Bohiney Magazine

Volume 1, Issue 7 – Saturday, March 29, 1947

“America’s Trusted Source for Satirical Truth”

Exploding Coal Mine in Illinois Investigated While Congress Debates Whether Safety Regulations Hurt Profits

CENTRALIA, IL – Following this week’s devastating explosion at the Centralia No. 5 mine that killed 111 miners, federal investigators have arrived to determine what went wrong, while Congressional committees in Washington simultaneously debate whether requiring coal companies to address known safety hazards represents “government overreach that threatens the free market.”

The mine, which had been cited 61 times for safety violations over the past four years including warnings about explosive coal dust accumulation, exploded Tuesday morning in what survivors describe as “the thing everyone knew was going to happen eventually.” State and federal inspectors had repeatedly warned that conditions in the mine were “imminently dangerous,” a technical term meaning “this will definitely kill people soon.”

Mine management responded to these warnings by arguing that addressing safety concerns would be “economically impractical” and that miners “understood the risks when they signed up.” This reasoning was apparently considered sufficient by regulatory authorities who continued allowing the mine to operate while waiting for someone to die before taking action.

“We’re conducting a thorough investigation to determine exactly what caused this preventable tragedy that everyone predicted,” announced Bureau of Mines Director James Westfield while standing atop the rubble of decisions that prioritized profit over human life. “We will leave no stone unturned in our quest to document our own negligence.”

Meanwhile, in Washington, the House Labor Committee has convened hearings on proposed mine safety legislation that would require companies to actually implement safety measures rather than just acknowledge them in paperwork. Coal industry representatives testified that such requirements would constitute “an undue burden on business” and argued that “the free market will naturally select for safer mines as workers choose not to die in explosions.”

When asked how the free market would operate in cases where all 111 workers died simultaneously and thus could not exercise market choice, industry spokesman Theodore Merriweather replied that this was “an edge case that shouldn’t drive policy.”

The Department of Labor has documented 1,689 mine deaths nationwide in 1946 alone, a figure that regulators describe as “concerning” while simultaneously doing nothing to prevent similar figures in 1947. Officials note that forcing mine operators to ventilate shafts, water down coal dust, or implement other basic safety measures would require “bureaucratic intervention in private enterprise,” which apparently ranks higher on the priority list than miners not exploding.

Survivors of the Centralia disaster report that safety concerns had been raised repeatedly through proper channels including union complaints, state inspections, federal warnings, and informal suggestions such as “please do something before we all die.” All of these concerns were documented, filed, and ignored in what investigators are calling “standard operating procedure.”

The explosion occurred at 3:27 PM when accumulated coal dust, which inspectors had specifically warned about, ignited and propagated through the mine with the inevitability of a Greek tragedy where everyone knows the ending but nobody stops it. The blast wave traveled through 13 miles of underground passages, collapsing sections and trapping miners in what survivors describe as “exactly what the safety reports said would happen if they didn’t water down the coal dust.”

One miner who escaped told reporters he had complained about the dust conditions “maybe a hundred times” and was told that sprinkling water would “slow down production.” He estimated the water sprinkling would have cost approximately $3 per day, which he calculated represents about 73 cents per life if you average it out, though he noted “I’m not great at math and maybe human lives shouldn’t be evaluated as line items anyway.”

Congressional opponents of safety regulation argue that the Centralia explosion represents an isolated incident that shouldn’t influence policy, despite occurring in the context of 1,689 other isolated incidents last year. Senator Herbert Pennington stated that “tragic accidents happen” and suggested that miners “assume certain risks when they choose dangerous professions like extracting coal from underground in conditions that violate basic safety standards.”

When asked whether miners “choose” such conditions or simply have no other employment options in company towns where the mine is the only employer, Senator Pennington replied that this was “philosophical territory” and returned to discussing how safety measures hurt profits.

Labor advocates point out that many mine safety measures are neither expensive nor complicated, including basic ventilation, dust control, and not allowing explosive conditions to accumulate until they explode. Industry representatives counter that these measures require “overhead costs” and suggest that “the marketplace will sort out which mines should operate safely through the natural process of some mines killing everyone inside them.”

The investigation is expected to conclude in six to eight months with a report documenting exactly what everyone already knew: the mine was dangerous, management knew it was dangerous, regulators knew it was dangerous, miners knew it was dangerous, and everyone did nothing until 111 men died proving that the mine was, in fact, dangerous.

As of press time, Congress was still debating whether requiring companies to not kill their employees represents excessive government interference, while 111 families in Centralia were burying miners who died because that question hadn’t been resolved yet.

Local Man’s “Five-Minute Project” Now in Year Three, Still Unfinished

DETROIT, MI – What began as a simple task to hang a picture frame in the hallway has evolved into a multi-year saga of increasing complexity as area resident Frank Delacroix approaches the three-year anniversary of a project he initially estimated would take “five, maybe ten minutes tops.”

“I just need to put one nail in the wall,” Delacroix explained in March 1944 while examining the frame with confidence. “How hard could it be?”

The answer, it turns out, is significantly harder than anticipated.

The project’s timeline reveals a cascading series of complications that transformed a simple task into what his wife describes as “a monument to male stubbornness and the inability to admit defeat.” What began in March 1944 has proceeded through the following phases:

First, he realized he lacked the proper nail. Then came the discovery that he owned no hammer. After borrowing a hammer from his neighbor, the wall proved harder than anticipated, suggesting concrete construction. This prompted a search for masonry drill bits that consumed three months of research.

The drill purchase in July came with the wrong size bit. August brought a replacement drill. September saw the drill finally work, but the hole appeared in the wrong location. October’s attempt to patch the error only worsened the damage.

Winter 1944 through early 1945 passed in what Delacroix calls “necessary contemplation” of the project. Spring 1945 brought the revelation that the entire wall required repainting due to patch marks. Summer vanished into paint type research. September’s painting attempt used the wrong color.

By November 1945, the project entered its current philosophical phase, where Delacroix questions whether the picture belongs in the hallway at all, whether the hallway itself is properly designed, and whether perhaps the entire house represents a fundamental misunderstanding of domestic architecture.

“It’s become bigger than just hanging a picture,” Delacroix noted while staring at the supplies that now occupy an entire corner of the garage. “This is about doing it right. Taking my time. Not rushing into things.”

His wife Dorothy has watched the project evolve from simple task to existential crisis. “The picture has been leaning against the wall for three years,” she reported with the exhaustion of someone who has learned that suggesting her husband just hire someone is somehow worse than three years of nothing happening. “We walk past it every day. Sometimes I think he’s forgotten what the original goal was.”

The Smithsonian Institution has documented what researchers call “Project Creep” – the phenomenon where simple household tasks become increasingly complex as the initiator discovers or invents new requirements that expand the project’s scope exponentially.

Dr. Theodore Pemberton, who studies domestic task completion rates, notes that Delacroix’s three-year picture-hanging project falls within normal parameters for what he terms “Five-Minute Tasks That Become Life-Consuming Obsessions.” His research indicates that approximately 40% of projects estimated at “five minutes” actually take longer than three years, with some never being completed at all.

The project has accumulated the following supplies:

• Seven different nail types
• Three hammers (two borrowed, one purchased)
• Two drills (one returned)
• Seventeen drill bits (various sizes, most wrong)
• Four tubes of wall spackle
• Three gallons of paint (two wrong colors)
• One painting tarp
• Multiple sandpaper grades
• A book about drywall repair
• A second book about paint color theory
• One pamphlet about feng shui he picked up “just in case”

Total investment: $67.43 for a project that would have cost $2 if completed in March 1944.

Delacroix insists he’s “almost ready to finish it” and that all the preparation will result in “a perfectly hung picture that will last generations.” His wife points out that they’ll likely move before the picture is hung, making the entire effort pointless. Delacroix argues this is “exactly the kind of negative thinking that prevents projects from being completed properly.”

Neighbors report similar situations in their own homes. Ernest Potts has been “fixing” a squeaky door since 1942 and has so far removed the door, purchased oil, purchased different oil, purchased door hinges, researched door hanging techniques, and most recently concluded he might need to rebuild the door frame. The door remains propped against the garage wall where it has lived for five years.

Walter Grimsby attempted to replace a light bulb in 1941 and discovered the fixture was loose, which led to discovering the ceiling had water damage, which led to a planned roof inspection that never occurred, which led to the light remaining unfixed for six years while he “thinks about the best approach.”

Delacroix has recently entered what his wife calls “the research spiral” where he’s begun questioning whether nails are even the right approach for picture hanging. He’s exploring adhesive strips, bracket systems, and a complicated pulley mechanism he saw in a magazine that he believes would be “more elegant” despite requiring carpentry skills he doesn’t possess.

“The important thing is to do it right,” he maintained while adding a level to his collection of project supplies. “Sure, it’s taken three years so far, but when it’s finally up, it’ll be perfect. That picture isn’t going anywhere.”

His wife noted that the picture isn’t going anywhere now either, and at significantly less cost.

As of press time, Delacroix had concluded that the entire hallway needs to be renovated before the picture can be properly hung, a revelation he described as “exciting progress” and his wife described as “evidence that we need to discuss whether Frank understands how tasks work.”

Woman Develops Elaborate System for Organizing Purse, Still Can’t Find Keys

BALTIMORE, MD – Despite implementing what she describes as “a comprehensive organizational framework,” area resident Margaret Thornbury continues to search through her purse for an average of six minutes per key-finding attempt, sources report.

The purse in question, a mid-sized handbag with seven different pockets and three internal compartments, has been the subject of multiple organizational interventions including color-coded pouches, designated zones for specific items, and what Thornbury calls “a logical placement system that makes perfect sense if you understand the underlying philosophy.”

“Everything has its place,” Thornbury explained while emptying the entire contents of her purse onto the kitchen table for the third time today in search of her keys. “Wallet goes in the main compartment. Lipstick in the small side pocket. Receipts in the—well, they’re supposed to go in the zipper section but sometimes I’m in a hurry. And the keys are supposed to clip to this special hook, but the clip broke, so they’re loose somewhere, which defeats the system.”

The purse currently contains:

• Wallet (located immediately)
• Three tubes of lipstick (all different shades of red, all the same when actually applied)
• Seventeen receipts (from purchases spanning six months)
• Two pens (one functional)
• Compact mirror (cracked)
• Handkerchief (clean)
• Second handkerchief (questionable)
• Loose change (estimated total: $2.47)
• A small notepad (never used)
• Breath mints (tin is empty)
• Comb (tangled with something unidentifiable)
• Three hair pins
• One earring (mate lost since 1944)
• Rubber band of unknown origin
• Two buttons (from what garment, unclear)
• Shopping list (from February)
• Keys (location: unknown despite being in purse)

“The problem is the system requires maintenance,” Thornbury admitted while checking the same pocket for the fourth time as if keys might spontaneously generate there. “I reorganize every Sunday. By Monday everything’s back to chaos. It’s like entropy specifically targets handbags.”

The Smithsonian Institution has documented what researchers call “Purse Paradox” – the phenomenon where increasing a purse’s organizational complexity directly correlates to decreasing ability to locate items within it. Study results suggest that the optimal purse contains exactly three items kept loose, making everything immediately visible. However, women universally reject this finding as “impractical” because they need to carry seventeen things they’ll never use.

Thornbury’s husband Harold reports that his wife’s key-searching time has actually increased since implementing her organizational system. “Before the system, she’d just dump everything out and find them in ten seconds,” he noted. “Now she searches methodically through each designated pocket, can’t find them, searches again, gets frustrated with the system, then dumps everything out anyway. It’s like watching someone take the long route to the same destination.”

The key-finding difficulty has led to what family members call “the parking lot dance” where Thornbury stands next to her car, searching through her purse with increasing desperation while insisting “they’re in here, I definitely put them in here, I remember putting them in here.”

This assertion is complicated by evidence that she sometimes leaves keys in the ignition, sometimes puts them in her coat pocket, and occasionally hands them to family members asking them to “hold these for a second” before forgetting this transaction entirely.

Dr. Reginald Pemberton, who studies organizational behavior, explains that purses represent “portable chaos chambers where the laws of physics operate differently.” His research indicates that items placed in purses undergo dimensional shifting, allowing them to occupy multiple pockets simultaneously while also being in none of them.

“We’ve documented cases where women remove every item from their purse, verify the keys are not present, then find the keys in the purse thirty seconds later,” he reported. “The purse clearly has properties we don’t understand.”

Thornbury has attempted several solutions:

Larger purse – Keys harder to find due to more space Smaller purse – Keys still lost somehow Multiple identical purses – Confusion about which purse has keys Key finder device – Device is now lost in purse with keys Bright colored key chain – Makes keys slightly more visible while remaining unfindable

The most promising solution involved attaching keys to an oversized decorative tassel that makes them impossible to lose. This worked for three days before the tassel fell off and is now presumably somewhere in the purse alongside the keys, the key finder device, and several other organizational solutions that became part of the problem they were meant to solve.

Her daughter Susan has suggested perhaps just keeping keys in her pocket instead of the purse. Thornbury dismissed this as “ridiculous” because “what if I switch coats?” When Susan asked whether searching through a purse for six minutes was better than checking two coat pockets, Thornbury replied that Susan “doesn’t understand how women’s clothing works.”

As of press time, Thornbury had located her keys in the bottom of the purse where they had somehow worked their way through a small hole in the lining and were residing in the space between the lining and the exterior fabric, a dimension that shouldn’t exist but apparently does in all women’s handbags specifically for the purpose of collecting keys and hope.

Man’s “Quick Stop at Hardware Store” Mysteriously Requires Four Hours, $200

CLEVELAND, OH – What began as a simple errand to purchase a single screw has evolved into an exhaustive expedition consuming four hours and $193.47 as area resident Harold Finchley continues wandering through Henderson’s Hardware Store with the glazed expression of someone who has lost all sense of time and purpose.

“I just need one screw,” Finchley explained at 2:15 PM while examining his forty-seventh different screw option and wondering whether he needed a Phillips head or flat head or whether there were possibly additional head types he should know about. “How hard could this be?”

The answer, it turns out, is extraordinarily hard.

The expedition has progressed through several distinct phases:

Phase One: Confidence (2:15-2:17 PM) – Enters store with clear mission, believes errand will take five minutes

Phase Two: Confusion (2:17-2:45 PM) – Discovers screws come in 47 different varieties, none of which are labeled “the normal screw that fits normal things”

Phase Three: Research (2:45-3:30 PM) – Asks store clerk about screw types, receives information that raises more questions than it answers

Phase Four: Expansion (3:30-4:15 PM) – While in store anyway, begins examining other items he “might need eventually”

Phase Five: Acceptance (4:15-Present) – Abandons original screw quest, now purchasing items unrelated to any current project

Store clerk Theodore Pemberton reports that Finchley is a “classic case” of hardware store temporal distortion, where the store’s atmosphere causes customers to lose all sense of time and financial restraint. “They come in for a screw. They leave four hours later with everything except the screw.”

The phenomenon affects approximately 78% of men who enter hardware stores, according to research from the National Retail Federation. The store environment, with its organized aisles of tools and materials suggesting infinite possibility, triggers what psychologists call “project potential intoxication” where customers become drunk on theoretical home improvement.

Finchley’s cart currently contains:

• Twenty-three different screws (hedging his bets)
• Two hammers (already owns three)
• Paint brushes (no current painting projects)
• Sandpaper (multiple grits, just in case)
• A level (because it was on sale)
• Duct tape (everyone needs duct tape)
• Electrical tape (seemed related to duct tape)
• Three different types of glue (unclear which problem they solve)
• A socket wrench set (impressive looking)
• Work gloves (lost previous pair in 1943)
• A tarp (because you always need a tarp)
• Two C-clamps (seemed important)
• A small saw (was examining larger saws, compromised)
• Zip ties (a man can never have too many zip ties)

Total cost: $193.47 for a visit that was supposed to cost fifteen cents.

“The problem is everything seems necessary once you’re in there,” Finchley explained while adding a box of nails to his cart despite having no nailing projects. “What if I need these someday? What if they stop making them? What if there’s a nail shortage? Better to be prepared.”

His wife Dorothy, reached by telephone, expressed weary resignation. “He went for a screw at 2:00. It’s now 6:15. I’ve called the store three times. Each time they tell me he’s in the bolt aisle ‘thinking.’ I’ve already eaten dinner without him.”

The hardware store effect appears unique to male shoppers. Female customers, when surveyed, report being able to enter stores, purchase desired items, and leave within reasonable timeframes. Male customers report entering a “fugue state” where hours pass like minutes and wallets open like automatic doors.

Store owner Gus Henderson acknowledges that temporal distortion represents a significant portion of his business model. “Men come in for a screw, spend $200, leave happy,” he noted while watching Finchley examine power drills despite owning zero projects requiring power drilling. “We don’t question it. It’s the natural order of things.”

The situation has created what wives describe as “hardware store widowhood” where husbands vanish into stores for hours while supposedly running “quick errands.” One woman reported her husband going for a washer in 1944 and returning in 1946 with $400 worth of equipment and no washer.

Finchley has now been in the store for four hours and has progressed to the paint section despite having no painting plans. When asked by a clerk whether he needs help, he replied “just browsing” as if the hardware store were a library and he a scholar conducting research into the nature of home improvement.

As of press time, Finchley had checked out with $193.47 worth of supplies, returned home, and realized he forgot to purchase the original screw, necessitating another trip that his wife has described as “absolutely not happening today” and “maybe we should just leave that project unfinished forever.”

Breakthrough Study Reveals Everyone’s Terrible Singing Voice Sounds Perfect Inside Own Head

BOSTON, MA – After years of research involving 10,000 test subjects and countless recordings of shower concerts, the Institute for Auditory Self-Perception has confirmed what recording equipment has long suggested: everyone believes they sing considerably better than they actually do due to what scientists call “cranial acoustic enhancement.”

“The data is conclusive,” announced lead researcher Dr. Millicent Hargrove while reviewing footage of test subjects singing enthusiastically in soundproof rooms, unaware they sounded like wounded animals experiencing distress. “Inside their own heads, these people sound like professionals. The rest of us are hearing something entirely different, and it’s not pleasant.”

The study utilized advanced recording technology to capture both what singers heard internally and what external listeners experienced. The disparity was described as “shocking,” “scientifically significant,” and “explaining why so many people audition for talent shows despite having no talent.”

Test subject Walter Grimsby participated in the study after years of confident shower singing and occasional public performances at parties where guests’ reactions ranged from polite to actively fleeing. When researchers played back his recording of “My Wild Irish Rose,” Grimsby initially insisted they had played the wrong recording or that the equipment was malfunctioning.

“That can’t be what I sound like,” he protested while listening to what witnesses described as “a cat being strangled slowly.” “I sound much better than that. I can hear myself.”

This sentiment was expressed by 100% of test subjects, all of whom believed the recordings were somehow inaccurate despite being played back their own voices, recorded moments earlier, in controlled conditions specifically designed to capture accurate audio.

The National Institutes of Health has classified the phenomenon as “bone conduction delusion” where sound traveling through skull bones to the inner ear creates a richer, more pleasant tone that exists only for the singer. Everyone else receives sound through air transmission, which accurately conveys the singer’s actual quality, which is generally poor.

“What you hear when you sing is not what others hear,” Dr. Hargrove explained to a room of test subjects who refused to believe her. “Your voice sounds good to you because you’re hearing it through bones that add bass and depth. Everyone else is hearing the truth, which is that most of you should stop singing immediately.”

This revelation has caused what researchers term “existential musical crisis” among subjects who must now reconcile years of confident singing with the reality that they’ve been assaulting people’s ears while believing themselves talented.

The study identified several common misconceptions:

Shower Singers – Believe bathroom acoustics improve their voices. Actually, the echo just repeats their bad singing, making it worse.

Car Singers – Believe loud music covers their singing. Actually, everyone at stoplights can hear them and is judging them.

Church Singers – Believe they’re blending into the congregation. Actually, neighbors are aware of exactly who’s off-key.

Party Singers – Believe alcohol improves their singing. Alcohol impairs everyone’s judgment, including their own.

Mrs. Dorothy Pemberton served as a test subject after decades of confident singing while cooking. When played back her rendition of “Sentimental Journey,” she spent several minutes in stunned silence before asking if perhaps everyone else had the same problem and therefore couldn’t tell her singing was bad.

Researchers confirmed that while universal, the problem doesn’t cancel out. “Everyone being a bad singer doesn’t mean nobody notices,” Dr. Theodore Whitmore explained. “It just means we’re all subjecting each other to terrible music while believing we’re the exception.”

The study examined why people continue singing despite evidence of incompetence. Findings suggest that the internal acoustic enhancement is so convincing that even when confronted with recordings, singers assume the recording equipment is wrong rather than accept that their singing is poor.

“I’ve been singing my whole life,” insisted Harold Finchley while listening to his recorded attempt at “Danny Boy,” which sounded less like Irish folk music and more like an air raid siren experiencing mechanical failure. “If I was bad, someone would have told me.”

When informed that his wife, children, neighbors, and coworkers had all told him repeatedly, he dismissed this as “they don’t understand music.”

Some test subjects attempted to improve after hearing their recordings, but researchers found that the internal acoustic enhancement prevented them from hearing their actual improvements or lack thereof. “They sound slightly better,” Dr. Hargrove noted, “but they think they sound dramatically better, which creates false confidence leading to increased public singing, making the problem worse.”

The most disturbing finding involved test subjects who believed they could sing harmony. Recordings revealed that they were actually singing entirely different songs simultaneously while convinced they were complementing the melody. One man had been singing a full step sharp for forty years while believing he had “perfect pitch.”

As of press time, the Institute was preparing a public awareness campaign to inform Americans that their internal singing voices are lying to them and suggesting that perhaps humming would be a safer alternative for everyone involved.

Local Woman’s Collection of “Saved For Good” China Has Never Been Used, Never Will Be

PHILADELPHIA, PA – The pristine china set displayed in Dorothy Whitmore’s dining room cabinet has achieved its fifteenth anniversary of being “too nice to use,” with family members now questioning whether dishes that have never held food and never will can technically be classified as dishes rather than expensive decorative objects shaped like dishes.

“These are for special occasions,” Mrs. Whitmore explained while carefully dusting the unused plates that have been carefully dusted weekly since 1932 without ever experiencing the indignity of actual food contact. “Very special occasions.”

When asked what occasions would qualify as sufficiently special to warrant using the good china, Mrs. Whitmore suggested scenarios including: “visits from the President,” “our daughter’s wedding,” or “perhaps the Second Coming, but I’d have to think about it.”

Her husband Theodore noted that they have, in fact, hosted their daughter’s wedding, a visit from the governor, and approximately 400 other events that were apparently insufficiently special to justify china usage. “At this point I think the dishes are decorative objects that happen to be food-safe,” he observed. “Though we’ll never know for certain because nobody’s allowed to test them.”

The Smithsonian Institution has documented what curators call “Good China Paradox” – the phenomenon where dishes purchased specifically for special occasions become too special to actually use, resulting in permanent display status until the owner dies and relatives argue about who inherits unused dishes nobody will use.

The Whitmore china set, purchased in 1932 for $87 (equivalent to approximately three months’ groceries), consists of:

• Twelve dinner plates (never held dinner)
• Twelve salad plates (never held salad)
• Twelve bread plates (never held bread)
• Twelve soup bowls (never held soup)
• Twelve cups and saucers (never held anything)
• Three serving platters (have never served)
• One gravy boat (has never boated gravy)
• One sugar bowl (contains no sugar, never has)
• One creamer (has never creamed)

Total meals served: Zero Expected future meals: Also zero

“I’m saving them,” Mrs. Whitmore insists when questioned about the fifteen-year food service gap. “You can’t just use good china for everyday meals. What if they get chipped? What if something breaks? Then what would we have for special occasions?”

Her daughter Susan, now 24, reports growing up believing the china was “museum property” that her mother was temporarily storing. “I was genuinely surprised when I turned eighteen and learned we actually owned them,” she admitted. “I assumed they belonged to the government or possibly were on loan from royalty.”

The good china exists alongside what Mrs. Whitmore calls “the everyday dishes” which are, according to her husband, “perfectly nice dishes that most families would consider their good china.” These dishes are used daily and have developed character through actual food service, making them inferior to the unused good china that remains pristine through never being useful.

The arrangement has created a two-tier dining system:

Tier One: The Good China (Display only, never used, maintained in perfect condition, completely pointless)

Tier Two: The Everyday Dishes (Actually function as dishes, hold food, occasionally break through use, serve their purpose)

Dr. Reginald Pemberton, who studies consumer behavior, explains that good china represents “aspirational dishware” where families purchase items for an idealized version of their lives that never materializes. “They imagine hosting elegant dinner parties,” he noted. “In reality, they eat casserole while the elegant dishes gather dust.”

The Whitmore family has hosted approximately 600 meals since purchasing the good china. All 600 meals were served on the everyday dishes while the good china observed from its cabinet, judging the proceedings.

“Every holiday I ask if we’re using the good china,” reported Theodore Whitmore. “Every holiday I’m told it’s not the right occasion. I’ve stopped asking. Last Thanksgiving we had the Governor, three judges, and Dorothy’s entire family. Still not special enough.”

When pressed about what would constitute an adequate occasion, Mrs. Whitmore becomes vague, suggesting that she’ll “know it when it happens” while refusing to acknowledge that fifteen years without such an occasion suggests it might never happen.

Some psychologists argue that good china serves important symbolic functions beyond actual use, representing “achievement, success, and the possibility of future elegance.” Others argue it represents “paying money to display unused objects in a cabinet while eating from inferior dishes unnecessarily.”

The situation has inspired philosophical questions about the nature of ownership. If you own dishes but never use them, do you really own them, or do they own you through the burden of maintenance and the guilt of non-use?

As of press time, the good china remained pristine, unused, and utterly pointless in its cabinet, while the Whitmore family ate dinner from everyday dishes, exactly as they have for fifteen years and will continue to do until Mrs. Whitmore dies and Susan inherits good china she also will never use because it’s “too nice” and “was Mother’s” and “maybe we’ll use it for special occasions.”

About This Issue

Bohiney Magazine – Volume 1, Issue 7 – Published every Saturday from our offices in Washington, DC.

Editorial Staff, 1947: Editors-in-Chief: Corporal Henry “Hank” Bohiney & Sergeant Lester “Les” Krupke
Senior Correspondents: Dorothy Ashworth, Harold K. Pennington III
Contributing Satirist: Reginald “Reggie” Buttonworth

All articles are works of satire. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and intended for humorous purposes.