An inverted table, its legs in the air, hosts this "topsy-turvy banquet in London."  From Popular Mechanics, 1914.

We found the very day in which the square root of negative one was captured in an imp bottle.  From the Proceedings of the American Association for the Advance of Science, 1851.  Since the advent of the New Inquisition, no scientific paper could be written like this, from the mention of the "shadowy imp" in the first sentence to the "mighty musician who attunes the pythagorean harmony of the universe" in the last.

Revealed: what's inside Bibendum.  From Le Rire, 1908.

Compare this to the "crinoline monster" we posted previously.

TheWildSwan asked us: "Are we allowed to take books to the afterlife?"

Our answer: Yes.  To cite one bit of literary evidence, Andrew Bennett speaks of '''the 'posthumous life' of writing, but also the posthumous life of reading" (Keats, Narrative and Audience: The Posthumous Life of Writing, 1994).

"If a jelly fish could slap a rat in the face, he would do it.  But he can't.  He has no arms.  Neither does he have a backbone."  From Popular Mechanics, 1924.

You've heard of exploding cigars, but here's how they work.  From Kladderadatsch, 1935.

This is the first image we've encountered of Bibendum relieving himself (if that floats your boat).  From Le Rire, 1913.

We speak of "life on earth," yet: "One truth is indeed obvious, that the world is yet by no means inhabited" (The Anti-Jacobin Review, 1821).  This is a precursor to the Devo lyric, "Scientists prove we were never here."

"Natural-grown wooden bear."  From Popular Mechanics, 1909.

An edible umbrella.  From The Harvard Lampoon, 1883.

You've heard sarcastic mention of the world's tiniest violin, but here's who made that violin.  From Popular Mechanics, 1925.

"Human nerves act as wireless antennae."  From Popular Mechanics, 1920.

You've heard of people with "ants in their pants."  Here's how it happens.  From Ulk, 1921.

You've heard of coffee-table books, but here's a New England farmhouse's autobiography.  And just in case you couldn't believe it, the subtitle reassures that it's "A Book."  (The Autobiography of a New England Farm-house: A Book by Nathan Henry Chamberlain, 1864.)

You've heard that a book is a doorway.  Literally so, in the case of Janet, a Poor Heiress by Sophie May, 1882.  Knock loudly — she's home.

From Fraser's Magazine, 1858.