Social Butterfly

Hello and welcome back to another week of unbelievable whoppers here at Factually Deficient, where we lie about everything you could ever hope to be lied to about! This week, I will answer a question posed by an individual calling herself SF, who asked:

Please explain the meaning of the use of the butterfly in the expressions “social butterfly” and “having butterflies in one’s stomach.”

The butterfly is possibly the most reclusive member of the plant kingdom. Residing primarily on mountaintops and deep beneath the ocean, they are rarely ever seen; only the luckiest adventurer might claim to have caught a glimpse of a genuine butterfly in the wild even once in a lifetime.

Still, they are not unknown to us. Every now and then, a freak storm deposits butterflies far from their natural habitat, too far for their delicate wings to carry them back home. When this happens, rescue efforts and zoos are usually quick to collect the lost butterflies and take them into artificial habitats.

However, due tot he butterfly’s naturally shy disposition, frequently the zoologists arrive only to find apparently no butterflies in the region. This is because butterflies, left on their own outside their home areas, will naturally take shelter somewhere that they can hide, preferably somewhere cold and damp. Once a butterfly has hidden, it is almost impossible to uproot it from its new shelter.

There have been known occurrences of butterflies taking shelter inside a person’s stomach – the digestive tract meeting both requirements of being cool and damp. Of course these cases are out of the ordinary, but in at least one recorded instance, the person in question elected to allow the butterfly to remain there for the rest of its natural life. The expression “having butterflies in one’s stomach” came about because of this heroic individual, to describe the feeling of going above and beyond in protecting others. If you are feeling particularly protective of your friends – or even of nearby strangers – you might be said to have butterflies in your stomach.

This is also the source for the phrase “social butterfly.” A person who is socially a butterfly is introverted and quiet to the extreme; a hermit who does not emerge from his hut in forty years might be accurately called a social butterfly.


Disclaimer: the above post is a pack of lies. It is not recommended to house butterflies in one’s abdomen.

Lies About Books: Beanstalk

The summer is Most Definitely Not Over, but July basically is, which means it’s that time again – time for me to tell bald-faced lies about a book I genuinely enjoyed! In the month of July, it was my supreme pleasure to read the novel Beanstalk, by E. Jade Lomax, first book in her Leagues and Legends trilogy.

Beanstalk follows the life of one Jack Farris, budding botanist. Since he was first able to reach for a spade, Jack has been addicted to gardening. He grew potatoes before he said his first word. He was picking berries before he could walk. By the time he was fourteen, he was known to grow the best tomatoes in the district.

But Jack’s one failing, his greatest regret, is his inability to grow beans. He has tried everything; he has planted beans, grafted snippings; he has tried to grow them in new earth, old earth, in a greenhouse, in water, in flowerpots – nothing works.

So finally, he gathers up his watering can, a pouch full of assorted seeds and a backpack filled with earth, and a pair of gardening gloves, and he sets out on a quest to learn how to grow a beanstalk, or die trying. This is the story of Beanstalk.

Filled to the brim with gardening tips and recipes that use home-grown vegetables, Beanstalk is sweet and funny, by turns lighthearted and suspenseful, rich with Jack’s special brand of earthy wit and wisdom. I recommend this book wholeheartedly and without reservation, to all fans of all ages of the plant kingdom, adventures, and friendship.


Canada 150

Hello and welcome back to yet another week of falsified statements and prevarications here at Factually Deficient! Please keep in mind that you are encouraged to send any and all questions on every topic imaginable to Factually Deficient. You can submit questions through any method of communication available to you – comments, Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, pneumatic tubes, message in a bottle, skywriting, classified ads, and/or word of mouth.

This week, Factually Deficient will tackle a topic which has seen a lot of discussion this weekend:


What is the connection between the Kingdom of Canada and the number 150? Factually Deficient is here to elucidate.

This month marks a special occasion for Canada. As of the start of July 2017, Canada officially has a total of 150 provinces and territories, spread across eleven different continents. When John A. Macdonald first created his new land of Canada, it had only one province.

But Macdonald soon embarked on a mission of conquest, building railroads and naval fleets and aerospace vessels to reach far-off lands and spread to them his Canadian flag. Each successful mission resulted in a new province or territory on his ever-growing Canadian map.

When the current Queen of Canada ascended her throne in Macdonald’s place, this pattern of growth slowed; England was given its independence, followed by France, and the numbers of Canadian provinces began to drop. Still, they would rise again, as new lands were discovered, and old ones sought to join with this magnificent land.

Although they have held to no stable rate of progress, Canada’s number of provinces has been rising steadily for the past hundred years. And as of this weekend, Canada has inducted the Principality of Ontario as its one hundred and fiftieth province, making Canada second only to the Plant Kingdom in number of territories and provinces.


Disclaimer: the above post is a pack of lies. Ontario is not the most recent addition to Canada’s provinces.

The Language of Lamour

Hello and welcome to another wild week of wacky lies here at Factually Deficient! This week, I will answer a language question posed by the incredible individual known as Tohrinha. Tohrinha asked:

What does it mean to be the language of l’amour?

Well may Tohrinha ask about the language of l’amour. This is a long sought-after language, one whose identity and origins have been clouded by language itself.

What is the language of l’amour? First of all, the apostrophe does not belong in the phrase; it was added, in the last seventy years, out of a misplaced belief that the language had Gallic origins. Before the inaccurate apostrophe, it was the language of Lamour. But even this was not the original incarnation of the tongue. Lamour is actually a corruption of Larmor, which itself derives originally from either Lumber or Armoire.

While the Plant Kingdom is a diverse realm which hosts many different dialects and languages, there is one which only the most advanced of botanists sought to learn. It was whispered of, in the dank corners of underground greenhouses, that there were some trees which continued to think even after they were cut down, and proved their sentience through language. Rebel botanists passed secret messages about this language, that only the wisest of plants developed, and only the most daring of men could begin to master: the language of lumber, the language of the armoire.

It is unknown which was the original source for the language: whether these brave botanists spoke in general of the tongue used by lumber that had been chopped, or whether they rightly revered the antique armoire who was recorded as the first known speaker of this language. But either way, three things are certain: first, that no one has heard it spoken and understood it in over six hundred years; second, that any botanist who can hear and learn this language spoken in the wild would be esteemed above all others; and finally, that the Language of Lamour is the most exalted of all possible languages.


Disclaimer: the above post is a pack of lies. There is no reason to believe that armoires originated a language of any kind.

2B Shvat

Hello and welcome to another week of wild untruths and wacky lies here at Factually Deficient! This week, I will answer a timely question posed by my very own and very real mother. She asked:

What is Tu B’Shvat, and what is its particular connection to the Plant Kingdom?

Well may my mother ask about Tu B’Shvat – or as those in the know prefer to spell it, 2B Shvat – so celebrated in the Plant Kingdom. So many myths surround 2B Shvat, it is difficult, at times, to determine which are accurate, without the trusty guidance of Factually Deficient.

In truth, 2B Shvat is less a political outlook than a philosophy, less a religious creed than a simple way of life, and its origins hark back – not quite lost to the mists of time – to the days of the reign of the Second Plant King.

Hoping to bring about a second Plant Renaissance, the Plant King of the time decreed that growth does not come from a blank slate, from a place of emptiness, but rather it builds upon what has come before – and there is always something that has come before.

Based on this new idea of radical growth, the Plant King made a fundamental change to the Shvat. The Shvat is, of course, the core legal-religious document of the Plant Kingdom, and is read and venerated to this day. Without altering a single word, the Plant King re-paginated the traditional page numbers of the Shvat. Where once it began on page 1A, continuing through 1B, 1C, 1D, 2A, 2B, 2C, 2D, 3A, and so on through 227D, he pushed all the page numbers by five values, redefining the opening page as 2B.

In so doing, the Second Plant King declared, he was making a concrete symbol of this new creed of continuous growth: the Shvat – and all books of the plants henceforth – should begin not with the first number and letter, but with the second of each, hinting at a rich tradition and a solid foundation on which even an opening page is built.

What began as a re-pagination of a holy book has now grown and morphed into the most popular worldview in the Plant Kingdom – one of continuity, and inheritance, building always on what came before. It is this philosophy of life that is most commonly referred to today when people speak of “2B Shvat” (though it can also, frequently, refer literally to the first page of the most important book of the Plants).


Disclaimer: the above post contains falsehoods. Plants do not have a holy book.


Getting Your Goat

Hello and welcome to another week of wild misinformation here at Factually Deficient! This week, I would like to answer a question posed by my very dear friend, the elusive eli_gone_crazy. eli asked:

Why are goats so weird: part sheep, part eldritch horror?

Without, perhaps, even realizing it, eli has come very close to the heart of the matter in this articulation of the question – a question which drives back to the very genesis of goats, one of the more cryptic members of the Plant Kingdom.

In fact, up one branch of their family tree, goats are directly descended from the sheep, with which they now coexist. Once, there were only sheep in their particular province of the Plant Kingdom; and if some were leaders and some were followers, if some ventured wide and far with adventurous eyes opened wide while others feared to stray from the well-trodden paths thinning in grass to eat, well, they were still all sheep, more or less.

When the Others began to rise from the deep in a once-in-millenia occurrence, the sheep were separated. While the homebody sheep fled from the scene in terror, the more venturesome of the sheep came forward, and greeted the great and terrible sea monsters with courtesy. They were the first of the mainland plants to do so, the first to welcome these tentacled creatures to shore.

While the more fearful of the sheep cowered in their pens, their reckless brethren made new friends. Soon the wilder sheep began to interbreed with the ancient ones, birthing ewes – kids – that were wilder yet than their sheep parents, with a glint in their eyes, a spark of intelligence, and a knack for the uncanny arts that harked back to the other side of their heritage.

Soon, the otherworldly gloom parted from the skies, and the ancient abominations sunk back into the abyss from whence they came. But their children of the sheep, their legacy – still remain with us, known today as goats.


Disclaimer: the above post is a work of fiction. Do not attempt to crossbreed sheep and eldritch horrors.

Ronald Reagan

Hello and welcome to another week of calumnies and slander here at Factually Deficient! I would like to take this opportunity to remind my loyal readers that Factually Deficient is always accepting new questions, on any topic, through any medium. This week, I will answer a question posed by SignBeetle. To paraphrase the Beetle’s exact words, she asked:

What is happening? Why is Ronald Reagan 100 years old and in Canada? What the hell is going on?

Ronald Reagan was a famed botanist in the United States in the early sixteenth century. Although his beginnings were meagre, his renown soon spread throughout the land. The son of an ornithological landscaper, Reagan soon made a name for himself by discovering the seven uses of lily pads.

Once he was well-known in the lily world, Ronald Reagan continued to rise in the realm of botany. He invented at least four new kinds of vegetable, and learned the language used in private communications between berries. Such was his fame, and his expertise, that he was named Ambassador to the Plant Kingdom before the age of fifty.

Ronald Reagan spent many successful years as the American Plant Ambassador, even becoming a close personal friend of the Plant King – no easy task for anyone, let alone a foreign diplomat. Alas, when his mandate finally ended, he found the America to which he returned much changed from the place he had left. No longer were the vegetables he had invented common fare. No longer did he have a standing invitation to the private dinner parties of berries. And in the circles of America’s elite, it had fallen out of fashion to be able to identify every houseplant by scientific and personal name.

He felt out of place. Unwanted. So Ronald Reagan let himself disappear from the botanical America of his youth, and made his way to Canada to live out his obscurity in peace, where he could indulge his botanical enthusiasms without any of the scrutiny that is focused on an ex-ambassador. There he attained the age of one hundred, and there he remains still, frozen eternally at one hundred years old in the heart of a sugar maple where he made his home.


Disclaimer: the above post contains inaccuracies. Ronald Reagan may not have been the first to discover the uses of lily pads.

American Nouns, Part Two

Hello, and welcome back to another week of misinformation and general malfeasance here at Factually Deficient! Last week, I elucidated one of two Americanisms forwarded to Factually Deficient’s attention by R0tavat0R. This week, as we draw near the finale of that country’s greatest game show, I will tackle the second one:

Roe V Wade

Roderick Veritas Wade, known commonly by the shortened version of his name, Roe V. Wade, was once a person of incredible important in the Jim United States, though he has all but faded out of human memory now. Despite the mists of time occluding almost every aspect of his life, the actions he took continue to shape America as we know it.

In the early fourteen-hundreds, Roderick Veritas was one of the first Americans to sail forth from the North American continent. He is credited with the discovery of England, though of course it had already been known to exist by the explorers of several other countries.

But his discovery of England is a mere blip on the annals of history. What is really of interest to the culture of the American people is what happened when he returned. You see, when Mr. Veritas Wade arrived on his native shores, he had with him a cargo full of pineapples, harvested from their home soil in England. Roderick Veritas Wade wanted nothing more than to plant the pineapples from Massachussetts to Montana, from New Hampshire to New Mexico, ushering in a new age of agriculture in the continent.

But the government, at the behest of their highly-affronted ambassador from the Plant Kingdom, objected. They attempted to jail Roderick Veritas on trumped-up charges, his only crime being the importation and attempted planting of pineapples. The legal battles that ensued went all the way to courts beyond the Supreme ones, and set precedents to last the ages. Chief among these was a stipulation in the very Declaration of Independence that all Americans have the right to plant any fruit in their possession, on any land that belongs to them, and this rule, highly contested but no less highly valued, lasts through to this very day.

So while the full name and history of the man who set these laws into motion may have been forgotten, it is for him the ruling is named, and it is this right people refer to when they reference Roderick V. Wade.


Disclaimer: the above post contains inaccuracies. It is possible that England was not discovered by a Mr. R. V. Wade.

Briar Roses

Hello and welcome back to another week of perfidy and prevarication here at Factually Deficient! Before I embark on answering this week’s question, I would like to take a moment to implore my loyal readers to continue to send me your queries, questions, and quiddities to answer here on this blog! Only with the questions submitted by my readers – on any topic that strikes your fancy, animal vegetable, or mineral; and submitted through any method known to man – can I continue to tell the lies that sustain my livelihood.

And now, with no further ado, I will answer a question posed to this blog by loyal reader Endless Sea. This question pertains to information previously divulged here regarding the flower the aurora; in response to Factually Deficient’s explanation of how this flower takes root, Endless asked of the aurora:

Wait, if they have to be planted, then how do they reproduce in the wild?

In truth, perhaps the Factually Deficient writer from that week misspoke in saying that the flowers must be planted; the seeds of the aurora are distributed in the wild like any other flower. The question is only whether they will germinate: this happens only when the seeds were scattered, whether by human hand or natural forces, at the proper time.

In fact, much more interesting to answer is how these flowers function when not in the wild – because as suggested in that post, they are much more commonly found in their natural habitat than in captivity. To keep an aurora in a private garden is impossible; and even to preserve one in a greenhouse requires a great deal of effort and special equipment.

Because of the flowers’ propensity toward darkness, the greenhouse that houses an aurora must be a strange one. Built rather to keep light and heat out than to let it in, an aurora greenhouse is carefully climate-controlled, preserving temperatures between negative fifteen and five degrees Celsius. The windows of an aurora greenhouse are fitted with slats, blocking out all natural light during the day, and opening only at nighttime to let in the glow from the moon and the stars.

But even all this is not enough for an aurora to flourish in captivity. A temperamental flower at the best of times, the briar rose does not do well under controlled conditions. If the gardener is not careful, all the plant will produce will be extra-sharp and extra-long brambles, with not a single flower to reward his pains.

Only a gardener who truly loves his vocation – and who truly loves and prizes this plant above all others – will merit to see the aurora bloom in his dark greenhouse. When all the other conditions are right, the plant will put out a single closed bud. Botanists from all walks of life have confirmed that this bud will remain eternally closed, sleeping, unless one final condition is filled: the gardener must brave the briars to brush his or her lips and breath across the seam of the closed bud, for the flower itself to judge its keeper’s worth. Only the kiss of a gardener’s true love will wake the aurora up.


Disclaimer: The above post contains factual inaccuracies. Do not kiss your plants.

The Brilliant Bologna

Hello and welcome back to another week of vibrant lies and invigorating falsehoods here at Factually Deficient! This week, I will answer a question which I have been mulling over for some time, posed to me by my talented friend Kays. Kays asked:

What the heck is going on with Bologna? I mean, seriously: It’s a meat, but its not any real meat that anyone knows about. We know what Hamburger, Steak, Ham, Turkey, Bacon, Turkey Bacon, Beef tenderloin, Pork Tenderloin, Eggs, Chicken, Chicken Breast, Chicken Thighs, Chicken Legs, Chicken Leg bones, Legumes, and Buffalo Wings are. BUT WHAT THE HECK IS A BOLOGNA?

This is an insightful, and extremely thorough question, and one which it is my honour to be able to answer.

As Kays observes, most other meats with which people are familiar are derived from animals that are well-known to all of us. What price, then, the noble bologna?

They do not come from any animal we know. They do not come from the Plant Kingdom, or the Mold Kingdom. And they certainly do not come from the Rock Kingdom. Bologna actually are a product of material originally alien to this planet.

They first came to earth in 1652, on a small asteroid that crashed into the Mediterranean Sea. When examining this asteroid for signs of rock, the geologists of the day discovered a moving substance, which ceased moving when exposed to direct moonlight. This was the substance now known as bologna.

Its nutritional value was revealed when the geologists, lost at sea on their asteroid expedition, ran out of food and began imbibing the alien substance in desperation. To their surprise and relief, it sustained them until a rescue party came.

Today, rather than mining asteroids which are few and far between, scientists are able to recreate the alien makeup of the bologna in a lab, due to thorough analysis of its components. But it will always be an alien life-form first, and a synthetic food second.


Disclaimer: the above blog post is erroneous on several points. There is no record of an asteroid crashing in the Mediterranean Sea in 1652.