Santa Suit

Oregon attorney general Dave Frohnmayer released this opinion letter on Dec. 23, 1982:

Mr. S.T. Nicholas
1225 N. Pole
Gnome, Alaska 90001

Dear Mr. Nicholas:

This letter is to inform you of our decision in the complaint of improper business practices brought against you by Mr. I.M. Grinch.

In his complaint, Mr. Grinch has requested that the Oregon Department of Justice immediately seek a temporary restraining order prohibiting you from any business-related activities because of the following alleged violations of state and federal antitrust laws:

  1. That by conspiring with parents you cause confusion or misunderstanding as to the source, sponsorship, and approval of your goods and services (ORS 646.608);
  2. That by consulting with parents on gifts for children you have furnished them with privileged customer information;
  3. That by inciting parents to whisper among themselves and hide presents during the month of December, and by compiling a list and checking it twice, you engage in conspiratorial practices (ORS 646.725);
  4. That by discriminating against naughty persons you have accorded special service to some customers in violation of ORS 646.080, which states that customers must be treated on proportionally equal terms;
  5. That by linking the receipt of your gifts to persons’ good behavior you violated Oregon law, which prohibits making product sales conditional upon other behavior;
  6. That by giving away presents you have violated federal minimum price regulations;
  7. That by claiming to deliver presents all over the world in only one night you are promising delivery of goods while knowing you are not able to fulfill that promise (ORS 646.607 and 646.608);
  8. That you have conspired with Saint Nick, Santa Claus, Père Noel, and others to engage in an illegal restraint of trade by allocating markets and customers and by fixing prices (ORS 646.725); and
  9. That you have received kickbacks from your reindeer.

Finally, Mr. Grinch has accused you of having violated ORS 646.730, which states:

Every person who shall monopolize, or attempt to monopolize, or combine or conspire with any other person or persons to monopolize, any part of trade or commerce, shall be in violation of ORS 136.617, 646.705 or 646.805, and 646.990.

We find that you have participated in monopoly, but only in the delivery of the game to children, a non-citable practice.

We conclude that the allegations are unfounded and see no reason to convene a special grand jury. We have, however, filed a counterclaim on your behalf against I.M. Grinch under state antitrust laws for contriving a shortage of good will. His action may also constitute the crime of malicious rottenness.

Further, I have instructed our Consumer Protection Section to pay close attention to enforcement of chimney cleaning regulations for the remainder of 1982.

Merry Christmas,

Dave Frohnmayer
Attorney General

Lesson

Teacher: “If you have seven apples and I asked for three, how many would you have left?”

Pupil: “Seven.”

— Ralph Louis Woods, Modern Handbook of Humor, 1967

Medical Brief

The story about Dr. Abernethy and his lady patient is a classic. He was a man of few words, and the lady knew it. Being shown into his private office, she bared her arm and said simply, ‘Burn.’

‘A poultice,’ said the doctor.

Next day she called again, showed her arm, and said, ‘Better.’

‘Continue the poultice.’

Some days elapsed before Abernethy saw her again. Then she said, ‘Well. Your fee?’

‘Nothing,’ said the doctor, bursting into unusual loquacity. ‘You are the most sensible woman I ever met in my life!’

— William Shepard Walsh, Handy-Book of Literary Curiosities, 1892

Church Pants

The following story has been told, but I have not met with it in its absolute correctness. The Duke of Wellington received a letter, while sitting in the House of Lords, from an eminent landscape designer and great authority on botanical matters, J.C. Loudon. The duke had lost sight of him for some years. It was a note to this effect: ‘My Lord Duke–It would gratify me extremely if you would permit me to visit Strathfieldsaye at any time convenient to your grace, and to inspect the Waterloo beeches. Your grace’s faithful servant, J.C. Loudon.’ The Waterloo beeches were trees that had been planted immediately after the battle of Waterloo, as a memorial of the great fight. The duke read the letter twice, the writing of which was not very clear, and, with his usual promptness and politeness, replied as follows, having read the signature as ‘J.C. London,’ instead of ‘J.C. Loudon.’ ‘My dear Bishop of London–It will always give me great pleasure to see you at Strathfieldsaye. Pray come there whenever it suits your convenience, whether I am at home or not. My servant will receive orders to show you as many pairs of my breeches as you may wish, but why you should wish to inspect those I wore at the battle of Waterloo is quite beyond the comprehension of Yours most truly, Wellington.’ The letter was received, as may be supposed, with great surprise by the Bishop of London. He showed it to the Archbishop of Canterbury and to other discreet persons; they came to the melancholy conclusion that the great Duke of Wellington had evidently lost his senses. The Bishop of London (Blomfield) declared that he had not written to the duke for two years and to receive this extraordinary intimation puzzled the whole bench of bishops. Explanations, however, of a satisfactory kind, followed and the friendship of these worthy men was not changed.

— William Augustus Fraser, quoted in Wit, Wisdom and Foibles of the Great, 1918

Rimshot

An Englishman and an Irishman signed on a vessel to work their passage to the United States. The captain insisted the Irishman produce references but did not ask the Englishman for any. This infuriated the Irishman. One day the two men were washing down the deck. The Englishman threw a bucket overboard to get more water and in the process fell overboard and was swallowed up by the sea. The Irishman went to the captain.

‘You remember,’ he said, ‘that you made me give references but not that Englishman.’

‘Yes,’ said the captain, ‘I remember all the fuss you made about it, too.’

‘Well,’ said the Irishman, ‘I just want you to know that the Englishman has now gone off with your pail.’

— Ralph Louis Woods, Modern Handbook of Humor, 1967

So It Goes

A whimsical traveler on one of the main trails in the State of Georgia painted, on a large rock, the words, ‘Turn Me Over.’ Other travelers heaved and struggled to turn the rock over. On the underside of it they found painted, ‘Now Turn Me Back That I May Fool Another.’

— H. Allen Smith, The Compleat Practical Joker, 1953

“Significant Figures”

A touring lecturer started off his favorite lecture: ‘A million years ago this earth was trod by dinosaurs.’ He was immediately interrupted by a well-meaning old lady in the audience, who said, ‘You mean a million and eight years ago, don’t you?’ ‘Why do you say that?’ queried the lecturer. ‘Because I heard you give this same lecture eight years ago,’ explained the old lady.

— Howard Eves, Mathematical Circles Revisited, 1971

Animal Talk

A newspaper reporter submitted a story about the theft of 2,025 pigs.

His editor, struck at the size of the theft, called the farmer to confirm.

“Is it true that you lost two thousand twenty-five pigs?” he asked.

“Yeth,” said the farmer.

The editor thanked him, hung up, and changed the phrase to “two sows and 25 pigs.”

Peace and Quiet

Once upon a time, Master Hobson, who was a rich haberdasher in the Poultry, lying in St Alban’s, there came certain musicians to play at his chamber door, hoping that, as they filled his ears with their music, he would fill their purses with money; whereupon he told one of the servants of the inn (that waited upon him) to go and tell them that he did not then want to hear their music, for he mourned for the death of his mother. So the musicians, disappointed of their purpose, went away. The fellow that heard him speak of mourning, asked him how long it was since he buried his mother. ‘Truly,’ quoth Master Hobson, ‘it is now very nearly forty years ago.’

— William Carew Hazlitt, The New London Jest Book, 1871