The Know-it-All: One Man's Humble Quest to Become the Smartest Person in the World

I haven't talked to Marti since Julie got pregnant. I break the news to her as gently as I can, and apologize to her for contributing to the over-population problem.

"That's okay," she says. She'll forgive me. But, she points out, I can help minimize the damage to the environment by raising the child vegan.

Marti herself is beyond vegan. Animal rights are her passion (even if she thinks the concept of rights is too Western), and she spends a good part of the year flying around the country attending vegetarian conferences. I could take up quite a bit of space listing the things that Marti doesn't eat: meat, of course, and chicken, fish, eggs, dairy (she likes to call ice cream "solidified mucous"), but also honey--she won't eat honey because the bees are oppressed, not paid union scale or something. You'd think she'd like soy, but she believes the soy industry is corrupt. She recently took her diet to a new level by becoming a raw foodist, meaning she eats only food that's uncooked, because it's more natural.

Despite her dogmatic beliefs, Marti is very sweet and funny, and her stridency is always tempered with an ability to laugh at herself. So talking to her is always fascinating--though no matter how hard I watch my tongue, I still get in trouble. She doesn't like sexist language, naturally, but she also objects to antianimal language. I once got scolded for calling someone a pig. Pigs are fine animals, she pointed out. My grandmother was recently complaining about George W. Bush, and made the mistake of calling him a "lemon."

"Nothing wrong with lemons, Mother," said Marti. "Don't be fruitist." She said the word "fruitist" with a little bit of irony--but not a lot.

Whenever I tell Marti about what I'm reading in the Britannica, I can count on her to tell me what it got wrong, what it neglected to mention. I told her early on about Francis Bacon. "Did it mention he was a sexist?" she asked.

"No, that didn't make it in."

She was unimpressed.

This time, I tell her I have just read an article she might find quite interesting--the one on vegetarianism.

"What'd it say?"

I tell her how it mentioned that Pythagorus, Plato, and Plutarch were vegetarians. Voltaire praised and Shelley practiced vegetarianism, and Jeremy Bentham had a great quote about animals: "The question is not, can they reason, nor can they talk, but can they suffer?"

Oh yes, she likes that one.

I say, would you like to see the article? I make it sound all innocent. But mostly, I am just looking forward to seeing how many inevitable faults she will find with it, from its factual inaccuracies to its use of too-masculine typeface.

I fax it to her, and she doesn't disappoint. There is, indeed, plenty wrong with the vegetarianism entry. It neglects the long-standing association between meat eating and maleness. It overplays the motivation of vegetarians to remain pure and conquer animalistic passions--radical feminist vegetarianism doesn't buy into the conquering-of-the-animalistic-passions argument. And why mention only Peter Singer but ignore feminist philosophers on vegetarianism?

The lesson is, the Britannica can try to be dispassionate and fair, but it'll never please everybody; it'll always have inevitable biases. In fact, for a while there, attacking of the Britannica became a cottage industry. Well, maybe not an entire cottage, but a small structure of some kind. According to the book The Great EB, in the late 1800s an Alabama journalist named Thaddeus Oglesby wrote a bile-filled book entitled Some Truths of History: A Vindication of the South against the Encyclopaedia Britannica and Other Maligners. Oglesby was furious about such passages as this one in the ninth edition: "The few thinkers of America born south of Mason and Dixon's line [are] outnumbered by those belonging to the single State of Massachusetts." That is, in fact, kind of rude. Oglesby may have had a point.

Then, in 1935, a man named Joseph McCabe--a former priest turned crusader against Catholicism--wrote his own book, called The Lies and Fallacies of the Encyclopaedia Britannica. McCabe argues that the eleventh edition was commendably honest in its treatment of Catholicism, but by the fourteenth edition, the church had pressured the editors to chop out the unflattering bits. Gone are the references to Pope Innocent VIII's many children and vast corruption. Gone are the passages about the church castrating boys for choir (McCabe makes the ham-handed point that the Britannica itself was castrated). I read McCabe's book--it was short, and took only an afternoon. It's an experience I don't recommend, but he does make a compelling case.

After reading almost the entire Britannica, I think the 2002 edition has done an admirable job at striving for objectivity. That said, it still has a handful of pet topics that get excessively glowing treatment. Chamber music comes to mind. The Britannica has an unseemly soft spot for chamber music, about which it writes: "It probably gives the most lasting pleasure to more music lovers than any other kind of music." I think a rebuttal by the a cappella community is in order.

vehicle

I am working on a year-end wrap-up for Esquire, and I read a news article about activists who torched a car dealership containing twenty new Hummers--those cruise ships of the highway. The perpetrators spray-painted the words "Fat, lazy Americans" on the burned metallic carcasses.

I filed it under "Eerie Echo of the Past," number 425. Way back in the Cs, I read about coaches--those opulent, four-wheeled, horse-drawn carriages that first appeared in the 1500s. In short, the SUVs of the day--and about as popular. The Britannica describes this surprising, long-forgotten controversy: "Poets derogated coaches as ostentatious vehicles employed by wantons and rakes...Bostonians attacked coaches as works of the devil...." A German noble forbade them in an edict.

I was happy to make the Hummer-coach connection. But even happier that I still remembered something from the Cs.

vending machines

Another in the Britannica's pile of unsung heroes: the coin-operated vending machine. The vending machine became popular right before World War II as America was building up its defense. The factory owners installed them so that workers could pull twelve-hour shifts without taking a full meal break, instead stuffing themselves with snacks from the machines. We owe vending machines thanks. Without them, we might be eating bratwurst and sauerkraut out of coin-operated machines.

ventriloquism

The Eskimos and Zulus are both adept at the art of ventriloquism. I like that these sub-Saharan and Arctic peoples are linked--the brotherhood of man, you know. And I like it even better that they're linked by bad jokes from talking dummies.

vexillology

So far, journalism seems to be working out okay for me as a career. But it's good to know I have options. The EB is teeming with ideas for new careers. In some ways, it's a huge thirty-three-thousand-page version of What Color is Your Parachute. Here, my top seven:

1. Pamphleteer. This used to be very popular profession. Lots of pamphleteers were needed to engage in pamphlet wars. In one notably ruthless pamphlet war, the Puritans attacked Episcopalians as "profane, proud, paltry, popish, pestilent, pernicious, presumptuous prelates." I like both alliteration and short books. So this would be a perfect job for me.

2. Abbot of Unreason. I just think this would look cool on an embossed business card. In medieval Scotland, the "abbot of unreason" was the man who organized the elaborate Christmas festivities, complete with a mock court that paid homage to him. In England, he was called the "king of misrule," also cool.

3. Limnologist. A person who studies lakes. I like the idea that there is a job devoted solely to the study of lakes. But honestly, I can't decide between limnologist and all the other fun ologists in the encyclopedia. Perhaps it'd be better to be a vexillologist (one who studies flags), or a psephologist (studies elections). What about an exobiologist (studies extraterrestral life), a martyrologist (no need for an explanation), a selenographist (studies the moon), a sigillographist (studies seals--the wax kind, not the swimming kind)? Hard to choose.

4. Whale ritualist. Among the Nootka Indians of the Pacific Northwest, this was the man who performed ceremonies that caused dead whales to drift ashore. It's probably not a fast-growing sector--maybe only half of the Fortune 500 companies require a whale ritualist. But still, it just seems like a good specialty to have.

5. Printer's devil. Ambrose Bierce was one, as was New York Times owner Adolph Ochs. I'm not sure what they do, but any job with "devil" in the title has to be good.

6. Pretender to the throne. I had to be impressed by the three men named Dmitry the False, each of whom claimed to be Dmitry the son of Ivan the Terrible, who had died mysteriously when he was a child. They looked nothing like one another, nor particularly like Dmitry himself, but they didn't let that get in the way of claiming the Russian throne. That's the main skill set here: chutzpah. So what if I'm Jewish? That shouldn't stop me from claiming to be the long-lost Bush cousin.

7. Supreme Court justice in the 19th century. These guys worked seven or eight weeks a year, with a comfortable forty-four weeks of vacation, not counting sick days and personal days. I'm guessing, though, they got squat for paternity leave.

And then there are some of the worst careers in the world:

1. Professional bone picker. If you're in the Choctaw tribe and you die, your corpse is picked clean a by a professional bone picker, a man or woman with special tattoos and long fingernails.

2. Member of the Opposition. I'm not talking about the British Parliament. The Opposition is the official name of the team of white guys whose job it is to lose to the Harlem Globetrotters. I just think that might get a little frustrating after the 4,323rd straight loss. The coach for the Opposition would be even tougher. "You guys are going to lose, and you'll lose without any dignity at all!"

3. Lenin's corpse keeper. Lenin remains embalmed, and his corpse needs, according to the Britannica, "periodic renewal treatment."

Victoria

Queen Victoria forbade knocking, insisting on gentle scratching. But she did like one sound; a previous entry mentioned her bustle that played "God Save the Queen" when she sat on it. Sort of a royal whoopee cushion.

vinaigrette

In the 18th century, everyone smelled like salad. A vinaigrette--which was used to battle body odor--was a small gold container with a sponge soaked in vinegar and lavender.

vital fluid

It's here. My day of reckoning, my version of D-Day (the real D-Day was officially called Operation Overlord, by the way). I figured that by now I would achieve a Zenlike calm. I was wrong. I wake up early with both a stomachache and a headache. I spend a few minutes double-checking my Greek dramatists and African rivers, get a good-luck hug from Julie, and hop a cab to the ABC studios on the Upper West Side.

"Welcome to Who Wants to Be a Millionaire," says the greeter, a smiley young woman named Amy. She leads me up a flight of stairs to the windowless greenroom.

Here I learn that Millionaire contestants are treated somewhere between A-list celebrities and Guantanamo Bay prisoners. Amy strips me of my cell phone, my Palm Pilot, my reading material. Contact with the real world is verboten. Contact with entertainment or information of any kind is verboten. On the other hand, enjoy the free crudites!

The greenroom is filled with eight of my fellow inmates. There's a trucker-turned-DJ from San Francisco, a CPA from Massachusetts, a couple of teachers from the Midwest. The vibe is part we're-all-in-this-together convivial, part cutthroat competitive. And jittery--knuckles are cracked, legs are bounced, actual groans are emitted.

I, for one, am desperate for reading material. This textual cold turkey is killing me.

"Maybe we could study the labels on the Poland Spring water bottles," I say.

"That was a question once," says a big blond teacher from Michigan.

"What was?"

"They asked a question about where is Poland Spring made."

"Really?" I say.

"Yes," she says.

At which point the long-haired college sophomore from Philadelphia bursts into song. "Poland Spring--what it means to be from Maine." She stops singing. "That's their ad campaign," she says, by way of clarification.

She will prove to be troublesome.

"Actually," says one of the other contestants, "they recently changed their ad campaign." Good for him. I don't know if he's right, but I like that he's shown up the show-off.

These people are no slouches, knowledgewise. They know their bottled water, for one thing, and most are obsessive learners from way back. But they also aren't omniscient. One woman has never heard of the airline Jet Blue--which makes me feel a lot better for some reason.

We are soon herded downstairs to the studio---a circular theater with a heavy-handed futuristic metallic design. And in the middle, the Hot Seat. This is the official contestant chair--and it is not to be trifled with. The Hot Seat isn't actually hot in a temperature sense, but it can be quite dangerous: it's tall and swivels quickly. The stage manager gives us lessons on how to mount the Hot Seat properly--plant your butt on the chair's edge, pull up with the arms, rotate into position. We all practice. We don't want to do a faceplant like that old lady a couple of weeks back.

Back in the green room, the Millionaire lawyer gives us a lecture. She warns that it's a federal offense to cheat. Throughout the presentation, the college sophomore from Philly laughs nervously--I'm talking minutes-long nonstop laughter. Hee-hee-hee! It's a one-woman claque gone insane.

The executive producer comes to give us her shtick. Like all the other Millionaire staff, she tells us to have fun out there. But she also tells us something that sounds like the exact opposite of fun: that the questions have gotten a lot harder than they used to be. Viewers were getting bored. Dammit! What's wrong with boredom? Let the schmucks be bored. This is my self-esteem on the line.

The waiting is torture, a mental version of the strappado (a machine used by the Inquisition that lifted heretics by a rope tied to the hands). Lunch, more waiting, the crowd files in, more waiting, a comic warms up the audience, more waiting.

Finally, the first victim--a surgeon with well-coiffed hair--is called to that fast-swiveling Hot Seat.

"Good luck!" I say, as she is whisked away.

"Go get 'em!"

"Win that million!"

In other words: Botch it up soon so we can go!

The rest of us inmates watch the proceedings on the greenroom's closed-circuit TV. Eight of us sipping our Poland Springs from Maine, all trying to blurt out the answer before the contestant. I have some shining moments. I know that Venezuela was named after Venice (the explorers saw some coastal houses on stilts, which reminded them of the Italian city). I also know where the axilla is.

"It's in the ear," says one contestant.

"No, it's the armpit," I correct him.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. We did an article on weird fetishes in Esquire. And axillism was sex with the armpit."

In retrospect, maybe I shouldn't have revealed that particular piece of information. Amy looks frightened.

A producer periodically appears with a clipboard to announce the next contestant. The former truck driver goes. The teacher goes. The guy who guards the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree goes. The rugby coach goes. They all go--except for me, the laughing Philly girl, and the Harvard graduate/waiter. The taping is over.

"Come back tomorrow at eleven forty-five," Amy tells us, trying to smile.

I sleep at least two or three hours and return to the greenroom to a whole new group of inmates. Today's troublesome character is a fiftyish man who refers to himself as an "opinionated son of a bitch." He shares his opinions on Britney Spears (not a fan), former mayor Rudy Giuliani ("Sieg heil!"), George W. Bush (he mimes cocaine sniffing), a Millionaire producer (she looks like a Victoria's Secret lingerie model). When not giving his opinions, he asks us trivia about the periodic table.

A biologist with a hearing aid throws out his own question: name the four actors who were killed in the duel in High Noon.

Everyone shakes their heads.

"Ian MacDonald, Bob Wilke, and Sheb Wooley," he says. "And did you know Sheb Wooley also wrote the song 'Giant Purple People Eater'?"

"That's only three--whose the fourth?" asks another contestant.

"I forget the fourth."

"That's the one they're going to ask on Millionaire!" I say.

He shoots me a glare.

And then the producer with the clipboard comes into the room and calls my name. "Yes!" I say a little too loudly.

"Good luck!" say the others. I know what they mean.

I am led down to the set, which seems more aggressively futuristic and metallic than ever. The crowd is clapping double-time--they have been told it looks better on TV. My mom, dad, and Julie are in the audience, though they've been seated behind me so they can't signal me. The absurdly dramatic music plays. The lights flash. My palms are as damp as Cherrapunji (the Indian town with a record 366 inches of rainfall in one month). I climb into the Hot Seat--and, despite my lesson, I manage to stumble.

I've got to say, Meredith Vieira is exactly the opposite of the scary studio--she's calming, maternal, all smiles. Either she's a great actress or she really, sincerely wants you to win that million. We chat for a bit. She tells me to relax and take my time.

"You ready?"

I think I am.

The $100 question: What is the meaning of the phrase "Bon voyage"?

"I've forgotten ninety-nine percent of my high school French," I say (I figure start out humble, get the audience on my side), "but I remember this one percent. It's C, 'good trip.' Final answer."

Applause. Yes! I have avoided complete and total humiliation. I'm on my way. In fact, I zip through the first batch of questions: the Quaker is a logo for oatmeal; nuns live in a convent (though also a nunnery, I point out); hydrogen sulfide smells like rotten eggs; an ampersand means "and"; Sophia Loren is from Italy. More applause.

I'm loving this! I'm ticking off the letters flawlessly, a Ninja of knowledge. This Hot Seat is one of the few places on earth where you can't be too much of a know-it-all. And maybe, in fact, I do know everything.

Or not. The $8000 question throws me: What current Law & Order cast member has been on the show the longest?

Shit. Maybe all those South American capitals and Japanese shoguns have elbowed out my TV trivia. I'm not sure of the answer--could be Jerry Orbach, could be Sam Waterston.

"I'd like to ask the audience," I say. I get to do this only once, but I figure now's the time. Back in the greenroom, one of the producers had told us about the Colombian version of Who Wants to Be A Millionaire, in which the audience purposely votes incorrectly just to torment the poor contestant. But I trust these fine Americans--two of whom happen to be actual nuns--so I go with them. Seventy percent of them think it's Orbach. They are right.

"Thank you, audience!" I say.

The $16,000 question: Lilliputians are from what novel? All right. I know this. I'm back in the zone. "That's C,--Gulliver's Travels. Final answer."

I don't mention to Meredith that Gulliver put out a fire at the Lilliputian castle by urinating on it. (I also keep to myself some other weird fire/urine connections from the Britannica: Freud said that pyromania and bed-wetting are linked. And urine was used to extinguish Greek Fire--an ancient napalmlike weapon. My mind goes to curious places even under pressure.)

"Gulliver's Travels is correct!"

I'm sitting pretty, loving this, ready for my $32,000 question. It pops up on my monitor: What component of blood is also known as erythrocyte?

Erythrocyte. I stare at the word. I search my brain and search some more. Nothing. I could spend days scouring every dusty corner and obscure cranny of my cerebral cortex. I just don't think the word is in there. Damn.

My choices are white blood cells, platelets, red blood cells, serum.

Still don't know. Erythrocyte, erythrocyte. I'm annoyed at myself, but I'm still pretty calm. I've still got my lifeline, so I'll be fine.

"I'd like to call my brother-in-law Eric," I say.

He was a biochem major at Harvard. This is just the kind of thing Eric will know.

"Okay," says Meredith. "Let's call Eric."

After three rings, Eric answers. Meredith tells him I've won $16,000--Eric seems legitimately impressed--and that now I need his help. As instructed, I don't waste time with hellos. I just read him the question.

"What component of blood is also known as erythrocyte? Red blood cell, white blood cell, serum, or platelets?"

Eric emits a sound somewhere between a hmmmm and a groan. Whatever it is, it is not a good sound. It is a bad sound--and a shocking one. This is crazy. Eric doesn't know? That just doesn't compute. That's like the pope not being a Catholic. That's like the kami not being Shinto. I lost a couple of seconds trying to reorient myself.

"Erythrocyte?" he says.

"Type it in!" I say. "E-r-y-t-h-r-o-c-y-t-e."

I am telling him to Google it--it's a dirty little secret of Millionaire that the lifelines often use a computer. The crowd titters at my boldness.

"Tell me the choices again?" he says.

And then, before I can list A or B or C or D, time runs out.

Meredith gives me a sympathetic smile.

"I thought he knew everything!" I say.

The crowd laughs, but I wasn't kidding. I really did.

Now I panic. Now I feel alone out there. I swivel a bit in my chair, swivel back. I still have something called a fifty-fifty, where two of the answers are randomly taken away. I use it. I am left with serum and red blood cells. Serum, red blood cells. Red blood cells, serum.

"Well, you'd think I'd have heard the scientific name for red blood cells," I said. "I can't believe I wouldn't have. I'm going to say serum." I pause. "Serum. Final answer."

Meredith looks genuinely pained.

"Another word for 'erythrocyte' is 'red blood cell'."

I sink my head into my hands. That's it. My little moment in the melodramatic lighting is done. Meredith cuts to commercial. I dismount the Hot Seat and am brought backstage, where I'm greeted by Julie, my mom and dad, who all say they're proud of me--at least I think that's what they're saying. But mostly, I'm hearing "You did a great erythrocyte! The crowd really erythrocyted you." That's all I can think of. Erythrocyte. I will never forget that word. They hand me my check--my winnings have plunged all the way down to $1,000.

When I get back to the office, I call Eric.

"You owe me thirty-one thousand dollars!" I say, sort of jokingly.

"You're the writer," he responds. "You should have known it!"

Eric tells me he did Google it, but ran out of time before he could comb through the results. He didn't mention whether or not, after he was cut off, he shouted, "Eric!" I hang up. For the next twenty-four hours of my life, I spend all of my mental energy coming up with the ways I should have known "erythrocyte." First, of course, I should have remembered it from the Britannica. I looked it up, and it's right there in the E's: "Erythrocyte: also called red blood cell or red corpuscle." The cells are biconcave and appear dumbbell-shaped in profile. They are flexible and assume a bell shape as they pass through tiny blood vessels. They contain hemoglobin. Why didn't I remember that? I should have paid more attention to the biology sections. I should have put vital fluids on my list of things to study.

Not only that, but I knew that "cyte" means "cell." I should have figured it was either red or white blood cells. I should have told Eric to use Britannica, not Google. I should have had a psychic blood expert in the audience beaming me information telepathically.

So that's it. My dreams are trampled--I won't be lighting my Macanudo cigar with hundred-dollar bills. I won't be popping open a magnum of champagne--or a jeroboam (equal to four bottles), a methuselah (eight bottles), a salmanazar (twelve bottles), a balthazar (sixteen bottles), or a nebuchadnezzar (twenty bottles). But as the hours wear on, I become more and more at peace with my $1,000. First, it'll pay for two-thirds of my Britannica--about letters A through P--which is something. And I didn't look like a total jackass out there--that erythrocyte was an obscure question. So obscure, Eric Schoenberg--the Trivial Pursuit champ, the Harvard biochem major, one of the most well informed men in America--didn't know it either. Eric knows a lot--he knows more than me, I can admit that. But he doesn't know everything. No one does. And now there's proof on nationally syndicated television.

W

war, technology of

A soul-crushing ninety-eight pages. It's a crescendo of ever-more-sophisticated ways that humans have figured out to kill one another. Spears, ramparts, catapults, crossbows, guns, machine guns, missiles.

One passage struck me in particular. It was about the dropping of the second atomic bomb--with the weirdly endearing nickname of Fat Man--on Nagasaki, on August 9 in 1945:

"The B-29 spent 10 minutes over Kokura without sighting its aim point; it then proceeded to the secondary target of Nagasaki, where at 11:02 AM local time, the weapon was air-burst at 1650 feet with a force of 21 kilotons."

I had no idea that the Japanense city of Kokura was the primary target. I'd never even heard of Kokura. But what a strange fact. Imagine how many lives were affected because of this. Seventy thousand dead in Nagasaki and thousands of people spared in Kokura because of cloudy conditions.

I think about those ten minutes when the plane was buzzing over Kokura. All those people going about their day--making phone calls at the office, playing with their kids, eating their meals--totally unaware that a bomb of unimaginable destructive power was hovering overhead, ready to vaporize their bodies. But they survived because the bomber couldn't spot its X.

It's something that I've learned over and over again: luck plays a huge part in history. We like to think that it's the product of our will and rational decisions and planning. But I've noticed it's just as often--more often--about seemingly tiny whims of fate.

To take another example from World War II there's the July Plot to assassinate Hitler. This took place in 1944, and was orchestrated by a group of German conspirators led by an officer named Ernst Stauffenberg. As the Britannica says:

"Stauffenberg slipped from the room, witnessed the explosion at 12:42 pm, and, convinced Hitler was killed, flew to Berlin...[but] an attending officer had nudged the briefcase with a bomb to the far side of a massive oak support of the conference table, which thus shielded Hitler from the full force of the explosion."

Hitler survived because an attending officer was tidy and wanted the briefcase out of the way. History was changed by the size of an oak table.

Wells, H. G.

Here's another one who married his cousin. Along with contracting gout, marrying your cousin seems to be a favorite pastime of historical figures. Over the last few months, I've been keeping a list of cousin lovers, and here's just a sampling: Charles Darwin, Henry VIII, Edgar Allan Poe (with his thirteen-year-old cousin, if you recall), Sergey Rachmaninoff, and now, the newest member of the club, H. G. Wells.

I went back to check on Rachmaninoff because I wasn't positive about him. I was happy to see that, yes, the composer did indeed marry his cousin. But strangely, I noticed something else about him: Rachmaninoff wrote a symphony based on a poem by fellow club member Edgar Allan Poe. Weird.

Back when I was smart the first time--back in high school--I read a short story by Italo Calvino. It was a fable about a city where people's apartments were connected by threads. The threads were strung from one apartment and across the street or down the block to another apartment. Each thread represented a different kind of relationship. If the people in the two apartments were blood relatives, the threads would be black. If they were in business together, the threads would be white. If one was the boss of the other, the threads would be gray. Eventually, the threads grew so numerous and thick and multishaded that you couldn't walk through the city.

That's what history seems like to me now. There are hundreds of threads connecting everybody in all sorts of ways, both expected and unexpected. It's like a spiderweb (which, by the way, spiders sometimes eat when they're done with them).

wergild

In ancient Germanic law, this was the payment that someone made to an injured party. Most cultures had a similar concept--in the Middle East, it was called diyah. A life was worth one hundred female camels. Loss of one eye or foot was fifty she-camels. A blow to the head or abdomen was thirty-three, and loss of a tooth was five.

Still no sign of my $31,000 wergild from Eric for the Millionaire fiasco. But that's okay. He has given me something else. Julie talked to Alexandra, Eric's wife, who told her that Eric felt bad about the Millionaire debacle. And not just bad about looking ignorant on national TV. He actually felt guilty about blowing my chances at thirty-two grand. I knew Eric had feelings--he's a loving father and a good son--but I never imagined those feelings would be directed toward me. This was almost more surprising than when he didn't know an abstruse biological term. It made me feel all warm and forgiving. I sent him an e-mail.

Thanks for being my lifeline. We didn't win, but we went down fighting.Your brother (by marriage, not by erythrocyte),AJ

I thought that struck the proper note--familial, sympathetic, but still with a gentle dig at the end.

He wrote back:

Glad to be of help. Or rather, no help. At least you don't have to pay a lot of taxes on your winnings.Eric

I almost wanted to write back and tell him that if my kid turns out to be as sweet and smart and fun as his kids are, I'll be a happy man. But there's a limit, you know?

White House

The White House was originally called the President's Palace, but the name was changed to Executive Mansion because "palace" was considered too royal. The building didn't officially become known as the White House until 1902, under Teddy Roosevelt. Roosevelt, by the way, renovated the second floor to make room for his "children's exotic pets, which included raccoons, snakes, a badger, and a bear."

All pretty good facts. But here's the peculiar part. I was at the office, and I was telling my coworker about the Roosevelt menagerie, and he asked if the bear in question was the Teddy bear. I went on Britannica.com to check, and reread the White House entry. It didn't say. But I noticed the online version had a whole other anecdote that was cut from the print version for space. The anecdote was this:

Apparently, security at the White House used to be shockingly lax. In 1842, Charles Dickens was invited to the White House by John Tyler. Dickens arrived at the mansion, knocked on the door. No one answered. So--and this is what it says--he let himself in. Just walked right through the front door and started poking around the rooms unchaperoned. The esteemed British author finally stumbled onto a couple of dozen presidential hangers-on in one of the rooms. He was most appalled that they were spitting on the White House floor, and wrote that he hoped the spittle-cleaning servants were paid well.

Now, that's a good anecdote. I love the print version, but now I wonder what a world I've been missing by ignoring the online Britannica.

Winchell, Walter

The famous fast-talking, hat-wearing, pun-loving gossip columnist was born Walter Winchel--just one l in the last name. But someone accidentally added an extra l to "Winchel" on a theater marquee. Winchel liked it so much he kept it. Likewise, Ulysses Grant had a superfluous S inserted into the middle of his name on his West Point papers. He kept it. And a man named Israel Baline changed his name to Irving Berlin after a printer's error rendered it Berlin (not a small error--let's hope that printer switched careers soon after). Here again, luck changing history, though in a much less gloomy and devastating way.

Wise Men

The three Wise Men have been popping up in our lives recently. Or one of the three Wise Men, anyway. Julie and I are considering naming our son Jasper--no particular reason, we just like the name, and Julie nixed Mshweshwe and Ub. Jasper, we learned from one of our many baby name books, is a version of Gaspar, the name of one of the three Magi.

So our son will be named for a Wise Man. Maybe, we figure, it'll make him a Wise Baby. And maybe--here's a shocker--I can even impart a little wisdom of my own to the fellow. I actually think I have some.

The thing is, if I'm really being truthful with myself, Operation Britannica began as a bit of a lark. I figured I'd get some fun facts, have something to say at cocktail parties, increase my quirkiness factor, maybe learn a little about the nature of information. But wisdom? I didn't really expect it.

And yet, surprisingly, wisdom was in there--lurking in those 44 million words. It occasionally hit me over the head (see Ecclesiastes). But mostly I got my wisdom from absorbing the Britannica as a whole. And the wisdom I absorbed is this:

I finally have faith that Homo sapiens--that bipedal mammal of the Chordata phylum with 1350 cubic centimeters of cranial capacity, a secondary palate, and a hundred thousand hairs per scalp--is a pretty good species. Yes, we have the capability to do horrible things. We have created poverty and war and Daylight Saving Time. But in the big sweep--over the past ten thousand years and thirty-three thousand pages--we've redeemed ourselves with our accomplishments. We're the ones who came up with the Trevi fountain and Scrabble in braille and Dr. DeBakey's artificial heart and the touch-tone phone.

We have made our lives better. A thousand times better. Never again will I mythologize the past as some sort of golden age. Remember: In the 19th century, the mortality rate was 75 percent for a cesarean section, so my friend Jenny might no longer be around. The workday was fourteen hours, which is too long even for a workaholic like me. The life expectancy in ancient Rome was twenty-nine years. Widows had to marry their late husband's brother. Originally forks had one tine, and umbrellas were available only in black, and you ate four-day-old fetid meat for dinner.

For all its terrifying problems, now is the best time to be alive. I'm excited for my son, Jasper, to be born. I can't wait--and not just because he'll be a cool accessory to have on my hip, like a new two-way pager, but because I think he'll like the world, and the world will like him.

The facts in my brain will fade--I know that. But this wisdom, this perspective, I hope will stay with me.

Wood, Grant

The painter of the famous American Gothic portrait. I learn that the man and woman aren't a farmer and his wife. The woman is Wood's sister, Nan. And the farmer with the pitchfork? Wood's dentist. It's true, now that I look at him: put a white coat on him, and he screams D.D.S. Plus, he looks at home with that sharp implement, so that's a cue.

Woodhull, Victoria

I figured by this point, after a year of nonstop reading, I'd be pretty well sick of the activity. I figured I wouldn't want to read another book post-Britannica. I figured I wouldn't want to read a stop sign or salad dressing label. And yet, when I learn about someone like Victoria Woodhull, I feel like I'd like to dive into an entire biography on her. Odd.

Woodhull was an amazing woman--the first female stockbroker and the first woman to run for president, among other things. Born in Ohio in 1838, she spent her childhood traveling with her family's fortune-telling business. She married at age fifteen, divorced soon after, and moved to New York. There, she befriended robber baron Cornelius Vanderbilt, who was a fan of psychics. Vanderbilt helped her start a stock brokerage firm. (Seems like a good idea--a psychic stock picker.)

In the following years, Woodhull drifted further into fringe causes. She began publishing a reform magazine that advocated communal living, free love, equal rights, and women's suffrage. The eccentric Woodhull wasn't popular with the more staid members of the women's suffrage movement, but they accepted her, at least temporarily, after she pleaded for the women's vote before Congress.

Woodhull's relationship with a reformer named Theodore Tilton led to national scandal. In what seems her sleaziest moment, Woodhull printed rumors that Tilton's wife was having extramarital relations with Henry Ward Beecher. This got Woodhull indicted for sending improper material through the mails. (She was later acquitted.) In 1877, she moved to England--apparently with the financial help of Vanderbilt heirs, who feared she'd try to horn in on the will--where she started a journal of eugenics and offered a five-thousand-dollar prize for the first transatlantic flight.

A curious and fascinating life. I did, in fact, order a Woodhull bio online. There will be at least one book in my post-Britannica existence.

X Y Z

X-ray style

This is an artistic technique in which you depict animals by painting their skeleton or internal organs. Mesolithic hunters in northern Europe loved their X-ray style, as did some early aboriginal Australians (Britannica's got a funky-looking picture of an X-rayed-lizard painting from Australia). I'm reading this at night, just a few hours after one of the Esquire editors suggested we do an X-ray photo portfolio--an X ray of a guy hitting a golf ball, an X ray of a guy and a woman in bed. Will this be my last eerie Britannica-and-life intersection? Could be. I can see those Zs at the end of the tunnel. I'm that close.

yacht

The presidential yacht--a massive boat called the Mayflower, built in 1897--saw active service during World War II. I like that--a battling yacht. It'd be good to send Barry Diller's yacht to the Persian Gulf.

Yang, Franklin

A Chinese-born American physicist who won the Nobel in 1957. Yang was born with the first name Chen Ning, but switched it to Franklin after reading the autobiography of Benjamin Franklin as a kid. If you're going to name yourself after someone, Franklin's a solid choice. The founding father has surfaced dozens of times in the Britannica, almost always in a flattering light--he founded the American Philosophical Society when he was twenty-one, started the first insurance in our country, discredited a quack named Franz Mesmer who allegedly put people in trances (hence the word "mesmerize"). On the other hand, Franklin did satisfy his libido with "low women."

Year

Today, another Hanukkah/New Year's gift exchange at my parents'. It's been about a year since I started reading the Britannica, which is hard to believe. It doesn't feel like a year. It doesn't even feel like a lunar year (twelve lunar cycles, about 354 days, used in some calendars).

We get there early--before Beryl and Willy--which means there's time for Julie and my mom to go to the back room and look at some jewelry designs my mom has been working up.

Leaving Dad and me alone.

"Want to see the latest sonogram?" I ask.

"Absolutely," says Dad.

It's a good sonogram. The spine shows up in bright white, resembling a tiny comb. And you can see his face--Julie and I had an argument over whether he looks more like E.T. or Jason from the Friday the 13th series.

I take the sonogram out of the bag and hand it to Jasper's grandfather.

"Good-looking kid," he says, studying it.

"Yeah, he's got the Jacobs nose," I say.

"Any more thoughts about naming him Arnold Jacobs V?" my dad asks.

"Sorry, no."

He nods his head. He knew.

"I have something else you might want to see," I say.

"What is it?"

I dig a piece of paper out of the bag.

"It's a little something I wrote up. Something I'm submitting to the Britannica board for inclusion in next year's edition."

My dad takes the paper. He reads it:

Jacobs, Arnold (b. February 26, 1941, New York)An expert on insider trading and world record holder for most footnotes in a law article. Jacobs grew up in Manhattan, the son of a lawyer and an art teacher. He graduated in the 78th percentile in his high school class--but has the excuse that he only studied during subway rides. Jacobs attended many, many graduate schools that we cannot list for space reasons. With his wife, Ellen Kheel, a fellow collector of buffalo memorabilia, he had two children. He imparted to his son, Arnold Jacobs Jr. (aka Arnold Jacobs IV), a love of learning and scholarship that could be excessive at times--but as far as excesses go, it was a pretty decent one. Jacobs Sr. also impressed his son with his accomplishments, devotion to family, and expertise on Genghis Khan. And perhaps most important, Jacobs Sr. made a great scientific leap when he discovered the speed of light in fathoms per fortnight: 1.98 x 10¹⁴. Jacobs Jr. built upon his father's discovery by calculating the speed of light in knots per nanosecond: .000162.

I watch my dad read it--for what seems like a very long time. Finally, he smiles.

"This is great," he says. "I'm honored."

"Well, we'll see if they accept it," I say.

"Knots per nanosecond?"

"Yeah, I worked it out."

"That's good stuff."

"Yeah, useful information," I say.

"You even got the alliteration down."

"Yeah, I thought it was better than knots per picosecond."

"It's great. It can be the first thing I'll teach my grandson."

I probably won't be joining my father in the really byzantine practical jokes featuring bison statues or lemon Kool-Aid. But I figure, why not join him in a little one about fathoms and fortnights? Why not take his cue, as Lorenz's goslings did, and give him a little praise? I knew he'd love it.

As I approach the Z's, I've finally beaten my dad at something. I finished a mission that he started, and I suppose that's helped me exorcise a demon--specifically the demon of envy, also known as Leviathan in the Bible. Right now, at least for the next couple of weeks, I probably have more information in my cerebral cortex than he does. Am I smarter? Maybe not. Most likely not. Do I know as much as he does about rule 10b-5? Certainly not. But I do know this more than ever: my dad and I are the same. I've learned to stop fighting that fact. I've learned to like it.

yodel

The Swiss do not have a monopoly on this. The pygmies and the Australian Aborigines are also proficient yodelers. On the other hand, their cuckoo clocks are below average.

Young Men's Christian Association

This started with twelve young men in the drapery business in England before blossoming into a Village People song.

Young, Thomas

Proposed the wave theory of light--and was widely disparaged because any opposition to Newton's theory was unthinkable. As George Bernard Shaw said, "All great truths start as blasphemies." See--I got something out of this.

Zeus

I guess it's no big news that men can't keep their pants on. That was clear even in the first hundred pages of the Britannica, what with the scores of "dissolute" men and their mistresses. But Zeus is in a league of his own. He deserves a gold medal, or better yet, some saltpetre (well, actually, I learned that saltpetre doesn't dampen the libido; so maybe a cold shower). Zeus was the Wilt Chamberlain of Greek gods, spreading his seed far and wide. Every one hundred pages in my reading, there Zeus would be, making it with another woman or, occasionally, with a man. Sometimes Zeus would have sex as Zeus himself, but more often he'd go in disguise. He's taken the shape of a bull, an eagle, a cuckoo, a dark cloud, a shower of gold coins, and an ant. An ant? He seduced Eurymedusa in the form of an ant. I don't even understand what that means. I have a guess, but I can't imagine Eurymedusa found that pleasant, and she may have required ointment.

Zola, Emile

According to some sources, Zola, as a starving writer, ate sparrows trapped outside his windowsill.

zoo

The Aztecs had a magnificent one in Mexico that required a staff of three hundred zookeepers. Also, you should know that Londoners during World War II ate the fish out of their city's zoo.

Seventeen pages left. I've got a tingle in the back of my neck. I want to skim, but I force myself slow down, savor these final entries.

zucchetto

The skullcap worn by Roman Catholic clergymen--the last liturgical vestment in the Britannica!

Zulu, the African nation (whose founder, Shaka, by the way, became "openly psychotic" when his mother died, and refused to allow crops to be planted).

My God, seven more pages.

Leopold Zunz, a Jewish scholar.

Zurich ware, a type of Swiss porcelain.

Zveno Group, a Bulgarian political party.

Zywiec

And here it is. I have arrived. The final entry of the Britannica's 65,000 entries, the last handful of the 44 million words. The bizarre thing is, my pulse is thumping as if I were running an actual marathon. I'm amped up.

I take a deep breath to calm myself, and then I read about Zywiec. Zywiec is a town in south-central Poland. It's known for its large breweries and a 16th-century sculpture called The Dormant Virgin. Population thirty-two thousand.

And that's it. At 9:38 P.M. on an otherwise unremarkable Tuesday night, sitting in my customary groove on the white couch, I have finished reading the 2002 edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica. I'm not sure what to do. I shut the back cover quietly. I stand up from the couch, then sit back down.

There's no ribbon to break, no place to plant a flag. It's a weird and anti-climactic feeling. The entry itself doesn't help. If the Britannica were a normal book, the ending would presumably have some deeper meaning, some wrap-it-all-up conclusion or shocking twist. But everything in the EB is a slave to the iron discipline of alphabetization, so I'm left with an utterly forgettable entry about a beer-soaked town in south-central Poland. Zywiec. I guess I knew it wouldn't hold all the secrets to the universe (zywiec: a mysterious substance found in badger fur is the reason to go on living!), but still, it's a little disappointing. There's something sad about finishing a huge, yearlong project, an immediate postpartum depression.

I slide the volume back into its space on the mustard-colored shelf, where I expect it will stay for a long time. I wander out to the living room.

"Done," I tell my wife.

"Done for the night?"

"No, done. As in done, done."

She throws open her arms. I get a congratulatory hug and kiss.

"Wait a second," she says. "I have to document this." Julie runs off to the bedroom and reappears with our video camera.

"A.J. Jacobs, you finished reading the Encyclopaedia Britannica from A to Z. What are you going to do now?"

"Um..." I shake my head. I really don't know. I'm stumped.

"Are you going to Disneyland?" prompts Julie.

"Yes, maybe I'll go to Disneyland, founded by Walt Disney, creator of Oswald the Rabbit."

Julie clicks off the camera.

"How about a celebratory dinner?" she asks.

"Yeah, why not?" That'll be nice, a dinner with the long-neglected Julie--that is her name, right? "You want to finish your West Wing?" I ask.

"Sure."

So I sit on the couch next to Julie and watch the end of The West Wing, which is set in the White House, a structure Thomas Jefferson called "big enough for two emperors, one pope, and the grand lama."

I think back to my parents' friend who told me the fable wherein the wise men of the kingdom condensed all the encyclopedia's knowledge into a single sentence: "This too shall pass." That's not a bad moral. If you want a single sentence, you could do worse. What's my sentence? I better come up with one now, because at this very moment, I've got more information than I ever will, before that evil Ebbinghaus curve kicks in.

Frankly, I'm not sure what my sentence is. Maybe I'm not smart enough to come up with a single sentence summing up the Britannica. Maybe it'd be better to try a few sentences, and see what sticks. So here goes:

I know that everything is connected like a worldwide version of the six-degrees-of-separation game. I know that history is simultaneously a bloody mess and a collection of feats so inspiring and amazing they make you proud to share the same DNA structure with the rest of humanity. I know you'd better focus on the good stuff or you're screwed. I know that the race does not go to the swift, nor the bread to the wise, so you should soak up what enjoyment you can. I know not to take cinnamon for granted. I know that morality lies in even the smallest decisions, like whether to pick up and throw away a napkin. I know that an erythrocyte is a red blood cell, not serum. I know firsthand the oceanic volume of information in the world. I know that I know very little of that ocean. I know that I'm having a baby in two months, and that I'm just the tiniest bit more prepared for having him (I can tell him why the sky is blue--and also the origin of the blue moon, in case he cares), but will learn 99 percent of parenthood as I go along. I know that--despite the hyposomnia and the missed Simpsons episodes--I'm glad I read the Britannica. I know that opossums have thirteen nipples. I know I've contradicted myself a hundred times over the last year, and that history has contradicted itself thousands of times. I know that oysters can change their sex and Turkey's avant-garde magazine is called Varlik. I know that you should always say yes to adventures or you'll lead a very dull life. I know that knowledge and intelligence are not the same thing--but they do live in the same neighborhood. I know once again, firsthand, the joy of learning. And I know that I've got my life back and that in just a few moments, I'm going to have a lovely dinner with my wife.

Additional Sources

BROWN, CRAIG. "How the First Fly Guy Went Up, Up and Wa-hey..." Edinburgh Evening News, December 9, 2003.

COLEMAN, ALEXANDER and CHARLES SIMMONS. All There Is to Know: Readings from the Illustrious Eleventh Edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1994.

FLAUBERT, GUSTAVE. Bouvard and Pecuchet with the Dictionary of Received Ideas. New York: Penguin Group, 1976.

KOGAN, HERMAN. The Great EB: The Story of the Encyclopaedia Britannica. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1958.

KONING, HANS. "Onward and Upward with the Arts: The Eleventh Edition." The New Yorker, March 2, 1981.

MARKS-BEALE, ABBY. 10 Days to Faster Reading. New York: Warner Books, 2001.

MCCABE, JOSEPH. The Lies and Fallacies of the Encyclopaedia Britannica. Escondido, Calif.: The Book Tree, 2000.

MCCARTHY, MICHAEL. "It's Not True About Caligula's Horse; Britannica Checked--Dogged Researchers Answer Some Remarkable Queries." Wall Street Journal, April 22, 1999.

MCHENRY, ROBERT. "Whatever Happened to Encyclopedic Style." Chronicle of Higher Education, February 28, 2003.

OSTROV, RICK. Power Reading. North San Juan, Calif.: Education Press, 2002.

SARTE, JEAN-PAUL. Nausea. New York: New Directions, 1964.

SHNEIDMAN, EDWIN/ "Suicide On My Mind, Britannica on My Table." American Scholar, autumn 1998.

STERNBERG, ROBERT J. Successful Intelligence: How Practical and Creative Intelligence Determine Success in Life. New York: Plume, 1997.

------ed. Handbook of Intelligence. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000.

Index

accents, glottal stop in

accidents:blindness resulting fromfabricated

accomplishments, EB-worthy

Adams, John:Jefferson's July 4th predeceasing ofretirement pleasures of

air travel, ethical dilemma in

Alaska:AJ and Beryl lost in"mosts" claimed for

Allah, in tampered database

alphabet, self-taught man's reading arranged by

American Crossword Puzzle Tournament

American Gothic, who are these people?

anesthetics

animals:guard, unexpected example ofhumans andsleazeball behaviors ofstuffedvoices ofZeus transformations into

anti-neutrino particle, memorizing definition of

aposiopesis T-shirts

Archimedes' screw, EB blasphemed on

Ardrey, Robert, on miracle of man

Aristotle:self-serving marriage maxim oftelegony endorsed by

art, serious appreciation of

atomic bomb (Fat Man), Nagasaki as secondary target of

Attila the Hun:pros and cons ofunfortunate wedding night death of

audiences, riots and uproars avoided by

Australia, hereditary obsession with

authors, good looks an asset to

Aztecs, Planet of the Apes idea lifted from

Babinski reflex, testing for

bad ideas, inertia of

Baghdad, monument to Ali Baba's housekeeper in

Ball of Fire (movie), anti-intellectual vs. pro-education themes in

barnacles, crab testes consumed by

baseball:bearded apocalyptic cult inhow to talk aboutReggie era in

bastards, notable

battles, nudity in

beans, Pythagorean commandment against

beauty, eternal

beauty patches, design and placement of

Bender, Steve, Operation Britannica graded by

Bibleencyclopedia asloopholes inwalnut-sized

Binet, Alfred

bioweapons, Louis XIV's suppression of

birthdays, Einstein's rejection of

blasphemy case, boob defense in

blue-footed booby (just a coincidence), mating dance of

blue moons, cause of

bodies, temperature of

body parts:embalming ofmodification ofin note designationsofficial names forunusual numbers of

body types, classification of

Bolivia, haziness about a river or two in

book title, one-size-fits-all

Bouvard and Pecuchet (Flaubert, that superior bastard)

brain:atrophy ofcommon hazards tocranial capacity andof Einsteingullibility ofmucus originating inongoing loss of cells inplayroom compared with

brain damage, AJ's fear of

breasts:in boob defensemodification ofsee also nipples

British cryptic, clue to "astern" in

British-to-American translations

Brod, Max, Kafka's final wish interpreted by

Brown Universityecstasy atfamous attendees at

Brummel, Beau, rise and fall of

burial:positions inpremature, cell phones for

Bush, George W., days taken off by

calculator tricks, Mensan interest in

camps, all-male, hazards of

capitalism, businessman's attack on

Carol, Aunt, Sartre's Nausea as gift from

cats:Big Boy and Wild Thingcharacter ofcry of (cri-du-chat syndrome)in grammar questionsongs about

celebrities:anatomically interestingcautionary lessons taken fromDalton offspring ofreal names of

Celebrity Deathmatch

cellphones:in coffinsin movie theaters

Central Park, identification of

Chad (as well as Bolivia), haziness about a river or two in

Challis, James, planetary gaffe of

Charles II, King of England, illegitimate children of

Charleses, aids to memorizing of

cheese knives, unanswered questions about

cholesterol, high

cilantro, see coriander

civilization, Pax Mongolia and spread of

Civil War, U.S.:Garibaldi invited tooratory inrebel spy-Union officer love story inTaiping Rebellion compared with

classification of body types

colonialism, percentage of evil in

communism, foxhunter's cofounding of

Complete Family News (newsletter)

compulsions, unkickable

conversational gambits:"a-ak" not helpful inof AJ Sr.internal "ding" heard at onset ofknowledge inat Mensa eventsin ninety minutes with Senator Kennedy"Who is buried in Grant's Tomb?"see also evasion strategies; knowledge displays

cooking, coriander in

coral snakes, identification of

coriandercrab soup topped with

corpses, sale of

courtship, see romance and courtship

Crapper, Thomas, myth of

Crossfire, AJ as reticent debater on

cross-referencing, meaningful

crossword puzzles, another debacle

cruelty, in boy's camps

Cruise, Tom, EB silent on

cucumbers, "vampirelike lecherous creature" from Japan obsessed with

curiosity, about everything

curses, usefull

Dalton School:AJ's revisit toethical relativism discovered at

dances:Saint Vitustarantella

Dante Alighieri, video dating prescribed for

death:of family membermetaphors forobituary read beforepassions moderated by contemplation ofpreservation of body afterafter reading EBunusualforms ofsee also burial; corpses

death penalty, AJ in Columbia debate on

DeBakey, Michael

as EB reader

definitions:of "ambergris"of "anti-neutrino particle"of "axillism"of "berry"of "book"of "erythrocyte"of "fruit"of "haboob"of "inch"of "infix"of "intelligence"of "jacks and jills"of "kilogram"memorizing ofof "meter"of "mushrooming"of "mutualism"of "ooze"of "pachycephalosaurus"of "peninsula"of "peon"of "reading"of "riot"of "suicide"of "tarantella"of various rhetorical devicesof "wergild"

deja vu, jamais vu vs.

Delfin, John, crossword philosophy of

depression, evolutionary role of

Descartes, Rene:cross-eyed-women fetish ofjoke about bartender andas proto-Freudian

Disclosures and Remedies Under the Security Law (Jacobs Sr.)

divorce, Pueblo-style

dodo bird, scattered remnants of

Doherty, Shannen, marriage spans of

Doone, Lorna, cookies confused with

Douglas, Cousin, language corrected by

dreams:creativeself-fulfilling

duplicity:of biblical Jacobof males in courtship strategies

earth:locating AJ onsearch for intelligent life ontime taken by rotation ofunrestrained outlay of facts about

Earth Mother, as fertility goddess

Easter Bunny, background and character of

Ebbinghaus, Herman, "forgetting curve" of

Ebert jokes

Ecclesiastes

E! channel

$8000 question, audience thanked for answer to

Einstein, Albertsee also relativity

embalming:Egyptian recipe foras loophole in wife's will

Eminems, miniversions of

Encyclopaedia Britannica:admirable anality ofalphabetical sequence ofbloopers inbrilliant quotations helpful in getting intoas bug killercard games clarified bycareer ideas incat issues ofchamber music as an unseemly soft spot ofcross-referencing indedication ofdispassionate approach ofdiversityof everything inelectronic applications ofEleventh Edition of"erythrocyte" found in, too late for Millionaireeven-handedness ofexcitement about diacritics atfacts, not that many, missing fromFifteenth Edition ofFirst Edition and founders of (Macfarquhar, Smellie, and Bell)flexibilitya lesson ofglories ofgravitas added to room bygreat books coverage inGreek history favored byhandy-phrase translations inhard-to-forget book titles inindexing department ofinstant wisdom inon itselflegal knowledge inmain sections ofmarginal utility theory inmaterial aspects ofmedical afflictions found inas noble pursuitnothing evidently left out ofother readers ofphonetic guides not found inphysicality ofpurchase and arrival ofracism inrandiness ofrandomness ofreading of, see Operation Britannicarepetition inromance inscatology inself-help guidance instereotypes broken bysuperior putz's insult often best ways to get intoThirteenth Edition ofunauthorized tweaking ofuneven alphabetical coverage inunorthodox uses ofunusual grounds for entry intovintage and classic editions ofvisit to HQ ofweird and crude facts inworldview of

"encyclopedia":derivation ofligature sometimes seen in

encyclopedias, earliest, longest, strangest, etc.

"Encyclopedia Twit-annica"

Encyclopedie (Diderot et al.)

Engels, Friedrich, ideological dualism of

Enlightenment, Eleventh Edition as culmination of

entertainment:bearbaiting asmusicals about trains asnonstop

Entertainment Weeklyarticle on box office prices incatching colds atCats given send-off atconfession of crush atOscars covered inSenator Kennedy not a longtime subscriber totrend seeking at

eponymy:avoidance ofChauvin's contribution toengineering achievements andlegends ofmisspellings and"sandwich" or "Morris," if you prefer

erythrocyte, defined on Millionaire

Esquire:AJ's job atarticle ideas atarticle on uncommon fetishes inbaseball talk sidestepped atChristmas party atCosmo vs.fashion consciousness at"The Fire Next Time" andhumor ventured atlichen saluted innew perspective gained atscrewups atspeech making atsports conversations at

ethics:"is" vs. "ought" inTolstoyanutilitarian vs. deontology in

ethnic groups:baldness compared inOstrogoth-American

etymological underground

eunuchs, operatic

evasion strategies:create a distractionI'll-get-back-to-you trick

evolution, of typewriter

extinction, of passenger pigeons

facts:battle offudging ofmovie-interruptingswimming vs. drowning inTrebek's favoritesas trophies of the huntweird and crudeworld packed with

failures:in astronomyof cosmosin crossword puzzlesin Hitler assassination attemptin Millionaireat Waterloo

fame:names forgotten byscrewups recorded bysee also celebrities; greats

families:buttercupeminence inhippy

Family Feud, crossword puzzle-themed version of

Farrow, Dave, memory course of

fashion, brief history of

fertilitycollectibles andof efficiency guruexperimenting with rituals ofof rabbits

fetishes:breastfor cross-eyed womengumfor organizationin speed reading

Fibonacci series, Boggle scored with

1582, ten days skipped in

flagellation, fertility promoted by

flirty fishing, gospel and herpes spread by

folklore, elves in

food:in buffalo merchandise warscateredin eating contestecstasy andforeign, Carry Nation's assault ongreasy Italian fingerItalian weddingordering of, in Italyrestaurantrestrictions onwar overwashed by raccoons

football, how to talk about

form, good or bad, in chess

44, number of insanity attacks suffered by Charles VI of France

42,649, number of red deer killed by ruler of Saxony

Franklin, Benjamin, reasons to name yourself after

freezing point, misguided determination of

Freud, Sigmund, Marx preferred to

Frost, Robert, Harvard connection of

"fucking," infixing of

gagaku, Korean name for

Galton, Francis

games:cardscharadeshumiliationinventednumberSimon Sayssix-degrees-of-separationsee also crossword puzzles; word games

Garbo, Greta, little-known resume item of

gasoline, best time for purchase of

Genevieve:Alaskan crab legs sent as gift fromdustup delegated to

genius(es):animosity betweencapacity for bad behavior amongcounterintuitive facts aboutof Einsteinfresh air required forlinguisticin Mensapsychological problems ascribed totemperamentalthoroughly balancedsee also Mensa(ns)

germaphobia

g-forces, protection from

gnomons

God:fertility, of the Weekin Taiping Rebellionwaiting for stars to spell out

golf balls, dimples on

Google(ing):addiction toEB vs.for "erythrocyte""Jacobs" in

graduate thesis ideas:clothing colors and world history"The Scarlet Number"

grahamcracker, curious inventor of

Grandma, word police on trail of

Grant's Tomb, waiting to be asked about

grease, types of

Great EB, The (Kogan)

greats:compulsions ofcousins favored in marriage ofinteresting lives of

Greeks, ancient

hair:in BibledreadlocksJew-fromohawks

haircuts:army crewcut, origin offive-thousand-year-old

happiness, reaching peak of

Hare and Burke, corpse sales and service by

Harington, John, flush toilet fathered by

Harper's Index

Harvard University, notable graduates of

head-bobbing

head flattening

head-snapping technique

health concerns:cholesterol indisturbing facts ingermaphobia inhypochondria andpickles in

Helen of Troy, what she might launch today

hemorrhoids, famous fatal case of

heredity:in Jacobs familyof worldview

herpes, spiritual spread of

HiQ societies

history:cinnamon and chocolate inconstants incontradictions infew black-or-white hats infigures lost toflexibility an advantage inGreek, favored by EBGreeks vs. Romans ininterwovenness ofluck's huge part inpamphleteer's place inSix Degrees of Kevin Bacon interrorism in

Hitler, Adolf, failed assassination attempt on

Hoeflin, Ron:HiQ societies founded byas Millionaire lifelinephilosophical pursuits of

Hoiberg, Dale

Hollywood:antigerbil gossip inAztec idea stolen byfounding ofhumility plan forsee also movies

Holmes, Sherlock, organized mind of

Homo sapiens, faith in success of

Houdini, Harry:Conan Doyle's feud withfact checking onname chosen by

How to Explain Pictures to a Dead Hare (Beuys)

human beings, interaction with

humiliation games

humor:"being there" as aid toabout Burbanksee also jokes

Hustler, EB compared with

Huxley, Aldous, EB habit of

hypochondria, denial of

hypocrisy, uses of

illnesses, breakthrough

Impact of Rule 10b-5 (Jacobs Sr.)

impatience, advantages of

income, Mensan unsteadiness of

"index," indexing of

indexes, wit in

Indonesia, rare cone shell of

infixes, examples of

information:appetites forcounterintuitivehaboobinaccuratememory limited foroptimism-inspiringquest for meaning inrisk in sharing oftrees vs. forest ofsee also knowledge

insults:EB-worthyfingerunderdog group co-opting of

intellectual competition

intelligence:crystallized vs. fluiddefining ofFrancis Bacon's pursuit ofHasidic competition andin HiQ societieswisdom vs.see also IQ

international criminal law, editing article on

interviews, for Millionaire

inventors, close-but-no-cigar

IQ:high, balancing on one foot associated within marveling at keyssee also genius(es); intelligence

IQ tests

Iraq:embedding inwar with

Italy, Rick and Ilene's Jewish wedding in

Jacob, of Bible fame

Jacobs, A. J.:in the AsBeavis moments overcome bybrain atrophy ofbrain damage feared byconfrontation avoided byconversation stopping ascribed tocourtship strategy ofcrossword debacle ofcultural prejudices ofdebating techniques ofdepression ofepistemology bypassed byethical relativism eschewed byevasion strategies ofexposure courted byfacial feedback tried byfashion issues offavorite compulsions offull name ofGandhi as heralding hope forhidden allusions missed byhypochondria denied byhypothetical Britannica entry forintellectual rise and decline ofJeopardy off-limits tojournalistic start ofas late sleeperMarxist school days ofmemorizing system ofMensa membership ofMillionaire trials ofmotion efficiencies ofat Ns in Venicenude posing ofas one-time smartest boy in the worldoverstuffed mind ofparts of speech apparently an issue forreligious inclination ofremembering name ofrhetorical devices favored bysending wine toas seventy-five trillion cells, for a starttwo-thirds of historical event attended byunintended atonality ofuniqueness as goal of

Jacobs, Arnold. J., Sr.:achievement ofAJ's Britannica entry forAJ's feat hailed byAJ's interaction withas beach-chair scholarbuffalo fabrications ofByzantine practical jokes ofchildren's FAQs known toethical relativism as seen byGenghis fixation ofhigh school education ofinteraction withon light speedmid-Bs reached bymissing kids oforigin of AJ's rivalry withparty behavior ofquasi-Asimov achievements ofRenaissance Man ideal of

Jacobs, Berylin Alaskachemical symbol fordaughter born tomoral sense ofSeymour's bouncy visit to

Jacobs, Ellen Kheel:AJ's cheating incident andAJ's reading habits deplored byDeadhead message heard byin mother-son bonding tripmultitasking rejected bypigeons as viewed bypractical mind-set oftelegonic perspective on

Jacobs, JasperAJ's preparation forgender observed innaming ofsonogramsof

Jacobs, Julie Schoenberg:AJ quizzed byAJ restrained byAJ's cranial capacity known byAJ's crush revealed toAJ's Mensa membership andbirthday expanded byon Britannica prospectbuying flowers forcanned crying not needed bycelebratory dinner provided byEB disappointing tofury provoked inHanukkah present ofherb-related aid toimpressive sleep attainments ofJ-volume comment ofmarriage oforganizing fetish ofOscar party ofpregnancy of; see also Jacobs, JasperSherwood Schwartz sitcoms known by"what, what, what?" thing not tried out on

Jacobs family, AJ's models in

Jamie:adult ed class ofat crossword tournament with AJ

Jane, Aunt

Jefferson, ThomasAdams predeceased by

Jeopardy, trying out for

Jesus:actual birth date ofEaster Bunny andeditorial mischief on

Jews, Judaismchess-playinglore ofmenstruation taboo inunder Nazis

jokes:about bartender and Descartesmoon-in-waterpoop-culturepop-culture

Jupiter, Julie's rash thoughtlessly compared to Great Red Spot of

Kennedy, Edward M., "Punctual Guy" meeting with

Kheel, Ted

kings named Charles, abundance of

know-it-all, Mr., see knowledge displays

knowledge:clustering of (cannibalism, syphilis, oneeye blinded men, e.g.)in conversational gambitscreative solutions arising fromfor crossword successFaustian thirst forflexibility an advantage ingeneral vs. specializedJacobs men in love withmacabrenormal gaps inphilosophy ofPlato's theory ofin post-Britannica summaryrecurring themes inself-

knowledge displays:in the AsBritishisms inin chess gameon corianderon earthof eleven-year-old Douglase-mails used inof Ericin father-son matchon "The Fire Next Time"guessing inon head-snapping techniqueJulie as restraining influence onat Mensan conventionon Millionaireat New-York Historical Societyon pediatricson picklespotential for humiliation inon sportson timein viewing Shanghai Knights

Kogan, Herman

Koning, Hans, on Eleventh Edition

Krantz, David, memorization explained by

lacrosse, lacrosse word vs.

language(s):eleven-year-old genius onEB's help in translation ofpretentiousridiculous imprecision ofsexist, fruitist, and antianimalsee also words

Latin, life-saving role of

lawyers, "lovely group of people" as

learning, embracing joy of

legal proceedings:first U.S. insanity plea inodd

Lego robotics, career as instructor in

Les, learning speed reading with

libido, dampening of

Lies and Fallacies of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, The (McCabe)

life:chaos ofpassing by ofphilosophy of, Fitzgerald vs. Fleming onas "sad piece of buffoonery"secret ofutopian view of

ligature

light speed:novel yardstick fortime and

Limbaugh, Rush, positive side of

limerick, G-rated

Lisa (friend), earth explained to

loopholes:in "benefit of clergy"biblicalin colonial timesMensanof religious menin wills

losers, lacrosse players giggled at by

Louis XIV, King of France:bioweapons suppressed byfontange affixed in court of

Louis XV, King of France:Encyclopedie tolerated byhunting days of

Luciano, Lucky, war effort aided by

Luther, Martin, theses not really nailed by

McCabe, Joseph

Macropaedia

Madonna, Britannica-speak view of

males, selfish tool behavior of

Manhattan, Indian sale of

Manhattanites, huge nonflying flock of

marriage(s):of AJ's parentsAristotelian view ofassortative mating inbrief history ofclose-knitfidelity in, of pigeonsafter Long Marchand Pueblo moccasin divorceShaw's apparent celibacy inShaw's famous quote onof Solomonof twins (to each other)

MarshallChess Club, boosting intelligence at

Marti, Aunt

Marx, Karl

meaningful cross-referencing, see cross-referencing, meaningful

melee, memorizing definition of

Melville, Herman, dismissive 1941 write-up of

memorization, nothing bypassed in

memory:Dave Farrow's course andEbbinghaus curve ofsee also Operation Britannica, retention issue in

Mensa(ns):characteristics observed inconvention ofconversations ofcrass drunkenness ofmembership inobesity ofpuns andsweetness and humility wanting intrivia contest of

Metamorphosis of Ajax, The (Harington)

metric system

Micropaedia

mind:as atticas newly painted shack

mistakes and misinformation:even EB not free ofof successful know-it-alls

mistresses, in Mussolini family

mob, wartime help from

Moore, Demi, Hawthorne revised by

Morozov, Paulik, that odious little schmuck

mosquitoes, yellow fever transmitted by

movie ideas:The Great Metric CaperHail to the Freakin' Chief (president afflicted with Tourette's syndrome)Julia Child, chef by day, spy by nightLumiere factory film remakea romance between Civil War enemiesYoung Gandhi

movies:first talkie, surprisinglyleaving early atoverheard inaccuracies intolerable length ofunasked questions about

movie stars, geographic knowledge of

Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus, Salieri's friendship with

music:gagaku (a-ak)rap

Mussolini, Benito, serious relationship issues of

myths, of conception

Nabokov, Vladimir

names:apotropaicbastardization ofcoincidences incolorful, in sportsfamous, determined by chanceill-advisedof Jacobs babyJulie's list ofreassessment offor victims of practical jokes

Napoleon I, Emperor of the French:hesitation and Waterloo loss ofidiosyncratic portrait of

Native Americans, warfare of

nature, Woody Allen's view of

negative side:of AJ, the Mensanof Jeffersonof natural worldof reading

Neptune, English astronomer's careless loss of

Newton, Isaac, unorthodox thumbing of

New Yorker

New York Timescrosswords of

nicknames:eighth-gradeof politicians not to trustin sports

nipples:caviar onJodie Foster'sopossumpresidential

"no," issues with saying

nose, ignorance of what is right under

nouns, in radio turn-off ritual

nudity:in battleEB's surprising amount ofin exercisein the greatsin photo poses

number(s):irrational, Pythagorean opposition tosorting philosophies bysquare roots of

nut jobs, rationality sometimes possessed by

Oglesby, Thaddeus

omniscience, see specific topics

Operation Britannica:as addictionAJ's decision onAJ's family onAJ's limit reached inAJ Sr. onauthority of doctors eroded bybedrock of confidence attributed tobeing "out there" vs.coincidences incomfort and health incomfort from verifiable megagenius onin conflict of authoritiescross-reference tolerance incrossword failure not attributed toencyclopedia-as-Bible theory ofequipment forfainting envied infalling asleep infalse trumpets sounded inFlaubert and Buddhists opposed togames for self-amusement inhazards inhead slappers inIraq crisis and"Ironic Facts" file injoy of learning inlearning to see silver lining inin light of evolving brainas lonely missionmind toys provided bymost common reading sites fornobility seen inorganizing influence ofphilosophical justifications forpower of editing pondered inproper stance forpsychoanalytic view ofrelationship with Julie affected byrelationship with world altered byretention issue inscatological puns resisted inskimming in,specialization fought inspeed reading attempted inas starter accomplishmentas surrogate Hebrew schoolthree Halifaxes intime logged intrivia score aided byuseful applications ofwhat to read afterwisdom gained from"Zywiec" as end of road in

Oscars, AJ's firsthand knowledge of

Ostrogoths, ill-advised complaint about

overcomers, stories of

Paine, Thomas, history's kindness to

Panelas, Tom:in AJ's visit to EB HQother "faithful readers" found by

Pappas, Theodore

paradoxes, liar

parenthood:avoidance ofcatalog of fears faced inlearn-as-you-gotheories on

parents, Marxian views on

past, present as recap of

past posting:instructions forwith TiVo

Paul (friend), earth explained to

pedophilia:literary fame andin Self-Taught Man

penis rituals, mushrooming and

penthouses, special theory of

"peon," misguided definition of

Peru, New Year's undies in

Peter and Sharon

Petrarch, Francesco, visit to Dr. Phil advised for

Philbin, Regis

philosophy:French, role of crossed eyes inof humanideal forms vs. change in

Picard, Captain, baldness of

pigeons, AJ blown away by

Plato, philosophy of

poetry:depressingdisheartening vs. wisely humbling

polar wandering

pop culture:AJ's promise toEB coverage ofEB light onholes opening in AJ's knowledge ofjokes in

pornography:in Carry Nation's daycross-eyed women inin domain name swipeat reproduction clinic

positive side:of Attila the Hunof Black Deathof frequent illnessesof Krakatoaof Max Schmelingof natural worldof Sepoy Mutiny

pregnancy:of Julie's friendsquest for; see also Jacobs, Jasper; Jacobs, Julie Schoenbergpreliterate societies, ethical relativism as guide to

presidents:log cabin spotlight onspeed reading ascribed toWhite House habits andsee also specific presidents

pretention, five steps to

pronunciation:of Goetheof "motor"overcoming defects in

public relations:in naming GreenlandSeven Wonders concept in

Puccini, Giacomo, operatic personal life of

pulmonary diseases, noble deaths from

puns:Mensan love ofscatological

Pythagoras

quarters, serrated edges on

quizzes:Mensan triviaat New-York Historical Society Museumpopin quiz show auditions,rabbinical

rabbit(s):Fibonacci increases inOswald, the Disney road not takenstuffed

radio, ritualistic turning off of

rap, purveyors of

rap stars, Upper East Side boys dressing like

Rasputin, murder of

Raster Master, speed reading with Les and

rational humanism, Sartre's rejection of

rats, flying, pigeons as

reading:to AJ's gestating boyprocessing vs.of telephone book, name after nameworries about value of

real estate, probable worst deal in

relativity:general theory oflongevity andspecial theory of

religious wars, fondue in

Renaissance Man, specialization vs.

reproductive strategiesof Acarinaof a group including blue-footed boobies and Scottish bundlersof AJ

reptiles, crocs vs. alligators, how to distinguish

rhetorical devices

Rick and Ilene's wedding

Rite of Spring, The (Stravinsky)

rituals:body modifications infertilityhalitzalife-affirmingprivate parts involved inrice-boiling

romance and courtship:breakup strategies inin Civil Warduplicity inKama vs. Cupid inLapland kissingplatonic, unrequited, and required readingshort-livedsee also reproductive strategies; sexual activity

Romans, ancientGreeks wonderful in comparison withsex acts and executions staged bytriumphal marches of

Roosevelt, Theodore

Sahara Desert, "haboob" in

Salieri, Antonio, history's unfair take on

Sampugnaro, Dave:facts collected byas Millionaire lifeline

SAT scores

schedules, overloaded

Schmeling, Max, history's kinder view of

Schoenberg, AlexandraEric's linguistic dispute with

Schoenberg, Barbara, as phone book reader

Schoenberg, Doug, AJ quizzed on As by

Schoenberg, Eric:beaten with Bogglecharacter ofdefeat not an option forEB disputed by"erythrocyte" not known byintellectual competition fromafter Millionaire fiascoas Millionaire lifeline (as know-it-all's know-it-all)in mixed doublesNabokov comeback flung at

Schoenberg, Larry"street smarts" advocated by

Schoenberg familycute and sweet kids invisit of

Scrabblein brailleluck a factor in

screwups, famous

semicolon, bizarre parentage of

September 11 attack, historical context of

1726, Louis XV's 276 hunting days in

sexual activity:in fertility officepurposefulin the Zeus variations

Shakespeare, William, coaching uplifted by

Shanghai Knights (movie), factoid accompaniment of

Shaw, George Bernard

Shortz, Will, as puzzlers' coolest

Siberian explosions, unexplained

siblings, lessons on sharing for

silver lining, see positive side

sitcoms:Brady Bunch, later doings ofguest stars on

64, Hawthorne's inexplicable attraction to

sleep, Kamchatka vs. Tajal view of

snoring, in ethical case study

Some Truths of History: A Vindication of the South against the Encyclopaedia Britannica and Other Maligners (Oglesby)

speech making, rhetorical devices in

sports:fact checking EB article onhow to sound knowledgeable aboutIQ and tennisnicknames inrecords in

sportshirts, Lacoste's disputed reptilian on

Starlight Express (Lloyd Webber)

Star Spangled Banner, The, melody of

Star Trek, Mensans intrigued by

stereotypes, of snails

Sternberg, Robert J.:on crystallized intelligenceon IQ testson Operation Britannica

stinginess scale:AJ's position inor Henry Hudson, who does not do well in

stories, inspiring

success:of homo sapienson Jeopardyknow-it-allin overcoming hurdles

suicide:literarywriters drawn to

syphilis:in lucky conquistadorrecurring theme of

tachycardia, as Valentine's Day sentiment

Taiping Rebellion, rational worldview challenged by

taxonomy, world ordered by

tears, onion-caused

Teddy bear, TR linked with

tennis:how to talk aboutMagnus effect innice shot by Master of the Natural Laws ofparabola of the lob and Coriolis effect as concern inPiss-Poor Backhand effect as determinant in

terrorism, worrying about

35, author's age at this writing

thirty years, life span in 1700s as

thoughts, great, specific vs. general

ticks, patience of

time:aging and acceleration ofin ancient civilizationsof earth's rotationexpansion ofless as betterlight speed andskipping ofyears, how they feel

TiVo, past posting with

toilet, flush, who to thank for

Tolstoy, Leo

Trebek, Alexknowledge showdown expected with

trends, quantitative minimum for

trivia:AJ quizzed onabout Bird in Space (Brancusi)English-languagein Millionaire greenroomOscarin Schott's Original Miscellanytennis

trivia contest, Mensan

Trivial Pursuit

twins:BalineseSiameseVietnamese (fudged)

twirling, dizziness prevented in

two:number of letters in French crossword-favored townsswallowing in pairs of

Tyler, John

universe, end of

Van Buren, Martin, Peggy Eaton befriended by

ventriloquism, Eskimo-Zulu link in

Vieira, Meredith

Vietnam ploy, twin marriage in

Vilna Gaon (Elijah ben Solomon)

Wall Ball, non-Oedipal aspects of

Wall Street, "Witch of"

war, warfare:absurdistretroactive declaration of

warm water, sex change caused by

Washington, George, not actually first president

weeping, canned

weights and measures

Wendy's, philosophy read daily at

Western thought, fetishes in

West Indies, California mistaken for

Who Wants to Be a MillionaireAJ chosen foroutcome ofpreparing fortryingout for

WickedBible, adultery advocated in

Willy (Beryl's husband)

wine, where to send

wisdom:in AJ's "sentences"Bob's sentence asto come with Wsof Ecclesiastesfacts vs.intelligence andintelligence vs.forJasper Jacobsin Judaismnecessity forfrom Operation BritannicaTolstoyanwinning victory for humanity as

Woodhull, Victoria

word gamesBoggleat Mensa conventionscoring system ofScrabble

words:lastlongestScrabble-bound

words and phrases, origins of"bedlam""Buffalo, N.Y.""cappuccino""chauvinism""dog days of summer""essay""going berserk""Grateful Dead""Greenland"group insults in"Houdini""mad as a hatter""mesmerize""Oscar""Quaker"You could also hunt around

World Series game (1977)

worldview:of EB, as rationalfocusing on right things needed forof Vilna Gaonsee also wisdom

World War IILondoner diet in

writers, suicide of

writing, in boustrophedon style

writing class, AJ's advice to

Yale, notable nonfinishers of

Yellow Lightning, recipe for

Zabar's, dating daughter of

Zs, additional

"Zywiec" (The End)

About the Author

A.J. Jacobs is the editor of What It Feels Like and the author of The Two Kings: Jesus and Elvis and America Off-Line. He is the senior editor of Esquire and has written for The New York Times, Entertainment Weekly, New York magazine, New York Observer, and other publications. He lives in New York City with his wife, Julie.