THE TEN COMMANDMENTS N AT.

WHEN DR. BOLI was asked by a church in Pittsburgh to translate the Decalogue into the vernacular, he was of course delighted to be of assistance. Dr. Boli has a deep paternal love for his adopted city, and it seemed a very good idea that the Yinzers, as the inhabitants are called from their characteristic use of the second-person plural pronoun “yinz,” should have the words of the Ten Commandments rendered in a language they can understand.

Note that Dr. Boli has used the numbering of the Commandments adopted by the Lutherans and the Papists. If the other sects do not approve of that numbering, they can get their own Ten Commandments.

1. I’m Gawad, right? So yinz don’t got no other gawad, and yinz don’t try ta make yerselves a gawad aat a clay er sumpn, neither.

2. Yinz don’t go sayin ‘Oh my Gawad’ n at, cause that’s jus ignernt.

3. Yinz gotta go ta church on Sunday, er at least Saherty night.

4. Don’t go bein ignernt to yer mum an dad.

5. Yinz don’t kill nobody.

6. Yinz don’t boink yer bud’s wife, kay?

7. Yinz don’t steal nuffn.

8. Yinz don’t lie ta nobody abaat nuffn, cause I can tell an I’ll smack you.

9. Yinz don’t whine abaat not havin yer bud’s haas.

10. Yinz don’t whine abaat not havin yer bud’s wife, er his guys, er his car, er anythin he gots.

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DR. BOLI’S PRESS-CLIPPING BUREAU.

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NERGAL-SHAREZER THE RABMAG’S ASTROLOGICAL PROGNOSTICATIONS.

Aries. It wouldn’t hurt you to make enough tea for everybody, you know.

Taurus. The stars are feeling a little bit sulky. They feel that you did not give them enough credit in your acceptance speech. They are thinking of keying your car.

Gemini. With Venus in the house of Hanover, now would be a propitious time to begin a new business venture involving escargot.

Cancer. The stars are wondering whether you might possibly be able to spare a quarter for the parking meter.

Leo. A tall, dark stranger with a mysterious past will offer you tea today. You may drink it without serious consequences.

Virgo. Do not under any circumstances attempt to fix the kitchen faucet yourself. Not with Saturn where it is these days.

Libra. New resolutions bear fruit, but not exactly the fruit you had in mind. Unless you were thinking of carambolas, too.

Scorpio. The recycling will not be picked up today. Recycling is picked up every other week, but never this week.

Sagittarius. Nothing will prevent you from achieving your heart’s desire this week, which will make next week even more of a crushing disappointment.

Capricorn. Why, you old rascal, you! Not even the stars thought you had it in you.

Aquarius. An unusual alignment of certain planets that prefer to remain anonymous will cause your spinach to bolt early. You should have planted a long-standing variety.

Pisces. The stars controlling your destiny have decreed that next week is Free-Will Week for Pisces. Use it wisely.

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ASK DR. BOLI.

Dear Dr. Boli: Why does the sun shine?—Sincerely, The Hon. Alethia Carbon-Fiber, Age 6.

Dear Miss Carbon-Fiber: The sun shines for you because your parents are fortunate enough to be able to pay your solar-energy bills. Millions are not so fortunate, especially in the developing world; thus the phrase “darkest Africa.” Remember, the next time you see the sun shining, how privileged you are, and give a little thought to those less well-off than you. You may wish to suggest to your mommy and daddy that they make a small donation to a solar-energy charity, such as—merely to name one—the Boli African Solar Fund.

Dear Dr. Boli: I have a little spot on my shoulder. My wife says it’s a mole, but I think it’s an alien implant. What should I do?—Sincerely, A Man with a Spot on His Shoulder.

Dear sir: Dr. Boli is a doctor of letters, laws, and philosophy (among other things), but not a medical doctor. He is not qualified to dispense medical advice. He does, however, wonder whether this alien implant is causing you any inconvenience. If it is not, then why not simply tolerate it and forget about it? The aliens are doubtless motivated by the same purely scientific interests that compel ornithologists to band birds. If they wish to compile a body of observational data on the habits and movements of human beings, Dr. Boli thinks they should be allowed to do so, and indeed encouraged. After all, more than one species of rare bird has been saved from extinction by the efforts of ornithologists, and perhaps some day the alien observers may do the same for us.

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THE CRANE WHO WAS BETTER THAN EVERYBODY ELSE.

From Dr. Boli’s Fables for Children Who Are Too Old to Believe in Fables.

ONCE THERE WAS a crane who thought he was better than everybody else.

He thought he was better than all the other birds, because he was a crane, and cranes are tall and majestic. He thought he was better than all the other cranes, too, because he was smarter and more handsome, and because he had a better name: he was called Franklin Pierce Jones, whereas all the other cranes had very ordinary names like Harriet or Ichabod.

And because Franklin Pierce Jones insisted that he was better than everybody else, the other cranes began to believe that he really was better. If you repeat something often enough and with enough conviction, you can usually make it true.

There was, however, one skeptical crane, by the name of Alexandra, who refused to admit that Franklin Pierce Jones was better than absolutely everybody. “You may be better than the other birds,” she said, “and you may even be better than I am. But you’re not as good as people, because they wear clothes and use pocket calculators.”

At this challenge the color rose in Franklin Pierce Jones’ cheeks, although no one but him knew it because his face was covered with feathers. “I most certainly am in every way equal to people, and I’ll prove it to you,” he declared in a voice so loud that all the other cranes stopped what they were doing and listened. “I’ll wear clothes like a person, walk into the town, and do all the things people do. They won’t even be able to tell the difference.”

So that was exactly what Franklin Pierce Jones did. From a clothesline nearby he procured a pair of shorts, a white shirt, a very smart necktie, and a dark blue jacket that fitted him admirably. For a hat he wore a tasteful baby’s bonnet. Then he walked into town.

When he passed near a school, he fell among a group of children who had just finished their classes for the day.

“Look at that pointy nose!” one impolite little boy shouted, and a small group of children soon gathered around the crane as he attempted to make his way through the town.

“And he’s got skinny legs like a bird!” a little girl added, much to the delight of the other children.

“Bird-legs! Bird-legs!” the children began to chant, and soon they were all doing it. “Bird-legs! Bird-legs!”

“Did your mommy make you wear that tie?” one little boy demanded, yanking the end of Franklin Pierce Jones’ tie so it untied and fell on the ground.

“And did she put this cute little bonnet on your head?” another asked, snapping the elastic that held the bonnet in place.

“Is that a nose or a hose?” a little girl asked, and all the children laughed in a mean and very impolite way.

By this time Franklin Pierce Jones had definitely had enough, so he slipped off his jacket with one shrug, spread his wings, and took off, leaving all the children on the ground astonished.

His friend Alexandra was waiting for him when he got back, and all the other cranes were not far away.

“So did you prove that you’re equal to people?” Alexandra asked with a triumphant smirk, seeing that Franklin Pierce Jones’ clothes were mostly missing.

“No, I did not,” said Franklin Pierce Jones, and Alexandra could not keep herself from smirking even more triumphantly.

“I proved that I’m far better than people,” Franklin Pierce Jones continued. “The miserable ill-mannered creatures may be bipeds like us, but they are utterly lacking in the finer sensibilities. My experiences during my expedition prove, if any proof were needed, that I am indeed a superior being.”

All the other cranes nodded sagely, and even Alexandra had to admit the justice of his claim. Franklin Pierce Jones’ reputation was now secure.

MORAL: Travel is broadening, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s pleasant.

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