What A Cut-up

Scalpel

Four surgeons were taking a coffee break and were
discussing their work.

The first one said, ‘I think accountants are the
easiest to operate on. Everything inside is numbered.’

‘I think librarians are the easiest,’ said the
second surgeon. ‘When you open them up all their
organs are alphabetically ordered.’

The third surgeon said, ‘I prefer to operate on
electricians. All their organs are color coded.’

The fourth one said, ‘I like to operate on
lawyers. They’re heartless, spineless, gutless,
and their head and ass are interchangeable.’

***

The little boy was 8 yrs. old when his parents
decided to have him circumcised (looking
different than dad, other kids, etc.).

After a few days of recovery, the boy went back
to school. After about an hour, the pain was
really starting to bother him so he asked if he
could see the school nurse.

He went to see her but was too embarrassed to
tell her what the problem was.

She suggested that he call his Mom and see if
she could come and get him.

The nurse waited in the other room while the call
was made. After a few minutes the little boy came
out and started walking back to class, but the
nurse noticed that his penis was hanging out of
his pants. She said ‘Johnny, what are you doing?
You can’t walk around like that.’

He replied, ‘Well I told my Mom how much I hurt
and she said that if I could just stick it out
till lunchtime she would come pick me up then.’

***

What’s the problem with jogging during Mardi Gras?
The ice falls out of your drinks!
 

Mardi Gras is the only acceptable time to wear body glitter without being mistaken for a stripper. 

***

 

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Flash Fiction #79

Snoopy

PHOTO PROMPT © Melanie Greenwood

Snoopy

Here’s the World War I ace on his way to the aerodrome for dawn patrol. Ah, the lads have his Sopwith Camel ready to go.  It will be a cold flight, so first we taxi through the drive-thru at Drunken Donuts for a hot cocoa, then it’s into the air, to search for the Red Baron.

The day is crisp and clear. Flying is great.  Be sure to check above and behind so that the Red Baron doesn’t sneak out of the rising sun….

Flashing lights???!

Why no, Officer, I was paying attention to traffic. How fast was I going?

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

 

 

T.M.I.

Aghast

26 Things About Me

 

Twenty-six things about me…

A- Age: Just count the rings – uh, 71

B- Biggest fears: I fear nothing – but I’m smart enough to avoid certain things.

C- Current time: 12:34:56 AM

D- Drink you last had: Iced Tea

E- Every day starts with: waking up and checking the obits page

F- Favorite song: Fleetwood Mac – Tusk, YouTube video with USC Marching Band

G- Ghosts, are they real?: Only if you think they are.

H- Hometown: Southampton, Ontario, Canada

I- In love with: Myself – Damn, I’m awesome!

J- Jealous of: No one. I didn’t do all this work to wish I was someone else

K- Killed someone?: In my head? A lot. (Nobody’s actually gonna check – right?)

L- Last time you cried: When I sliced up four pounds of onions for French Onion Soup

M- Middle name: Howard – and one more Archonian secret is revealed

N- Number of siblings: 2 – 1 full brother and 1 half-assed sister

O- One wish: To turn back time.

P- Person you last called: Called what? Oh, daughter, LadyRyl!

Q- Question you’re always asked: Would you like to come to dinner now?

R- Reason to smile: I know – but you don’t even suspect.

S- Song last sung: Eagles – Take It Easy

T- Time you woke up: 7:22 when son got home, 10:36 when bladder insisted, finally 12:54 PM

U- Underwear color: Differently colored bikini briefs every day

V- Vacation destination: Charleston, SC

W- Worst habit: Procrastination.

X- X-Rays you’ve had: Am I still glowing? A lot, recently!

Y- Your favorite food: A lot – potato pancakes/fries & gravy/poutine

Z- Zoos visited! Detroit, as a kid. Not Toronto. Does African Lion Safari count?

 

Insanity

Straitjacket

Insanity is hereditary. You get it from your children.

I was doing some research the other day, and stopped off at Bible.org.  Anything scientific, modern or technological is automatically suspect, so I wasn’t surprised when my eye spotted the headline of an article which read, Psychiatrists Have Been Torturing Insane People For 500 Years.

As a compulsive wordsmith, that caught my attention. A quick check revealed that the word, and occupation, psychiatrist, only came into existence about 125 years ago.  Previous to that, there were men known as psychiators, untrained, unlicensed and uncontrolled.

Driven by self-righteous ego, they were usually interested in power, self-aggrandizement, and enforcing what they viewed as acceptable social norms – shades of The Inquisition. They were often church men, good Christians, and it was they who tortured people who often were not insane, but merely free-thinkers, independents, and weirdoes, marching to a different flautist.

Insanity

As in my post on torture, you could be snatched off the street, or from your home, at any time, for any reason – or none. Might made right.  Cross an undrawn line, and a husky man or two would do worse than sell you into slavery.  Tell your father that you wanted to work at a newspaper, rather than learning how to make gloves; tell your mother you didn’t want the arranged marriage to the fat old farmer; ask your boss for an evening off to go courting, and just see what happened.

Have a look at the list of ‘insanities’, above. Any of these could get you involuntarily committed to an insane asylum, and resisting and insisting that you weren’t insane, was proof that you were.  The list-makers did seem to be fixated on masturbation, in all its variations.  I think they needed more psychological help than the unfortunate wretches they abused.  And I’d like to know how an 1880s nut-house got an Internet address.

Despite the implication that the bad treatment was all the fault of those evil Psychiatrists, these often-self-appointed Guardians of Conformity used many well-known methods to break the will and minds of their charges.  One was wet-sheeting, where they wrapped you tightly in cold, wet linen, and left you on a bed, unable to move, sometimes for days.

Drugs were now commonly available, and widely used. They could be included in what little poor food you got; you could be held by attendants and have it forced down your throat, or directly injected with the new hypodermic syringe.  They included diuretics, which caused you to wet yourself, emetics, which would cause you to vomit, purgatives that roiled your gut, and made you shit yourself, and opiates that suppressed intelligence and will, and blurred reality for you.

On the physical side, beyond the restraining wet-sheeting, one of the favorites was the chair.  You were strapped into a sturdy wooden chair with arms.  Four ropes were attached to the corners, and then those were attached to a single strong rope, suspended from a high ceiling.  Loaded with some of the above drugs, you were then spun round and round – and round, while also swinging back and forth.  Fifty spins in one direction, then forty in the other, then thirty the first way, then twenty, etc, etc!

When the ride came to a stop, you were Inquisitioned. “Admit that you were insane.”  “I was never insane! I am healthy and normal!”  “Wind him up again boys.”  “No, No more! I admit that I was insane.  I am better now and will behave well.”  Caning was common, as well as pitch-black sensory-deprivation solitary confinement.

One facility even built a giant wooden wheel, two feet in thickness, and twelve feet in diameter, its axle sitting on tall posts. An offender was shoved in through a small port, the door latched, and then left for up to 36 hours.  There was no light, no food, no water, and no toilet facilities.  What little air, was redolent with the reek of previous tenants’ leavings.  Like a hamster, you could walk, but that only rained feces and almost-dried vomit on you.

An open mind can always stand a closed one, if it has to – by making room for it in the general picture. But a closed mind can’t stand it near an open one without risking immediate and complete destruction in its own terms.  In a closed mind, there’s no more room.

Gordon R. Dickson, author – Tiger Green – 1965

The 1889 date above just about matches the time when Sigmund Freud, Carl Jung, and others, began humanely treating mental disorders, which most of these poor souls did not have. Sadly, these propaganda pits did not die out.  As late as the 1950s, white women with non-white boyfriends or husbands could be snatched and incarcerated till they ‘learned better.’

At the same time, unwed mothers could be permanently locked away in places like the Magdalene Sisters homes, where their delivered babies were quietly buried in the back yards, and the women were forced into 16 to 18 hours a day physical labor, to pay for their unwanted keep, while those darned Psychiatrists were busy torturing folks. Insanity isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.    😦