Quick Questions:

Dr. Fatuous Malarkey is one of the most remarkable scholars of his time, indeed of all times. His knowledge, understanding and wisdom in all subjects are unequalled. More than anyone else in history he embodies the ancient saying Quid comunque scuolum sic fungus est. Although immensely busy developing his new Theory of Shrinking Possibilities he has graciously made himself available to answer questions on any subject he deems worthy of his consideration.

Although we, the editors, have reserved the first question for ourselves, we invite our readers to take full advantage of this venerable font of erudition. Please email your queries to Malarkey@cosacomica.com.

 

Dr. Malarkey, can you explain to our readers the history of the play Oh Gismonda?

According to my research, Oh Gismonda was written in 1521 by a certain Giovanni Puzzante, a pig farmer in the town of Culobello, Italy, and was based on a true story. In fact, there are many pseudo-scholars who doubt the existence of Giovanni Puzzante, the town of Culobello and even doubt the existence of Gismonda herself. To them I say, pasta fagioli! I have been to Culobello (which translates as “charming hillside” in the local dialect) and have stood on Gismonda’s balcony, and the view is indeed wonderful. The play was written for the annual competition that took place every year at carnival time. After 27 failures, documents show that Puzzante was a sure winner this time, as his brother in law had just been installed as chief judge. Unfortunately the local Duke, who had his eye on Gismonda, demanded the play be withdrawn from the competition and all copies burned. Puzzante was forced into exile in France, where he spent the rest of his life writing cookbooks. I first heard of the existence of this play while doing research for my thesis on “The Presence of Cream in Carbonara Sauce as a Defining Factor in Italian Regional Culture”, when I discovered that a descendant of Puzzante had published a cookbook based on his illustrious ancestor’s recipes. On studying this book, I discovered that the original play had actually been encoded into the texts, so that each recipe contained a hidden scenario. Thus “simmer over low heat” indicated a quarrel, “salt to taste” a love scene, and “add pepperoncino” a scene about sex. From there, it was only a matter of time and effort to piece together the play we have before us.

Dear Dr. Malarkey, I find your theory on the origin of Oh Gismonda fascinating. However, I have discovered a slight discrepancy. After extensive research it has come to my attention that Giovanni Puzzante died in 1510, 11 years before Oh Gismonda was written. G. C., Poggibonsi, Italy.

Dear G.C., As often happens with young scholars, you have overestimated the importance of your research. It may indeed be true that Giovanni Puzzante died 11 years before the writing of Oh Gismonda. However, that does not necessarily cast doubt on his authorship. There are many examples in history of great works being written posthumously. Indeed, in the case of Mozart, who wrote so much and died so young, there is evidence that several of his works may have been written prenatally. I myself have several posthumous works planned, although I am having some difficulty getting an advance from my publisher.

Dear Dr. Malarkey, one often hears the play Oh Gismonda referred to as a “benchmark” in the history of comic theater. Can you tell me the origin and meaning of this word, and why it is applied to a work that appears to be so trivial?

During the renaissance, it was common for academicians to attend gatherings known as “posteria”, or “sittings”, which took place in the austere halls of the universities, with the professors all sitting on benches. The more sittings one attended, the greater was one’s stature in the academic community. Thus it became common among academicians, when their credentials were demanded, to turn around, bend over, and point to the number of “benchmarks” on their posteriors to illustrate their importance. The most notable benchmark on Oh Gismonda’s posterior is the introduction of the character of Capitano Rodriguez Machismo Fernando Juan Valdez de la Barca Sin Agua III. We have often heard of historical characters inspiring characters in a play. However, in the case of Capitano Rodriguez the opposite is true. The fictional Capitano inspired the creation of an actual Capitano Rodriguez Machismo who became famous for his ignominious defeat in the bloody battle of Paella of 1731, when, in the darkness of night, he mounted his horse backwards and, instead of leading a retreat, led his entire force directly into the enemy garrison where they were mercilessly slaughtered.


Dear Dr. Malarkey, You assert that Oh Gismonda is based on a true story, and yet one of the primary characters, Arlecchino, is well known in fiction. How do you account for this. L.V., Dry Rot, Nevada.

Dear L.V., Truth and fiction are fluid concepts. As any historian will tell you, fiction, over time, slowly becomes truth, as expressed in the formula T=Ft2(N), where T stands for truth, F for fiction, t for time and N for the number of letters following the particular scholar’s name and title. However, the reality of Arlecchino is easily verifiable. In Scene 1, Arlecchino appears carrying a rutabaga. Rutabagas, as anyone who has tasted one will tell you, are not fictional, though there is some debate over whether they are a vegetable, fruit or salad. In Scene 3 Arlecchino is beaten with his own slapstick, whereupon he exclaims “ouch” (or “ay-ay,” in some translations.) From this we must conclude that either Arlecchino is real, the slapstick is fictional, or the word “ouch” a typographical error. Finally, if Arlecchino is fictional, then the band of gypsies he invents would be real, and that is just plain silly. Why, next you’ll be asking if I am a fictional character.

Dear Dr. Malarkey, Are you a fictional character? L.V., Dry Rot, Nevada.

Dear L.V., Although I could take offence at such a question, I have chosen to treat it with the philosophical detachment that comes with age and wisdom. Thus, in the spirit of Socrates, I will refute your stupid, petty, vicious, pathetic little insinuation through a simple tautology. I am a philosopher. Philosophy is the study of thought. Thought provokes action, and actions speak louder than words. Words issue from the mouth, which is located below the nose. The function of the nose is to breathe. Without breath, one would die. Death is the opposite of life. Life is existence, and all that which exists is, ipso facto, real. Q.E.D!

Dear Dr. Malarkey, Given the synchronicity of generic archetypes extant in the Commedia opus, would you grant that the liminality of the genre, in relation to the existing zeitgeist, impacts the overall gestalt? P.C., Yale University.

Dear P.C., No.

 

Regards,