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Sep 14 2005

Cliff-Hanger

Spinsterauntsfrolickwithtac

The view from my obstreperologist’s window

Yesterday morning my obstreperal lobe went the way of the watermelon off the frat-house roof. Fearing that this emblooeyed lobe was to blame for my recently diminished patriarchy-blaming vim, I went to an obstreperologist to have it looked at.

"We’ll have to run some tests," the obstreperologist said. She stuck a tube up my nose and electric needles into my fingers, and made me read Little Green Footballs. She looked at some read-outs.

"Holy moly," she said.

"Is that good?" I asked.

"Turn this way," she said, "I want to have a look at your wazzoo."

She had a look at my wazzoo.

"Dear god," she said.

"Is that good?" I asked.

"Listen, I don’t know how to tell you this. There’s nothing coming out at all."

"Out? You mean, out the wazzoo?"

"That’s right. Nothing."

"What! Are you sure?"

She held up the read-outs. "See for yourself. Nothing."

"Damn," I said. "I used to have talent out the wazzoo. And personality, too."

"Who told you that?"

"My mom."

"Well," she said, "read-outs don’t lie."

I said I supposed they didn’t.

"You’re a patriarchy-blamer, right?"

I said I was.

"Pretty radical, are you?"

I said I was.

"Have you noticed a recently-diminished patriarchy-blaiming vim?"

I said I had noticed.

"Well, as you know, your obstreperal lobe draws directly on geniusone excreted by the wazzoo, and the thing is, yours is completely burned out…" Her voice receded into the background. I gazed out the window, which overlooked a sunny meadow upon which happy spinster aunts, their wazzoos freely churning, were frolicking with delicious pork mole tacos. I brushed a bead of longing from my furrowed brow.

"You’ve likely," the obstreperologist was saying, "been in obstreperal failure since the 2000 elections. I’ve been seeing this in some of my more iconoclastic patients, but the negative-function wazzoo component is new. Frankly, it’s a wonder you’ve lasted this long."

I leaned forward and grasped her forearm meaningfully. "Give it to me straight, Doc. What’s my prognosis? Will I ever blame the patriarchy again?"

22 comments

2 pings

  1. Finn

    Brilliant!

    Real tears of laughter.

    Thanks!!

  2. robin

    Very good!! may your wazzoo be fully functional as soon as possible.

    By the way I always thought it was “UP” the wazzoo. Maybe it’s a regional thing. Hawaii, Western States: up the wazzoo. Texas, and wherever your mom is from: out the wazoo.

  3. norbizness

    I’m sure you’ll be frolicking with other rare Texas birds, like whooping cranes or golden-cheeked warblers, in no time. But you’ll have to trust me on the Kiwi Strawberry Boone’s Farm enema.

  4. Ron Sullivan

    Norb’, I think just watching that might have an effect on one’s major organs of amusement. In fact, just thinking about it, mine have puckered about to my navel from both directions and it makes sitting a different experience, plus I can’t drink coffee with paralytic cat-butt face. Damn.

    And don’t mention golden-cheeked warbler in front of me. Just fucking don’t.

    Twisty, maybe it’s overwork. Another weekend in the backcountry with no news might help. If it doesn’t help, at least you’ll’ve spent a nice weekend in the backcountry, which beats Boone’s Farm from any direction.

  5. CafeSiren

    Twisty,

    You had me at “emblooeyd.”

    Best wishes for a speedy recovery,

    –CS

  6. dr. b.

    That made my morning!!

  7. jenofiniquity

    Thanks for giving me the giggles this morning. Hope you recover your vim — you still have funny out the wazoo, though.

  8. Elise

    I think you need to get a second opinion. Sounds to me like the read-out is what’s emblooeyed, not your obstreperal lobe, which looks to be in fine form!

  9. StealthBadger

    o.o;

    *hangs on, munching popcorn frantically, awaiting the next episode*

  10. alphabitch

    Is there a transplant list? The procedure is pretty experimental, but it’s something.

  11. PrissyNot

    Soooo, I agree with Elise – you need a second opinion. Try the new commercials for coal production that have gorgeous supermodels (actually both female AND male this time) mining coal in skimpy, dirty, sweaty skin showing outfits surrounded by glamourous fog/steam/whatsis — a lovely sight for all concerned . . . That ought to give you your vim back!

  12. deja pseu

    Twisty, your brilliance lobe apparently is intact. :-)

  13. yami

    If only we had adequately funded basic research in Obstreperowazzology back in the 80s, we’d have a cure for this by now!

  14. Chris Clarke

    and what about Naomi?

  15. AndiF

    I leaned forward and grasped her forearm meaningfully. “Give it to me straight, Doc. What’s my prognosis? Will I ever blame the patriarchy again?”

    Well, I have no doubts because (sing it, sister) you don’t need a weather man to know which way the wind blows.

    And anyway, what could possibly be so wrong that it couldn’t be cured by a beautiful photo of pad woon sen or Bert romping?

  16. miz_geek

    Say it ain’t so, Twisty!

    I checked my local Hallmark store for a “Sorry to hear about your wazzoo” card, but I couldn’t find any.

  17. Charyn

    Here in the midwest wazzoos are very talented and things can go up them and come out them. It’s very handy. Whether your wazzoo is one way or two I hope that it is back in commission soon.

  18. ehj2

    dear poet, sage, and bon vivant,

    you could have an idiopathy (an unknown ailment with an unknown cause) …

    but i suspect an iatrogenic ailment (one induced inadvertently by a physician) that you have picked up from observing too closely iatrogenic government (a wonderful and useful phrase coined by Patrick Moynihan).

    and do remember — obstreperology isn’t that sure-footed a science … it’s more like a “theory” that should be taught in conjunction with deprecatology.

    have you been checked for “vaporous emissions”? the older more established doctors (sciolistic shlemiels) do that routinely.

    and given your almost obsessive interest in Republicans (reprobates who organize themselves, on the basis of their specialty of stupidity, into camorras of misoneists), you might get a test for mysophilia (a pathological interest in and attraction to excreta). [sorry, i just never get to use some words.]

    i’d recommend getting a second opinion from a vituperologist. failing that, then at least visit a practicing traduciologist.

    and get back to deprecating evil, lambasting ignorant men (redundant, i acknowledge), traducing the virulent patriarchal canaille, and practicing your version of sweet vituperation.

    you are, afterall, a virago (a noisy, domineering, strong, courageous woman) … and this is what we want from you.

    an adoring fan.

    /e

  19. bitchphd

    I’m having a hard time bitching my own self. Bitch burn-out. Maybe the bastards have developed some kind of pacifying, Stepford-wifeizing computer virus targeted at snarky feminist blogs….

  20. Pinko Punko

    I’m getting out of here, because I think she is going to blow, and the wanton destruction will be in the extreme.

  21. TimT

    Once I asked a girl to show me her wazzoo, but she told me I was just thinking with my zowie. A couple of days later I saw another girl feeling her obstreporal lobe, and I realised I never had a chance. :(

  22. ae

    Twisty, you’ll blame the patriarchy again, I’m sure of it. I have it on good authority that wazzoos have the regenerative power of a sea of starfish.

    One question: were Bertie and Zippy on scene at the Obstreperologist’s? You know how pets have a calming effect? Maybe this reduced your blood pressure, thus possibly masking the higher incalcitrant functions of your obstreperal lobe. Could’ve been that. Plus, Shrill-o-meters are notoriously testy, and the Stridentitron, was it properly vociferized to your advanced patriarchy-blaming levels? I’m not sure they even make a Stridentitron capable of handling your obstreperal output, now that I think about it, seeing as how they’re calibrated to the men’s lesser titsassular gland. Androcentric science rears its ugly head again! Blame that!

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