Rusty Saber: Rusty readers offer feedback, flak

If you remember early television, you remember "It's Howdy-Doody Time!" Little boys and girls got excited when Howdy's time was called. Now you big boys and girls can get excited because "It's Rusty Readers Feedback time!"

Yes, it's time for me to respond to readers' feedback. Recently, the Rusty Saber commented on the popularity of "buffalo wings," aka "hot wings." I wondered aloud why they are so popular; wings aren't the meatiest part of the chicken. I commented that it may not be the chicken but the tasty hot sauce that makes them so popular.

One reader, who shall remain anonymous, said, "Even a blind hog will occasionally find an acorn." Translation: "You made a lucky guess. Of course, it's the sauce, stupid." Most feedback Rusty receives is like this one, oral, rather than written: This might lead some to conclude that anyone responding to this column can't write.

Well, one of my readers is ambidextrous. No, he can't write with either hand, he can write and figure out how to operate a fax machine at the same time. In response to the aforementioned buffalo wings column, a fax arrived, written in English, the mother tongue, from reader Chuck Armstrong.

He answered the question I had asked as to why chicken wings dipped in hot sauce are called buffalo wings. Hot wings I understood, but buffalo wings? Reader Armstrong very nicely provided the answer, not like the smart-alecky "blind hog" critic. Mr. Armstrong informed me that "buffalo style hot wings" are named for the city where they were invented, Buffalo, N.Y. He added that buffalo wings are like "Springfield cashew chicken." That answer makes a lot of sense. I'm deeply indebted to reader Armstrong for clarifying things for me.

Oddly enough, on the same day I received reader Armstrong's fax, I was at a meeting with another Rusty reader (now I know there are at least two readers) Paul Johns, who independently confirmed that buffalo wings are indeed named for Buffalo, the city. Ask Rusty readers a question, and you get an answer.

I recently wrote about the possible need to increase the size of the seats on the New York City subway because the collective bottoms of well-fed riders have outgrown the 17.5-inch subway seats. I also reported seats in movie houses, at 18 inches, are too small for today's titanic tushes.

A reader told me that I must have been really hard up for a topic to write about. In other words, this reader believed this was a frivolous topic. I beg to differ. To get to the seat of the problem (pun most certainly intended) I would remind my critics that a New York City councilwoman was so concerned about people's potent posteriors that in order to get to the bottom of the problem she actually measured the rear ends of subway riders; afterwards she recommended seats be enlarged to a mammoth 23 inches. Scoff if you will, but if your bucket is bigger than the bucket seat it goes into, you're in for a world of discomfort. I had to know. What size seat would I require if I were a New York subway rider? First-hand research was called for. I did to myself what the esteemed councilwoman did to others. I measured my backside. I'll bet there are some who would have paid cash money to watch that spectacle. I'll keep the actual measurement to myself, but let's just say that I can fit into a 17.5-inch subway seat or 18-inch movie seat and have plenty of room to spare. The bottom line: If the mass of the backside exceeds the area of the seat, one should either get a smaller backside or a larger seat. A frivolous topic, indeed!

I'm surprised that I didn't hear again from the "blind hog and the acorn" critic regarding the recent Rusty Saber column about loud car commercials. He'd probably have said that by sheer accident I hit upon a topic universally liked by everyone, except, of course, car dealers whose screaming commercials sound like ads for tractor pulls. It's been awhile since a Rusty Saber column has created so much feedback. The across-the-board distaste for loud commercials should make dealers who don't yell feel good. Those who scream at the top of their lungs might want to take heed.

(Joe McAdoo is former chairman of the communication department at Drury University and a Springfield public relations consultant.)