Uncle John's Ahh-Inspiring Bathroom Reader (45 page)

Dogged by a California state investigation into claims that he was abusive to defendants who appeared in his court without an attorney, San Bernardino County judge Fred Heene announced in 1999 that he would not seek reelection. The commission later concluded he had indeed been abusive.

An example of Judge Heene's conduct: A woman convicted of a traffic violation asked for more time to complete her community service because she'd been bedridden—on doctor's orders—during the final weeks of her pregnancy. The judge denied her request
and then sentenced her to 44 days in jail. When she protested that she had a seven-day-old baby at home, the judge replied, “Ma'am, you should have thought about that a long time ago.”

In 1997 Judge Joseph Troisi spent five days in jail after he bit defendant William Witten on the nose hard enough to make it bleed. The incident came about when Troisi—until then a “highly regarded member” of the West Virginia bench and former member of the state committee that investigates judicial misconduct—denied Witten's bail request, prompting Witten to mutter an insult under his breath. Troisi then “stepped down from the bench, removed his robe, and there was a confrontation,” said state police captain Terry Snodgrass. Judge Troisi pled no contest to criminal battery, served his five days, and then resigned from the bench. He also agreed to seek counseling for “impulse control.”

In 1995 the Texas state bar reprimanded newly elected criminal appeals court judge Steven Mansfield for lying about his personal background during his campaign for office. Mansfield claimed he was born in Texas—a big plus for voters in the Lone Star State—when he was actually born in Massachusetts. He also presented himself as a political newcomer when in fact he'd run for Congress twice in New Hampshire (he lost both times). He claimed to have handled more than 100 criminal cases, but about the only case he'd really handled was his own—when he was charged in Florida for practicing law without a license. (He lost, and had to pay a $100 fine.)

Amazingly, Mansfield managed to hang onto his job in Texas's highest criminal court and kept a low profile until 1999, when he was caught trying to scalp complimentary tickets to a Texas A&M football game and received six months' probation. He left office in 2000 but announced the following year that he wanted to come back because the judiciary was becoming too liberal without him. “I feel that I can be a more effective and more consistent conservative vote on the court,” he explained. (He lost.)

Uncle John predicts that his death will come…on the last day of his life. As creepy as it sounds, some people have actually been able to predict their deaths much more accurately than that. Take these folks…

Claim to Fame:
Austrian composer… and a man obsessed with the number 13

Prediction:
Schoenberg was born on September 13, 1874 and believed he would probably die on the 13th as well. Which month and year? Probably, he decided, on a Friday the 13th, and most likely in 1951, when he was 76 (7 + 6= 13).

What Happened:
That year, July 13 fell on a Friday, and Schoenberg stayed in bed all day, awaiting death. Late that night, his wife went to his room to check on him and scold him for wasting the day so foolishly. When she opened the door, Schoenberg looked up at her, uttered the single word “harmony,” and dropped dead. Time of death: 11:47 p.m. …13 minutes before midnight.

Claim to Fame:
Host of “Mysteries Around Us,” a radio show that dealt with issues of the paranormal

Prediction:
Early in January 2002, Baranowski announced to his listeners that he expected to die on January 19.

What Happened:
As advertised, Baranowski became an eerily suitable topic for his own show by dying on January 19—exactly as he said he would. Cause of death: congestive heart failure. “It's like he just produced his last show,” a co-worker told reporters.

Claim to Fame:
German astronomer and Protestant minister

Prediction:
For some reason, Fabricius became fixated on the idea that he would die on May 7, 1617. Rather than tempt fate, when the day came, Fabricius decided to play it safe and stay home.

What Happened:
About two hours before midnight, he decided
that the danger had passed. He stepped outside to get some air…and was promptly murdered by a man from his own church.

Claim to Fame:
Founder of the Reformed Apostolic Church in Cradock, South Africa

Prediction:
In January 2002, Reverend Freddie told his followers that he would soon be “going home.” He had received a message from the Lord to join Him in Heaven, he said, and God had set the date for Saturday, February 2. He had his grave dug in advance and even booked the town hall for the funeral, busing in hundreds of “mourners” from all over South Africa. He also went on a shopping spree of Biblical proportions, sure that the Creator would take care of the bills after he was gone. “We will miss his earthly body,” one church member told reporters, “but we know that he will be sitting at the right hand of the Father.”

What Happened:
February 2 came and went…and Freddie didn't die. A spokesperson explained to his enraged and humiliated followers that there had been a misunderstanding, saying, “His actual announcement was, ‘I am going home.' That is why it is important for us to sit down and clarify certain words and terms, such as the difference between death and going home.”

Claim to Fame:
A 15-year-old high school student living in Patterson, California, in 1985

Prediction:
Felipe had a crush on a classmate named Donna Ashlock, who had a degenerative heart disease and was only weeks away from death when Felipe's mother saw a newspaper article about her condition and read it to Felipe. “I remember his voice in the next room,” Mrs. Garza remembered. “He said, ‘I'm going to die, and I'm going to give my heart to Donna.'”

What Happened:
Although Felipe seemed to be in perfect health, he died a few days later when a blood vessel in his brain suddenly burst. His family donated his heart to Donna the following day.

Final Chapter:
Unfortunately, the ending was not a happy one. Donna's body rejected Felipe's heart a few years later, and she died in March 1989 before another suitable donor could be found. She and Felipe are buried in the same cemetery.

This classic style of pun was originally invented in the 1920s. Here's a modern collection that was sent to us by BRI member Bryan Henry. They're atrocious, but we couldn't resist including them.

“Welcome to Grant's Tomb,” Tom said cryptically.

“Smoking is not permitted in here,” Tom fumed.

“Your boat is leaking,” Tom said balefully.

“I prefer to press my own clothes,” Tom said ironically.

“It's the maid's night off,” Tom said helplessly.

“You're burning the candle at both ends,” Tom said wickedly.

“I hope I can still play the guitar,” Tom fretted.

“They pulled the wool over my eyes,” Tom said sheepishly.

“Someone removed the twos from this deck,” Tom deduced.

“Like my new refrigerator?” asked Tom coolly.

“I'll have to send that telegram again,” Tom said remorsefully.

“The criminals were escorted downstairs,” said Tom condescendingly.

“I haven't caught a fish all day!” Tom said, without debate.

“A thousand thanks, Monsieur,” said Tom mercifully.

“I'd love some Chinese soup,” said Tom wantonly.

“I forgot what to buy,” Tom said listlessly.

“I need a pencil sharpener,” said Tom bluntly.

“I punched him in the stomach three times,” said Tom triumphantly.

“…and you lose a few,” concluded Tom winsomely.

“I was removed from office,” said Tom disappointedly.

“I wonder what it was like being one of Zeus's daughters,” Tom mused.

“He only likes whole grain bread,” Tom said wryly.

“I'm definitely going camping again,” said Tom with intent.

“Oh no! I dropped my toothpaste,” said Tom, crestfallen.

The Stanley Cup, awarded annually to the best team in the National Hockey League, is the oldest trophy in professional sports. And whether you like hockey or not, we bet you'll find the cup's history fascinating.

Lord Arthur Frederick Stanley of Preston, England, son of the 14th Earl of Derby, was appointed Governor-General of the Dominion of Canada in 1888. When he arrived in the country he brought his seven ice-skating sons with him. They fell in love with the rough-and-tumble game of hockey and went on to become some of the best players of their time.

Nineteen-year-old Arthur Stanley and his brother Algy nagged their father for support in organizing the game into teams and leagues, and for a trophy to show as “an outward and visible sign of the ice hockey championship.” Dad finally came through. At a dinner for the Ottawa Amateur Athletic Association on March 18, 1892, a member of the Governor-General's staff, Lord Kilcoursie (also a hockey player), made this announcement on behalf of Lord Stanley:

I have for some time been thinking that it would be a good thing if there were a challenge cup which should be held from year to year by the champion hockey team in the Dominion. There does not appear to be any such outward sign of a championship at present, and considering the general interest which matches now elicit, and the importance of having the game played fairly and under rules generally recognized, I am willing to give a cup which shall be held from year to year by the winning team.

Lord Stanley instructed an aide in England to order a gold-lined silver bowl to be used as the trophy. The bowl measured 7½ inches high and 11½ inches in diameter, and cost about $50. Original name: Dominion Hockey Challenge Cup. But everyone called it the Lord Stanley Cup.

Stanley appointed two trustees and outlined some conditions:

• The winners are to return the Cup promptly when required
by the trustees in order that it may be handed over to any other team which may win it.

• Each winning team is to have the club name and year engraved on a silver ring fitted on the Cup.

• The Cup is to remain a challenge competition and not the property of any one team, even if won more than once.

• The trustees are to maintain absolute authority in all disputes over the winner of the Cup.

• A substitute trustee will be named in the event that one of the existing trustees drops out.

The boys got their trophy, and the game of hockey grew in popularity. But, ironically, they never got to play for it, and Lord Stanley, the father of organized hockey, never saw a Stanley Cup game. In July 1893, Stanley's brother died and Stanley was called back to England to become the 16th Earl of Derby. He never returned to watch a game for the trophy that bore his name.

Lord Stanley had the trustees present the trophy the first year, 1893, to the Montreal Amateur Athletic Association, which had won an ameteur tournament. Then they arranged for an actual championship game between his hometown Ottawa team and Toronto. But the game never took place.

Ottawa was considered the best team, but the trustees insisted they play a “challenge game” since it was a “challenge cup.” They also insisted that the game be played in Toronto. Ottawa refused to do it. So the trustees declared the Montreal AAA the first Stanley Cup champions in 1893 without a playoff.

The first official Stanley Cup playoff game took place on March 22, 1894, when Ottawa challenged Montreal in the Montreal Victoria Arena before 5,000 fans. Montreal got to keep the Cup, winning the game 3–1.

Lord Stanley's announcement and his order of a small silver cup would mark the beginning of what would become Canada's national sport…and a game still played internationally more than a century later.