Tag Archives: Pat Boone

fiction, funny stories, humor, ideas, silliness

A very special double repost…

I’m running short on ideas today, and I’m feeling a bit silly. I ran across this post from October 2018 on my original blog. It’s a ridiculous story idea I had back then involving Pernell Roberts, Howard Keel, and Mr. Yuk. I used to write a lot of fiction stories to pass the time, as well as to creatively express myself when people got on my nerves. I don’t write much fiction these days, but since these two posts made me laugh, I’ve decided to share them today. I doubt anyone will read them, but at least they won’t cause controversy.

An erotic story involving Pernell Roberts, Howard Keel, and Mr. Yuk… (originally written October 10, 2018)

I’m sure I could find any number of outrageous news stories to rant about today.  I will probably do just that in a little while.  It’s just that I’ve noticed my blog is not as much fun as it has been in the past.  I’ve been dealing with a little depression and anxiety lately, which has had a noticeable effect on my writing. 

Yesterday, I had a random idea of writing a fiction story about the late actor, Pernell Roberts.  I know him best from his years as Trapper John, M.D., but other people remember him from Bonanza.  I remember he also starred in a Lassie movie back in 1978.  In that film, he played a bad guy.

Sexy Pernell Roberts… there was a time when my dad could sing sort of like this.  I can appreciate it now, but didn’t so much when I was growing up.  Pernell Roberts had a lovely singing voice, though.  Many people thought my dad had a lovely voice, too.  He probably did and I just didn’t like it because of our fucked up father/daughter relationship.  Oh… and the fact that he wasn’t trained.

I think Mr. Roberts is on my mind because I somehow wound up subscribed to a YouTube channel honoring him.  Someone uploaded a bunch of episodes of Trapper John, M.D. and I started watching them last night because Bill is in Italy.  He’ll be back tonight– it was just a one night trip– but I’ll still be alone until after bedtime.  Maybe I’ll watch more Trapper John, M.D., or maybe I’ll make music.  Who knows?  Or maybe I’ll spend the day writing silly stories for those who enjoy my warped sense of humor.

Anyway, I noticed that a number of female commenters on the YouTube videos were saying they thought Pernell Roberts was “sexy”.  I have to admit, now that I am myself middle aged, I agree that he was rather sexy in those days.  Of course, Trapper John was a typically strong male character on the TV show.  He was authoritarian, particularly with his female patients.  Some women are turned on by a strong man who tells them to get in bed and stay there.  Actor Gregory Harrison, who played hospital Lothario Gonzo Gates, was probably there for the younger crowd.  Both of them were such caring dudes… and so skilled as they saved their patients from whatever devastating malady they had while romancing them under the sheets.

Then, as I started thinking about Pernell Roberts, I remembered the late actor Howard Keel and how he always reminded me of a horse peeing on a rock.  I mean, he was really tall and probably made a lot of noise because of the length his whiz had to drop.  I remember seeing him in Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, which was filmed in the 1950s, when he was young and studly.  But as a child of the 70s and 80s, I remember him best when he was on Dallas, playing Clayton Farlow.  Maybe it was because all of the horses they used on that show and the fact that I’ve spent a lot of time around horses and know what they sound like when they pee… especially the geldings.

Damn… I would love to have a horse that did this!  Cleaning up horse pee is no fun, especially when it’s hot outside.

The guy who officiated at my wedding, then a Presbyterian minister and now a Certified Nurse’s Aide and Catholic, asked me if my erotic story involving Pernell Roberts would involve surgical instruments or horses.  And that just made me think of Howard Keel peeing on a rock again.

Oh my God… speaking of piss.  This is probably one of the most cornball pop songs of the 1980s.  What in the hell possessed Howard Keel to sing this over any one of the classic standards he did in his prime?  

So then, just as I was gathering ideas about other things I could put in my erotic story, I caught this clip from 1988, starring the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders.  Front and center is current Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader Director, Kelli Finglass, back when she was in her prime and still on the squad…

I was about 16 when they did this.  Look at that hair!  And those shorts look almost like granny panties compared to what they wear today.  My hair was never quite that big.  For the record, I prefer Kelli’s hair the lovely shade of red it is now.  Frosted, frizzy blonde doesn’t flatter her.

Finally, someone shared this picture of Brett Kavanaugh, who will always be a glorified frat boy to me…  

And I was reminded of this…  I wonder if Kavanaugh has ever made this face before having sex with someone.  I wonder if anyone has ever made this face before having sex with him…

Wow… they could be brothers.

Maybe I should write a story involving all of these people.  It wouldn’t even have to be erotic.  I could probably have some fun with it, kill some time, and stay out of trouble.  I do have a very strange mind sometimes, especially when I’m bored.

My latest book is about the East German police, so it’s probably just as well if I write some fiction or something, before I start having nightmares about the Stasi.  Shit… I might as well do it.  

And here it is…

Mr. Yuk gets a treatment he’ll never forget… (written later on October 10, 2018)

Let’s see where my warped imagination takes me…  This story is pure fictional nonsense, pulled straight from the bowels of my mind.  It took about an hour to write this and it probably shows.


It was an unseasonably cool, fall afternoon at San Francisco Memorial Hospital.  The year was 1982.  Dr. John McIntyre, otherwise known as Trapper, was looking dashing in his surgical scrubs, having just removed Clayton Farlow’s appendix.  He was feeling pumped up, because he’d just told Farlow to go to bed and stay there.  It gave Trapper a rush to tell people what to do, especially guys who were taller and more famous than he was.

Farlow was lying in bed, groaning because the incision where his appendix had been removed was a little itchy.  But because Trapper was both authoritarian and a little kinky, he’d had Farlow’s wrists tied to the bedrails.  It was only because Farlow was just coming out of the anesthesia and might try to monkey with the tubes and such.

“Don’t worry, Kid,” Trapper had told him as he tenderly adjusted Farlow’s oxygen mask, “we’ll untie your wrists when you have your wits more about you.  I’ll be back later.”

Farlow grimaced as he watched his sexy doctor prance away.  Farlow wasn’t into men sexually, but he’d been in show business longer than Trapper had and learned to appreciate the beauty in everything and everyone.  Besides, whatever drugs Trapper had given him were wonderful, even if his incision was a little itchy.

For all of his fame on Broadway and primetime television, Farlow had not managed to score a private room.  Lying in the bed next to his was a guy popularly known as Mr. Yuk.  His name was actually Brett, though, and he was quite the whiny brat.  Farlow cast a disapproving look at the young man– all of seventeen years old– lying in his hospital bed looking really disgruntled and bored.  He looked like this…

Farlow wanted to ask Brett why he was so yucky.  The boy had a constant scowl on his face, like he smelled something disgusting or had just walked in on his parents having sex.  But the oxygen mask prevented Farlow from saying anything intelligible and he was embarrassed about his wrists being restrained.  So Farlow remained curious while Brett clicked the remote control on the boxy TV, trying to find something interesting to watch.  He finally stopped on a channel featuring a certain female collie named Lassie.

“Yeah…” Brett snarled.  “This is more like it.  I like watching bitches on TV.”

Good entertainment for the sick…

Farlow rolled his eyes as he recognized familiar faces…  There was Mickey Rooney, Pernell Roberts, who looked a whole lot like Trapper, James Stewart, Alice Faye, and music by his old friends, Pat Boone and daughter, Debby.  Good old fashioned, wholesome, kid friendly entertainment!  It was just what the doctor ordered!

“I really could use a beer.” Brett snarled to himself.  “Fuck being stuck in the hospital.  This place sucks!”

Just then, a pretty nurse named Kelli came into the room.  She was all smiles and had a figure that could stop traffic!  Her hair was as big as her smile was, and Brett could see that her starched white nurse’s uniform was just a little shorter than it should have been.  Casting his eyes downward, he could see the nurse’s adorable knees covered by her white tights.  He looked at her shoes.  They were sensible nurse’s shoes, showing that the woman was just as intelligent as she was sexy.

“Hello Mr. Farlow.” Kelli chirped as she checked his vital signs.  She moved like a dancer, her catlike grace surprisingly apparent as she moved about the tight quarters, cleverly keeping her sweet ass away from Brett’s reach.  “You’re looking much better today.” she said, checking his temperature. “Your fever is almost gone!  Trapper will be happy to hear this!  Yea!”

Farlow looked hopefully at his wrists, but the nurse didn’t seem to notice his distress.  Instead, she adjusted the oxygen mask one last time and turned her attention to Mr. Yuk, aka Brett the brat.

“How are we feeling?” Nurse Kelli asked as she recorded Brett’s blood pressure.

“This place sucks.  I have so many calendars I need to update.  I need to get back to school.  I’m missing so many keggers it’s not funny.” Brett whined.  “I’m being held against my will.”

“I’m sure you’ll be out of here before you know it.” the nurse said.  “You know, once you’re eighteen, you can check yourself out whenever you want.  For now, we have to wait for the doctor and your parents to say it’s okay.”

Kelli turned away from Brett, who then took the opportunity to pinch her ass.

“Ouch!” Kelli yelped.  “I see why they call you Mr. Yuk now!” she scolded as Brett’s face turned into that familiar scowl.  “You really are a naughty boy.  We’ll have to see what we can do about that.”

“Stop trying to impugn my character.” Brett snapped. 

“I’ll be back later.” Kelli promised.  “Enjoy the movie.”

With a heavy sigh, Brett turned his attention back to Lassie and her young master, on the run from Pernell Roberts’ evil character, Jameson.  He was about to start singing along with Pat Boone when Trapper barged into the room.  He started checking Farlow and then untied the man’s wrists. 

“You seem ‘with it’ now.” Trapper said as he patted his patient on the head, patronizingly. 

Farlow eagerly reached up and pulled the mask off his face.  “Can we get rid of this damned thing too?  It feels like a gag.” he complained.

Trapper frowned a bit, looked concerned, and said, “Well, not so fast… let’s not rush things…  You’re going to be in here for a week.  What’s your hurry?”

He glanced up at the television and saw Pernell Roberts chasing Lassie, calling her Heatherbelle.  “Man, I hope that guy gets his dog back.” Trapper said under his breath.

Trapper moved over to Brett, who was looking really disagreeable.  “Fuck this place.” Brett muttered.  “I just want a motherfuckin’ beer.”

“Now now, young man…” Trapper said.  “Take it easy.  You’re in a hospital.  Time to rest.  Let Kelli take care of you.”

“Tell her to bring me a beer… and pizza.  This hospital food sucks.” Brett said with a scowl.

“Young man, your attitude could use some adjusting.  Perhaps it’s time I prescribed a treatment to help you with your problem.” Trapper suggested.

“Fuck that, and fuck you.  I need to get out of here and on with my life.  I have social ladders to climb and women to plumb.” Brett hissed. 

“You really don’t get it, do you?” Trapper asked incredulously.  “You don’t realize you’ve entered another dimension.”

“The only other dimension I want to enter is a beer and nurse Kelli’s vagina.” Brett snapped.

“I see…” Trapper said, his voice steady.  “Well that makes me think you really do need treatment for your problem.  I may have to introduce you to another doctor… a woman who really knows your mind.”

“I don’t need that.  I just want to party.” Brett said.  “Why is that so hard to understand?  And why do I have to stay in this Godforsaken place?  My home is on the East Coast, with all the other snot nosed brats.”

“I see.  Well, I think it would do you some good to talk to Dr. Ford.” Trapper said.  “She’s a maverick in her field, but I think she can straighten you out… maybe get that yucky look off your face.”

“I don’t want to talk to her.” Brett sniveled.

“Okay… well then maybe Nurse Kelli can give you an enema to help kill the bug up your ass.” Trapper suggested.  “You seem a bit constipated.”

“Hmmmph.” Brett huffed, sullenly turning his eyes back to the TV.

Farlow was watching this scene with interest, although he really needed to pee.  He somehow found the energy to ask Trapper for help going to the bathroom. 

“Sure pal.” Trapper said.  “Usually, I’d let the nurses handle this, but I can see you’re a man’s man.”  The bearded, distinguished doctor came over and helped Farlow out of bed.  He was grateful Nurse Kelli had already removed the man’s catheter.  They went into the bathroom and Farlow let out a long and very loud stream of piss that reverberated throughout the semi-private room.

“For God’s sake!” Brett complained.  “Do you have to be so loud?  You sound like a horse peeing on a rock!”

“Sorry… I really had to pee.” Farlow apologized. 

“Well do you have to be so fucking loud?” Brett scowled.  “No fucking class!”

Farlow gave Trapper a grateful look as he rolled his eyes. 

“That kid is such a brat.” Trapper said sympathetically.  “Sorry you have to share quarters with him.”

“No worries… I once shared a house with six brothers.” Farlow said.  “And they were all horny because they were looking for wives.”

“I think that’s Brett’s problem, too.  He’s a spoiled, horny, little bastard.” Trapper said.  “And he’s also a drunk.  He needs a good spanking to teach him some manners.  I’m tempted to let Nurse Kelli practice some procedures on him, but he’d probably enjoy that too much.”

“I’ve never seen anyone scowl so much.” Farlow admitted as he washed his hands.  “He really is very unpleasant indeed.”

“Nurse Kelli will fix him… with help from Dr. Ford.” Trapper promised as he walked his patient back to bed.

Farlow was safely tucked into bed, where he nodded off. He was right in the middle of a pleasant dream in which he was at Southfork Ranch, making mad passionate love with Miss Ellie, when he was awakened by a blood curdling scream.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!” Brett was screaming.  He had climbed out of bed and was cornered by a couple of beefy orderlies who were holding a straitjacket. 

“Now, now, Mr. Yuk…” one of the orderlies soothed. Farlow blinked his eyes and realized the head orderly was a very muscular woman. She was flanked by two huge guys who looked like they could be linebackers for the Dallas Cowboys. Behind her was Nurse Kelli with a syringe at the ready. A cameraman stood in the corner, filming everything. It looked just like a dramatic scene on Trapper John, M.D.

“Get away from me! I haven’t given you CONSENT!” Brett fumed.

The head orderly advanced at her patient, and with one swift move, pinned him to the bed.  He shrieked in fear as another orderly placed his hand over the young man’s mouth and the other orderly efficiently wrapped him up in the straitjacket.  Nurse Kelli then gave him an injection that rendered him more compliant.

“Wha…” Brett stammered. “What are…”

“Shhh…” Nurse Kelli said, her Pepsodent smile radiating across her pretty features.  “It’s just part of your treatment.  Dr. Ford will be with you in a moment.  Just got to wait for you to relax a bit.  That way it won’t hurt as much.”

The orderlies tucked their patient into bed, put up the siderails, and left the room while Nurse Kelli stood by, monitoring the young man with the Mr. Yuk scowl. 

“This would go so much better if you’d just cooperate.” Nurse Kelli said.  “Take your medicine like a good boy.”

“Fucking bitch!” the young man shrieked.  “I’ll get you for this.”

“Right… I’m sure you will.  Just relax.  Dr. Ford will see you at her convenience.” Nurse Kelli said.  “If you’re lucky, she won’t make you wait for what’s coming to you.”

Brett scowled again as he glared at the nurse.  Her chirpy demeanor and perfect smile were pissing him off even more as he struggled against the rough canvas of the straitjacket.  Farlow glanced over at the spectacle, suddenly glad his own medical bondage scene had been short lived.

A minute later, the door opened and there stood a middle aged blonde woman in a very stylish business suit.  She wore glasses and sensible heels as she strode over to her unruly patient. 

“Hello Dr. Ford.” Nurse Kelli said, her voice rich with admiration.

“Nurse…” the doctor said.  “So this is the patient.  He’s permanently scowling, isn’t he?  Needs a little help with his attitude…”

“Yes, I think so.  I’ve heard you can do amazing things with the mind.” Nurse Kelli gushed.  “I would love to study under you…”

Brett and Farlow both looked at the attractive psychologist and thought the same thing.  But Farlow was smart enough to keep his mouth shut and Brett was too busy scowling to make his feelings known.

“You know…” Dr. Ford said.  “I don’t think I’m going to be able to reach him with just simple conversation.  I think it’s time we forced him to watch something other than Lassie.”  She nodded at the television.  “Change the channel… Lifetime should do it.  A nice long marathon of movies about women who have been sexually harassed and date raped ought to be a good start.”

Nurse Kelli’s eyes widened.  “Do I get to stay in the room and supervise him?” she breathed.

“I’m not opposed to it.” Dr. Ford shrugged.  “That’s just the beginning… we’ll start with Lifetime TV, then move on to Dr. Phil.  Then a steady diet of Kathie Lee Gifford…”

“What?!” Brett shouted.  “I’ve never even heard of these things!”

“Lucky for you, I’m from the future.” Dr. Ford said.  “You’re going to get a headstart on the 1990s and the 2000s.  Then I’ll go back to the future.”

“Why?” Brett asked plaintively.

“Because big things are in store for you… and if you don’t get straightened out now, you will fuck up a lot of lives.” Dr. Ford said, smoothing her blonde hair.

“I don’t have time for this.” Brett sneered.

“We’ll see that you make time.  And if you’re difficult about it, I can think of some very fun ways to make you comply.” Dr. Ford said.  “Don’t try me, young man.”

Brett sighed heavily.  “Yes Ma’am…  Let the re-education begin.”

“I’m sure you’ll be good and ready for the future after a few Lifetime movies.  Every man should watch them so they can learn proper respect.” Dr. Ford said.

END

And here is the one comment I got on this tripe…

I like it, an instant story! Write more.

Maybe I should… especially now that my former monitor is no longer monitoring me.

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controversies, Germany, safety, silliness, social welfare

Men sitting down to pee and other acts of rebellion…

The featured photo was hanging in our first German landlord’s guest toilet when we moved in. I didn’t understand it then. I do now.

Happy hump day, y’all. It’s already gotten off to an interesting start for me. First off, I was having an erotic dream when I woke up. It was a bit kinky, but the people involved were a married couple (not Bill and me) and very friendly with each other. I probably ought to lay off the Lifetime movies for awhile…

Arran is bright and funny this morning. He will see the vet tonight and probably get a blood test and chemo. Bill told me last night that he has to go on another week long business trip soon, which is worrying for both of us. Somehow, I think Arran will go when the time is just right, but while my instincts are usually right, they aren’t always. I look forward to the day when Bill doesn’t have to do these business trips so often anymore. Or, at least he does them when our dogs are healthy.

But, enough about that. You probably clicked on this post because of the title. I’ll agree; it’s a weird one, even by my standards.

Last night, I was reading the Irish Times again, and happened upon an article written Brianna Parkins, titled “Now it’s okay for men to pee sitting down, here are a few other changes they could make“. I wish I could gift the article for non subscribers, but the Irish aren’t down with that. You’ll just have to rely on my comments here in this blog post, unless you are a subscriber like I am.

I was interested in Ms. Parkins’ article, because here in Germany, men routinely sit down to pee. There are even signs in some public restrooms addressing this phenomenon. When we moved into our very first German house, there was a postcard in the bathroom that showed a man lying on the floor by the toilet. It read, “Nicht im stehen.” I asked our landlord what it meant, and he said “Not while standing.”

In 2007, I didn’t know that German men are trained by the women in their lives to sit when they urinate. And I know some might call me sexist for putting it that way, but seriously, when I finally encountered an explanation about this particular cultural phenomenon, that was kind of how it was put to me. This was the comment posted on Toytown Germany in June 2008, which was when we were living in that first German house.

Stehpinkeln has been a big topic on my mind of late. Through watching day time TV I have come to realise that a vast majority of people (mainly German women) are disgusted by men who pee in standing.

I can understand that it can make a mess sometimes (I am not a man, thusly, I have no personal experience) but is it such a terrible thing? Am I the only one who seems to think that it’s OK for men to stand and pee into a toilet?!

This was such a mind blower for me in 2008. Apparently, it was for other people in that forum, because the thread went on for 445 posts and 23 pages. The last post was dated January 2015. I’ve seen a couple of other posts about it on that forum. I also read and reviewed a book about it a few years ago. Seriously, there is a book titled German Men Sit Down To Pee And Other Insights Into German Culture. I gave it a favorable review.

So anyway, last night, I was reading Brianna Parkins’ article about men sitting to pee. She writes that sitting to pee is also common in Japan, another country where a lot of American men work for the US military. Actually, given how fancy Japanese toilets can be, I can see why men don’t mind sitting down to do their business. They even have a fancy video for potty training kids.

I need a toilet that will sing to me when I do my business… especially in the morning.
FANCY!

Parkins writes:

But the German word for a man who sits to pee, Sitzpinkler, is used negatively, to imply unmasculine behaviour, “something like ‘wuss’ in English”, according to the Guardian. So that newpaper’s well-reasoned arguments for having a seat while taking a slash will have made men question their core beliefs: they had to ask themselves if a standing wee is just a byproduct of toxic masculinity.

It caused women to ask ourselves how men – them lot who can’t aim their pee in the toilet without it getting on the ground – ended up in charge for so long. The mind boggles.

Seeing the success of men adopting practices formerly considered “women’s business”, here are some other ways men could benefit by becoming more like women.

It probably won’t surprise some readers that Bill sometimes sits when he pees. He says he mainly does it that way at night, since it’s easier to sit down than turn on the light and blind himself. We do have a new Toilight, which is a stocking stuffer I bought at Christmas time. It senses motion and turns on a night light, which makes going to the bathroom safer and easier in the dark. But it doesn’t always work the way it’s supposed to. Bill’s habit of sitting down when he pees at night predates the Toilight, too. He’s always been considerate that way.

I had a look at the comment section, figuring the Irish would be “taking the piss”, so to speak, about this article. I wasn’t disappointed. Quite a lot of Irish men were offended by Ms. Parkins’ article, which they probably didn’t even read, since it’s behind a paywall. I saw a number of comments indicating that men who sit down to pee are “emasculated” somehow. It seems to me that peeing is mostly private business, unless you’re into golden showers or something.

It’s a pity those men didn’t read Ms. Parkins’ article, which I found delightfully snarky and funny. And you know, she’s right. Not only does sitting while peeing make less of a mess, but sometimes listening to people who have been educated about things like, say, medicine, is a good idea. Apparently, a lot of men in Ireland are averse to doing that. So is being less homophobic and enjoying some friendly skin on skin contact with other men, other than when they play contact sports.

At the very end of the article, Ms. Parkins’ real agenda comes out, and it’s a good one. She writes:

But that one’s not going to change the world. The one that would really count, just off the top of my head, would be getting men to inflict less violence, both sexual and physical, on women.

In Ireland, Women’s Aid has registered 256 violent deaths of women since 1996. Of the 200 cases that have been resolved, 87 per cent of the victims were killed by a man they knew. In Australia, where I grew up, five women have died from violence allegedly committed by a man in the first month of the year, according to Counting Dead Women Australia. In 2022, 56 women there suffered the same fate.

I would like to tell Ms. Parkins that men can be victims of domestic violence, too. Unfortunately, I know this because my husband experienced it with his ex wife. Like a lot of abuse survivors, he didn’t realize that was what he was experiencing at the time. It wasn’t until he told me some stories that I brought up the possibility. Many years later, after not having spoken to his daughter for a long time, she actually recognized it and sent him a news article about men in domestic violence situations. So, I wasn’t the only one who easily saw the truth.

It’s too bad some of the Irish men complaining about the article didn’t read it and get the actual main idea, which is that men could learn a lot from women, not just about urination, but also about not being so violent. But I would hasten to add that some women need a few lessons about not being violent, too.

Here are a few comments… obviously, most of the people didn’t read the article. I’ll admit, my own comments were about German men sitting to pee, too. I managed to “piss” off an Irishman, who claimed that he had lived here for over 20 years and that it’s not true that German men sit to pee. I guess he watched them. I mean, yes, there are urinals here. I’ve heard that some Germans even put them in their homes so they can stand when they pee. But I’ve seen a lot of signs requesting that men sit down for the performance.

Bill encountered this sign on his last business trip. I’ve more often seen these in southern Germany than up here in Hesse.

Moving on…

A hometown friend of mine shared the following post on Facebook. I was not surprised at all.

My friend wrote that he knew some people who needed this product.

I decided to click on the original post, to see the comment section. I had a feeling it would be quite an epic shitshow of ignorance and stubbornness, with a dip into hatred toward liberal politics, to boot. I wasn’t disappointed. Lots of people were cheering about this invention, which also is handy for opening beer bottles.

Here are a few comments…

These guys can relax, though, because it seems that this company is a bit scammy. On other posts on that page, as of 2020, many people have complained that they ordered this product and never received it. I guess the people who make it are too busy opening beer bottles to fulfill their orders. Or maybe they’re just hanging out with their labradoodles…

Here’s another area where Germans are probably smarter. It’s illegal in Germany to drive a car with your pet unrestrained, sitting in the front seat of the car. For one thing, an air bag would probably kill Fido if it goes off. For another, Fido might cause you to be distracted and get into a wreck. Pets in Germany have to either ride in a crate in the back, or wear a “seatbelt” harness in the backseat that clips to the seatbelt buckle.

And while I’ve driven with objects sitting on the front seat plenty of times, that’s also not the safest practice. In the event of an accident, that object– just like Fido or a human body– will likely become a flying object that could hit you or any other passengers or bystanders in the head when it becomes airborne. But, as a lot of us know, a lot of Americans aren’t long on common sense or practical thinking. That’s how so many of them thought Donald Trump would be a good president. The same people are ordering this product and getting scammed.

Maybe they’ve improved their business practices since 2020? I don’t know.

Ah well… if I weren’t married to a man who didn’t turn into Pat Boone any time I tried to skip the seatbelt, I probably would agree with some of the conservative knuckleheads on the Tikit page. But Bill is a total safety geek, so I guess that means I am, too. Just like I can’t sleep after about 5:30am anymore, thanks to my morning rooster…

Well, I think I’ll end this post and go see if my laundry is dry yet. Maybe today, I’ll manage to record some music. Since I retooled my workspace, I’m having some technical difficulties.

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movies, true crime, TV

Another gloomy Sunday, another Lifetime movie…

Here’s a quick post for our first snow day of December 2022. We woke up to a dusting, and then later, it snowed a little more. A lot of it has melted now, and we’re left with a damp, gloomy Sunday. It’s gloomy because of the weather, but also because Mr. Bill had to go to Bavaria for another weeklong business trip. He’ll be gone until Friday. I hate it when he’s gone, although it is a good opportunity to get things done, like recording songs for my YouTube channel and reading books. I also tend to drink less when he’s not home.

Yesterday, I got a bit ambitious and recorded two new songs for my channel. One was a well-known Christmas song that a lot of people love. I recorded it in honor of my former shrink, who posted that he loves the song. I also know he’s a James Taylor fan, so that was the version I did, albeit in a different key. It took a surprisingly long time. The other song I did was “The Last Unicorn”, which was a favorite movie of mine when I was a kid. I do love the film, but I also love the soundtrack, which was mostly done by America, with songs written by the great Jimmy Webb. Bill was actually home when I recorded them, which is a rare thing. I usually don’t like to do my musical stuff when he’s home. I get distracted and self conscious, even though he’s my biggest “fan”.

Earlier today, I watched yet another Lifetime movie. It actually wasn’t too bad, especially for Lifetime. The subject matter was kind of disturbing and distressing. The 2016 movie was titled Girl in the Box. It was based on a book called Perfect Victim, which I read when I was in high school. Perfect Victim was about Colleen Stan, a woman who was abducted in California back in May 1977 by Cameron and Janice Hooker. Colleen had been hitchhiking, which was a pretty common thing to do back in those days. She was trying to get from her home state of Oregon to California, hoping to surprise a friend. At the time, she was just 20 years old.

Cameroon Hooker was obsessed with BDSM and wanted her to be his sex slave, so after brutalizing Colleen with incredibly sadistic torture, Hooker convinced her that he was affiliated with a group called The Company, which had eyes everywhere and would treat Colleen much worse if they caught her trying to escape. He forced her to sign a “slave contract” and demanded that she call him “master”. He, in turn, called her K, and made her wear a collar.

Colleen spent about seven years as Hooker’s slave. He kept her in a box under his bed and made her wear a horrific head box that shut out all light and noise and almost suffocated her. He hung her by her wrists from the rafters in his house, and would whip her if she screamed. He also threatened to cut her vocal cords. Cameron and his wife, Janice, had tried to enslave another woman named Marliz, but she screamed so much that Cameron murdered her. They buried her, and her body was never found.

Naturally, because it was a Lifetime movie, the film was fairly watered down compared to the book. However, they did get a lot of things right about the case. I thought the film was well cast, and the actors did a good job in their roles. I definitely didn’t cringe when I watched it, like I have when I’ve seen other Lifetime movies. There were some rather disturbing parts to the film, but they didn’t go anywhere as close to graphically describing the actual horrors Colleen Stan endured as the book did.

A trailer for Girl in the Box.

I remember reading Perfect Victim because of my high school psychology class. We all had to read a non-fiction book about an actual psychology case and talk about it. Someone in the class chose Perfect Victim and piqued my interest. I even remember the name of the girl who read it. Thank God Cameron Hooker is still in prison. He was up for parole in 2014, but he was denied and told he can’t try again until 2029. I hope he dies in prison. He’s the type of person who should never be free. His wife, Janice, testified against him, and got immunity. I feel sorry for their children, having a father who is such a sadistic monster.

If this synopsis interests you, I would recommend reading Perfect Victim. Just bear in mind that it’s a pretty harrowing and disturbing story. The Lifetime movie isn’t too bad, although one should engage expectation management. Lifetime movies are not known for being particularly highbrow.

The book I chose for that particular assignment was Starving for Attention, by Cherry Boone O’Neill, Pat Boone’s eldest daughter, who suffered from anorexia nervosa in the 1970s. That was a long time ago, but then, I was a member of the class of 1990. So it’s been awhile since I was last a high school student. In those days, the 70s weren’t so long ago. 😉

I’m still working on reading a novel. I’d really like to finish it, because I have a few thoughts I’d like to share about it. I don’t usually read novels, but I chose to read this one, because it was written by James Taylor’s second wife, Kathryn Walker. I’ve been wanting to read it for ages. I’m finding it a rather insightful read.

Anyway… I’ve spent the day watching cop videos and washing Noyzi’s hairy bedding. I’ve got a chicken in the oven, which I’ll pick at all week and get sick of. I really hate it when Bill goes out of town. I’m also having some issues with my stomach that are kind of worrying me a little bit. I’m sure Arran will get me up a couple of times during the night, because he’ll need to pee. But at least this week, he doesn’t have to go to the vet for any chemo treatments. We’re also going to get a new dishwasher, since the old one gave out on us. I expect I’ll spend the week continuing to prepare for Christmas, such as it is.

Hope you’ve had a nice, peaceful Sunday.

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controversies, healthcare, politics, Twitter, YouTube

Bravo to Mama Doctor Jones, for keeping up the good fight on Twitter!

Ah, June 17th… the day I’ve been waiting for since last month. 😉 Bill and I are leaving town for the weekend, since my 50th birthday is on Monday. Bill decided that we would be celebrating in Antwerp, Belgium, the one major Belgian city we haven’t yet seen. So, after he comes back from taking the dogs to their “hotel”, we’ll load up and head northwest for a few days. It’s just as well, too, since it’s going to be really hot this weekend, and I only have portable air conditioners in two rooms in this house. I’m pretty sure the swanky hotel Bill booked is air conditioned.

I woke up this morning to more commentary about the January 6th hearings. Once again, people are talking about about how Mike Pence “saved the day” by doing his job. I was reminded of how a former friend of mine, a lesbian, took me to task for being “grateful” to Pence for following the law. She seemed to think that I had forgotten about and forgiven him for his despicable views against the LGBTQ population. Make no mistake about this– I do NOT like Mike Pence, nor would I EVER vote for him. But I am very glad he did his job and did not succumb to the tremendous pressure he was under to do Trump’s bidding. I do appreciate that Mike Pence acted like an adult on January 6th, and I felt that it was appropriate to state that. That doesn’t mean I’m a Pence fan. Nevertheless, she canceled me anyway, which is her right, I guess… and it’s also her loss. I’m also sure she wouldn’t appreciate it if I treated her the same way.

A friend of mine commented about Pence, and I very briefly related the story of how my former friend had deleted me because I expressed appreciation for Pence’s responsible actions, even if he would have rather done as Trump ordered. One of my friend’s friends said she “wasn’t surprised” my lesbian former friend was offended, since Pence is so hateful to the LGBTQ community. Once again, I reiterated that appreciating that Pence did his job and acted like an adult doesn’t make me a fan. Aside from that, my former friend blocked me when I wrote that I bought a Donald Trump toilet brush. She said she’d never have anything “Trump” in her house, so I wrote, “luckily, it’s not your house.” For some reason, she took great offense to that comment. I don’t know why. I would never presume to tell her what she should or shouldn’t put in her house, especially on her space.

I could write more about the hearings, but to be honest, I have really only been following them casually. I don’t think I would be able to offer a lot of opinions based on facts, and I don’t have time to do fact checking today, since we’re leaving town. Besides, thinking about that dark day in our history makes me sad, and I don’t want to be sad so close to my birthday. I’m not sad to be turning 50, by the way, although I do regret that I’m feeling my age more and more. But, that’s part of life, and I suppose it beats the alternative.

Instead, I think I’ll write a little about Mama Doctor Jones. I’ve written about her before– she’s a board certified OB-GYN, originally from Texas, but now living in New Zealand. She’s a tireless advocate for women’s health and women’s rights, and she’s made dozens of fact based entertaining videos about subjects like pregnancy, abortion, menstruation, and other “female” health issues. I enjoy her YouTube channel, and lately, I’ve also been following her on Twitter.

Actually, I’ve been using Twitter more than usual, as a whole. It’s taken me forever to get into it, but I do notice myself paying more attention to Twitter than I have historically. I didn’t like Twitter when I first joined, but I kind of like that it seems to be less “friend” oriented than Facebook is. Plus, I’ve seen some pretty wild and entertaining Twitter threads.

Anyway, I noticed that I got an alert from Mama Doctor Jones yesterday. I had some free time (ha ha ha), so I went to her Twitter page to see what was cooking. There, I found her taking on some person who told her she should be “ashamed” of herself.

This person, BillyBahBa, is probably a professional troll. I see the account was started last month and has very little activity. However, there are PLENTY of people out there who think that anyone who thinks abortion is “healthcare” should be ashamed. Personally, I think those who think they need to insert themselves in other people’s very private healthcare decisions should be the ones who are ashamed. I, for one, am grateful for Mama Doctor Jones for doing her part in fighting against these people who want to force people to gestate and give birth against their wills. I don’t know why, but a lot of folks don’t seem to realize that there are worse things than loss of life. Is it really better to make someone stay pregnant when they don’t have the will or ability to see to it that the developing fetus emerges healthy? We don’t force pregnant women to see physicians, eat right, or keep themselves safe, although I worry that if abortion becomes illegal again, that could be on the agenda… as could the abolition of birth control or even things like IVF or other conception procedures. I doubt a lot of the pro-lifers have thought of this, or even give a damn.

But there’s Mama Doctor Jones, setting this idiot straight and letting them know, in no uncertain terms, that they are simply WRONG. And if abortion becomes illegal, it will be the poorest people who will suffer the most. Some of them could even die. Does the pro-life crowd care at all about that? Probably not. Again, I think BillyBahBa is probably just getting their jollies from upsetting others, but there are still others who presume to lecture an expert on women’s health on what the “correct” viewpoint is.

Bravo, Mama Doctor Jones, for setting these people straight. And also for blocking their asses when they don’t take a seat. Because really, who’s got the time for it? I know I don’t.

Naw, guy. What’s weak is your willful ignorance and lack of empathy for people who can get pregnant and might be harmed by pregnancy. We cannot let the QAnon religious right nutjobs take over the country with their anti-woman agenda. And the more people who take them on, the less likely it is that their agenda will stand. I also like that she calls out hypocrites…

I haven’t visited a doctor in years. I haven’t seen a gyno in over a decade. However, I might consider visiting a doctor like Mama Doctor Jones, because I don’t think she would abuse me in the way the one gyno I did see (a woman, BTW) did. I appreciate that Mama Doctor Jones is such a strong advocate who cares for people. Or, at least that’s how she appears to be. I’ve never met her. But I don’t think she’s fake, and that’s really refreshing. And also, I really admire her total ease at being on camera and her sense of humor. I think I’d enjoy knowing her.

Well, I guess it’s time for me to sign off and practice guitar before I put on some clothes and head off to Belgium. I will bring my laptop, but I don’t know how much writing will happen… it depends on if we go to The Netherlands and get me a space cake. 😉

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book reviews, celebrities, religion

Repost: Cherry Boone O’Neill’s book, Starving for Attention…

One last repost, since I posted reviews of her sisters’ books. This is the first book about the Boone family I ever read. I originally read Cherry’s book in 1989 or so, but I reviewed it for Epinions in 2003 and updated the review in 2011. It appears here as/is.

For some reason, I recently decided to re-read Cherry Boone O’Neill’s 1983 memoir Starving For Attention after reading it for a high school paper I wrote when I was seventeen. It was interesting to revisit this book again after all these years, mainly because I have a totally different perspective now. Right now, I’m an adult and, in a manner of speaking, I’m a mental health professional. Back then, I was a high school student who was interested in eating disorders and had to write a book report.

Cherry Boone O’Neill is Pat and Shirley Boone’s oldest daughter. She has three younger sisters– her mom had four daughters in three and a half years! When Cherry was born in Denton, Texas in 1954, Pat Boone was just beginning his meteoric rise into teen idol status and attending college. Fourteen months after Cherry’s birth, her sister Lindy arrived, born in New York City. In 1956, Debby Boone was born in Hackensack, New Jersey. Then in 1958, youngest sister Laury was born. In the midst of his burgeoning career and the quick expansion of his family, Pat Boone managed to graduate from Columbia University, earning a degree in English. It wasn’t long before Hollywood beckoned and the young family moved to California.

Cherry writes that she was always eager to please, and having grown up with very strict parents who were strong Christians, she was especially motivated to toe the line. She also felt very responsible for watching her sisters. Debby was the most rebellious of the four sisters, while Laury was a mischief maker. Cherry tried hard to bring home straight A’s. The girls were also incorporated into Pat Boone’s act, especially since he had a TV series, the “Chevy Showroom”. The girls made their television debut on the last episode of that program. As they grew up, they made albums, went on tours, and appeared as guests on other television shows like the “Flip Wilson Show”, “Merv Griffin”, and “Glen Campbell’s Goodtime Hour”.

When she was a teenager, Cherry began to have emotional problems brought on by school pressures. Rather than face classes that gave her trouble, she would fake illnesses and stay home. While she was at home, she would eat high calorie foods and watch TV. Before too long, she realized she was gaining weight– so much that her school uniforms no longer fit her. Horrified, she made the decision to control her body. She put herself on a sensible diet and ordered a couple of gadgets that were advertised in the back of teen magazines. One gadget was a pair of “Bermuda shorts” that hooked up to the vacuum cleaner– it was supposed to suck the fat off of her body. Another was a pair of stretchy leg wraps that made her legs look thinner. She started exercising more. Gradually, the diet turned into anorexia.

At first, Cherry’s family was proud of her. Then they became concerned. Cherry writes about an incident that occurred one Christmas after Cherry skipped dinner and then binged and purged when she thought everyone was asleep.

My distended stomach ached– I must have looked six months pregnant. My food frenzy began to slow down when I could no longer walk without bending over. Did I get everything I wanted? I guess so– besides I can’t eat any more.

But wait! Some chocolates! I’ll chew on those on the way upstairs with a glass of punch.

Once in my bathroom, I completed the now familiar ritual I’d begun this time with that first bite of turkey. I forced my finger down my throat. After several gut-wrenching heaves I regurgitated as much as I could until nothing but small amounts of bile tinged pink with blood, emerged. I wiped off the toilet and began rinsing my beet-red face when I was startled by a hard knock on the door.

“Cherry, what’s going on?” My father’s voice was stern.

My heart pounded. I’m just going to the bathroom. Why?” I quickly straightened my hair, straightened air freshener, turned off the water.

“Open the door, Cherry. You know the rules about no locked doors in this house.”

“You and Mommy lock your door sometimes,” I answered back.

“Open this door, Cherry! Right now!”

“All right! All right! Just let me get my robe on,” I stalled, trying to open the window for fresh air. Then I calmly unlocked and opened the door.

“It doesn’t take you fifteen minutes to go to the bathroom, Cherry.”

“I haven’t been in here fifteen minutes,” I lied.

“I was outside after taking a sauna and I looked up and saw your bathroom light on. I waited, listened, and I know I heard you vomiting.” His eyes glistened with anger.

“I did not! I swear! I was just going to the bathroom and washing my face!”

“Look here, Cherry,” he said, gripping my arm and pulling me back into the bathroom. “Look at yourself! Your face is red, your eyes are bloodshot, the room stinks and you’re telling me you didn’t throw up?”

“I didn’t, Daddy! I promise I didn’t! I was going to the bathroom. I’ve been constipated so my face gets red. Honest!” My voice quavered with fear. Tears welled up in my eyes.

“Cherry, I don’t understand this. I know you’re lying, but it’s late and I have to get up early. We should both be in bed– it’s been a busy day. But don’t think we aren’t going to discuss this when I get back from Chicago! Now go to bed, and don’t you get up again– for any reason!”

Suddenly he was gone and I stood alone in front of the mirror. I stared at my gaunt face, then burst into tears. 
Stories of family squabbles like this one pepper the book, first with Cherry’s parents and next with her husband, Dan O’Neill. Cherry’s family was very close and loving, but some might say they were overly strict– to the point of being smothering. Corporal punishment was employed on the girls into their late teens.

Cherry did do some shocking things while she was ill. One night, after enjoying a nice dinner with her fiance, she promised him she would go straight to bed. But as she walked through the kitchen, she noticed that there were a couple of lamb chops in the dog’s dish. Cherry loved lamb chops, so without thinking, she got down on her hands and knees and started eating them, not realizing that her fiance was at the window, watching her… until he started rapping on the window!

I enjoyed reading this book because it has the elements of a story that I enjoy– biography (or autobiography as the case may be), a fair amount of drama, some trivia and anecdotal information, and a touch of comedy. However, there isn’t a whole lot of medical information in this book and the little bit you do find is quite dated. After all, Cherry suffered from anorexia back in the 70s, when many doctors had never even heard of the disorder. If you want to read an autobiographical story about anorexia with more up-to-date information, you would do better to read Marya Hornbacher’s Wasted. Even that book is a little dated– the author was treated in the late 80s and early 90s and treatments have changed drastically since then.

This book led me to believe that Cherry was never hospitalized for long for her anorexia (there is some brief detail provided about one hospital stay she completed as an adult). There are pictures included of her, however, when she was ill. One disturbing photo shows her at 82 pounds, right before her first appointment with Dr. Raymond Vath, a psychiatrist in Seattle who is credited with helping her get past anorexia. She looks positively skeletal in that picture, as well as in a couple of others that show her at 88 pounds, eating at a picnic. There are a couple of other pictures that show her performing with her family– the illness is not as easy to discern in those.

Starving for Attention has been out of print for some time and may be hard to find. You may be able to locate it at a public library or on http://www.half.com. I think it’s a worthwhile read, although I don’t believe it’s the only book you should read if you want to learn about eating disorders. By the way, Cherry and her husband had given birth to their first child, Brittany, at the end of this book. As of now, Cherry has had five children, proving that those with eating disorders can eventually go on to have children.

As an Amazon Associate, I get a small commission from Amazon on sales made through my site.

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