And then it started to rain.
Within minutes, the “iceberg” was revealed for what it really was: a floating platform slathered in a ton of shaving cream. Unfazed, Smith docked and gave everyone cold drinks (the ice cubes came from the barge’s beer cooler). He later said the stunt was worth a million dollars in free advertising.
THE LADY VANISHES
On March 29, 1950, a blonde, buxom actress named Nicole Riche was starring as a kidnapping victim in the noir play No Orchids for Miss Blandish at the Grand Guignol Theatre in Paris, France. Between Acts I and II, stagehands witnessed Riche pick up a note, read it, and then run out the backstage door. She never returned for Act II. Theater manager Alexandre Dundas canceled the rest of the performance and called the police. Investigators found the note—which Riche had dropped on the floor—and suspected kidnapping. A massive manhunt commenced.
Headlines across Europe told the “life imitates art” story of the beautiful woman who was abducted while starring in a play about a beautiful woman who gets abducted. Two days later, Riche, still wearing the negligee and fur coat she had worn on stage, stumbled into the Pigalle district police station and told her story: Two men had dragged her into a car and driven her to a hideout outside of Paris, where they berated her for being in an immoral play, and had then left her in the woods. She said she’d found some “kind Gypsies” who gave her a ride back to Paris, but when pressed for a description of her abductors, all she could say was that they were “Puritans.” Police chief Marcel Cambon smelled a rat, so he kept pressing her for the truth, and Riche finally came clean: It was a hoax orchestrated by Dundas to drum up publicity for his financially strapped theatre. Riche had to pay a fine for creating a public nuisance…but the play drew much larger audiences after the fake abduction.
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Length of the average criminal sentence in Colombia: 137 years.
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THE BIG FAT LIAR
In November 2009, General Felix Murga, head of Peru’s Criminal Investigation division, held a national press conference: “There is a horrible crime being committed in the jungles.” A gang called the Pishtacos—named after a mythical Peruvian creature who kills people for their body fat—was kidnapping and killing people for their body fat. A police drawing depicted racks of human carcasses strung up like sides of beef. The Pishtacos, he said, were selling bottles of the fat for up to $60,000 per gallon. The story made headlines; no one in the Peruvian press was talking about anything else. But then that was the whole point. Before that, everyone in Peru had been talking about another scandal, in which a police “death squad” illegally executed 46 criminals. It dominated the news…until the fat story. And then people began to question that story. Reporters cited a prominent plastic surgeon who noted that “human fat has no value.” And police in Huanaco, where the Pishtacos were supposedly based, had never even heard of the fat-stealing gang until General Murga’s press conference.
A few weeks later, the Peruvian daily La Republica reported that the fat story was a complete fabrication—nothing more than a “grease screen.” The press immediately went back to reporting about the death squads, demanding an explanation of the government cover-up. After initial denials, Peru’s chief of police, Miguel Hildago, finally acknowledged the hoax with an announcement that General Murga had been fired for “sullying the reputation” of his department.
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Impressive…or just lazy? The Australian pygmy possum can hibernate for more than a year.
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LOUD NOISES!!!
On page 266, we told you about some of the more common sources of noise pollution—car stereos, loud parties, and Wiccan priestesses. Here are a few more stories full of sound and fury.
CRAZY COMMERCIALS
You’re curled up on the couch watching your favorite TV show. Something really dramatic happens, the scene fades to black, and before you know it, your television erupts into loud music, glaring colors, and some announcer yelling, “There’s never been a better time to buy a Toyota!” To curb this annoyance, in 2009 Rep. Anna Eshoo (D-California) introduced legislation called the Commercial Advertisement Loudness Mitigation act, or CALM, which will fine stations for airing “excessively noisy or strident” commercials. But even if the law passes, it may prove hard to enforce. That’s because in the United States, the FCC already controls how loud a station can broadcast. TV shows rarely, if ever, reach the maximum level. Advertisers, however, push the entire 30 seconds to the highest level. “If someone sets off a camera flash every now and then, it’s one thing,” writes Spencer Critchley in Digital Audio magazine. “If they aim a steady spotlight into your eyes it’s another, even if the peak brightness is no higher.”
OH, THE iRONY
The Apple iPod was designed to be an “instrument of solitude,” where the listener can retreat to his or her library of music while not forcing it upon others. But a 2007 Associated Press article reported that people who don’t own the devices have complained to Apple that the iPod itself is a growing source of noise pollution. That’s because the listeners who put the little ear buds on—while on a bus or plane, or in their cubicle or a waiting room—are often unaware that the tinny sound can be heard by anyone within about 10 feet. “Like the cell phone,” said the article, “the iPod can foster a sense of apathy when the user is among strangers. It’s easier to blow off social norms—and channel Justin Timberlake during rush hour—when you don’t know whom you’re irritating.”
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A Hunch, Inc., political survey found that Conservatives prefer Colby cheese. Liberals like Brie.
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GOING GREEN THE LOUD WAY
Farmers in Massachusetts have been furious since a taxpayer-subsidized solar panel factory was built on nearby land in January 2009. The plant is so noisy that, according to the Boston Herald, “Their horses have ulcers, the ducks have disappeared, and a dog has started gnawing off doorknobs.” Said one farmer, “Imagine tuning your radio to a station that gets only static. Then imagine having to listen to that 24 hours a day, seven days a week. That’s what we are living with. It’s like our tax dollars are being used to torture us.” The plant has since hired a “noise specialist” to try to figure out how to dampen some of the sounds (after the factory was threatened with fines of $1,000 per day). A spokesman apologized, but said that making solar panels is a “loud business.”
A WAKE-UP CALL
In a recent study conducted by Imperial College London, scientists measured the heart and brain activity of people who lived near four major European airports (including England’s Heathrow, which has had a long history of noise-pollution controversy). Every time a plane flew overhead, the subjects’ blood pressure went up, even when they were asleep. It wasn’t just the jet engines that did it: Whenever any significant “noise event” occurred—described as 35 decibels or more (a passing car with a loud engine, or drunk people shouting in the street)—the subjects’ blood pressure raised to dangerous levels. And there was a direct correlation: the louder the noise, the higher the blood pressure. That makes for restless nights, which leads to stressful days.
THOSE DAMN KIDS!
An 82-year-old German man was fed up by an annoying song coming in through his window. It happened in the morning, the afternoon, and the middle of the night. He kept yelling out his window for the neighborhood kids to shut up, but the song would start playing again. It was so annoying that he finally called the police—who instantly solved the case. How? An officer found a greeting card on the man’s windowsill. It was the kind that has a tiny speaker inside and plays a song every time the card shakes…which happened every time a breeze came in through the window. The man was “happy, relieved, and a little embarrassed.”
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Poll results: One in three iPhone owners has ended a relationship via text message.
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I HAD MY BABY IN A…
Pregnancy offers so many novelties: stretch marks, mood s
wings…and the chance to give birth to a slimy little human in the unlikeliest of places.
POST OFFICE
Sonia Marina Nascimento went to a post office in Wisbech, England in May 2009 to buy some minutes for her mobile phone—when her water broke. Postmaster Paul Childs, 58, jumped into action and moved Nasciemento from the lobby and into an office. Then, before an ambulance could arrive, Childs, his wife Helen, and an employee delivered a baby girl. “It was jolly good,” Childs said to reporters afterward. “She hadn’t even been having contractions. She dropped her jeans and out it popped.” Childs weighed the baby on a post-office scale. “She weighed 5 pounds, 15 ounces,” he said. “We worked out that that’s the equivalent of an £8.22 first-class parcel.”
SHRIMP BOAT
In August 2007, shrimp boat skipper Ed Keisel was 30 miles off the coast of Texas when his cook, Cindy Preisel, went into labor. Keisel grabbed a roll of paper towels and a first-aid book and got ready. But there was trouble: The baby came out breech, or feet first. “I’m no doctor,” Keisel said, “but even I knew that’s not supposed to happen.” He stayed calm, but there was more trouble: The umbilical cord was wrapped around the baby’s neck. “So I did the only thing I could,” the skipper said. “I waited for a contraction, and then slid my fingers in around the top of his head and scooped him out.” But now the newborn wasn’t breathing. Keisel cleared the baby’s nose and mouth and gently performed CPR. After an agonizing 25 minutes, the boy sucked in air, turned red—and started bawling. “I was so happy and relieved,” Cindy Preisel said. “It’s hard to put into words.” She named the boy Brian, after his father—a crewman on the boat—and gave him the middle name Edward, after the skipper who delivered him.
JET PLANE
Nicola and Dominic Delemere of Scunthorpe, England, took a flight from London to the Greek island of Crete in August 2007. Nicola was six months pregnant, far from full term. But at 30,000 feet, her water broke and she went into contractions. There were no doctors on board, so while the pilots turned the plane around, flight supervisor Carol Miller and a passenger delivered the baby—which weighed only one pound, one ounce. The tiny baby boy wasn’t breathing, so the quick-thinking Miller used a straw to clear fluids from the newborn’s lungs, gave him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, and massaged his heart until the plane landed at Gatwick Airport. The boy was rushed to a hospital, where doctors said he’d gone too long without oxygen and had almost certainly suffered brain damage. They were wrong: Four months later, little Alfie Delemere was home and was expected to be just fine. And the airline offered the whole family a free flight.
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Spivey’s Corner, North Carolina, hosts an annual festival to “revive the lost art of hollering.”
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TREE
In February 2000, Sofia Pedro of Mozambique was about nine months pregnant when the Limpopo River flooded. To escape the rising waters, she, her two children, her mother-in-law, and several of their neighbors climbed a large tree—and were all trapped there for the next three days as the flood raged. On the third day, Pedro went into labor. Thinking fast, her mother-in-law tied Pedro to a branch with a blanket, then caught the baby when it arrived—with the floodwaters six feet below them. Just then, a rescue helicopter appeared overhead and a medic was lowered down. He cut the baby’s umbilical cord and hoisted baby and mom to safety. Everyone in the tree survived the disaster.
McDONALD’S RESTROOM
Danille Miller was working the night shift at a McDonald’s restaurant one night in December 2007 in Vancouver, Washington, when she suddenly ran to the restroom. A co-worker followed her in, asking if she was okay. Miller said something felt wrong, but she wasn’t sure what. Within a few minutes, she had her answer when she began giving birth to a baby. This was a shock—because Miller had no idea that she was pregnant. Her equally shocked co-worker told someone to call 911, then helped deliver a six-pound baby boy. Mom and baby (later named Austin) were transported to a nearby hospital, and both were fine.
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Roto-Rooter contest prize: The “Pimped-Out John,” a toilet with built-in mini-fridge, TV & laptop.
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KILLER KARAOKE
“And now, the end is near…” is the opening line of the song “My Way.” Alas, in some karaoke bars in the Philippines, that’s not just a lyric but an eerily accurate prediction.
HE DID IT HIS WAY
In 1968 Frank Sinatra invited 27-year-old singer/songwriter Paul Anka to dinner, where Sinatra revealed that he was thinking of retiring from the music business. He asked Anka to write a farewell song for him. Anka already had a tune—he liked the melody of a song called “Comme d’Habitude” (“As Usual”) that he’d heard while vacationing on the French Riviera. He did not like the self-pitying French lyrics about living in a loveless relationship, however, so he got the composers’ permission to write new English lyrics for it.
Anka began the lyrics that very night. As he worked, he tried to make it a song about Sinatra’s life, written from Sinatra’s point of view, heavy with swaggering bravado. He finished at 5:00 a.m. and flew out to Las Vegas to sing it to Sinatra. The song: “My Way.” It became the archetypal later-Sinatra song, so much so that Sinatra didn’t retire. It became one of the most popular, most recorded songs of all time, and a staple of karaoke bars around the world. But in one country, the Philippines, the song has taken a dark turn.
ALL YOU NEED IS DEATH
The “My Way Killings” is what Philippine newspapers call them. Nobody really knows how many people have been killed during a karaoke performance of the song, but in early 2010, the New York Times reported that there have been “at least a half-dozen” deaths in recent years. (The Asia Times estimates that the number is in the dozens.) Some of the cases include:
• A singer in a San Mateo bar who ignored a heckler who complained that the guy was singing out of tune. Midway through the song, the heckler pulled out a .38-caliber pistol and shot the performer in the chest, killing him instantly.
• Faced by hecklers, another singer took the initiative and shot two audience members, killing one.
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Thailand, Laos, and Cambodia are building a golf course in an area that is currently a minefield.
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• A “Sinatra-loving crowd” reportedly rushed the stage en masse and beat a singer to death for his poor performance of “My Way.” The situation so spooked employees and patrons that many karaoke bars removed the song from their machines, and families banned it from their sing-along gatherings.
As an inexpensive form of entertainment in a relatively poor country, karaoke has become an important part of Philippine culture. It’s hard to escape the sound of somebody singing along to synthesized music—you can hear it in bars and nightclubs, at family gatherings, even on the street or in malls, courtesy of coin-operated kiosks. And apparently singers take their performances seriously, taking offense at audience inattention or heckling; hardcore audiences can get ugly when someone steps up to the mike unprepared or out of tune.
MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY
But what puts “My Way” into its own category of karaoke danger? Observers suggest two possible reasons:
1. It’s sung too often. On any given night, a bar-hopper in the Philippines would likely hear “My Way” performed several times, enough to drive a music lover to despair even if it was sung well. When sung badly…well, get ready to duck.
2. Because of its arrogant lyrics. The lyrics brag about being a tough guy who follows his own course, implying that anybody who doesn’t is a loser. Perhaps Sinatra could get away with it, but when a taxi driver sings those lyrics, some listeners just want to pop the guy, or at least put him in his place.
THE END IS NEAR
In a hot, crowded bar, in a desperate society with millions of illegal handguns, it’s easy for irritation to boil up into murderous rage. Many Manila karaoke bars have now banned the singing of “My Way” to protect patrons from alcohol-
fueled fights. (Even Sinatra grew to hate it. After performing it in 1984 at London’s Albert Hall, he was heard muttering “I can’t stand that song.”) Although “My Way” is one of the most played at funerals and is even quoted on gravestones, Sinatra chose another of his songs as his epitaph: “The Best Is Yet to Come.”
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Beer, sawdust, and used diapers are all being considered for use as alternative fuels.
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DOCTOR, NO!
So far, we’ve made you afraid to fly (page 370), afraid to call the police (page 223), afraid to send your kids to school (page 301), and afraid to vote (page 178). And now we’re going to make you afraid to go the hospital. (Sorry.)
ALWAYS GET A SECOND OPINION
In 1989 a man identified as Mr. C was told by doctors at Western General Hospital in Edinburgh, Scotland, that he had Huntington’s disease, an incurable brain illness. The news shocked his family and they prepared for the worst—the onset of symptoms and his eventual death. The diagnosis affected all of their lives: His wife and one of his daughters terminated their pregnancies for fear of passing on the hereditary disease, and another daughter quit school because of the stress. But by 2007, Mr. C hadn’t developed any symptoms, so doctors tested him again…and discovered that he never even had Huntington’s. “We are deeply sorry for the anxiety caused to Mr. C and his family,” said a hospital spokesperson. A lawsuit is pending.
Uncle John's Bathroom Reader The World's Gone Crazy Page 49
