Janie Boschma

Dear Ask Anything,

– Confused Ka-noodler

Noodling? That’s actually a euphemism I use for sex! I always wonder about people who punctuate their questions by asking if something is legal or not. Has this been a problem with the person in the past, I think to myself? Has forgetting to ask this about a particular activity led to legal complications before? A good rule of thumb I’ve developed over the years is if you have to ask, it’s probably illegal or at least frowned upon. This holds true for noodling, as I discovered.

Noodling is a very strange manner of fishing, one that rather unsurprisingly has its origins in the South. Noodlers jump in the water and start feeling around on the bottom of a river or lake, searching for any hole or crevice that may hold the ultimate prize – a giant flathead catfish. Once a catfish is found, noodlers basically piss off the fish, which grows upward of 60 pounds, until it bites them on the hand.

Fear not, gentle reader! Flathead catfish merely have sandpaper-like teeth, so the damage of having your entire arm swallowed by one would only amount to a few scrapes and the accelerated growth of your parents’ disappointment with you. After having their arms engulfed by the slimy beast, noodlers and assistants called spotters drag the creature to shore. Here, they try to get the catfish off the noodler’s arm or at least wait for it to let go. Afterward, they cook up the fish and enjoy a hearty meal as people from the North laugh at them from afar.

Noodling is actually illeagal in 11 states in this great country, although Wisconsin is not one of them. We don’t really have any laws saying it’s OK, but there also aren’t any making it illegal. Its legality doesn’t make it a smart thing to do, though. Noodlers sometimes have the pleasant distinction of finding snapping turtles and beavers in those underwater holes, leading to unfortunate but not all that surprising injuries.

Is the South really that destitute that they need to fish with their bare hands? Has Lincoln’s reconstruction really failed that badly? To me, noodling is a cry for help from our brothers from the South, one as loud and desperate as the popularization of NASCAR. It’s obvious these people can’t help themselves; they’re out making giant, ugly fish bite them on the arms and watching cars go around a track for hours at a time. They need our guidance. Forget Pakistan – the South needs an economic aid package so they can afford books and fishing tackle to take it out of the sleepwalk the region is in.

Dear Ask Anything,

– Mr. Pibb product developer

Through a blinding flash of insight I have yet to explain, I decided to go to the Dr. Pepper Web site to find the answer to your question. I was able to navigate through the flash animation overgrowth on the site and locate a FAQ section. There I found the question that apparently is frequently asked – “What is the flavor of Dr. Pepper supposed to be?” The answer, it seemed, was in my face.

But alas! I could not grab it. The monstrous corporation that is Cadbury Schweppes Americas Beverages ducked the question like a seasoned press secretary, answering with “Dr. Pepper is a unique blend of 23 flavors. The formula for Dr. Pepper is proprietary information.” This level of issue dodging brought me back to my days in high school in the weeks leading up to prom.

Suddenly, my journalistic instincts kicked in – it appears the good doctor has a secret to hide. What are those 23 flavors? Why, they could be anything! Peanut byproduct! HGH! Whatever Surge was! The public needs to know, you can’t just put whatever you want in there and claim “proprietary information.” These are some really big questions that should be answered, but I knew I really wouldn’t have enough room in the Ask Anything section to do the story justice. I’ll have to save that for The Post or something.

What I was able to do was buy a bottle of Dr. Pepper and have a taste for myself. It was, as always, a delightful and refreshing experience, yet hampered by the questions that had grown from my fertile mind. Prodding questions of logic can ruin any good time, so I read some libertarian philosophical literature until I had killed enough brain cells to forget any worries I had about Dr. Pepper’s ingredients. After all, Dr. Pepper makes the world go round, just like property rights apparently.