Ask Uncle Sal: Bowling shoes, spanakopita, and other horrors

Dear Uncle Sal, which is better: to own your own pair of bowling shoes or merely rent them? Gutterballed


This here's an easy one, Gutterballed. I ain't rented a pair of bowling shoes in decades. Fer one, ya don't have to worry about the fungus everyone else had in those rented shoes before you got to put 'em on. And let's not forget that yer payin' for the privilege of wearin' them old bowling shoes every time ya roll.
On the other hand, if ya buy a pair of bowling shoes, ya can get them with sweet flame designs on the side if ya want. It beats them plain red, white, and blue ones they have at every bowling alley. Besides, if ya got yer own pair of shoes, that means ya got money for one more round of Spud's because you didn't spend any money on some nasty rented shoes. If that ain't a reason to buy yer own pair, I dunno what is.


Dear Uncle Sal, a friend of mine went to a Greek restaurant and got spanakopita. Can she infect me when we get together in the you know, bood-wah? Petrified in Paragonah

Boy, folks sure gotta different definition of friend than I ever had. I never ended up in the boudoir (nice spellin' by the way, PiP) with a lady that was just a friend. But to answer yer question, what exactly are ya afraid you'll be infected with? Iron? Vitamin B6? Dietary fiber? I reckon you'll be just fine in the boudoir...unless of course she has some communicable disease.

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Ask Uncle Sal: Baboons and Catsup (or is that Ketchup?)

Hey Uncle Sal, what's them big red blobs for that's on them baboon fellas' butts? Looks painful. Bewildered in Baraboo


Hmmm...seems like you mighta consulted a biology textbook on this one, but I'll give ya an answer. See, it's a little known fact that baboons originated the game of baseball. Now, I like baseball, but one tradition I can't understand is slappin' some other guy on the behind when he hits a home run or scores. Truth is, baseball players borrowed this from baboons who have been playin' the game much longer than humans. So that red bottom...well, it stems from all that bottom slappin in the game of baseball and somehow baboons retained that. You know, evolution and all.

Dear Uncle Sal, what's the difference between catsup and ketchup? Condemented in Conshohocken.


This here's a good question, Condemented. Hey, are you really demented? I mean, does it really make you nuts to think about the difference between catsup and ketchup? Never mind. I'll just stick to yer question. Here's the thing. Most people don't realize that catsup is actually an acronym for Couple A Tomatoes Stewed Under Pines. Now, what pines had to do with the process, I ain't sure. Seems kinda silly to me to stew vegetables out in the woods. People have had all sorts of weird superstitions. Didja know that people used to think carryin' a nutmeg would ward off rheumatism? So catsup was originally stewed tomatoes and eventually it became the condiment we know today. But just look at the word. It's awfully close to cat soup. Let's face it, cat soup ain't an easy sell. At least here in the States, so they modified the spelling to ketchup.

Gotta question for ol' Uncle Sal? Submit it at the Facebook fan page or to my Gmail address: askunclesal.

Ask Uncle Sal: Whiskey for Breakfast?

Hey Uncle Sal, long-time reader, first-time asker. Anyways, my girlfriend is staying over tonite and I want to impress her with a great breakfast. What will go better with Cap'n Crunch: Wild Turkey or Southern Comfort? Wondering in Weehawken


Do you mean to pour on the cereal or to sip on the side? No, forget I asked. If yer askin' me to choose between Wild Turkey and SoCo, I'll take Wild Turkey. SoCo is for hurricanes and nothin' else. But here's the thing, Wondering. Ya really want to impress this girl o' yours, put some of them waffles in the toaster and serve 'em with a white russian. If she ain't impressed by that, then ya know she's not the right one for you.

I wore a sleeveless v-neck sweater to church last week. A lot of people asked me where my shirt was. What do you make of that? Puzzled in Pottawatomie


You ain't the only one puzzled. Seems to me ya left some very vital information outta this. For example, are you a particularly busty woman? If so, I couldn't possibly see the problem with it. If ya got it to show off, I say why not. Although some of them churchgoing types may not agree with me on that one.
Or are you a particularly hairy man who wasn't wearing a sweater at all and instead went shirtless to church. If that's the case, I can certainly understand the protest. Ain't no one wants to see a guy wearin' an all-natural sweater if ya get my drift.

Gotta question for Uncle Sal? Submit it at the Facebook fan page or to askunclesal[at]gmail[dot]com.

Ask Uncle Sal: Marriage and other predicaments

My brother is getting married on Saturday but can't choose between wearing his periwinkle stovetop hat or his magenta bowler. Which one is more likely to guarantee him the good loving on his wedding night? Stovetop Stuffer


You know I love my hats. I ain't sure what a stovetop hat is, but I'm gonna assume ya mean a stovepipe hat. That said, I think yer missin' the point here. If a man can't get some good lovin' on his wedding night, well, let's just say that marriage ain't gettin off to a good start. I think the real question here is what he can wear or do to get some good lovin' after the wedding. (I can't say from personal experience because I never been married, but I hear that a woman is shall I say less willing after that ring is on her finger.)
But to answer your question, I'd recommend the magenta bowler hat. The stovepipe hat is a fine article of clothing, but ain't too many women get in the mood because a guy dresses like Abe Lincoln.

Unkle Sal, I'm a viral young man o 13 livin in WV hill country. It's time to find me a womn bu my ony choises is my sisters and cuzzins and they aint maridge material. What shood I doo? Hard Up in Hoo Hoo

Boy, Hard Up, I sure got a good laugh outta yer letter. Not because of your marryin' predicament but because the name you chose sounds like the title of an adult film.
Now on to yer question. Yer a viral young man and it's your potential partners that are the problem? Prolly not from where they're standin'. Here's what I recommend for you. Take the six-mile walk to the nearest road. Then hitchhike to somewhere where you'll meet some women that ain't kin. But before you do that, pay a visit to your local doctor about that whole viral thing.

Gotta question for Uncle Sal? Send it to askunclesal[at]gmail[dot]com.

Ask Uncle Sal: Why do women talk so much and say so little?

Hey, Uncle Sal. How come every time I ask somebody how they're doing, they tell me what day it is? Perplexed in Paducah

PiP, this tells me yer in the terrible predicament of working in an office. But hey, didn't you say you was from Paducah? I didn't know there was any offices in Paducah.


But nonetheless, here's what I think about yer question. I remember this silly behavior from when I worked in an office. All these cubicle dwellers seem to think their mood is tied to the day of the week. Namely, the closer they are to Friday, the better their mood. You know and I know that this ain't the truth no matter how many times we hear some dope say, "I'm doin' pretty good...for a Thursday." Other cubicle farmers though, this is all they have to cling to. That's why you'll see cubicles decorated with stupid posters like this one. For them Friday at quittin' time is as good as things get. Now, that don't make their answers valid, but that's why you hear this nonsense.

My advice to you is to eject from life on the cubicle farm. Me, I ain't worked in an office in I can't tell ya how long. All work does is take away from your free time. So I say, tell your boss what he can do with your job duties and lead a life of leisure like me.

Uncle Sal why is it that women talk so much yet say so little? Exhausted Ears

EE, this here's a dangerous question, but I ain't never avoided a tough question and I ain't gonna start now. But let's be fair, lotsa folks talk a bunch without sayin' much of anything: politicians, middle managers, fantasy football nerds. But EE, I know where yer comin' from. Dave Barry explains this sort of thing in his Complete Guide to Guys.

Now, I don't exactly remember what Dave Barry said, but it went sump'n like this example here. Let's say your woman goes to lunch with her girlfriend (we'll call her Maggie). She comes home and you say, "How was lunch?"

Your woman responds, "It was really good. We went to Pierre's. It's this little cafe...you know the Old Navy on Oak? The one where I bought that cute yellow sundress and the matching sandals? It's just a little past that. I had the chicken Caesar salad. I don't know what they put on the croutons in that salad, but they were amazing! My diet soda tasted a little weird. Like it was too sweet. Maggie ordered the southwestern salad. She let me try a little bit of it. It was good, but a little too spicy for me. Oh, and you'd love the rolls they bring to the table. They're dark and sweet."

Now at this point, EE, you've forgotten your question and you've mentally checked out, thinking about who's gonna win the big playoff game this weekend. But your woman isn't done by a longshot. When she's done, she's told you (not that you'll remember) what Maggie was wearing, right down to the color of the polish on Maggie's fingernails and toenails. And she will have given you enough information that you could write a biography about Maggie if ya wanted to.

Let's take a look at what happens if you go have a couple beers with your buddy (we'll call him Smitty).

Your woman asks you, "How is Smitty?"

You respond, "He's good."

At this point, you'll notice your woman has an expectant look on her face, like she's waiting for more details. But you've already said everything there is to say. That's how we guys work. Heck, we can have a whole conversation just by nodding at some guy. But your woman will ask, "Is he still wearing that cast on his foot from when he broke his toe playing basketball at the YMCA? Is his sister still dating that jerk lawyer? Is he still working at that cell phone place?" You of course will have none of that information because you just had beers with Smitty. Ya didn't interview him. But these are vital details to your woman.

Why are these details vital? On that count, I got no idea. But that's why women as you put it talk a lot without saying anything. They just ain't learned to economize like guys have.

Gotta question for Uncle Sal? Send it to askunclesal[at]gmail[dot]com.

Ask Uncle Sal: Yeats infection?

Hey Sal dude. Will teh stuf fthat womennn use foor yeats infecsion also work4 men? Poetty Mouth, parts unkown

Thanks for writing, Poetty. That's some really good typin' ya got there. I'm gonna guess that you're either under the influence of at least one substance that may or may not be legal or you're a 6-year-old that got spun around about seven times before you were placed in front of the keyboard.
Tell me, Poetty. What exactly is a Yeats infection? Some tremendous urge to read and write poetry? And what exactly do women use when they get a Yeats infection? Do they go and find some dude with a goatee and a black turtleneck who smokes French cigarettes? Me, I don't have much use for poetry 'less it comes from Duffy Lamace. So I guess I don't need to worry too much about a Yeats infection. Thanks for writing, and might I suggest a remedial typing class for you.

Hey, Uncle Sal, was the best jug band to come out of Lima, Montana, Lynchpin Simmons and the Fishtails or Dualie Ferguson and the Mudflaps? Jug Lover, Orange County, CA


Hey, Jug Lover. I guess you and I have sump'n in common. I love me some jugs too. Lynchpin Simmons could really do a number on them spoons and the cigar-box guitar. Dualie Ferguson is flat out one of the best gutbucket bass players I ever seen. And his song "Baby, Why Don't You Blow on My Jug" was a great one. But for my money, the best jug band outta Lima was Grease Spot McGee and the Oil Slicks.