Holistic Tantric Therapeutic Trombone Playing

The Lucky Dog Guy had a problem: health-conscious visitors to the French Quarter no longer relished dining on hot dogs, despite the festivity associated with that activity in the City that Care Forgot. Sales were down; but The Lucky Dog Guy, a former student of philosophy, realized that he must change with the times.
In order to gain some insights into what he was dealing with, he read a locally-produced New Age newspaper. The conclusion he reached was inescapable: hot dogs were out. Fini. Totally.

So what is an entrepreneur to do? Come up with something new. Change with the times by providing a new product.
People were concerned with their physical and psychological health. And some of them would try exotic therapeutic approaches to blissdom. The Lucky Dog Guy came to understand that there was a naiveity to many of them: if a treatment sounded alternative, if it incorporated nonmainstream approaches, they would buy into it. After all, look at how many go in for homeopathy!

He brooded on this, and asked the advice of a sage, Crazy Chester.

Crazy Chester told him to pull out all stops in his therapy: perhaps incorporate something he could do and something with a New Orleans theme. After all, the city thrived on the tourist trade. Crazy Chester added, "Oh, and by the way, throw in as many abstruse terms as possible."  The Lucky Dog Guy consulted his pocket dictionary, one of the tools of his trade.
So The Lucky Dog Guy did. And thus was born Holistic Tantric Therapeutic Trombone Playing. It worked, because of the placebo effect. The Lucky Dog Guy was a success! He held nightly sessions on the Moonwalk; and the NOPD did not molest his unlicensed business. After all, it kept the tourists out of trouble!  That's a good thing in a whiskey-and-trombone city. 

The Irish Sport of Hurling

It's a spot that's played with hurling sticks, and can be fairly rough, as I am told.  It seems to be a cross between lacrosse and field hockey, played by what seems to be Australian rules of some kind.  Here some supporters of the Kilkenny club demonstrate their support.  It's looks liked they spelled it right.

After the match, another kind of hurling might take place, thanks to beer:

Forceful Goosing as a Treatment for Depression

Major depressive disorder is a pervasive problem among psychological disorders, and large numbers of people suffer from this disabling and demoralizing disorder during sometime in their lives. Numerous strategies for the treatment of depression have been used, including antidepressant medication, cognitive behavior therapy, short-term direct therapy, integrity therapy, simple behavior therapy, and even religious-based interventions. Historically, electroconvulsive therapy has been used, however shocking as it may sound to us nowadays. These different approaches have all some merit in that they might work to a greater or lesser degree. However, some (like cognitive behavior therapy or direct therapy) take large amounts of time during which the person still feels depressed, produce uncertain results (like many of the talk-based therapies or spiritual counseling), or have unpleasant side effects like loss of memory (electroconvulsive therapy), sleepiness (drugs), bad karma (electroconvulsive therapy), or have erratic behaviors or mood swings that go with treatment.

These limitations can affect therapists' or patients' selection and compliance with these treatment approaches. However, Therefore, Makim Ben Dover(1983) proposed an alternative: the use of Forceful Goosing (FG) to treat major depressive disorder.

The treatment strategy in FG is simple. The therapist-practitioner simply provides the client (or patient) with a rapid, upward thrust in the nether regions using fingers tightly together. This strategy typically causes the client to jump, squawk, and often feel better immediately afterwards. Some have even reported retrospectively enjoying the process! Despite these advantages, FG has not really caught on. Upon inquiries, I discovered that among the reasons for its failure to be adopted was health-related concerns regarding where the fingers were placed (ick!), not being willing to violate the taboo against touching the client, fear of harassment charges, and the client's lack of control over the process.

I think that these anxieties are understandable but with judicious modifications, might possibly allow for Forceful Goosing to be used. Therefore, I propose the following modification:

Prior to Forceful Goosing (FG) therapy, the process is described to the client, who in turn is free to give her or his informed consent to FG treatment. Upon this treatment, the client is fitted for a loosely-fitting thong whose strap does not initially intrude much into the cleft between the buttocks of the patient. However, this thong can be remotely radio-controlled to contract inward with the pressing of a button. The client is to wear the thong under the usual clothing; when the client (patient) presses the button he or she engages more tension in the thong strap. This FG procedure is to be done whenever feelings of blueness occur. It has an additional advantage in that the person treated does not have to worry about VPLs (visible panty lines).

Upon pressing the button, the thong strap is contracted for a duration of about three seconds. This is startling, and usually causes the patient to jump. It provides a distraction, and hinders the person from remembering why she or he felt depressed originally.

This procedure is not without concerns. One is it would provide rapid treatment that would be very cost-effective, therefy reducing the necessity for costly psychotherapies. Also, it would require participants to wear a thong that would be adjustable in terms of back strap pressure. Furthermore, there would be an inclusion of engineers as a major partner in providing mental health care. It remains to be seen what impact will this satorially-challenged group have on psychotherapy.

Forceful Goosing: its time has come now, and it's nothing to squawk about!

The Trojan Bunny

Most people have not read either the Iliad or the Odessey, which is unfortunate.  However, Hollywood can fill in the gap well.

Navel Flaunting

Summertime is that wonderful, restful time of the year.  It's also the time of year when bare midriffs are practical in the Deep South.  Navel flaunting is truly our summer sport down here!

Love Amid the Rioting

There was a riot in Vancouver after the Vancouver Canucks lost the final game of the Stanley Cup playoffs to the Boston Bruins.  While we can deplore the behavior of the disappointed Canuck fans who rioted, it's somehow understandable as due to their disappointment.

However, this young couple seems distracted from the task of rioting.  And this raises some questions:

1)  Was she hurt, and he is offering some help; or is this a moment of passion?  I think it was the latter.

2)  What prompted this private moment to become public?  Did he propose marriage, was it on a bet, or does losing hockey matches or rioting somehow inspire Canadians to l'amour?

Ovid suggested in his Ars Amatoria that arousing a women through the spectacle of watching gladiator games or other sports could later on be translated into her being more receptive for love-making.  Maybe he was right: the excitement of a riot can be translated into sexual arousal.

Anyway, I hope the couple was not abashed the next day because of their occasion being public!

Yvette the Stripping Mortician

Yvette was despondent. She spent a lot of time and money being trained for a career in mortuary science, but she gradually learned that the recession and greater longevity of possible clients resulted in fewer opportunities to realize her cherished ambition.

 However, Yvette was certainly flexible, both physically and psychologically. She soon concluded that she needed a change in career plans. Maybe do something that would be both lucrative and creative. Performance art? The dance? Acting?

Then it dawned upon her. Strippers make a lot of money. And Yvette had (she thought) a spectacular figure and faming red hair! That would make her see-worthy as a stripper.

But successful strippers don't merely disrobe; they must have a gimmick. That was known as far back in time as the days of Gypsy Rose Lee. It would have to be a novel one, too.

So the thought. She had studied mortuary science at the Southern Mississippi School for Mortuary Science.  While she was there, she took some courses in Ecdysiast Arts; so she decided to be Yvette the Stripping Mortician!

She developed a death-themed routine, starting off dressed in a clinical white lab coat, and gradually removing successive garments until she was down to some steel panties and a provocative halter.  Because she was a good Catholic girl from Metarie, and because she was a trained professional in mortuary science, she refused to go topless and kept an element of class in her act.  The music she selected for her performances included Requiems, Bach's Toccata, and climaxed with Dies Irae!  For some unknown reason, she adopted an assault rifle as a prop.

Way to go, Yvette!

A New Role for Justin Timberlake

Weinergate and Etiquette

The recent Congressional scandal which, I'm sure, will be summarized as Weinergate has been explored ad nauseam by our mational media; especially because politics is part of the story. Yes, that's a full-fledged criterion for becoming infamous.

However, one aspect that has not yet been explored is whether this raises some collateral etiquette issues.

For example, suppose a political gentleman were to send you a picture of his short-wearing crotch region, what should be your response? Patience Prudebottom, the Madam of Manners to The Chronicle, gives her advice:

Dear Patience:

My Congressperson sent me a picture via Twitter of his crotch region. He was wearing nice shorts, and there was an obvious suggestion of his marital equipment in the photograph. What is the polite response to such a gift?

Dear Gentle Reader:

I can understand your dilemma. This is not something that was covered in previous works of etiquette. However, the donee in any gift-presenting situation should be properly charming and grateful. The nature of the gift is problematic; however, a polite person should react to it in a way that leaves the donor feeling good about himself, considering that the ultimate end of etiquette is to be kind to another.
In my opinion, at a bare minimum, the receiver of the picture should pen a "thank you" note. Possibly a "thank you" twitter to Congressman Sausage might suffice; but proper Bostonians still deem a hand-written note written in either blue or black ink on good stationary to be the most correct response. A sensitive person should express her pleasure, comment that he looked so manly, and that she would treasure it forever. A discreet writer would make only a general allusion in order to appear ladylike.

Although the medium of communication might be unorthodox, it still pays to follow the normative rules of politeness.  After all, he might be from another land, and is following a prescribed rite of courtship among his people.

You might further express your appreciation by baking him some cookies.  Who knows?  He may give you a ride in the Weinermobile someday.

Madam Patience

Burying Saint Joseph

As a lite Catholic, I enjoy some of the mysteries and rituals of the Church, despite its seriously crappy record lately in dealing with institutional problems, especially the lack of dealing with priestly pedophiles or the harsh treatment in orphanages in Ireland.  We do learn at an early age to love Catholicism; but have some problems with the insitutional church.  In that way it's analogous to the love-hate relationship that conservative and liberterian Americans have with their government: they love their country, but wish their government to be on a shorter leash!


Anyway, this observation aside, let me tell the story.


Catholicism definitely has some folk aspects to it, like the cult of the relics of the Medieval Age and the local veneration of St. Expeditus.  This can be quite discordant with the Rationalistic and Scientific traditions, and sometimes vexes people.

An occasion of this type came in the form of my sister-in-law's fervor to sell her house.  Since the housing market was "soft," she tried inducements to help make a sale.  Finally, she came home with a foot-tall statue of St. Joseph, explaining that she heard that burying St. Joseph upside-down in your front yard would help you sell your house. 

I indicated that doing that was superstitious; and it might actually incur the wrath of The Patient Saint.  I make it a iron-clad rule never to piss off guys wearing halos.

She asked me for assistance nevertheless, but I pleaded the vapors.  (Woman problems can be a convenient excuse to get out of work; they're seldom challenged.)  Her husband claimed back problems, and so she turned to my guileless other brother, who was not so religious but also not as quick with excuses.

I heard him exclaiming, "This is absurd!  I'm not superstitious; why am I doing this?  I'm a Cartesian.  What will the neighbors think?"

My sister-in-law and brother sold their house.

William of Ockham is working overtime to explain this.

Boy Friends, As Opposed to Boyfriends, and Sex

I really believe that a "friends with benefits" relationship will not work out well.  It will often result in one or the other falling in love, and being frustrated by the lack of reciprocal response from the other.  And, if one connects with another person, there's the problem of juggling the "friends plus" relationship with the new one.  How can you explain to your boyfriend your spending the night with your boy friend?  Most boyfriends tend to be a little uneasy even with Platonic relationships.

Anyway, I have a guy friend in which our relationship is mostly Platonic (only up to second base on a few occasions).  He is a big part of my life: friend, best buddy, mutual confidant; someone I can call if my life is frustrating at times.  Someone I can do things with, when we're in the same city.  Frankly, I feel he's a soulmate.

I remember one time I complained that I was bitchy because I was hurting due to having 'gotten a waxing' to get some hair removed.  My guy friend offered to rub some cream on the sore area.  I looked up strangely; just then it dawned upon him where that area possibly was, and he blushed like I never saw him do before!

I kissed him softly, thanked him, and let him off the hook.  Actually, I know that, if required, he would apply aloe cream on my sore bottom and behave himself!  A girl friend does not put her boy friend in that kind of place and not be considered a tease!

On another occasion, I was interested in what was in a sex shop.  Not feeling up to going in by myself although I was twentyish, I got my bud to take me and act as my moral support and stand-in lover.  Anyway, I inspected many odd and wonderous things, and was amazed, ultimately, that it was a lot like going to Auto Zone!  Well, an Auto Zone that sells eight-inch dildoes.  My guy friend enjoyed it, too.  Especially when I tried on a teddy.

When we got sick, we cooked for each other and did the laundry.  He commented, based on the complicated directions: my clothes were high-maintenance.

Speaking of clothes:  Once I knitted a bikini top, and went swimming in it despite it not being stable.  The inevitable happened: it came off.  Dee-Doh immediately covered me up with a towel, and searched for several minutes before he was able to find it.  He was a hero to me that day!

A last story.  One time we skinny-dipped together (it was private.)  We really were skirting on the edge.  As a matter of fact, my pal became obviously excited (I hope I'm not graphic) , and we mutually had an awkward moment for a little bit.  Later, he apologized even though he really, really, really didn't do anything wrong.  I indicated that I took it as a compliment and found it cute.  Still, we didn't skinny-dip again.