One of the five best

A MESSAGE from Ivor Tungin-Cheaque, Chairman of Vigor’s Silent Fan Club, says:

O Wise and Wonderful One:

Once again, a dilemma of considerable proportions has raised itself in regard to membership of your Silent Fan Club. As you well know, members are forbidden to contact you, or praise in any way your unmatched wisdom and unrivalled literary skills. Because membership is automatic from birth, you have the biggest fan club the world has ever known.

But a British commercial website has just rated your column one of the five best sailing blogs in the world.*

This is nonsense in one respect, of course, as everyone knows your blog is the best, not just one of the five best. Yet, considering the thousands of sailing blogs cluttering the world-wide web, being one of the best five is enough to cause a great deal of worry to those of us whose job it is to keep your club members silent, lest they should have to be expelled for contacting you and smothering you with unwanted praise.

In my own defense I have to say I have done a more-than-respectable job in this regard so far this year. President Putin has not contacted you. Prince Philip has managed to withhold his great admiration. Donald Trump never once mentioned you in Cleveland. And so on. I believe most of the credit for this remarkable success devolves upon me as I quietly slave away on your behalf — but I digress . . .

The publicity generated by your being publicly recognized as one of the best writers in the world puts the Silent Fan Club in a perilous position. It is obvious that if more people are exposed to your glorious prose, the greater the temptation will be to accord you generous praise. And, as you know, anyone who does that is automatically expelled from the club.

To avoid this highly undesirable circumstance, I must beg you once again to write dumber. That is, more dumbly.  Please start toning down the cleverness of your columns and the skill with which you wield the editorial pen. If your fans find less to admire in your writing, the less likely they will be to give in to their instinct to burst into ill-considered praise. I realize that this will not come easily to a man of your exceptional talent but I believe it can be done with a large dose of steady application.

I close with admiration for your sage-like utterances, your ready wit and charm, the subtle thrust and parry of your sparkling repartee, and the wisdom, Solomon-like, that graces your princely brow.

Yours Humbly and Obediently,

IVOR TUNGIN-CHEAQUE (Chairman, Vigor’s Silent Fan Club)

PS: Sorry about the writing. My new strait-jacket is very stiff.

* http://www.seachest.co.uk/blog/2016/01/21/5-of-the-best-sailing-blogs/

Today’s Thought

Genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration.

Thomas A, Edison, (Quoted in Golden Book, April, 1931)

Tailpiece

Two blondes walked into a building and . . .

(Hell, you’d think at least one of them would have noticed it.)

Silent Fan Club paradox

A LETTER FROM Ivor Tungin-Cheaque, Chairman of Vigor’s Silent Fan Club, says:

Honorable Sir,

A dilemma of considerable proportions has raised itself in regard to membership of your Silent Fan Club. As you well know, members are forbidden to contact you or praise in any way your unmatched wisdom and unrivalled literary skills. Because membership is automatic from birth, you have the biggest fan club the world has ever known.

But a recent newspaper article has given me cause for concern about the exploding world population. The article said that the Real Madrid soccer club is claiming to have 45 million fans. This is nothing compared with Vigor’s Silent Fan Club, which numbers its fans in the billions — but the implications are alarming

Since enrolment in your honor’s club is automatic, there have never been never been more members of Vigor’s Silent Fan Club. Nor has there been so great a demand on our administrative services. Never before have we struggled so valiantly to  keep track of new members and expel those few who break their vows of silence.

It is obvious, however, that the more the world population grows, the greater the chance that some members will break their vows of silence by reading your columns and publicly praising you. They will then have to be expelled.

This means that as the club grows, so its numbers will decline. This is a vexing paradox.

My humble suggestion is that you should immediately start toning down the the cleverness of your columns and the skill with which you wield the editorial pen. If your fans find less to admire in your writing, the less likely they will be to give in to their instinct to burst into ill-considered praise.

I shall, of course, keep you informed of developments.

I close with admiration for your sage-like utterances, your ready wit and charm, the subtle thrust and parry of your sparkling repartee, and the wisdom, Solomon-like, that graces your princely brow.

Yours Humbly and Obediently,

IVOR TUNGIN-CHEAQUE (Chairman, Vigor’s Silent Fan Club)

PS:  I hope this makes sense. They’re replacing the padding in my cell and it’s very distracting.

Today’s Thought

To communicate through silence is a link between the thoughts of man.

— Marcel Marceau, US News & World Report, 23 Feb 87

Tailpiece

“My husband is so careless about his appearance. He just can’t seem to keep buttons on his clothes.”

“Maybe the buttons weren’t sewn on properly in the first place.”

“Oh, you may have a point there. He’s terribly careless with his sewing, too.”

(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for a new Mainly about Boats column.)

A plea for continued silence

THAT WAILING NOISE in the distance is the chairman of John Vigor’s Silent Fan Club, Ivor Tungin-Cheaque. He has just discovered that the number of pages viewed by readers of this blog has just passed the 500,000 mark. As the administrator of the world’s largest fan club, it is his duty to ensure that no member ever steps out of line by openly praising the content or quality of the writing in this column. 

You will no doubt recall that membership is completely automatic, and open to all people of every nation and creed. But Mr. Tungin-Cheaque has always been obsessed with the notion that the more columns I publish, the greater the likelihood that someone, somewhere, will actually like one, and be tempted to praise my clever use of metaphor and simile,  the sharpness of my rapier-like wit, my vast command of grammar, and the wondrous depth of my knowledge of manifold subjects.

And if that should happen, Mr. Tungin-Cheaque has the unpleasant task of expelling that someone, somewhere, from John Vigor’s Silent Fan Club.  So far, luckily, he has never had to perform this duty, but he is starting to cavil at the steadily increasing number of page views this column generates. I have tried to persuade him not to worry, but he feels that the law of averages is against him, and that the greater the readership, the greater the likelihood that some Silent Member somewhere will experience an uncontrollable urge to praise me — and thereby start a wholesale stampede for the exits.

So, on his behalf, and for sake of his sanity, I must beg all of you Silent Members to abide by the rules of the club,  and to steel yourselves against the temptation to shower me with the praise I so richly deserve. Please don’t crown me with laurels or even whisper congratulations, much as you would like to.

Thank you. Mr. Tungin-Cheaque will be most grateful.

Meanwhile, we have unfortunately come to the end of the series of essays named The Disease Called Cruising, which means I shall have to find something new and fresh to write about. Damn, it’s not easy.

However, here’s a tidbit that might intrigue you if you own a boat. Writing on the Three Sheets Northwest website earlier this year, Scott Wilson made this comment about the Seattle Boat Show:

“A popular and frightening statistic you’re likely to hear at the show is that every year, the average age of boat owners increases by six months.”

Now think about that for a moment. It’s generally accepted that the average age of most people will increase by 12 months every year. But it seems that if you own a boat, your average age increase from year to year will only be half that of the general population. In other words, instead of living for three-score years and 10, boat owners may look forward to seven-score years even.

You may find this a frightening thought when you add up the cost of an additional 70 years of boat maintenance and slip fees. And one is forced to wonder how sprightly a 140-year-old would be on the foredeck while jibing the spinnaker.

But perhaps this is just a local phenomenon. If I were you, therefore, I’d take great care to stay well away from the Seattle Boat Show.

Today’s Thought

When you become senile, you won’t know it.

— Bill Cosby, NY Times 17 Mar 87

Tailpiece

A local junior-school teacher was trying to teach the concept of distance. She asked whether her pupils throught they lived close to school, or far away.

Nobody was willing to hazard a guess except little Susan, who was quite adamant that she lived very, very close to school.

“How are you certain?” asked the teacher.

“Well,” said little Susan, “every time I come home, my mother says: ‘Hell, are you home already?’”

(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for a new Mainly about Boats column.)

News from the transit lounge

AN E-MAIL FROM Ivor Tungin-Cheaque, chairman of Vigor’s Silent Fan Club, says:

O Honorable Lord and Master:

Greetings O Wise and Wonderful One, and allow me to convey certain news items that will undoubtedly be of great interest to you.

I am writing from the transit lounge of Moscow International Airport,  having learned that Edward Snowden is threatening to reveal the identities of billions of members of Vigor’s Silent Fan Club. Apparently, U.S. government security agencies have been collecting data about the biggest club of its kind in the world.

As you in your infinite wisdom are well aware, members of your Silent Fan Club are forbidden to contact you or praise in any way your unmatched intelligence and unrivalled literary skills. Membership is automatic, of course, but it ends with immediate effect if a member is found guilty of admiring your literary skills or trying to contact you with paeans of praise.

I mention this because President Putin popped in yesterday to see if he could persuade Snowden to expunge his name from the Silent Fan Club records. Like other members of the fan club, he is sworn to secrecy and would never praise you in public. He wouldn’t want it revealed  that he is a fan of yours, and thereby earn the public disgrace of being expelled. That would be too damaging to his political career.

But at the same time, he IS an ardent fan of your magificent prose and saintly behavior, which makes things very difficult for him. As a compromise he has refused to admit to Press that he is a Silent Fan and says anyone who reveals that he is, will spend 20 years in the salt mines.

Your eminence will appreciate the delicacy of the matter when I add that Snowden himself is a fan of yours, never having praised you in public, so there is a good chance that he will accede to Putin’s request and remove the Russian president’s name from the Silent Fan Club records.

In return, Putin may allow Snowden to remain in the Moscow transit lounge until Iran grants him asylum and an honorary ayatollahship.

But I am not well versed in the complicated matters of high diplomacy and I am tired from many hours of travel. I need rest and a stiff whisky.

Nevertheless, I am proud to have been of service to you in this manner.

I close with admiration for your sage-like utterances, your ready wit and charm, the subtle thrust and parry of your sparkling repartee, and the wisdom, Solomon-like, that graces your princely brow.
Yours Humbly and Obediently,

IVOR TUNGIN-CHEAQUE (Chairman, Vigor’s Silent Fan Club)
PS: I hope this all makes sense. Frankly I wonder sometimes if it’s even worth chewing through the restraints.

Today’s Thought

The better I get to know men, the more I find myself loving dogs.

— Charles de Gaulle, former President of France

Tailpiece

“Do you know that in some parts of Africa they get rid of ghosts by stabbing a politician at midnight?”
“You mean, a human sacrifice?”
“No, no, only a politician.”

(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for a new Mainly about Boats column.)

The No-No-Nobel Prize

A LETTER FROM Ivor Tungin-Cheaque, chairman of Vigor’s Silent Fan Club, says:

O Honorable Lord and Master:

Greetings O Wise and Wonderful One, and allow me to convey certain news items that will undoubtedly be of great interest to you.

By lucky happenstance I discovered last week that Crown Prince Eirik of Norway, a keen yachtsman, had persuaded the Nobel Prize Committee to award you a Special Nobel Prize for spreading knowledge of peace and seamanship to the great unwashed masses — a first of its kind.

I went into action immediately. As you in your infinite wisdom are well aware, members of your Silent Fan Club are forbidden to contact you or praise in any way your unmatched intelligence and unrivalled literary skills. Because membership is automatic until a member is expelled, you have the biggest fan club the world has ever known.

Obviously, the last thing the Crown Prince and the august Nobel prize Committee would want is to be expelled from the Silent Fan Club for accidentally praising you in public.

Your magnificence will therefore be pleased to hear how your humble servant has resolved the matter:

Ø I contacted Scandinavian Airlines System, which had planned to fly you and your entourage to Oslo free and first-class for the ceremony.  They have now torn up your tickets and promised to make you pay double if you ever want to fly to Norway.

Ø The Hotel Splendifique in Oslo has canceled your free reservations for the Suite Majestique for the month of July and has erased all record of your name from its computers.

Ø I  am pleased to report that I was able to speak to Katie Couric personally and she has canceled your appearance on her TV show.

Ø Random House has abandoned plans for your best-seller and book signings.

Ø After some difficulty I was able to persuade the Pacific Seacraft company to intercept delivery of a new 34-foot ocean-cruising sloop they had planned as a surprise for you. They will now be donating it to the homeless.

Ø Finally, President Obama has canceled the White House reception in your honor. I’m told Mr. Boehner was very relieved because he had told Mr. Obama he wouldn’t come anyway, on principle.

I am proud to have been of service to you in this manner.

I close with admiration for your sage-like utterances, your ready wit and charm, the subtle thrust and parry of your sparkling repartee, and the wisdom, Solomon-like, that graces your princely brow.
Yours Humbly and Obediently,

IVOR TUNGIN-CHEAQUE (Chairman, Vigor’s Silent Fan Club)
 

PS: Please excuse the writing. They’ve given me a new strait-jacket and I haven’t managed to stretch it yet.

Today’s Thought

To communicate through silence is a link between the thoughts of man.
— Marcel Marceau

Tailpiece

“I hear they’re now making a roller that helps you lose weight.”
“Yeah, a flesh-reducing roller.  My wife has had one for two weeks.”
“ Any results?’
“Yeah, the roller’s much thinner.”

(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for a new Mainly about Boats column.)

 

The silence of the fans

A FRIEND remarked recently that I haven’t said much lately about Vigor’s Silent Fan Club, the biggest fan club in the whole wide world. The reason for that is simple. All my communication with the club comes through the president, Ivor Tungin-Cheaque, and I haven’t heard from him for several months. I don’t think it’s his fault. I have an idea they’re not letting him out of his padded cell as often as they used to.

No matter, I’m sure he will manage to contact me in due course, when he has some important news to impart.

Meanwhile the club forges ahead under its own impetus, the only restriction on membership being this, in the words of the president himself:

“As everybody knows, members are forbidden to contact you, or praise in any way your unmatched wisdom, your gracious manners, and your unrivalled literary skills. Because membership is automatic until a member is expelled for overtly admiring you, you have the biggest fan club the world has ever known.”

It’s extraordinary how good people are about complying with the rule. For instance, I’ve not heard a word from Queen Elizabeth, bless her heart, although she must have been busting a royal gut to include me in her diamond jubilee address to the nation.  President Obama has kept himself under tight control, too, much to his credit, and has manfully refrained from congratulating me on my unmatched wisdom and gracious manners. Aung San Suu Kyi must have had me foremost in her mind when she collected her Nobel Prize the other day, and it was probably all she could do to prevent herself from proclaiming my magnificence in her beautiful, precise English accent.

I must say I am most grateful to them, and to the billions of other members of the Silent Fan Club all over the world who, when pressed, will pretend never to have heard of me rather than forfeit their membership.

Actually, for me the most wonderful thing about the Silent Fan Club is not having to handle fame. Nobody recognizes me in the street. No curvaceous blondes rush up to me and say: “I want your children.” Well, very few lately, anyway.

I must confess that I don’t think I could handle the pressure of being lauded, and hounded by the paparazzi, like a Hollywood star. I prefer the smug anonymity that allows me to sup my beer without some damn nuisance asking for my signature every couple of minutes.

Today’s Thought

Even those who write against fame wish for the fame of having written well, and those who read their works desire the fame of having read them.

— Pascal, Pensées.

Tailpiece

“Waiter, there’s a fly in my soup.”
(3)“Goodness, sir, but he’s a slow eater. His friends are on the entree already.”

(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for a new Mainly about Boats column.)

Word to the wise

A LETTER cunningly scratched on toilet paper with a burned stick says:


O wise and wonderful one, O great font of wisdom and truth, O shining example of grace and goodness, I humbly bid you good day on behalf of the millions — nay, billions — of members of Vigor’s Silent Fan Club.


As everybody knows, members are forbidden to contact you, or praise in any way your unmatched wisdom, your gracious manners, and your unrivalled literary skills. Because membership is automatic until a member is expelled for overtly admiring you, you have the biggest fan club the world has ever known.

Unfortunately, however, and despite my best efforts, the number of your so-called Followers has steadily increased over the years until it now stands at nearly 60. And, by the rules of the club, Followers may be expelled for the implicit admiration they display.


If I may say so without appearing unduly immodest, I have done exceedingly well to keep the number of Followers down.


Early on, I took the precaution of removing the Followers widget from your blog page. I have made it as difficult as possible for anyone even to know what a Follower is, let alone become one. But your popularity is overwhelming. Despite all the odds, a few determined fans — bursting with admiration for your sage-like utterances, your ready wit and charm, the subtle thrust-and-parry of your sparkling repartee, and the wisdom, Solomon-like, that graces your princely brow — somehow still manage to sign themselves on as Followers.


O Wise One, the time has come for action,


Apparently, these misguided creatures are heedless of the fact that their actions could result in instant expulsion from Vigor’s Silent Fan Club, a misfortune almost beyond contemplation. They will never learn the secret handshake, the shortcut to Nirvana, or the one and only guaranteed way to cure weather helm.


In the past I have appealed to you, Honorable Sir, to lower your standards a little, to tone it down a bit, lest a further sudden onrush of Followers should ensue. I surmised that perhaps a little more mediocrity would help. Some spelling mistakes, maybe. Less brilliant discourse and more fuddy-duddy boredom might be the answer. It seemed to me that if you could just deliberately dim your shining talent, it would serve to fend off would-be Followers and keep up the all-important numbers of your magnificent Silent Fan Club whose conscientious members never dream of praising you, fawning upon you, or even mentioning your name.


But you have not been able to dim your talent sufficiently. Nothing has worked. The number of Followers still increases. I therefore officially give up. I have enabled the Followers widget and now display for public shame their names, and many of their faces. These, Sir, are the renegades, the law-breakers, the turncoats whose peppercorn contribution to society deems them ill equipped to be members of your venerable club. They, Sir, are not fit to kiss your little finger, and I hope they will serve as examples to other would-be miscreants fired with thoughts of offering you praise or any form of recognition.


Yours Humbly and Obediently,


IVOR TUNGIN-CHEAQUE


(Chairman, Vigor’s Silent Fan Club)


PS: Please excuse my writing. Very hurried. They only undo the strait jacket for 10 minutes a day.


Today’s Thought
Of every noble work the silent part is best
Of all expression that which cannot be expressed.
— W. W. Story, The Unexpressed


Tailpiece
“Did you hear that Mary got dressed up as a boy and joined the army?”
“But she can’t get away with that ... wait till she her first shower with the men.”
“Yeah ... but who’s going to tell?”

(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for a new Mainly about Boats column.)

Silent Fan problem

A LETTER FROM Ivor Tungin-Cheaque, chairman of Vigor’s Silent Fan Club, says:

O Wise and Wonderful One:

It is with great trepidation, not to say nervous regret, that I have to report the loss of two more members of your Silent Fan Club. As everybody knows, members are forbidden to contact you or praise in any way your unmatched wisdom, your gracious manners, and your unrivalled literary skills. Because membership is automatic until a member is expelled for overtly admiring you, you have the biggest fan club the world has ever known.

Unfortunately, however, the number of your so-called Followers recently jumped from 21 to 23. If I may say so without appearing unduly immodest, I have done exceedingly well to keep the number of Followers down to 23 in the two years you have been writing your Mainly about Boats column.

I have taken the precaution of removing the Followers widget from your blog page. I have made it as difficult as possible for anyone even to know what a Follower is, let alone become one. But your popularity is overwhelming. Despite all the odds, a few determined fans — bursting with admiration for your sage-like utterances, your ready wit and charm, the subtle thrust-and-parry of your sparkling repartee, and the wisdom, Solomon-like, that graces your princely brow — somehow still manage to sign themselves on as Followers. Apparently, these misguided creatures fail to realize that their actions result in instant expulsion from Vigor’s Silent Fan Club, a misfortune almost beyond contemplation. They will never learn the secret handshake, the shortcut to Nirvana, or the one and only guaranteed way to cure weather helm.

I am at a loss to understand what caused a sudden jump from 21 to 23 Followers in the past few days. I am therefore appealing to you, Honorable Sir, to lower your standards a little, to tone it down a bit, lest a further sudden onrush of Followers should ensue. Perhaps a little more mediocrity would help. Some spelling mistakes, maybe. Less brilliant discourse and more fuddy-duddy boredom might be the answer. If you could just merge more closely with the mediocre blogger crowd and deliberately dim your shining talent, it would serve to fend off would-be Followers and keep up the all-important numbers of your magnificent Silent Fan Club whose conscientious members never dream of praising you, fawning upon you, or even mentioning your name.

Yours Humbly and Obediently,

IVOR TUNGIN-CHEAQUE (Chairman, Vigor’s Silent Fan Club)

PS: Please excuse my writing. Now that they tie my hands behind my back in the strait jacket, it gets ever more difficult.

Today’s Thought
The tumultuous love of the populace must be seized and enjoyed in its first transports; there is no hoarding of it to use upon occasions; it will not keep.
— Lord Chesterfield, Account of the Dutch Republic

Boaters’ Rules of Thumb, #99
Height of eye. If you ever get around to using your sextant, the rule of thumb for the height-of-eye correction level in small boats is minus three minutes (-3’). That equates to an actual height above water level of about 8 feet.

Tailpiece
“I saw the doctor today about my loss of memory.”
“What did he do?”
“Made me pay in advance.”

St. Anon of B’ham

(Drop anchor here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a new Mainly about Boats column by John Vigor.)

A LETTER FROM Ivor Tungin-Cheaque, Chairman of John Vigor’s Silent Fan Club, says:

Honorable Sir,
A dilemma of considerable proportions has raised itself in regard to membership of your Silent Fan Club. As you well know, members are forbidden to contact you or praise in any way your unmatched wisdom and unrivalled literary skills. Because membership is automatic until a member is expelled, you have the biggest fan club the world has ever known.

It distresses me, however, to have to inform you that the Pope, a loyal fan who has rigidly complied with the rule never to contact you, is considering putting your name forward for sainthood.

Normally, this would be a reward befitting of your magnificent talents, but in so doing he would have to divulge his identity and lavish praise on you – which, by the rules, would result in the expulsion from your Silent Fan Club of His Holiness and more than one billion members of the Catholic Church, or one-sixth of your total fan base. This is a loss not to be contemplated.

A Papal Emissary with whom I was recently in contact forcefully informed me that that the Pope would rather become an Episcopalian than lose his membership in your club. We therefore discussed the possibility of your being made a saint without revealing who you are. We will now ask the Pope if he would consider issuing a Papal Bull (with metal seal) that would begin the long process of creating St. Anon of Bellingham, WA.

I shall, of course, keep you informed of developments.

I close with admiration for your sage-like utterances, your ready wit and charm, the subtle thrust and parry of your sparkling repartee, and the wisdom, Solomon-like, that graces your princely brow.

Yours Humbly and Obediently,

IVOR TUNGIN-CHEAQUE (Chairman, John Vigor’s Silent Fan Club)

PS: Please excuse the writing. They do the strait-jacket up really tight sometimes.

Today’s Thought
Fame always brings loneliness. Success is as ice cold and lonely as the north pole.
— Vicki Baum, Grand Hotel

Boaters’ Rules of Thumb #14
Sleeping berths. The minimum length for a sleeping berth is 6 feet 4 inches. The width should not be less than 20 inches. It cannot be too wide for sleeping comfort in harbor, but at sea a narrow bunk stops you rolling around too much. The mattress for a double berth should be split down the middle, with a lee-cloth brought up through the middle for use at sea.

Tailpiece
Just as the cruise ship was approaching Athens a woman passenger buttonholed the captain. “What’s that white stuff on those hills in the distance?” she asked.
“It’s snow madam.”
“Yeah, I thought so, but that darn fool of a First Officer told me it was grease.”

The silence of the fans

IVOR TUNGIN-CHEAQUE, chairman of John Vigor’s Silent Fan Club, writes:

Most Honorable Sir,

Since March 22, 2009, when you were last kind enough to publish my humble scribblings, things have taken a nasty turn.

It is with great concern and no small alarm that I have to inform you that you now have eight (8) “followers.” It is my belief that these so-called “followers” are being secretly trained to write to you, expressing their delight and appreciation for the pearls of wisdom and delicate witticisms that flow so freely and generously from your mighty pen.

This, of course, is a direct contravention of the rules of your Silent Fan Club, which state that anyone who praises you in any way shall henceforth be expelled from the club.

While you still have millions — nay, billions — of fans worldwide who cleave solidly to their commitment never to contact you (I might mention with great admiration and respect such names as Angelina, Madonna, Reese, and Shania) it is nevertheless very worrisome that your “followers,” although a small and impotent group at present, might in time gather enough strength to spell the doom of what must undoubtedly be the largest fan club in the whole wide world. I therefore urge you to keep careful watch, and to repel, with force if necessary, any attempts to contact you, to curry favor with you, or to flatter you in any way.

On another matter, I have to report that we have successfully diverted the attention of millions of your devoted fans who might have been tempted to write letters of praise to you. I was able to persuade a Mr. Tiger Woods, a golfer, I believe, to run his car into a fire hydrant and a tree in the early hours of one morning, while his wife ran behind him wielding a large club. This, I assured him, would buy him the kind of publicity he seems to crave – exactly the kind of publicity you seek to shun. I was correct. The tabloids were soon spreading sensational rumors that Mr. Woods had knocked himself out after attempting three holes-in-one. I hope he appreciates our efforts on his behalf.

I close with admiration for your sage-like utterances, your ready wit and charm, the subtle thrust and parry of your sparkling repartee, and the wisdom, Solomon-like, that graces your princely brow.

Yours Humbly and Obediently,

IVOR TUNGIN-CHEAQUE (Chairman, John Vigor’s Silent Fan Club)

P.S. Once again, please excuse the crayon — they still won’t let me have anything sharp in this place.

Today’s Thought
Those who are silent, self-effacing and attentive become the recipients of confidences.
— Thornton Wilder, The Eighth Day

Tailpiece
“Psychoanalysis is a lot of hokum.”
“What makes you say that?”
Well, I’ve been having analysis for six weeks and my shrink says I’m in love with my umbrella.”
“That’s just nuts.”
“That’s what I told him. Admiration, possibly--and I must admit we have built up a sincere affection for each other--but love? That’s crazy.”

My silent fan club

SOMEBODY ASKED the other day why so few readers leave comments in this blog. Well, there is a very good reason for that. I don’t suppose many readers realize it, but this column commands the respect of one of the oldest and biggest fan clubs in the world. It started many years ago when I was a newspaper columnist, with this letter from the founder and chairman:

Dear Sir, I write to inform you of the existence of the John Vigor Silent Fan Club, the main aim of which is not to write you fan letters.

This means you don’t have to answer them. Thus you may save your time to continue your noble task of pouring gems of wisdom (which flow so freely from your mighty pen) at the feet of the ignorant masses for their enlightenment and upliftment.

You may already be aware of the existence of your Silent Fan Club as, true to the constitution, not one of our many thousands, perhaps millions, of members has written to you. For instance, have you heard from the President of the U.S.A, lately? Queen Elizabeth? Philip or Charles? See what I mean? See how effectively the club operates — the discipline and strength of its members?

I know that you are fully aware of your rare genius and the stunning contribution which, in your typically selfless way, you are making toward the betterment of mankind throughout the world at large, but I’ll bet that your built-in modesty — always apparent in the truly greatest of mortals — has not allowed you to realize just how popular you are, or how large your silent fan club.

Still, as chairman of the club, I am not satisfied that it is yet the biggest of its kind in the world, which is the reason why I have, just this once, had to break the code of silence by writing to you.
Would you please publish my appeal for more members? I am sure there are many millions of people who will flock to the cause and agree not to contact you in any way to praise you. This is the only condition of membership, and there are no dues to be paid.

If you will do me this honor I can promise you that you will be basking in the silent admiration of countless fans from every country on earth — admiration for your sage-like utterances, your ready wit, charm, the subtle thrust and parry of your sparkling repartee, the wisdom, Solomon-like, from your princely brow.

Yours Humbly and Obediently,
IVOR TUNGIN-CHEAQUE
(Chairman, John Vigor Silent Fan Club)

P.S. Please excuse the crayon — they don’t allow me to have anything sharp in this place.

WELL, that was the letter that started it all, and you can imagine how much the club has grown since. The Queen still hasn’t written, bless her royal heart. I believe that Dubya nearly succumbed but couldn’t find his pencil. And Angelina Jolie actually got as far as writing but was persuaded to tear up her letter before it was due to be mailed. Whew! Close call. It would have been awful to have to expel her from the club.

In conclusion, I must just say how wonderful it all is, and how encouraging to know that all of you out there are filled with silent admiration for this column despite the fact that nary a postcard of praise or an e-mail of ecstasy ever comes my way.

Well done, all of you. Such willpower. Such self-discipline. I salute you.

Today’s Thought
There are moments when silence, prolonged and unbroken,
More expressive may be than all words ever spoken.
—Owen Meredith, Lucile.

Tailpiece
Yet another notice we noticed:
In the animal control waiting room:
“Back in 10 minutes. Sit! Stay!”