By Tim Sanders

(This column was first printed on March 5, 2001 ... with a brown crayon.)

My wife and I were recently having a question and answer session. I was sitting at the computer, reading an informative little e-mail someone had sent. It was one of those lists containing completely useless bits of information which annoys you as soon as you read it, and compels you to annoy someone else with it, too.

You know what I’m talking about. For example, I learned that the first couple to be shown in bed together in prime time television was Fred and Wilma Flintstone. I also learned that Coca Cola was originally green, that the average cost of raising a medium-sized dog to age 11 is $6,400, that Mel Blanc, the voice of Bugs Bunny, detested carrots, and that intelligent people have more zinc and copper in their hair than do less intelligent people. I do not know who researched all of this, but I will guarantee that the federal government was involved somehow, given all of the spare tax money they have lying around in Washington and the critical importance of such findings to our national security.

So, being a patriotic taxpayer who is deeply interested in issues which affect our daily lives, I quizzed Marilyn from the list.

"Hey, Marilyn," I asked, "what occurs more often in December than in any other month?" Now the correct answer to this question, as determined by a fifteen-year multi-million dollar research study funded by the Federal Department of Meaningless December Trivia, was supposed to be "conception."

Marilyn thought for a moment and answered, "Christmas!"

I should have expected as much from her, but the answer caught me off guard. "Well, for Pete’s sake," I said, "that makes no sense at all."

"Of course it does," she replied. "How many Christmases have you celebrated in June?"

"But the question was ‘what occurs more often?’ Christmas always occurs in December. It never, ever occurs during any other month. Saying that Christmas occurs more often in December than in any other month is like saying Boeing 747s have jet engines more often than hummingbirds do."

"My point exactly," she said. "The very next time you see a jet propelled hummingbird zipping around outside, you let me know. Now if you’re going to ask me questions, don’t argue when I give you a reasonable answer!" Women have a way of oversimplifying things, sometimes. It is rather aggravating.

"OK then," I said, "how about this one? More than half of all Americans live within fifty miles of what?" Again, I’m sure there was some sort of a large federal grant involved in researching this burning question. The answer, according to my little e-mail list, was "Their birthplace."

But if it took millions of dollars and several decades for some research foundation to come up with an answer, Marilyn didn’t hesitate for a moment. Her answer was "Home!"

"You’re being silly," I said. "Of course more than half of all Americans live within fifty miles of home. All of all Americans live within fifty miles of home. They all live at home. You aren’t trying."

"Well, I think you’re forgetting the homeless. But if we accept your theory that all Americans live at home, then it only follows that more than half of them certainly do, and if they live there, then they are obviously within fifty miles of themselves, aren’t they? And if that isn’t the answer you’re looking for, then how about ‘a grocery store?’ If you don’t live within fifty miles of a grocery store, then you’re in pretty sad shape, I’d say."

I lied and told her the grocery store answer was correct. I didn’t want to get into the distinction between "home" and "birthplace." Besides, I was getting a headache.

"Ask me another one," she said. "I think I’m getting the hang of it."

I was beginning to wonder if any of those high paid government researchers had run these questions past their wives before publishing the results. "All right," I said, "Can you tell me what is the shortest sentence in the English language?"

"No," she replied.

"C’mon, give it a try."

"I did, and the shortest sentence in the English language is ‘No.’"

"But ‘No’ is not a complete sentence, because it does not contain a subject and a predicate. ‘No’ is simply a response."

"Then how about ‘Yes?’"

"No."

"Well, make up your mind."

"I mean NO, ‘YES’ IS NOT A SENTENCE, EITHER!"

"If you’re going to shout, I don’t want to play any more," she said.

"FINE!" I replied.

"So what is the answer?" she inquired.

"The shortest sentence in the English language, according to a research study by the United States Department of Short Sentences, is ‘I am.’"

"I am?"

"That’s what it says here."

"I am what?"

"I don’t have the slightest idea what you are. All I know is that’s the answer. Here, take a look for yourself."

"If you’re going to be unreasonable, I quit," she said.

I assured her that I would be more accommodating. "How about this one? Why would a statue in a park have a man mounted on a horse with both feet in the air?"

"Whose feet?"

"The horse’s!"

"Because if the horse had all four feet in the air, the statue would fall over."

At that juncture, it occurred to me that if the shortest sentence in the English language is ‘I am,’ the longest sentence may well be preceded by ‘I do.’

Next week I am applying for a federal grant. I want to test the effectiveness of a new shampoo I’ve been mixing up out in the utility room. It’s green, and loaded with zinc and copper.