Tuesday, August 16, 2005

Fishing For Compliments

Do you enjoy being pierced through the skin with giant fish hooks and suspended from the ceiling by a system of ropes and pulleys?

If not, you must not be part of the “body suspension” movement that involves thousands of Americans.

The movement is so well organized that it even has conventions. At a recent convention in Rhode Island, people paid $100 each to hang and $15 each just to watch. But the organizers shouldn’t get cocky. Next winter some canny entrepreneur will set up a booth outdoors and undercut them by letting thrill-seekers stick their tongue on an icy flag pole for a buck.


One of my co-workers denounced the body suspenders as “morons,” but I prefer to be charitable and live by maxims such as “Live and let scab over” and “Whatever floats your boat…er, whatever narrowly misses mutilating your connective tissue.”

Practitioners have various explanations for their unconventional hobby: rite of passage, exploring the unknown, learning to trust themselves and the universe, overcoming fear, etc. Some say they feel “empowered.” Maybe it’s just me, but when someone is empowered, I want him using his power to rescue kittens from trees or throw Lex Luthor in jail -- not doing impressions of the Captain D’s “catch of the day.”

Some body suspension fans claim to derive a “spiritual experience” from the hobby.. Clergymen all over the country are probably smacking their foreheads and moaning, “We wasted all that effort on sermons and choirs! What we needed was pews with splinters and protruding nails!”

Some practitioners experience feelings of euphoria. But they aren’t as euphoric as stockholders of BASS Pro Shops, who have found a whole new market segment with waaaay too much time on its hands.

Many people get into body suspension because you can get only so many tattoos and piercings. But what happens when body suspension itself gets old? How will fans up the ante? (“Dude, this is my buddy Charlie. We had him cleaned and mounted. Sorry, Charlie.”)

Practitioners are quick to point out that many cultures over the years have practiced some form of body suspension for worship, meditation, or killing time until there’s another volcano to pitch a virgin into. . Of course most of these cultures are long gone, showing the value of trusting yourself and the universe!

Ha! People said Galileo was crazy, too -- when he insisted that the earth isn’t the center of the universe. Of course he didn’t have the whole picture -- that the center of the universe is really attention-craving adrenaline junkies.

One website advises body suspenders on how to handle the media. They’re warned not to let local reporters make them look weird or goofy. That’s like telling an NBA team, “Don’t let the anchorman give the impression that at least a few of you read ‘Ebony.’”

A tutorial on body suspension recommended various sanitary tips, including massaging the wounds to “burp” the air out. Great -- even with a bunch of 25-year-old hyperactive males, you get dragged into a Tupperware party!

If you’re still squeamish about body suspension, its proponents will good-naturedly tell you “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.” Of course the proponents risk being hoist on their own petard when a critic supplies the rejoinder “Growing the @#$% up: don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

Chastity Begins At Home

Apparently a coalition of advocacy groups (including Planned Parenthood and the American Civil Liberties Union) has exerted enough pressure to shut down a brand new Health and Human Services Dept. website.

The website (www.4parents.gov) was billed as a resource for parents who feel uncomfortable talking to their teens about sex. (This is not to be confused with the Homeland Security Department website for parents who do not feel uncomfortable talking to their teens about sex: -- We Know Where You Live, Pervert.gov. )

4parents.gov questioned the effectiveness of condoms at preventing pregnancy and sexually transmitted diseases, and emphasized the importance of abstinence before marriage. (“We’re from the government and we’re here to turn the hose on you.”) At least the government practices what it preaches. (“Remember…don’t climb into bed with defense contractors until you’re officially sworn in.”)

The opponents of the site give a nod to chastity as a Utopian dream but call for facing reality and making contraceptives readily available. Of course many of these realists are the same people who say, “If we can just convince every single American to spontaneously give up his automobile, then we wouldn’t have to drill for oil in Alaska, and we could convert all the oil derricks to pump lemonade and gumdrops.”

The opponents castigate 4parents for having an “agenda” and offering only very narrow, right-wing information. The opponents are much too busy for biases, what with developing their new pro-choice cartoon character, “Blob O’Tissue.”

Luckily, groups such as Planned Parenthood and the ACLU want teens to know all their options. (“Did you realize that you can burn the American flag and recite George Carlin’s 7 Words You Can’t Say On The Radio, while you’re enjoying sex?”)

The opponents accuse the 4parents message of being fear-based. Still, it’s the opponents who say things like “Unless you come to the rescue by taking a transvestite to the prom, the Republicans will cut off your granny’s Social Security!”

Granted, the opponents can have their mellow moments, as with the pamphlet “Your Friend The Condom.” (“Sure, sometimes he’s like a human friend and lets you down, but don’t you just feel you could kick the whole world’s butt when you’re together?”)


The opponents accuse 4parents of being dishonest, incompetent, ignorant, discriminatory, and mean-spirited. And, oh yeah -- “judgmental”!!!!

4parent.gov’s detractors are appealing to the Cool Parents, the ones who say, “Well, as long as everyone else is jumping off the bridge -- but be sure to wear these clean underwear for the ambulance, young man.” They’re trying to hedge their bets and would probably revise The Ten Commandments with prohibitions like “Thou shalt not steal -- but if you do, I’ve got this buddy who runs a pawn shop…”

Perhaps a compromise is possible. Instead of handing out guilt trips or condoms, school nurses could end teenage sex by handing out three jobs and a mortgage. Need a second opinion? (“Okay, here’s face cream and one of those nightgowns that old married women wear!”)

With or without resources from Health and Human Services, I’m confident that I’ll be ready with all the facts when baby Gideon needs his “birds and bees” talk, especially if we’re looking at photos of his mother in the maternity ward. (“That darned stork showed up at the hospital just as Mom was having minor elective surgery! Can you believe it???”)

Swimmin' Pools, Movie Stars, Memorial Services

Well, doggies -- I wonder if sowbelly and dandelion greens were among the vittles mourners brought to the funeral home?

What am I talking about? Simple. Paul Henning, who created “The Beverly Hillbillies” and “Petticoat Junction” (and served as executive producer of “Green Acres”) recently passed away, at age 93.

Henning said the Clampett clan was inspired by childhood camping trips to the Ozarks. This contrasts with FOX programmers, whose shows are inspired by childhood experiences of plagiarizing term papers.

Henning entertained up to 60 million viewers a week with cement ponds, “billyard tables,” Dash Riprock, Mr. Drysdale, Jane Hathaway, Hooterville, Bugtussle, and other characters and concepts. But critics hated “The Beverly Hillbillies,” and it never won a single Emmy Award. Emmy voters, understandably, were more interested in lauding “The Dick Van Dyke Show,” which shook off moribund Eisenhower-era morality and asked sophisticated philosophical questions such as “Will he trip over the ottoman this week?”

“The Beverly Hillbillies” was very much a product of its more innocent times. I shudder to think what it would be like if created today.

* The theme song reference to how Jed Clampett “barely kept his family fed” would now be “removed his family’s feeding tube.”

* Elly May tries giving CPR to one of her critters, only to discover that it’s Donald Trump’s hair.

* “So they loaded up 75 undocumented workers and moved to Beverly…Hills, that is…”

* Instead of mistaking a kangaroo for a giant jackrabbit, Granny mistakes it for a Weapon of Mass Destruction. Guest star Pres. Bush sends troops into the midst of the Iraqis “to have a heapin’ helpin’ of their hospitality.”

* Instead of singing “Throw Out The Life Line,” Granny sings “Throw Out The Liberal Activist Judges Who Are Perverting The Constitution.”

* Jethro Bodine purchases a Sony PlayStation and watches his vaunted sixth-grade education evaporate.

* “Set a spell. Take your overpriced shoes endorsed by Michael Jordan off…”

* Sponsor Kellogg’s (of Battle Creek, Michigan) becomes Kellogg’s of Give Negotiations A Chance Creek, Michigan.

* Jed whittles shivs for Martha Stewart to use in prison, and goes hunting with his ferret, Ol’ Duke.

* Hoedown, lap dance … it’s all the same when you’re full of Granny’s white lightnin’.


One of the most traumatic events of my life happened in 1971. I was sitting in the doctor’s waiting room, reading an article about “Granny” actress Irene Ryan. She was mad as a wet hen that those goomers at CBS had just canceled the Hillbillies, as part of a purge that also eliminated such rural programs as “Hee-Haw” and “Mayberry, RFD.” The bottom line was that the city slickers at the network commenced to cipherin’ and figgered out that fans of rural shows were jist too dadgummed ignorant to do their duty and fall for the sponsors’advertisments, hook, line, and sinker.

Still, after 34 years, I’m proud to be a Hillbillies fan. I treasure the Hillbillies lunchbox purchased at a yard sale. The phrase “dumb old girl cousin” still slips out every now and then. When my in-laws come onto their deck to wave goodbye, I tell Melissa, “It’s time to say goodbye to Jed and all his kin.”

And now, alas, it’s time to say goodbye to Jed and his creator. Their kind will never come back now, ya hear?

Every Dogwood Has Its Day(s)

Mark your calendar for April 15 through 17. That’s when Winchester, Tennessee, plays host to the inaugural International Dogwood Festival. (E-mail me at tyrades@localnet.com for details about these “three days of entertainment for the entire family.”)

I’m sorry I have taken the dogwood for granted. Not only is the flowering dogwood ornamental, but it also supplies food for birds and wildlife, and produces a wood useful for golf clubs and jewelers’ benches. How ironic that a mere tree is so versatile, while I know several people whose main claim to usefulness is that you could stand them in the corner and bust kindling over their heads.

I’ve learned quite a bit while researching dogwoods. For instance, trees are grown in “nurseries” because of all the bawling by mall developers when they see a forest. (“So many trees, so few bulldozers!”)

Whence cometh the name “dogwood”? In Europe the bark of one species was boiled in water and used for washing dogs afflicted with mange. Building on that work, scientists are currently racing against the clock to find a part of the dogwood that cures canines from (a) rolling in putrid stuff and (b) embarrassing the heck out of their owners by being overly amorous with visitors.

George Washington and Thomas Jefferson made prominent use of dogwoods at Mount Vernon and Monticello, although the slogan “Four out of five men who wear powdered wigs recommend dogwood trees” never really caught on. The Father of Our Country (“First in war, first in peace, first in line to get his poodle dipped for mange”) achieved excellent results with proper pruning, expert fertilization, and the humming of a fife-and-drum ditty called “Remember What Happened To The Cherry Tree.”

An Internet search for “dogwood” yields numerous links to “The Legend of the Dogwood.” According to the legend, the dogwood once grew as a tall, straight tree and was used for timber. But when the wood was used to make the cross for Christ’s crucifixion, Jesus was so touched that he promised the tree would never again grow large enough to be employed for such a purpose (although the fine print of the promise allowed for use of the tree in making frames for a gazillion prints of “Footprints In The Sand.”)

Enjoy the legend while you can. My well-placed spies in the education system indicate that the new politically correct version of the legend is “Dogwood trees evolved from apes.”

Dogwoods have enjoyed worldwide popularity even without the sort of historic icon that apple trees enjoy. True, there was an attempt with rapping character Snoop Doggy Dogwood, but Johnny Appleseed’s estate lawyers were out for sap and sued Snoop right out of business.

I am envious of people who have a knack for landscaping. I don’t have a green thumb. It’s more like a bad martial arts movie: “10 Fingers of Death.” Any plant I was in charge of would never appear in “Better Homes and Gardens” magazine; more likely, it would grace the cover of “Better Put It Out Of Its Misery.”

I hope you’ve enjoyed this look at things arboreal. Next week we analyze how we can use the United Nations to solve the world energy crisis. (“Stand ‘em in the corner and bust kindling over their haids.”)

The Hitler You Never Knew

A German historian has claimed that Nazi scientists successfully tested a nuclear weapon in the last months of World War II.

Although this was a “crude” nuclear bomb (as opposed to the elegant, debonair ones used by the Americans to delight the masses in Hiroshima and Nagasaki), it gives me the willies to think about how close Hitler came to winning World War II.

Believe it or not, the nuclear bomb was not the only close call. The Nazis actually had a head start on many scientific and cultural innovations of the past 60 years. Examples:

* The current apology “My bad” was used extensively at the Nazi War Crimes Trials, and when two Nazis met outside the public eye, that famous salute was paired not with “Heil,” but “Wassup?”

* Advertising campaigns have been influenced by German proclamations such as “I’d like to teach the world to goose step,” “This blitz is for you,” “When Adolf Hitler froths, people listen,” “I can’t believe they beat the whole Master Race” and “The Third Reich has fallen, and it can’t get up.”

* Rudimentary Post-It Notes were used to boost the efficiency of the German war machine. (“Pick up dry cleaning, drop off dog for grooming, conduct abominable experiments on twin Gypsies.”)

* Wedgies, that high school scourge, were pioneered in Nazi Germany. (“Ve haff vays of making you give us your lunch money.”)

* An early form of cable TV’s “Pimp My Ride” was developed at a studio in Berlin. (“Erwin Rommel may be famous as The Desert Fox, but he’ll really get the foxes when we add a Jacuzzi and sound system to his Panzer tank.”) It was often paired with the German predecessor of the “Punk’d” hidden-camera show. (“Mussolini thinks he’ll be tying tin cans behind a friend’s honeymoon car, but it’s really Mussolini’s fat behind that’ll be dragged through the streets!”)

* Popular products advertised on American TV had predecessors in Hitler’s Germany. (“Gas on…gas off…The Clapper!”)

* Hitler had developed his own Motown Sound long before Berry Gordy Jr. and Phil Spector, producing songs such as “Standing In The Shadows of Firebombed Dresden” “R-E-S-P-E-C-T? How About T-O-T-A-L S-U-R-R-E-N-D-E-R?,”“Gestapo In The Name of Love,” “Papa’s Got A Brand New Double,” “Sugar Pie Honey Bunch (Poland Can’t Help Itself),” “Save The Last Cyanide Capsule For Me,” and “Ain’t Too Proud To Wear A Goofy Mustache.”

* Condo time-share pitches were honed in Nazi Germany. (“Own a bunker for one weekend a year and be ready when friends – or bombs – drop in.”)

* Current bank interest rates were foreshadowed by Nazi policies, officially known as “Take helpless people’s assets and don’t give anything in return.”

Given the sad state of history literacy, many schoolchildren will probably wonder why Hitler didn’t at least use the nuclear bomb on Napoleon to win the battle of Gettysburg. But Hitler’s legacy should be of great interest to youngsters.

Yes, the Nazis even beat Americans Richard and Betty James to the punch with a version of the Slinky. Sing along now. (“What marches down stairs, alone or in pairs and makes a jackbooted sound?/A stomp, a stomp, a wundebar romp, Everyone knows it’s Shlinky./It’s Shlinky, it’s Shlinky, for interrogation a wonderful toy/It’s Shlinky, it’s Shlinky, inform on a girl and a boy!”)

Gideon's First Birthday

Our baby isn’t a baby anymore.

Gideon Lewis Tyree celebrated his first birthday on March 6.

I’m sure there will be much eager anticipation for his second birthday, but this year the party and gifts came as a complete surprise to the guest of honor. One-year-olds are so easy to bamboozle. They could see an assemblage of relatives, playmates, balloons, clowns, and ponies and think, “Wow! What a coincidence! Someone call Ripley.” They have the wide-eyed innocence of parents who let their kids stay overnight at the Neverland Ranch. (“What? Michael Jackson is a weirdo? Well, who’d have thunk it???”)

Gideon has been recovering from a slight rash, so when he saw the camcorder come out at his party, he was probably thinking, “This must be one of those disease-of-the-week TV movies. I wonder if they’ll get Blythe Danner to play Grandma?”

One of Gideon’s birthday gifts was the Mega Blocks “Three Little Pigs” set. This is the modernized version, because before the Big Bad Wolf huffs and puffs and blows the house down, he checks for radon.

Gideon also received a baseball uniform and tee ball set. Given the activities of Major Leaguers, it’s a wonder they didn’t come with chewable steroids, Gerber broccoli-and-tobacco, and crotch-scratching Pampers.

One of Gideon’s favorite gifts is the big red metal “Engine No. 7 Fire & Rescue Truck” that my mother bought him. He loves to sit in the seat and clang the bell. But he’s a bit disappointed by the fact that it’s pedal-powered. (“Great! If Fred Flintstone’s house catches on fire, I’ve got it covered. Anybody else is up the creek without a paddle.”)

Yes, Gideon received enough toys to keep him busy for a long time; but we could’ve bought even more gifts, if not for the money invested in “baby-proofing” the house. “Baby-proofing”? Can any mere adult manage to stay one step ahead of baby logic? ( “We know that the Marquis de Sade invented toothpaste and washcloths…therefore, broken glass is…yummy!”)

Gideon tasted his first ice cream on his birthday. And on his way to church, he got to ride in a forward-facing car seat for the first time. Now he’s a big boy (2T clothes, size 6 shoes), set for all the life adventures that occur between the time everyone asks “Does he walk yet?” and the time they whisper, “Has he made out his will yet?”

Since I brought up the subject, no, he’s not walking yet. He hasn’t found the right incentive. But, boy, can he climb! His reason for climbing echoes that of George Leigh Mallory about scaling Mt. Everest. (“Why climb? Because the emergency room is there.”)

People often comment on Gideon’s sunny, outgoing disposition. Well, Gideon’s philosophy about misfortune is “When life hands you a lemon – eat dead ladybugs.” Granted, that’s his philosophy about everything.

Perhaps next year Gideon can report to you himself. He already talks up a storm. In addition to the standard infant gibberish, he also utters such clearly intelligible phrases as “Where’s Dada?,” “Night-night,” “I want some of that,” and “Mother dear, I believe it would be advantageous for you to let father continue his slumber and tend to my caterwauling yourself.”

Well, they’re clearly intelligible to me. Can I help it if I’m an overachiever? Like son, like father.

Trek Trauma: He's Canceled, Jim

It’s a real-life cliffhanger. Unless fans can come to the rescue, the UPN network will discontinue the “Star Trek: Enterprise” series after the May 13 broadcast.

Yes, if things go as planned, for the first time in 18 years, television will be without a spinoff of Gene Roddenberry’s classic 1960s science fiction adventure.

Groups such as TrekUnited.com are trying to raise the $32 million it would cost to produce a fifth season of the show, in hopes that Paramount and UPN will give the program a reprieve.

You may or may not care about the campaign. “Star Trek” has always been too far-fetched for some segments of the audience. Of course these are usually the people who get their news about “Trekker” weirdos from “National Enquirer” articles such as “Elvis Rescues Bigfoot From Crazed Trek Fan.”

(Faster-than-light “warp speed” is already in use -- when gasoline prices go up as soon as there’s a rumor about a rampaging butterfly smashing into an oil pipeline somewhere.)

Grandpa Tyree thought Western Civilization had reached its lowest ebb when “Star Trek” introduced Mr. Spock, a character with pointy ears. Maybe that explains why Grandpa always urged the grandkids to leave border patrol agents instead of milk and cookies for Santa’s elves.

Even some avid Trekkers think the franchise has been overexposed (via four spinoffs) and needs a rest. I guess the series has indeed shown signs of aging. (“That was supposed to be a Vulcan nerve pinch – not a Vulcan hip displacement! Oy!”)

With “Enterprise” mired in 150th place in the all-important Nielsen ratings, we may never get to see proposed “Trek” series such as “Tom Brokaw’s Star Trek: The Greatest Generation” (oldtimers reminisce about how evil warlords used to say “Sir” and “Ma’am” before they released a mutagenic virus on you) and “Star Trek: The Musical” (“All singing, all dancing – to boldly go where no heterosexual man has gone before.”)

As a longtime “Star Trek” viewer, I wish the fundraisers luck, but they may learn the adage “Be careful what you wish for.” If a fifth season is approved, the show’s producers will undoubtedly be pressured to add elements of more popular shows. We would hear things such as:

* “He’s dead, Jim – and I’m glad. We haven’t had a good autopsy since the last commercial break.”

* “Change your phaser gun setting from stun to …‘Remodel.’”

* “There are only two ways to settle this war between the Romulans and Andorians -- Dr. Phil or a nanny!”

* “Watch closely as dad the showoff accidentally shoots himself in the crotch with a photon torpedo.”

Still, the world will truly be poorer for the loss of the “Trek” universe. “Trek” has inspired viewers to study astrophysics, inspired viewers to pursue careers in aeronautics, inspired viewers to throw caution to the wind and buy that darned second Klingon inflatable woman for Saturday night.

The optimistic viewpoint of “Star Trek” will be greatly missed. From the turbulent Sixties through the Carter administration malaise to the divisive post-9-11 environment, “Trek” has held out hope for mankind.

Now we’ll have to depend on the optimism of Pres. Bush. (“I don’t think national parks as we know them can survive. I’m proposing that every American will have the option of owning his own individual tree…or caribou… or geyser or something…I’m open to suggestions…”)

Extreme Makeover: Planetary Edition

We haven’t been able to find the Fisher-Price “Noah’s Ark” toy for Gideon’s upcoming birthday, so I’m resorting to putting Noah’s life into contemporary terms for him.

Noah, of course, was a righteous man in a thoroughly wicked world. God selected him not only because he was righteous, but because of his fearlessness with exotic animals. (“Kangaroos? Shoot, back when I was growing up in the ‘hood, we slept with rats bigger than that.”)

People were raping, pillaging, failing to rewind their rental videotapes, etc. No one listened to Noah’s call for repentance, although, the first few times he hinted at inclement weather, people mobbed the stores for milk, eggs, and toilet paper.

I don’t want to excuse the debauchery of the corrupt population, but Noah was something like 500 years old when he started building the ark. What kind of advice does the average heathen seek from a 500-year-old man? (“D’ya think Depends and Speedo will ever merge?”)

Noah is to be commended for ignoring the scoffers and building the ark exactly as God commanded He must surely have been tempted just to stuff all those animals into his SUV and hit the road.

As far as we know, it had never rained before The Flood. Just imagine the reaction of the sinners after the ark door closed, the “40 days and 40 nights” began, and the waters started rising. No doubt there were pitiable screams of, “There’s still hope for the National Hockey League season!”

Except for Noah’s family, the entire population of the earth was wiped out. Noah, his wife, his three sons, and their wives spent a whole year in the ark. Folks always wonder about the overpowering stench. Well, the year’s supply of Old Spice and Hai Karate was part of Noah’s signing bonus; the animals just had to get used to it.

Noah was 600 years old when the Deluge began. He was still spry, but his age showed in the fact that he insisted on feeding the animals supper at 4:30, and the top of his head barely showed through the boat’s window.

There were plenty of chores for the eight people aboard the ark. Some of the jobs were relatively easy (like feeding the elephants and washing the hippos). Others were incredibly stressful, such as trying to keep the possums from getting run over.

It took months for the waters to subside. The job could’ve been accomplished faster, but all the government wetlands protection paperwork was a real booger.

Just imagine the once-in-a-lifetime experience of emerging from the ark into a fresh new world -- one that had only 83 Starbucks locations, maximum.

After the Flood, Noah’s family and the animals had the huge responsibility of repopulating the earth. (“Don’t think of it as being dragged to a family reunion. Think of it as free tickets to ‘Love Connection.’”)

It’s not well known, but God had to give some of the species an attitude adjustment. For instance, the rabbit. (“Mating? Naaahh, I think I’ll concentrate on my career first.”)

God placed the rainbow in the sky as a reminder that he would never destroy the world with water again. Nope – he’ll use fire next time. (“Gotta get to the store. I need milk, eggs, toilet paper, and asbestos Speedos.”)