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RING! RING! RING!

“Hello. This is Dick Yarbrough, your modest and much-beloved columnist speaking. How may I help you?

“Dickie, it’s your old pal, Artie!”

“Artie? Artie who?”

“Artie Fishel, of Artie Fishel Intelligence. Surely, you remember me.”

“Ah, yes. You are the robot thing that called me some time back and told me that Artie Fishel Intelligence was ready to replace me in the paper because you know where to put commas, could easily explain Euclidean geometry and that you speak 7,000 languages. For your information, my readers don’t care about where I put commas as long as they see one every once in a while. And they are more interested in trigonometric functions as a solution to differential equations than Euclidean geometry. I hear that all the time. As for speaking 7,000 languages …”

“Uh, that is what I would to talk to you about, sir. I need your assistance with a language problem I am having.”

“Artie Fishel Intelligence is having a language problem? You’ve got to be kidding! As we say in Bhojpuri, ‘Kana usa ka hoot.’”

“Actually, that’s Cebuano, not Bhojpuri. But, yes, I am having a great deal of trouble understanding your Southern language. Nothing in my binary codes and mathematical algorithms seems to work. For example, when I hear the word ‘mater,’ my response is that is Latin for ‘mother,’ which is acceptable all over the world, but not in Rentz or Cadwell. They say a ‘mater’ is an edible berry of the plant Solanum lycopersicum and best served sliced on white bread with lots of mayonnaise. That makes no sense.”

“It does to the folks in Rentz and Cadwell.”

“And many of your Southern colleagues seem to have an abiding interest in sailing. I keep getting asked about yawl which as you know is a two-masted sailing vessel with the mizzen mast positioned abaft – or behind – the rudder stock. A caller in Cherry Log asked me, ‘How yawl doing?’ I said, ‘To my knowledge, most yawls currently seem to be in shipshape condition, thank you.’ He said, ‘Yawl didn’t answer my question, Mr. Artie Fishel Intelligence,’ and hung up on me. What should I have said?”

“Next time just say, ‘We’re all fine. How’s momma ‘n them?’”

“And you Southerners and your obsession with repairing things. I had a caller in Social Circle ask for my advice about fixing supper. I did not know how to respond. Nothing in my variational encoder has prepared me for repairing a meal which, by the way, in most of the civilized world is called dinner. I can fix a thermonuclear reactor or a lawnmower – but supper? What is there to fix? Just throw it out and start over. That’s what I say.”

“You’ve got a lot to learn about the South, Artie.”

“Yes, I will have to agree. When a Tsongan in Southern Mozambique says ‘Avuxeni,’ I always respond by saying ‘vana na siku lerinene.’ But it has taken me a long time to figure out that in the South ‘Hi U’ is not a fruit punch but is your way of saying, ‘hello.’ And when you carry grandma to the grocery store, you haven’t hefted the poor thing on your shoulders. You have likely driven her there. And that a ranch is not a spread where the buffalo roam and the skies are not cloudy all day, but rather a tool one uses to replace the sparkplugs in one’s ’69 Ford pickup truck.”

“Artie you may be smarter than I have give you credit for. You see, we are pretty smart in the South and there is nothing artificial about it. We may talk slow but we don’t think slow. Now, if you will excuse me, I am fixing me a sliced mater on white bread with lots of mayonnaise. You ought to try it. I promise it is plum good.”

“Hmm. I thought a plum was a fruit with origins in China. I have so much to learn about the South but I’m fixing to do just that, Bubba!”