funny wedding books novel amazon.com Wedding Chronicles Bob N. Boguslavski
MAD Magazine was one of Bob's big favorites back when he was a kid, and its sense of humor has a longstanding impression on him to this day, and his writing style. The piece on 43-Man Squamish from MAD #095 (June 1965) was definitely one of the more memorable pieces for him, and you can see it all in gory detail right here as a scanned image from the original issue. It was that crazy college sport those two kooks George Woodbridge and Tom Koch dreamed up, and it was explained with absolute clarity and brilliance.
By the time you are done processing it all you'll be an expert on all the positions from Grouches, to Brooders, Wicket Men, Niblings, Frummerts, Over/Underblats, Finks, Leapers and the Dummy. You'll know how they all mesh together in dizzying formations on the flutney, and how it is all about the Pritz and controlling things with the Frullip.
You'll know your Snivels and Ogres, and the very important difference between a Woomink and a Durmish, and surprisingly, why imitations of Barry Goldwater (hello Tea Party!) also may play a part in turning the tide of a match, but only if you are a Fink.
Was Draja Druvnik really one of the best at the game, judging by his big endorsement deal back in the day? No idea this side, and you could probably debate that for hours on end with those in the know.
The rules of gameplay and interpretation therein are where the action is really at, and if it all makes complete sense to you, then you are ready for a job as a German rocket scientist (even if you haven't learned that language yet, and only speak Swahili, cuz, clearly you got it all going on upstairs).
If this all sounds too complicated, or you can't find enough palookaheadz in your college to field a full squad, you can always opt for the much simpler version, 2-Man Squamish, where the object is to lose.
But after all of that, Bob's biggest takeaway from the whole mess was that certain special "wise old Chilean proverb" as immortalized there, and which has haunted him for decades (and maybe still does), until he actually got to Chile for the first time as a single guy on some wedding adventure junket.
It would be uberkool to see it played in Squamish, British Columbia, just up the road a bit from Vancouver on the way to Whistler. There's probably some reason out there somebody created that shared naming kinship between the place and the sport. Maybe Woodbridge and Koch should have added that to the mix.
As Bob always says to folks traveling that highway, "Don't forget to stop in Squamish."
By the time you are done processing it all you'll be an expert on all the positions from Grouches, to Brooders, Wicket Men, Niblings, Frummerts, Over/Underblats, Finks, Leapers and the Dummy. You'll know how they all mesh together in dizzying formations on the flutney, and how it is all about the Pritz and controlling things with the Frullip.
You'll know your Snivels and Ogres, and the very important difference between a Woomink and a Durmish, and surprisingly, why imitations of Barry Goldwater (hello Tea Party!) also may play a part in turning the tide of a match, but only if you are a Fink.
Was Draja Druvnik really one of the best at the game, judging by his big endorsement deal back in the day? No idea this side, and you could probably debate that for hours on end with those in the know.
The rules of gameplay and interpretation therein are where the action is really at, and if it all makes complete sense to you, then you are ready for a job as a German rocket scientist (even if you haven't learned that language yet, and only speak Swahili, cuz, clearly you got it all going on upstairs).
If this all sounds too complicated, or you can't find enough palookaheadz in your college to field a full squad, you can always opt for the much simpler version, 2-Man Squamish, where the object is to lose.
But after all of that, Bob's biggest takeaway from the whole mess was that certain special "wise old Chilean proverb" as immortalized there, and which has haunted him for decades (and maybe still does), until he actually got to Chile for the first time as a single guy on some wedding adventure junket.
It would be uberkool to see it played in Squamish, British Columbia, just up the road a bit from Vancouver on the way to Whistler. There's probably some reason out there somebody created that shared naming kinship between the place and the sport. Maybe Woodbridge and Koch should have added that to the mix.
As Bob always says to folks traveling that highway, "Don't forget to stop in Squamish."
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