New Story

Amazing Stargazing

New Publisher

 

Editors Note:

All future articles will be published at Substack. 

Rewrites of existing articles from the archives here will be published on Substack. 

Archives at this site will remain available for a time. 

Art Cashin's stories will not be available at our new publisher. Please note that the writing found here is protected by our copyright as well as Mr Cashin's.

Please sign up for a free subscription at;

https://cheekyhistory.substack.com

Thanks for reading Cheeky History. 

We look forward to your subscriptions with our new publisher.

Grant Davies

Historic Changes to Cheeky History

Cheeky History will be changing formats and publishers soon. 

We will be moving from "Blogger" to Substack. We will be published in an email "newsletter" format instead of a web log format. This will give us more options and control over our content and hopefully give you a better and more convenient reading experience.

We'll let you know with an announcement here when we are ready to make the switch. 

Comment below or send an email to "cheekyhistory at protommail.com" if you would like to learn more about the transition or be kept up to date about when this will happen.

If you subscribe here on an RSS feed we are unaware of your email address or identity. Same thing if you "follow" us here. So please drop us a note if you want to be invited to the new site.

In the meantime you may continue to enjoy the archives here for a limited time.

Thank you so much for your past readership.

The Most Expensive Pizza Ever Eaten

 

By Grant Davies

The year was 2010. A man in Florida, USA ordered two pizzas from Papa John's Pizza. 

It's hard to say why anyone would do such a thing. But this history story isn't about cardboard pizza, it's about what someone is willing to pay to get it. All I can say is they must be pretty hungry and have no other options. There's no accounting for taste, or lack thereof, I guess.

The year 2010 seems like a long time ago to many folks. But then again, anything that happened before 2020 seems like ancient history now.

The two participants in this pizza transaction decided that for this order they didn't want to use US dollars to settle the trade. Who can blame them? Because...

Some people at the US treasury have a special printing press and they just plug it in whenever they need some money to buy stuff, like votes for instance. So the value of the dollar keeps falling because they print so many of them. The value has been falling pretty steadily since 1913. That's when the government invented the Federal Reserve out of the same thin air as the money is printed. The idea was to stabilize the value of the money, they said. Since then the value has declined by about 95%, so I have a suspicion that stabilization wasn't the actual purpose. But then, cynicism about such notions may be forgiven. 

Anyway, the pizza transactors decided to use a different kind of money. They agreed to use some money called Bit Coin. It may have seemed an odd choice to some. But it made sense to them and it didn't seem to be anyone else's business. (Some government types may disagree about that to this very day.)

Between the two of them they had to agree to the value of the Bit Coin so a fair trade could be made. They settled on 10 thousand bit coins for the two pizzas, which would normally sell for about $30 US dollars in those days. It's cheaper nowadays due to the lack of success by the FED at defending the dollar, but again, I digress. Unlike the US dollar some money appreciates in value from time to time. Bit Coin is one of those. 

In those 10 years the price of pizza has declined as well as the US dollar. But Bit Coin is worth a lot more dollars and a lot more pizza by comparison. If the guy who ate the pizza could have just held off his hunger for those 10 years he could have bought more pizza. 

$178 million worth as of this exact moment in time, November 19th, 2020 at 7:30 am.

It's not known if the Papa John's franchise owner still has the bitcoin from that transaction. But if he does I'm guessing he isn't flinging pies into thin air anymore.

To celebrate this story, get on the phone and order a couple of pizzas but be sure to ask if there is a coupon you can use to lower the price. Or maybe a discount for paying with Bit Coin?

PS.  It has been claimed that, with the exception of 4 days in 2017, anyone who has ever bought Bit Coins on any day since it was invented about 10 years ago (and still has them) has a paper profit. Well, a crypto profit anyway.

Editors update: 

Since the date of this article the price of pizza as measured in Bit Coin has risen a tad. On Nov 19th, 2020, the pizza cost $178 million. Today, Jan 8, 2021 at 2:00 pm the price has risen to $400 million. You'd better like pizza a lot.

Irish (A)wake

 

Editors note:

Just in time for Halloween we have a sweet treat for readers. A guest author with a scary story about graveyard shenanigans and Irish ghosts.

By Sara Aldworth

 Come here to me and I’ll tell you the story of Mrs. Margorie McCall.

In 1695, Margorie got a bad dose of it. Sadly she died and was buried in the Shankhill cemetery.

Not long after, a couple of wankers showed up in search of some treasure. They dug up Margorie and discovered a valuable ring on her finger. Unable to slide it off, they decided to remove her finger entirely. As they cut into her, Margorie woke up. Well Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Was it a miraculous resurrection? The hooligans didn’t stick around to find out.

Finding herself awake in a burial plot, Margorie dusted herself off and legged it home.

Soon enough, her family heard a knock on the door. Her husband said, “If your mam wasn’t dead, I could swear that was her knock.” Upon opening the door and finding his newly undead wife, his hair went white with shock.

It was a grand reunion though. Given a second chance at life, Margorie snogged her fella and went on to have another wee one before her final, actual death and burial.

Is the story of Margorie McCall true? Nah, it’s actually twice-buried blarney. 

A search on this story reveals several variations in the retelling. And none have the kind of documentation that would hold up to a historian’s scrutiny. Additionally, would you believe anyone even remotely alive would remain unconscious during an Irish wake? And making another baby with that eejit? Not bloody likely.

Interestingly though, Margorie’s story isn’t all that special. The lady and the ring is an archetype, common in much of European folklore. Furthermore, stories about being buried alive can be found across the centuries and in many cultures. So while Margorie almost certainly only lived and died once, you can be sure the Irish will be slagging ya on this ghost story for donkey’s years.

History has Been Canceled Until Further Notice

By Grant Davies


On this day in 2020, give or take a few weeks, a small but well organized group of thugs tried to erase all the history of the US.

A majority of the citizens of the country and many of the politicians and elected officials of the country did nothing to stop them. Some even encouraged them.

In the end history will survive even if it's incorrect history. Since most history is incorrect anyway most people will not notice this in a few years.

Even though the history found on this site is probably correct, those thugs have been thus far uninterested in erasing it. I guess they realize that I have several readers instead of millions.

But mainly they were too busy looting and burning to pay attention to it. And many are illiterate so they don't bother if it's like, um, you know, words and stuff. Unless it's a statue of a person they never heard of they just can't be bothered.

But this site is all about having some fun anyway, not portraying serious events like the erasure of history.

I just wonder, are we having fun yet?

Give That Man a Prize

Image = Wikipedia

By Grant Davies

On a day just like this, back about fifty years after the 1880s, perhaps circa 1930-ish, a professor at the University of Lisbon decided to do some science.

Before we move on to the actual story, I think it's best to explain how such a precisely imprecise date was arrived upon. I used a calculator. And I guessed at the figures. The 1880s had some meaning for where to start counting, but I'm probably not going to tell you why, just because.

But who cares anyway? It's not actual history, it's Cheeky History. Exact dates require research I'm loath to do.

Anyway, the guy's name was Egas Moniz and he was a scientist, kind of. A former politician, (a republican, lower case) he was a professor of neurology at the above named University. He formed a hypothesis about where in the brain mental illnesses of various kinds originated and how to treat them. Based on the work of others back in the 1880s he decided it was in the frontal lobe of the brain. (Okay, I guess I slipped and told you about the 1880s part, darn it!) So he decided to see if destroying that part of the brain would cure these illnesses. They called the surgical procedure leucotomy. We know it today by a different name. More on that later.

Unfortunately, his scientific method was anything but scientific. According to Bill Bryson in his new book "The Body" (paraphrased), Moniz had no idea what the outcome might be or what damage might be done to the patient. No experiments were done on animals first and he was pretty careless about which patients he chose. (At least one died in an earlier attempt.) He also didn't follow-up well on what the outcomes were. Additionally, he didn't perform the surgeries himself but was keen to take credit for any that were claimed to be successful.

When scientists do science poorly the outcome usually is apparent to scientists who do science well. That can lead to derision and a loss of stature, not to mention income. But that didn't happen to Egas.

Instead, in 1949, he was awarded, (you guessed it) the Nobel Prize. It was for "his discovery of the therapeutic value of leucotomy in certain psychoses." (Wikipedia)

In other words, some of his patients improved a bit on the mental illness they had. Unfortunately they turned into zombies. Perhaps if he had hit them in the head with a shovel it might have had the same effect. (I'm told that leaves a dull impression on the mind) At least he didn't do that.

I don't want to be too hard on him considering the times he lived in. But if he can get a Nobel Prize for crummy science why can't I get a Pulitzer Prize for crummy writing?

To celebrate all the crazy surgeries performed by the others who followed in his lab coats, just slip on down to the "Weird Science Lounge" and when the bartender asks "what'll you have?"  Just tell him, "I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy."


Inspiration for this story came from Bill Bryson's excellent book, "The Body" - "A Guide for Occupants" 

Krampus Claus is Coming to Town

By Grant Davies

 On this day, December 6th eve, every year,  Krampus Claus is coming to a town near yours. So you better watch out.

Or as the song has it:

"You better watch out
You better not cry
You better not pout
I'm telling you why

Krampus Claus is coming to town."

Okay, there is no guy called that. I gave Krampus a last name because I wanted to. I write this nonsense, so I can do as I please.

Anyway, Krampus is a real make believe guy. As real as Santa Claus anyway. And he even has a day (okay, a night) named for him. It's called Krampusnacht.  For those of you who failed German class in high school, that translates to Krampus Night.

That's the night this half-goat, half-demon sneaks into town and beats children to a pulp if he determines they have been bad. Or not good, I guess.  Or if they cry or pout. He also seems to lick their head and clean the wax from their ears with his fingers, according to the picture below. And he does this while in chains, so he's pretty competent.

I'll take the beating, thank you.  But that's just me.

What all this tells us is that if the worst thing that happens to you is that you find coal in your stocking or don't get that new I-Phone you have been wanting, just count yourself lucky.

One other thing, I'm pretty sure that if you don't live in Europe somewhere, this doesn't apply to you.

Happy holidays.


PS

We have a new winner of the coveted "15 Seconds of Fame Award." 

It's Matthew Latourette, who gave me the idea to write this post.  He recently was mentioned in the Chicago Tribune by name as well, so he's on a roll. Congrats!
Okay, your time is up.

The Amazing Talent of Bob Evans

Bob Evans - Supernovae finder extraordinaire

By Grant Davies


Some people have amazing talents that most of us could never image. Bob Evans is one of those people.

I love sausage. And lots of sausage lovers have heard of Bob Evans in regard to making tasty breakfast sausage. But that's not the same Bob as the Bob in today's story.

Our Bob is a retired Minister. He is semi-famous in some circles in Australia for doing serious research and writing books about the history of evangelical revivals.

Even though this is a history blog (kinda), we don't usually write about historical stuff quite that exciting here. Bob's talent for that endeavor is not the one I'm about to amaze you with.

Bob's hobby is finding Supernovae, and he's really, really good at it. Better than anyone else who has ever tried it, so they say. He finds them by looking through backyard telescopes from the small deck of his house in a town not far outside of Sydney, Australia. Other than his telescope his only other tool seems to be his amazing talent for remembering where all those dots in the sky are and noticing when a new dot appears where there wasn't one before. Just in case you aren't as amazed as I am about Bob's amazing memory of where the dots were,  I'll explain.

According to Bill Bryson in his book "A Short History of Nearly Everything" it's explained this way:

(Paraphrased) "imagine a standard dining room table covered with a black tablecloth and someone throwing a handful of salt across it. Think of the salt grains as a galaxy. Now, imagine 1500 more tables like that, each table with random salt tosses, enough to fill the parking lot at Walmart. Now add one grain of salt to any table and let Bob walk among them. At a glance he will spot it."

Now that is amazing! I betcha you can't do that. I can't even remember if I had Bob Evans sausage for breakfast.

To celebrate Bob's amazing talent, drop down to the Star Gazers Lounge and have the Super-duper Supernova Martini. But if you see Bob there and you introduce yourself, don't expect him to remember your name if you meet him again. He says he's not very good at remembering names and his wife says he can't remember where he's put things.

Amazing.

Save the Endangered Left-handed Snail Darter!

By Art Cashin

On this day (+1) in 1783, weeks of rumbling beneath Mt. Skaptar, a volcano in southern Iceland, ended with a roar. And what a roar it was. Across a line of over 10 miles, the earth split as in an earthquake in a movie. But instead of leaving a small canyon or valley, the rift in the earth poured forth massive amounts of molten lava and hazy blue gases.


Over the next two months, it spewed out enough molten stuff to cover the entire island of Manhattan with a lava cover a mile high. Looking for a place to go, the lava filled up riverbeds, harbors, seabeds and it melted centuries- old glaciers. Thousands of people were either burned to death by the lava or drowned in the floods it caused. The lava alone would have caused this to be rated one of history's great calamities. But then there was the haze.
The heavy, blue, sulfur-smelling haze spewed forth from the fissure and hung like a low cloud that grew and grew until it spread from Iceland southward to Gibraltar. And it hung there. And as it did, there were reports of cattle dying in the field because their flesh had begun to eat them alive. (Now where did I hear that before?) Some humans had a similar experience. Many more developed sudden open sores, sudden loss of hair and bleeding gums, finally dying in the streets.

Then things started to get bad. Leaves fell off the trees and plants. Birds, rabbits and other wildlife began to die, often rotting as they fell. Then the fish began to die, rising to the surface, often partially decomposed. (I hope you're not reading this at breakfast.) Now there was no food and those remaining people and animals began to starve. Thankfully, the winds began to shift, the volcano began to still and the dying began to stop....finally!

To mark the day, sympathize with someone from the "Save the Endangered Left-handed Snail Darter Club" and hoist a spring water and something natural, while you note the latest study implies it must be man that upsets nature's gentle balance.


Many thanks to Mr. Cashin and UBS Financial Services who graciously allow his historical musings to be republished on this site. To enjoy more of Art's posts simply click on "Cashin's Comments" in the label section on the sidebar.

A Killer Health Care Plan

Editors foreword:

Now that the astute and well intentioned politicians are putting their heads together to fix the failed Obamacare plan by instituting a different horrible plan that is destined to fail as well, I thought it might be time for a history review to remind us what happens when astute and well intentioned politicians from the past put their heads together to fix a health care problem.

But don't worry, politicians never make the same mistakes twice on the same problem. Even though the problem may be the same one, too many rats.

Grant Davies




 By Art Cashin

On this day in 1349, in the midst of the infamous Black Plague epidemic, the forces of government, science and academia came together with a plan to save the people.

As you recall from earlier episodes, the Black Plague had spread from the eastern Mediterranean throughout most of Europe killing millions over the preceding three years. People searched everywhere for the source of the plague.....a heavenly curse; a burden of immigrants; the result of spices in the food. It was tough to figure however, since whenever they held a conference either the host area caught the plague or the visitors did.....so.....not too many conferences.

Then in the six months preceding this date the death rate leveled off.....or seemed to. So in castles and universities and town halls across Europe, great minds pondered the cause of the plague. And they came pretty close. The collective governmental/academic wisdom was that the source of the Black Plague was fleas - (absolutely correct).

So the word went out from town to town across Europe - to stop the plague - kill the fleas -by killing all the dogs. And immediately the slaughter of all dogs began. But like lots of well-intentioned governmental/academic ideas it was somewhat wide of the mark...and had unexpected consequences.

The cause was fleas alright but not dog fleas.....it was rat fleas. And in the 1300's what was the most effective way to hold down the rat population.....you guessed it - dogs. So by suggesting that townsfolk kill their dogs, the wise authorities had unwittingly allowed the rat population to flourish and thus a new vicious rash of Black Plague began. Before it was over, three years later, nearly 1 out of 3 people in the world had died of the plague.

To mark this eventful period, take time to review your public servant’s plans for your welfare. Whether taxes or healthcare, they'll work night and day for a solution. It may not be as efficient as the way that they handled social security but - what is? Just remember that these public servants have your best interests at heart. Don't dwell on the DARK AGES. Back in those days the seat of government often was filled with rats, vermin and leeches. Thank goodness those days are over.



Many thanks to Mr. Cashin and UBS Financial Services who graciously allow his historical musings to be republished on this site. To enjoy more of Art's posts simply click on "Cashin's Comments" in the label section on the sidebar.

History, Music, and Redemption

By Grant Davies

On this day in 2011, I wrote a short commentary as a lead in to a video and posted it to my sister blog What We Think and Why. That blog isn't about history but this blog didn't exist back then. Just about every year since then it pops up on my FaceBook feed again. I always feel compelled to share it again.

Today, on the 5th anniversary of posting it, I will add it to this site because it is about history even though it's not too "cheeky."

Some of you have seen it before. Most of you haven't. If you have, you will probably enjoy watching it again. If not, you are about to learn something about History, Music, and Redemption that you might not have known. I present it here unedited. I hope you enjoy watching the video as much as I enjoy posting it.

History, Music and Redemption

Whether it's good ideas, interesting writing, witty humor, important information or videos which deliver some or all of those things, a great blog post is made from great content. On this site I do my best to deliver those things. Sometimes I even succeed.

I write about and post things that I see, hear or just think about. Things I think are important. Many of them concern ideas about freedom or people and events that somehow connect to freedom issues. Some might say this is a political site, but even though it's hard to escape from politics in these times of tumult, I hope it's more than that.

History is one of my loves. So is music. And like so many others, I'm fascinated by the battle between good and evil. So when all three of those things come together in one place, it's impossible to resist sharing them.

One of my favorite musical pieces is the hymn, Amazing Grace. And the history behind it's creation is an incredible story of good, evil and redemption. It's a story I only learned a few years back, long after I fell in love with the melody and power of the song.

The story of John Newton, who wrote the words, is as inspirational as they come. If you don't know the history, do yourself a favor and follow the link, you won't regret it. His fall from grace and final return to receive it again is classic. But as it now turns out, (and as is often the case) I only knew half the story.

The other half of the story concerns Negro Spirituals, the black keys on the piano, the "slave scales" and the writer of the music itself. Someone known only as "Unknown." I will never listen to the hymn the same way again. For me, it used to be special, now it is delicious.

After watching the video below, I can almost feel the pain and suffering of the groaning victims of slavery and the different kind of pain and ultimate redemption of one of those who perpetrated it upon them.

If you feel it too, then this will be better than the usual post on this blog. I hope it will be a great post because of the great content.

Many thanks to Bobbie Rendleman for posting the video link on Facebook.






Many thanks to Bobbie Rendleman for posting the video link on Facebook.

Running Out of Beer

By Art Cashin

On this day in 1620, as we all recall from sixth grade, the Pilgrim Fathers...thankful for having safely reached their destination...and to assure no limits on their new-found freedom...gathered aboard the Mayflower to draft and sign - The Mayflower Compact.

And you probably remember your version of Sister Anesthesia telling you that was the beginning of democracy in America.

Well maybe you recall it that way because you were spending too much time trying to figure out why Mary Agnes Doyle was starting to look different than she did in fifth grade. We're sure the good Sister told you the real story. (No....not about Mary Agnes!) Sister certainly related how the Pilgrims in fact were nowhere near their destination. (Records indicate they were destined for "Northern Virginia" which according to sea charts probably was somewhere between present day Perth Amboy, N.J. and Bayonne.

If they had found their original spot....today we might speak of the thrifty reverent Pilgrims of Wall Street. They only pulled in at Massachusetts because they had run low on beer (or as they wrote in the log "beere"....oops....you heard that already).

That brings us back to the "Mayflower Compact." It seems that a significant portion of folks on the Mayflower were "strangers" - not members of the Pilgrim sect but folks who signed on in hope of land and success in the new world. They had all signed agreements to abide by the Pilgrim Fathers in this new colony of the "Virginia Company."

So, when the Pilgrim Fathers suggested putting a party ashore, "the strangers", out of beer and noting a distinct chill in the air remarked that since this place was outside the Virginia Company Grant - once ashore they were free to do as they pleased. (Now lest ye think these "strangers" a rowdy group - Verily - I point out thou mayest have heard of a few - mayhap one Miles Standish or a certain carpenter, John Alden.)

So - to keep these "strangers" from demanding freedom once they went ashore, the Pilgrims devised the Mayflower Compact - which after a quick headcount went for "majority rule." Its purpose clearly was to set a range limit on freedom of choice.

The Pilgrims spent the next 30 days, foraging, shooting crows, scaring Native Americans and their dogs (Canis Americus) and finding no beer. Finally, they landed around Plymouth and might have all died in a few months until they bumped into an Indian, named Squanto, who mysteriously spoke English (with a Portuguese accent no less) but that's a story for another day.

To mark the day, drop anchor at a place called Rocky's and have a "Mull Wine" or "clove laced hot cider." But remember what the Cheshire Cat told Alice - "If you don't know where you want to get to....it doesn't matter which way you go."

Many thanks to Mr. Cashin and UBS Financial Services who graciously allow his historical musings to be republished on this site. To enjoy more of Art's posts simply click on "Cashin's Comments" in the label section on the sidebar.

The Story of St. Patrick - Cashin's Version

Editor's note:

It seems there at least as many versions of the story of Saint Patrick as there are story tellers. My story can be found here. Art's story appears below. I hope you enjoy both but please don't compare mine to his because I'm sure to lose in that comparison. If you wait to read mine until you have consumed several shots of Jamesons it will have a better chance.
Grant Davies




By Art Cashin

On this day in the year of our Lord 389, there lived a foin broth of a lad who was.... dependin' on the boyographer ye read: a Spanish peasant, a French herdschild, a Celt from Bannavem or a Gael from Dumbarton, Scotland. At any rate, at age 16 this lad was kidnapped by pirates and sold to one of the only 2500 Irish kings that were reigning at the time.

He served this King as a swineherd mucking out stys and such. For six years he labored in slavery, poorly fed; often beaten; surrounded by people in strange dress who spoke a language he couldn't understand. Then he discovered that six years of such treatment was equivalent to a parochial school education. So he became a Catholic and escaped to France to become a monk.

Upon becomin' a bishop he mistakenly perceived the French to be a bunch of snail eatin', grape juice drinkin', truffle huntin' toads. He longed for the emerald green fields of God's own land and the special amber holy water found there. He returned to Ireland, which was still under the influence of a
group of heathen English druids and a few nocturnal banshees. Nonetheless, he set about convertin' and baptizin'.

Unfortunately, Patrick was not an MBA and did not know the law of diminishin' returns. So he managed to baptize over 120,000 people, built over 300 churches, chased the snakes out of Ireland, developed the shamrock and established a factory to make pennants carryin’ the slogan "Go Notre
Dame".

To celebrate the life of this fabulous man, sing ye some sad songs, talk ye merrily of battles and take ye a wee nip of somethin' till ye might be seein' da little people.

The Robber Baron of Arizona

James Addison Reavis

By Art Cashin

On this day (-2) in 1896, one of the greatest schemes in American history began to come apart - just as it was on the verge of changing the future of the nation. The scheme was to lay a land grant claim on what was virtually two states - Arizona and New Mexico. But it had all started earlier and simpler.

During the Civil War, a certain James Addison Reavis was kind of the "Radar O'Reilly" of the Confederate Army. He managed to get officer's signatures on passes and requisitions without troubling the respective officers. His....er....penmanship was so good that after the war a pal took him to St. Louis where he showed some....er....interpretive creativity in the office of public deeds.

In 1871, he met George Willing who had a very creative mind but very poor "penmanship." Willing suggested "back signing" and "redrawing" old Spanish land grants. Reavis began to think Willing was thinking small. But he needn't have worried, because Willing died of poisoning shortly thereafter.

Reavis traveled to Mexico and spent some time in missions, monasteries and libraries. He mastered the language and idiom of formal documents of the 1600's and 1700's. Shortly thereafter, he emerged to lay claim to the fabulous "Peralta Grants." And fabulous they were - they showed Reavis to be the owner of nearly 19,000 square miles of Arizona and New Mexico.

Panic set in immediately. The Southern Pacific paid Reavis $50,000 good faith deposit to protect its right of way. The fabled Silver King Mine gave $25,000 as the first year's rent. And when Reavis, amid great pomp, married a "Peralta Heiress" (a poor Mexican girl he set up with phony credentials), he claimed thousands more square miles. Soon there were lines of folks waiting to give money to the "Baron of Arizona." But as your grandmother said "Pride cometh before a fall" (maybe that was my grandmother....er....and come to think of it...it was "four Manhattans cometh before a fall).

Anyway, Reavis got a case of the "haughties" and turned down a newspaper interview. The publisher decided to do a background piece anyway. It was then that he noticed the type-face on some of the documents was of rather recent origin. He then talked an official into letting him see one of the "official documents." He noticed the century old parchment paper had a watermark from a factory in Wisconsin. Since neither the King of Spain nor the original Don Diego Peralta were known to cavort with cheeseheads, an odor ensued.

On this day in 1896, the Baron of Arizona was indicted. He was quickly convicted and sent to prison. Later released, he died a pauper in 1908. There lies a lesson - forge not on recycled paper.


Many thanks to Mr. Cashin and UBS Financial Services who graciously allow his historical musings to be republished on this site. To enjoy more of Art's posts simply click on "Cashin's Comments" in the label section on the sidebar.

Our Old Acquaintance, Bob

By Grant Davies

On this night in 1787, people in Scotland got together, lifted a glass, and sang a song. "Big deal" you say! They do that in Ireland every darn night. Come to think of it, if the joint is open long enough, they do that everywhere a glass of intoxicating beverage is to be lifted. So what makes this night special enough to make note of it?

Well, that was the year the above referenced song was first published. The guy who is credited with writing it, Rab Mossgiel, was rather famous among his fellow Scotsmen for writing other poetry. Rab was just his pseudonym. I guess he liked it better than his real name, Bob. More on that in a moment.

Anyway, the guy actually admitted that he didn't compose it himself, but merely wrote it down after hearing it from "an old man." It's pretty certain that the old man didn't write it either.

The poet's actual name was Robert Burns. And it seems the song was initially sung on January 25th - also known as "Burns Night"-  to celebrate his life and works. But it's normally sung to wave goodbye to the old year and welcome in the new, hopefully better, year.

The song has a rather weird title that is translated from old Scottish English into modern English as "Old Long Since." I guess it made more sense back then. The rest of the words are almost as difficult to piece together too. But most people over a certain age (my age) recognize them well enough.

The song asks the question, should we just forget about our old friends? Well, I guess not. So then, shall we raise a glass and toast them and all the good times we have had with them? Hell, yes!

By now you have probably guessed that the song is the well known New Year's Eve standard, Auld Lang Syne. And the "cup of kindness" is some sort of booze that is being used to toast good fellowship and not forgetting our friends no matter what happens in the new year.

To celebrate the song, go down to the "Auld Neighborhood Inn" with some friends and order "a cup of kindness" from the bartender. Just make sure "it comes to mind" to tip him well. After all, a bartender is a man's best friend and definitely should not be forgot.


  Auld Lang Syne

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp,
And surely I'll be mine!
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pu'd the gowans fine;
But we've wandered mony a weary fit
Sin' auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

We twa hae paidled i' the burn,
Frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

And there's a hand, my trusty fiere,
And gie's a hand o' thine!
And we'll tak a right guid-willie waught

For auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.



Most of the information for this post was gleaned from Carols.org.

A Visit From Clem

By Art Cashin

On this day in 1823, a New York publisher issued a poem by a professor of Oriental and Greek literature.

Now, if that wasn't enough to scare most people off, the guy was also a clergyman. Several people who knew poetry told the publisher it was a terrible waste of paper and ink. Such a little trifle as Clem's poem wouldn't be remembered days later let alone years later.

But this flimsy verse which began "Twas the Night Before Christmas...." tended to hang on. And, after its author, Clement Clark Moore, died it was illustrated with drawings by Thomas Nast. Now it really took off. Not only did we know the legend of Santa, now we knew what he looked like.

To celebrate the birth of a classic, have an eggnog or two. Tell the red-faced guy, with a beard, on the next stool he can make extra Christmas money betting people they don't know the real name of the poem. ("A visit from St. Nicholas".)


Many thanks to Mr. Cashin and UBS Financial Services who graciously allow his historical musings to be republished on this site. To enjoy more of Art's posts simply click on "Cashin's Comments" in the label section on the sidebar.

The Problem With the President's Popularity

President John Tyler

By Art Cashin

On this day (-2) in 1843, a President learned that messages from the public at half term can sometimes be unfriendly. His name was John Tyler. As you recall from fourth grade, Tyler - the back half of "Tippecanoe and Tyler Too" - had ascended to the presidency when the front half (William H. Harrison) caught the attention of the Guinness people by dying after only thirty days in office.

Anyway, Tyler stepped in and seemed never to capture the popularity of his predecessors almost from the day he took office. Even his wife was somewhat controversial. Some thought she was a bit too pushy or up-front.

Frustrated by newly sagging polls and some Congressional election reversals, Tyler decided to take a small vacation - a little trip. He sent his son down to the railroad station to arrange a special train for the trip. The station master and his staff told the young man something like - "We don't provide special trains for politicians." Young Tyler responded by noting that the B&O had made a special train available for the corpse of the late President Harrison. The station master reportedly said - "Bring me your father in the same shape as President Harrison and we'll be glad to get him a train."

To mark how far we've come since those hostile old days go visit some affable office holders. But don’t mention anything to the folks running for President.

Many thanks to Mr. Cashin and UBS Financial Services who graciously allow his historical musings to be republished on this site. To enjoy more of Art's posts simply click on "Cashin's Comments" in the label section on the sidebar.

Editor's Note: Here is another article about Tyler that I wrote in the past. You might enjoy re-visiting it.   Grant Davies

Everything You Thought You Knew About Chris

By Art Cashin

On this day in 1492, Christopher Columbus landed at the Bahamas, believing that he had landed in the islands off Japan. And so history is indebted to a man with a flawed theory who set out on a venture where he didn't know  where he was going, suffered sharp losses on the way and didn't know
where he was when he got there. And he did it all on borrowed money. But if Columbus had things confused, folklore has really muddled what happened.

Back in August of 1492 Columbus had set sail from the port of "Palos de Frontera" on the west coast of Spain with a squadron of three ships to seek the riches of the East.

Error #1 - Columbus headed for a new land. (Actually, he thought he was sailing to China or Japan.)

Error #2 - he was a mighty sailor. (In two earlier launches some of the ships he selected leaked so badly they had to rush back to port and were replaced.)

Anyway, as we all know, the advisors to Ferdinand and Isabella warned their collective royalness that Columbus would sail off the edge of the earth. That's error #3 - actually, they thought Columbus had underestimated the size of the globe and thus would run out of fresh water before he could reach China. Perversely, today's computers indicate the negative advisors were very accurate while Columbus was off by many thousands of miles. Luckily, the unexpected "New World" and its fresh water stood in the way.

So! You say - "So what! Mr. Smarty Pants!" Even if he was not who he seemed to be, nor was much of a sailor, landed in the wrong place and miscalculated much of the way - the great drama was that he did it - and on borrowed money at that. (Op. Cit. Queen's necklace fable.)

Well, despite what your version of Sister Herman Joseph told you that's error #4 - the Queen never hit the hock shop with the jewels. What had really delayed the trip for nine month's was greed - Columbus'. In his employment contract he demanded: 10% of whatever he found, a Knighthood, an
Admiral's title and a Viceroy's title (both to be hereditary) and 10% of the profits on all naval imports thereafter.

When F and I turned him down, he had tried for the same deal at various palaces around Europe. Finally, an advisor convinced Isabella that actuarially Columbus had a good shot of dying on this or some subsequent voyages, so the Queen signed the deal.

To celebrate make note of some valuable discovery you've recently made. Then drop a hefty employment contract on the boss's desk - but don't insist on an Admiralcy - you'll probably look greedy.

Sixth Grade History You Probably Forgot

Pompey Magnus

By Art Cashin

On this day (+2) in 48 B.C., one of ancient Rome's most brilliant generals, a certain Pompey the Great landed on the shores of Egypt.

(Mr. Cashin! Yes Sister? Please try to remember the general's name is pronounced Pom-pea; Pom-pay was the name of the city buried by the eruption of Vesuvius in 79 A.D. If you don't pay more attention, you'll never remember enough history to get out of the 6th grade, let alone enough to ever help you in business! Do you understand?? Yes Sister!!)

Anyway, flashbacks aside, Pompey landed in Egypt - kind of "on the run." As you may recall from earlier episodes (or from the 6th grade), Rome was going through a parliamentary crisis. A popular reformer named Julius Caesar was busy dividing Gaul into three parts and sending reform suggestions to Rome. The Roman Parliament (pronounced "Senate") sent a nasty note (on parchment) to said Caesar - saying he had a lot of Gaul and ordering him to come home for a spanking and to please leave his army behind. Said Caesar headed home and took the army with him (across the Rubicon don't-cha know!).

Since that was considered bad form (pronounced formus stunkus), the Roman Senate called upon a former war hero for protection. The guy picked was Pompey the Great (page 6 in your program) - victor over Spanish Rebels (76 B.C.), over a certain "Spartacus" (72 B.C.) and over that early Hitler, King Mithridates (63 B.C.).

Despite this veteran's record, said Caesar made salad out of Pompey at the Battle of Pharsalus (beating him badly with an army half the size of Pompey's). This led Pompey to flee to his last known ally, Ptolemy XIII (pronounced Friday the 13th), King of Egypt and the Nile Delta. Ptolemy XIII (age XV) was at war with his pudgy sister. So, with Ptolemy XIII needing no new enemies (i.e. said Caesar), Ptolemy had his old ally assassinated (i.e. Pompey, who was stabbed as he got off the boat).

Said Caesar sensed that such habits did not make Ptolemy XIII (age XV) a great candidate for new best friend. So, said Caesar threw in with the pudgy sister named Cleopatra.

What happened next...I forget! (Sorry Sister!!)


Many thanks to Mr. Cashin and UBS Financial Services who graciously allow his historical musings to be republished on this site. To enjoy more of Art's posts simply click on "Cashin's Comments" in the label section on the sidebar.