Inventions

[A] California dentist, Dr Robert L Smeton of Twenty-Nine Palms, has tried to make treatment less scary for children. His 1967 patent pictures a hypodermic syringe that looks like a rabbit. When pulled out, the rabbit's tail proves really to be a stick with a cotton swab. The dentist deadens pain in the child's gum by applying local anesthetic with the bunny tail. After he injects the medication, the dentist removes the needle, inserts a new swab, cleans up the rabbit and presents it to the young patient as a reward for being good. (Figure 2.7)



A large and benevolent-looking teddy bear dominates an examination table in a Long Island chiropractor's office. Dr Anthony D Valente of Copiague has found that the stuffed animal for which he was granted a design patent removes children's fears. The bear can sit up or lie face down. If teeth are to be checked, the youngster uses the upright bear as a backrest. And if the spine is to be examined, the bear is prostrate with the child on top.

Stacy V Jones, Inventions Necessity Is Not The Mother Of, 1973

This is another of those times I really wish I had to make this stuff up.

Government abuse chicken

strictlytrue beat me to the punch with this story... but I can be magnanimous.

“The mistranslations arise because many Chinese words express concepts obliquely and can be interpreted in multiple ways, making translation a minefield for non-English speakers.”

Given that English isn’t nearly so oblique, and that the badly-translated signs are usually trying to communicate something pretty straightforward in the first place, I’m not sure that constitutes much of an excuse.

However, the example on the right appears to have qualified as faintly “oblique” even before the local translator got his hands on it. Why exactly did this person want a description of a chess victory on their tombstone? Maybe it’s loaded with symbolism, a quotation taken from an ancient and famous Chinese text, but without any context it just looks like crowing; “Needless to say, I had the last laugh...”.

(no subject)

Baroness Byford is sticking closely to her brief. Consisting entirely of concerns and questions written for her by other people, it’s safe, if dull. “Agricultural landlords should be able to defer payment of capital gains tax on gains to the extent that they were used to make improvements that increase the economic value of the land, subject to agricultural tenancies that are used for business purposes.” Gettysburg it isn’t. Then suddenly, for maybe three seconds, she extemporises. We get a brief flash of what’s going on inside her head. It’s like a shot across the bows—a reminder of the full-blown mayhem she’s capable of unleashing when she really puts her mind to it.

Baroness Byford: I turn to fiscal change. Underneath, within this, I gather if I can just raise three things.

And then, just as suddenly, she returns to her text. Calm is restored. Rattled, we return to jotting stuff down or staring into space. We have been warned.