems; rashes and sores that itched and might not heal quickly, coughs and sinus infections that got worse and worse, and then a whole list of other even scarier symptoms involving digestive and neurological problems. When it was discovered that houses were molding, especially with the “new” building materials like sheetrock and plaster board being more vulnerable than the “old-fashioned” wood paneling of the 1950s, Fire Island turned from a sweet little sandbar into one huge hospital ward of health bulletins, hype, and hysteria….. and much of it well-founded! For the very young, the elderly, and people with compromised immune systems mold in the home and work place can be terribly serious and even deadly. Now that we look back through news reports from the past, we see that “mysterious outbreaks of illnesses” may very well have been mold-related following hurricanes, floods, and other disasters involving water damage in locations that remained wet and possibly warm after the initial catastrophe. SO!...with all that in mind, what do we do?? First of all, the internet can answer tons of questions and give us referrals to the right solutions and the people that can provide them… Also, ask your neighbors! Kevin Bacon is right about the whole 6 degrees thing. You can’t throw a slice of moldy pumpernickel in any direction without hitting someone who’s had some experience with solving a mold problem in their place. Your friendly neighborhood contractor (and there are dozens up and down the length of the island!) have all been involved and perhaps even received extra training! Yes, you could do all the home-made cures like opening the entire house up to fresh air and sun, putting fans in all the rooms blowing furiously, and washing everything down with a mixture of bleach and hot water and “scrubby” sponges!…. In addition to bleach, folks have used borax, vinegar, ammonia, hydrogen peroxide, baking soda, common household detergent, and even grapefruit seed extract and tea tree oil. And then of course, there are now dozens of special moldicide products on the market. But everything needs to be handled very carefully, and if you’re put in the position of having mold inside walls, ceilings, and under the floor, there’s only one solution; and that is the professional one. Call an expert! Do nothing on your own! I’m telling you you haven’t lived till you’ve had a wall pulled down, or a floor pried up and seen mold in black, green, and every shade between mounding into veritable throw pillows of Edgar Allen Poe horror!! Above and beyond the sad smell of a dead basement greeting your recoiling nostrils, the sight of that much mold swallowing up the innards of a house sends some folks right over the edge…. (Did you know that some folks actually have a phobia of mold! I’m not sure what it’s called, but fear of mushrooms is “mycophobia”, and perhaps that’s close enough, because sometimes there are mushrooms growing in all that gunk along with everything else!) The one and only rule I can give you is that the faster you get the water stopped, the place open, airy and drying out, and the contractor called, the easier and cheaper it will be. Period! A lot of white clothing, slip covers, linens, and other fabrics can be rescued with several washings of Oxyclean combined with bleach and detergent….colored fabrics like Grandpa’s favorite bowling shirt may be less easy to rescue because chlorine bleach really works the wonders. If you’re willing to spend some money on the non-white items, take them to a reliable neighborhood drycleaner. They’ve managed miracles for me, and you don’t necessarily have to drop another mortgage at Madame Paulette’s just because the Met’s Costume Institute does!! Now, before one of you reading this over his eggs Benedict mutters that Mummie is pontificating from a lofty perch and knows nothing of whence I speak….I have a confession to make; I AM "MRS. FUZZY SLIPPERS"!!! ….and I’m the one going through all of this myself. You see? Mummie cares so much about you, dear reader, that she even uses her own stubbed toe to help you with yours!! Mold, stuffed up noses, surprise visits from in-laws at the beach, dead raccoons inside the eaves, and day-old French bread and a fondue pot you got from the flea market; yep! Just ask Mummie what to do, and she’ll dig up something from her glamorous misadventures!! …and now?....Well, back to the laundry and a cup of coffee with my wonderful God-sent contractor Mr. C.B.!!!! Xoxoxox!! Sybil.

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Flushing Meadow, NY.... April 22nd, 2014

What an amazing anniversary!.... You see, in 1964, my career in show business had hit a lot of ...um..."bumps along the way", and finally stalled.... After being blacklisted for my liberal affiliations politically and dating a particularly lusty Russian freedom fighter in the 40s, I scrounged for work in regional dinner theatres, independent nudie monster films, county fair carny shows, and finally the low-end Pinsky burlesque circuit... So when the World's Fair came to Flushing, I rushed to the open auditions along with about ten GAZILLION other boys and girls... (okay! I was much olde..... er...."more mature" than most of them!).

Anyway, my..."experience" and stage presence got me a job as a Turntable Demo-Girl...in the Kitchen of the Future! I was dressed in a fabulous Givenchy house dress in shantung silk standing in the middle of a futuristic formica fantasy come-true with appliances rising from and receding into cubicles and cabinets, doors and drawers opening and closing, everything automatic and shhhushing smoothly to the "ahhhs" and "ohhhs" of adoring Americans who piled through hourly to my 18 minute shpiels... Thank God I was a quick study, a great hand model, and could keep the repeated copy of the script from sounding stale after my 58th performance of it...

Unfortunately, I DID get my fingers and hemline pinched in the machinery once in a while, especially by the "Joke-telling" refrigerator/sleep sofa. And the counter-top cutting board/color TV upstaged me mercilessly. We Turntable models got $38.00 a day for an 8 hour shift, which was good money back then (but NOTHING compared to my MGM contract back in the 1920s!), so I took extra shifts in the Prehistoric World as "Cavewoman Eaten By Tyrannosaurus" and "Squashed Thing Under Brontosaurus"...... ah, good times.... good times.

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Sybil Bruncheon's "Strange But True Springtime Stories for Shut-Ins!"...

BREAKING NEWS! THE ARRIVAL OF SPRING: The long anticipated arrival of the Vernal Equinox and warmer weather is being celebrated with added fervor this year, and some mishaps!...

In Blaineville, New Hampshire (est. 1714, pop. 2106) Mrs. Enid Bromf who had disappeared during a leaf raking/marshmallow and weenie roast back in October suddenly reappeared yesterday at the Sunoco station on Clitter Avenue begging for assistance. Sadly, her pleas weren't comprehended as she lumbered up to a van of shrieking Girl Scouts who had been making their Thin Mints rounds. Their den mother, Mrs. Hillary Hapgarten claimed that all she could hear was "a sort of growl-gurgling version of either Row, Row, Row Your Boat, or Ave Maria as the hideous creature approached".... Mrs. Hapgarten threw her Rambler station wagon into forward and drove over Mrs. Bromf as she sped off towards Johnson's Soda Fountain & Firearms Emporium. Fortunately, the thick wads of leaves and muck which clogged poor Mrs. Bromf's mouth also padded her thoroughly from the Rambler's snow tires. As the wheels passed over her, she bounced right back up again, and managed to explain to Clem "Pumpy" Berger, the gas station attendant, what had happened, and where she had been for over 5 months! Seems she slipped down the stone steps by Meyer's Landing and became a big tangle of compost and corduroy till the Spring thaw let her loose! After a seven hour bath, Mrs. Bromf promptly ordered 87 boxes of Thin Mints and 14 boxes of Do-Si-Dos! I'm sure we all want to welcome her home, and send a big thank you to Mother Nature for her perfect timing.

(postscript: Sadly, the onus of having lived in a leaf pile for an entire Winter was so humiliating that Enid was forced to relocate to Boca Raton and adopt a new life and identity. She joined a gym, lost 37 lbs. and became a showgirl named Verna Equinox at the Boca Boom-Boom Burlesquery! She made a fortune, although she remained inordinately frightened of leaf blowers...)

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Sybil Bruncheon's "HEADLINES FROM AROUND THE WORLD!"... Thawing Out!

Spring Weather Update – Moscow, April, 2019: ...and today in the news, even as relations between Russia and the US seemed to be freezing over, Trixitina, the much-beloved circus bear lumbered out of her cave at the Moscow Zoo, and spontaneously began to play what sounded like Stravinsky’s "Rite Of Spring" on a harp standing in the snow. The sight and sound of her playing Igor Stravinsky (with surprising accuracy!!) was enough to draw an ever-growing crowd and finally, Vladimir Putin himself. The Russian president, moved to tears and paroxysms of religious ecstasy, called President Trump and immediately set up a face-to-face conference to rekindle the cooperation and friendship between the two great powers.

Trixitina's playing continued on through the day to greater and greater acclaim, and Spring itself seemed to descend on the city causing flowers and trees to begin blooming in a riot of leaves and colors more reminiscent of Paris or Holland than of chilly Russia.....

It wasn't until feeding time later in the evening that a Mr. Maslo Arakhisovoye Sendvich, the lead harpist for the Minsk "Tippy-Toes" Ballet Academy for Earnest Boys, was reported as missing!!!....and that his penny loafers were found near Trixitina's water bowl.... The next morning, a passing musicologist revealed that the bear was not playing Stravinsky, but was in fact just "banging on the harp.... and scratching it rather badly, isn't she?"... Mr. Sendvich has not been found... as yet...

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Facebook Etiquette 102.......

Facebook Etiquette 102: Darlings! Mummie doesn't want to lecture any of you on Holidays like Passover, Easter, or Christmas Eve, (when visions of sugar plums, new gadgets, fine jewelry, bottles of expensive booze, and even new medications are dancing in your heads!) ....but PLEASE! ...remember to "like" the incoming wishes for Holiday cheer that are landing on your Facebook pages... and if you want to be especially gracious and classy, try to answer each and every one of them with something sweet right back. No one's asking you to write a serialized version of "A Christmas Carol"....Just to match some earnest courtesy and fellowship with the same. And, if you're curious, you can always check out Facebook Etiquette 101 as part of your New Year's resolutions... (or send it to that pain-in-the-ass Uncle Scrooge of yours who never acknowledges your posts to him!!) Here's the link! Sybil Sez! http://sybilsez.com/blog/2013/12/15/facebook-etiquette-101

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One of these things is NOT like the others.....

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