An English Bulldog : She Should Forget Noble Thoughts and Focus on the Battle Royal

A blur of orange, the faint whisper of polyester, and once again Mr. O.C. is among us, ready to answer your pressing questions about culture and disportment in this confusing county.

Since we introduced this occasional advice column feature of Lost in O.C. a couple of months ago, we’ve been deluged with letters, but neither of them was long enough to fill up a whole article, so once again Mr. O.C. is compelled to pad the proceedings with questions he feels you’d like to ask if any of you actually were reading this column.

Let’s kick things off this week with an actual reader letter:

Dear Mister,

What can we do about people in Orange County who say “between you and I” or “he gave the tickets to Alice and I?”

In an interview on television Princess Fergie answered a rude question from an interviewer with “That’s between Andrew and I.” If the Royal Family no longer speaks the King’s English, why should I care? Me and my husband argue a lot about it. He’s more interested in the rude question.

Sincerely, A Fan.

Dear A Fan,

Fergie’s answer properly should have been, “There is another man between Andrew and I.”

That aside, I’m with your husband. Who cares about syntax or diction or whatever that stuff is when you can slag the Royals instead? Compare these examples:

1) “Between you and me, he gave the tickets to Alice and me.”

2) “Prince Charles couples with elk. Di drinks Bactine. That’s the Queen Mother in the feminine itch commercials.”

Which would you rather hear? Me too.

The British people I know are always tickled by our love for and fascination with the Royal Family, since in England they tend to be regarded as large blood-sucking ticks stuck on the working class’ necks. I imagine in a few years some hot, sweaty U.S. town will just buy the Royal Family like we did the London Bridge. Then they’ll have to spend the rest of their regal lives on display while hot, sweaty tourists parade by eating fish and chips. Maybe Alice and me will even buy tickets to see them.

Dear Mister,

What’s going to become of the Pacific Amphitheatre now that the concert promoters are turning the property over to the state of California? Will the state take over booking the venue?

I believe they are going to fill it with water, stock it with fish and open it to local anglers. Soon, fishermen will be able to cast their poles from banks that once were the upper berm of the 19,000-seat theater. Along with bass, trout and other freshwater game fish, lucky fishermen may hope to snag an errant rock star or two: “Hey, I caught Phil Lesh!”

“I only got a bluegill and Prince.”

“Sorry, the law says you gotta throw him back.”

We who live within a mile of the place can now heave a sigh of relief that our summer nights no longer will be infected with the distant sound of 19,000 aging hippies singing along with “Teach Your Children.” It might be recalled that when the city of Costa Mesa first approved the amphitheater, it was described as a far smaller place that would present Shakespearean plays and the like. The closest the Pacific ever got to Shakespeare was when it brought in fellow Englishman Ozzy Osbourne.

Several neighbors objected to the noise coming from amphitheater shows, which prevented them from properly enjoying the police helicopter that is forever buzzing above the rooftops of this fair town. The neighbors sued the amphitheater. The city sued the amphitheater. The amphitheater tried to settle things by booking the police helicopter to do Shakespeare’s “A Midsummer’s Night Dream,” but Ozzy bit the wings off.

Let’s hope the fish make a better go of it.

Dear Mister,

I like goats.

I can’t much say I blame you.

In recent weeks there has been a really cute batch of goats chewing their way through the chaparral in the hills of Laguna Beach. When last sighted they were up at the top of Bluebird Canyon. They are being used to create a firebreak, work that in less enlightened, less ecologically proper communities usually is accomplished by machinery, defoliants or convict labor. Goats have a much sweeter disposition than convicts, and you can milk them.

Dear Mister,

I’ve always heard that Walt Disney was cryogenically frozen when he died. Is this true?

Well, “Disney on Ice” is the title of the first family entertainment show coming into the new Anaheim Arena. With acts like Barely Manenuff also scheduled to appear in the arena, we all may have cause to wish we were frozen, or at least pickled.

Dear Mister,

When I buy a $16.98 list compact disc, where does that money go?

Out of your fool pocket.

Dear Mister,

How can you and your ilk presume to know about life in Orange County when all you do is sit in a windowless office all day?

We have a TV.

Please write. As you may know, The Times is the industry leader in using recycled paper, and we have to get the stuff from someplace. You can contact Mister O.C. at OC Live!, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, Calif., 92626.