Ventrilo Kissed

I’m not a big fan of air kisses. They often seem to say, “I’d kiss you if I really liked you but since I don’t, I’d rather not soil my lips.”

I was watching the movie, ‘What About Bob’, again… and I always laugh when Dr. Leo Marvin talks to his daughter, Anna, using their look-alike puppet dolls. She fiercely resists but finally gives in to have their puppet conversation in which she tells him exactly what she really thinks.

Using puppets is an excellent way to communicate. It’s a little bit like the air kiss. You’re there, but not. Why don’t we all get look-alike puppets and make it a universal way to communicate? Imagine how many things you could say to someone who intimidates you or pisses you off if it was your doll who said it. Poof! All responsibility is removed from you and put on your puppet, you know, something inanimate to sop up the blame.

Getting stopped for a traffic violation is always unnerving but what if I just whip out my puppet and say, “Gosh officer, you must have been following me for miles but I swear I don’t have any donuts.”

I used to feel dreadfully inadequate around other artists. I often criticized my own work before they could. There was one very arrogant artist that I would have loved to address with my puppet. “Wow, you sure have a lot of talent. You’re ice sculptures are amazing but what do you do with them after they melt?”

No one likes reporting for jury duty. How about responding like this, “yes, I pride myself on being able to spot a guilty person from miles away, your honor. By the way, I’ve often wondered, what exactly are you wearing under that robe?”

Gossipy co-workers? “You heard it through the grape vine? Why don’t you swing through the word of mouth jungle on the more advanced, Neolithic Echo Jungle vine? It’s much more reliable with information, faster and, oh yeah, when you’re through with that expedition party be sure to come back and tell me all about it!”

Bad Drivers? Let your puppet give them a piece of your mind. “Yeah, that’s right, don’t adjust your speed to freeway driving, just cut me off and poke along so we’ll both be late.” For this conversation your puppet will need to be equipped with an extended middle digit.

Snooty store clerks are particularly annoying to me. I would love to take out my puppet me. “Why are you so high and mighty? Is it company policy for you to act like a condescending moron? You’re probably living off commission and depend on goofy people like me to buy your crap!”

You can probably think of lots of other conversations within your circle of fiends. Did I say fiends? I meant friends. Kiss, kiss.

Vodka Drip

I came across an article published in The Associated Press. It was reported that Australian doctors plugged a poisoned Italian tourist into a vodka drip after running out of medicinal alcohol. I thought this an extremely unconventional treatment. I had no idea that pure alcohol was used to treat any sort of condition aside from a nasty hangover.

It seems the undisclosed 24-year-old Italian, had ingested a large amount of ethylene glycol. Anyone knows that ethylene glycol is a clear, colorless, slightly sweet and syrupy (yum) liquid at room temperature. It can be used to make antifreeze, de-icing solutions, polyester compounds and photographic developing solutions, hydraulic brake fluids and inks used in stamp pads. It can also be turned into a vapor by shaking it briskly. For this, you would need a cocktail shaker.

The story described his treatment in detail, but never revealed how the man had ingested the substance. Was he drunk? Ill? Did he fall asleep under a leaky car? Was he suicidal? Blind? Cold? Stupid? Playing a practical joke on himself? What? Without more information it’s difficult to say. So, if only to ease my vexation for not being given the details, I decided to fill in the blanks myself.

Prudenzio, (Latin, meaning cautious) had studied the culture and history of Australia all of his life. He was particularly sympathetic to the Aboriginal people, who had been run off their land in the late 19th century by white Europeans. He had always dreamed of going to Australia to protest their plight. After five years of working as an au pair for a mafia family in Naples, Prudenzio had finally saved enough money to carry out his vision.

After spending only three weeks among the Aborigines, Prudenzio was found at the bottom of a hundred-foot cliff, trapped under the car he had been using. Under multiple layers of gold chains, his naked chest sported hundreds of images of ink-stamped Crocodiles, presumed to make him appear to be more native-like. The polyester pants he was wearing were drenched in photographic developing solution. After being side-swiped, the car careened off the edge of a cliff, rolled down several hundred feet to crash through the roof of a 24 hour photo shop. Authorities learned that despite his many attempts, Prudenzio fell short of being able to perform the authentic dances of the Aborigines and had grown despondent. Traces of antifreeze were found at the corners of his mouth which would explain his erratic driving.

The Brisbane doctor said they quickly used all the available vials of 100 percent alcohol. The next best alternative would be vodka. Prudenzio was hooked up to a nasogastric tube and drip-fed about three standard drinks an hour for three days. The Marachino cherries must have been excruciating.

Prudenzio made a successful recovery. The incident occurred about two years ago, though the hospital just released the information on the case. I’m sure they wanted to make certain that the rehab treatment would prove successful as well.