My Radio Interview

I am so excited to tell everyone that I will be on the radio on Sunday, September 21st at 12:00 noon. The program is entitled Conversations from Studio B.  I was interviewed in the studio by Tom Walker of the National Alliance on Mental Health, (NAMI). The interview will be broadcast on Ohio Public Radio, WOUB in Athens and affiliate stations.

NAMI is one of the only national organizations that concentrates on helping the mentally sick. They have classes for people diagnosed with mental problems, for people who have children who are mentally ill, and for spouses of the mentally ill. The classes are meant to teach and guide caregivers and family members to emotional healing and wellness.

Tom has years of experience as an interviewer and kept the program running along smoothly, asking me pertinent questions about having Multiple Personalities. I answered honestly, if not sanely, revealing some of the pitfalls of MPD. If you miss the program, the interview was taped and will soon be available on the internet. Simply  type in Conversations from Studio B and your computer will bring up links to hear most of the shows that have been recorded. My name, Nancy DeLaval Miller, will be listed next to the program.

I am one step closer to finding an agent for MULTIPLE: a Christian’s Battle with Insanity. Thank you for following itsmindbloggleing.

Multiple Personality Disorder Case Report

This description of MPD comes from a paper by A. Salama Abdel-Aziz, M.D., published in the Journal of Islamic Medical Association of North America in 2005.

“Kathy is a 29 year old white married female who, after having taken an overdose of sleeping pills in her home, was discovered by her husband and admitted to a hospital. This overdose was attributed to her inability to cope with her responsibility as a wife and mother. The husband reported that several times he had found food burning in the oven. On one occasion the patient was saved from a fire in the home but was unable to recall how it started. The patient also denied ever having had a sexual relationship with her husband, although she was the mother of his three children.

The patient’s early development was uneventful except for temper tantrums and nightmares. The nightmares began at about age three when the parents would entertain in their home leaving the child to cry for hours. She would eventually fall asleep only to wake up frightened and screaming.

At age four she had her first traumatic experience. One night she found her father naked in bed with her five year old neighbor. She said that she was stunned with fear and surprise and ran away to her room. Her father followed her and gently persuaded her to take off her clothes and to join him and the other girl in their sexual play. Later,  alone in her room, she felt guilty and cried for several hours, denying to herself what had taken place, and only got relief when she attributed what had happened to someone else, whom she called “Pat.” The second day when approached by her father and the girl, she insisted on being called “Pat.” Also, she continued to engage in oral sex with the father, for nearly five years.

At age nine she experienced her second traumatic event, when her mother caught her with her father. The mother became angry with the father, wept for some time and insisted on taking her daughter in her bed every night. After a short time the mother became attached to her daughter sexually in what the mother described as a safer relationship. “Kathy” could not accept this, denied to herself what was happening and attributed it to a new person, “Vera”, who continued the relationship with the mother for another five years.

At age 14, she suffered her third traumatic experience. This was rape by an older man, who was her father’s best friend. “Kathy” became very depressed, called herself “Debby” and slept away from the mother. At that time, she was described by the parents as being very miserable. She became mute and was admitted to a hospital.

According to the hospital records, she showed a mixture of depression, dissociation and trance-like symptoms, with irritability and extensive manipulation which caused confusion and frustration among the hospital staff.

Following discharge she was seen by a therapist to whom she became very attached. He showed marked curiosity about the different personalities and became fascinated with her case. He suggested hypnosis as a treatment for her condition. His hypnotherapy sessions focused on the rape incident. He felt that “Debby” was the strongest of the personalities. Instead of concentrating on “Kathy”, he encouraged “Debby” to dominate the therapy sessions and talk about “Pat” and “Vera”, reinforcing their roles as dominant personalities. It was at this period, she terminated her therapy and began to call herself “Kathy”, “Pat”, “Vera”, and “Debby” at different times.

At age 18, she had her fourth traumatic experience. “Kathy” became very attached to a boyfriend in town. Her parents opposed the relationship and refused to allow her to meet with him. Her mother was constantly warning her that men could not be trusted, pointing to her own marriage to her father. The patient became scared, unable to trust either of her parents, and ran away from home to another town. She could not find a job, and her need of money drove her into prostitution. She began calling herself “Nancy”.

“Debby” rejected “Nancy” and forced her to overdose on sleeping pills. She was then admitted to a mental hospital where she met her husband, who also was admitted following a suicide attempt. This time the diagnosis of multiple personality disorder was confirmed.

Yard Gnome III

gnomeThe Yard Gnome Part III

I didn’t think things could get any worse, when Jessie devised a plan for catching her husband. She had found an old dolly in the shed. It wasn’t a baby doll, it was one of those gizmos men use to move heavy items. She thought we could pick up the gnome and move him back to the house on the dolly. It wasn’t a bad idea, considering the problem.

I wish you could have seen us trying to move that stupid gnome. We had a terrible time getting it onto the dolly, and when we did, neither of us had to strength to push it over the grass. We were groaning and moaning.

“Paul’s fallen off the dolly!” Jessie screamed after the gnome slipped and crashed onto the grass.

“How will we ever get him to the house?”

It was a predicament. The gnome was the heaviest thing I had ever tried to lift and even together we could hardly get him right side up. He was at a weird angle and pretty far away from the bird bath.

“He’s leaning over too much,” Jessie whined. “I hope he doesn’t notice.”

After our dolly folly, neither Jessie nor I could figure out what to do. Since I didn’t really believe Paul had turned into a yard gnome, I decided I needed to spy on him at night. I didn’t mention to Jessie that I thought he was seeing another woman, but she thought he must be moving around at night, doing the yard work by the light of the moon.

The next night we hid outside behind the bushes near the bird bath and watched the gnome. It was back in its original place, with the hose in its hand. Nothing happened for awhile and I almost feel asleep, when we heard a funny noise and something whizzed past us into the woods. The yard gnome had moved!

“Did you see something whiz past us?” Jessie whispered.

“Yes I did, and I heard it too. Do you think it was………could it have been…..Paul?” I couldn’t believe it. How could he move that fast. I must have been asleep.

I couldn’t see Jessie’s face, but I knew she was excited. We began calling out Paul’s name into the darkness, sneaking through the yard quietly. Jessie handed me a flashlight and I lead the way, as we walked round and round the bird bath and through the yard. She was calling Paul in a plaintive voice.

“Paul……Paul, please come in….Here Paul…..I’m sorry I made you do all the housework…” She repeated it like a mantra for awhile. Finally she screamed “Come here you idiot.”

The situation was getting scary. Was Paul a ghost? Suddenly, something touched me on the shoulder and I jumped and screamed.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Jessie said. “I see something in the woods. Turn the flashlight to the woods.”

“Of course,” I whispered. I pointed the light toward the woods, checking out the trees and the bushes, but no Paul. There was a slight glow coming from behind one of the larger trees, and suddenly I saw the top of a pointy red hat. I grabbed Jessie by the arm.

“Look over there,” I whispered. We both saw the red hat. We moved closer and I turned off the flashlight so Paul couldn’t see us. Then we saw the tops of more than one hat.  My thoughts were running wild. Could there be more of these little men? More yard gnomes? Was this a meeting?

“He has friends!” Jessie whispered.

There was a small fire in the middle of the group and we heard quiet laughter. We slipped up closer to the little fire and counted the gnomes. Six in all, and sure enough, there was a female gnome standing next to Paul. She looked almost the same as the other gnomes, but she had blond hair, no beard and she was wearing a skirt. Jessie was really mad by then, and I hoped she knew better than to make a scene.

I was wrong.

“Paul!” Jessie cried. “What are you doing out here?”

“I’ve met some other gnomes,” he answered. “This is Tiny and this one’s Cutie, and……”

“I don’t give a darn what they’re names are,” she yelled, piercing the quiet night. “Are you coming home to bed, or not?”

“Not!” he said. “I’ve met someone else.” He nodded his head towards the cute little female gnome. “You know what they say, gnome, sweet gnome.”

I was astonished, but I had the sense to make Jessie turn around and leave the woods. Soon after, the glow went out and the laughter stopped.

On the way home, despite her anger, a tear ran down Jessie’s cheek. “I had no idea my husband would become a yard gnome. Do you think I forced him into it? I miss Paul, and I am so lonely sometimes. It’s just not that nice at home anymore.”

I finally had the answer she needed. “Well, at least your yard is beautiful! The lawn seems to be perfectly groomed, and I got you a subscription to Gnome and Garden magazine.”

 

 

Yard Gnome II

This story becomes sadder and sadder every time I tell it. Jessie was coming over to my house every morning to discuss her problem. As I sat with her, I realized she was slipping over the edge.

“Perhaps you should see a psychologist,” I suggested.

“What!” she gasped. Oh, oh, I had offended her.

“You think I should go to a psychologist?” Jessie was definitely insulted and she got up and left, slamming my kitchen door so hard, I thought the glass was going to break. I felt bad about it, but I breathed a sigh of relief.

I didn’t see Jessie for several days and then one morning she was back. She had mellowed a bit and she said, “Wouldn’t it be better if Paul saw the psychologist?”

“Yes, but he’s not even able to speak anymore, Jessie. I think you need to get help for your own sake.”

“I guess you’re right. Do you have the name and number of a psychologist?” I gave her the number and she left. When I drove past her house I saw that the yard gnome had not moved and was still holding the hose, smiling. I was amazed that Jessie’s yard still looked perfect. How could that be? I asked her if she was doing the yard work.

“No, I haven’t done a thing. It still looks good though, doesn’t it?”

“Yes it does,” I agreed. Over the next few days I really tried to figure it out. How could a man turn into a yard gnome, I kept thinking. There had to be some explanation. Maybe Paul had put a stone yard gnome in his place and was sneaking off to see another woman. It certainly made sense considering the way Jessie treated him. But how could the gnome look so much like him?

Later that week Jessie knocked on my door. “Oh no, here we go again,” I thought. I was glad to hear she had visited the psychologist, but sad to hear the results.

“That psychologist is a nutcase. He kept asking me about my feelings. How did I feel about my husband turning to stone? Had I done anything to offend him? How did I feel about doing his household chores? Was I willing to give up my soaps? It was just hopeless. When I got home it was dark. I hoped Paul had returned to being a man, so I ran in the house hoping he was watching TV, being his normal self. He wasn’t.”

She started crying again. “It doesn’t matter how I feel about it, it only matters that he’s not around any more. He’s not around to do the dishes, or take out the garbage or wash the car. He doesn’t do the vacuuming, or dust. He’s just standing in the yard. I knew he’d find a way to avoid doing his chores.”

My Neighbor, the Yard Gnome

gnome A Three Part story by Nancy DeLaval   Miller

Part I

When I first met Jessica and Paul Yardley I thought they would be great neighbors. They were polite and friendly and their place looked like a picture from Home and Garden magazine. Often, during those first weeks after they moved in, I would see Paul working in the yard – mowing, planting, pruning, watering – he did everything with a pleasant smile on his face. He seemed very happy.

However, I soon learned that Jessie wasn’t happy at all. When we got together for coffee one day, she expounded on her husband’s faults. He was lazy and stupid, shirked his chores in the house, and all he wanted to do was work in the yard. I came away realizing she was very bossy and quite dysfunctional, even crazy perhaps.

Friday, she came rushing over to my house and knocked loudly on the back door. “Can I talk to you?” she asked, pushing her way into the house. I agreed and we sat down at the kitchen table. “Paul won’t come in the house!” I had no answer for this and she went on. “Paul went out to work in the yard on Wednesday and never came back in. He finished the mowing two hours later and I kept expecting him to come back in the house, but he didn’t. I didn’t really care at first. I needed my nap and I had to watch my soaps, plus I had to prepare dinner. It seems like the work never ends.

“When dinner was almost ready, I went out to call him. I saw him standing by the bird bath with the hose.

“Paul,” I called out.

“I’m over here,” he yelled back. His voice sounded a little weaker than usual, but I didn’t think anything of it. He was some distance away.

“It’s time for dinner.”

“I’ll be in soon,” he said smiling at me. I thought his smile was a little stiff, but I was too far away to get a good look. I was tired from a long day’s housework and I went back inside. I called him two more times that evening, but I finally ate dinner alone. I even ate some of his, but I left him some on a plate. Then I did his job, washing the dishes. That made me really mad and I called him several more times to come in, but didn’t get an answer. That evening I fell asleep in front of the TV, alone.”

Unbelievable as it seems, Jessie told me that Paul never came in that night. In fact, he never came back in at all, and it made her very angry. The next day she went out to find him. He was still standing by the bird bath with the hose. She decided she needed to check him out carefully, so she trekked all the way out to the bird bath to see him.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Making sure the flowers and the birds have enough water.”

“I see that, but what about you? Aren’t you hungry?”

“No, I’ve just been sipping a little water from time to time.”

She noticed that he looked shorter than usual. “Aren’t you going to come in soon? I’m sure the birds and the flowers have enough water by now!”

“I stop sometimes and wait for the birds and squirrels to get a drink. A deer came by last night with two fawns and……”

“I don’t really care if the president came by,” she screamed. “I need your help in the house!” She was finally losing her patience with her husband. Didn’t he know that he had responsibilities in the house? The dishes were piling up and he forgot she needed help with the vacuuming. And why would she care if the wild animals had enough to drink?

After an uncomfortable silence she said, “Well, I’m going ahead with my day. If you want to stay out here all day, I guess that’s up to you!” She was mad and stomped into the house.

The next morning she called me and asked me to come over and try to convince Paul to come back in the house. When I saw him I was shocked. He seemed much shorter than I remembered, so I looked down to see if he was standing in a hole. He wasn’t. His white hair had grown longer. His face looked the same but his body was much smaller than it had been. Paul Yardley seemed to be morphing into a little yard gnome. Even his clothes and shoes must have gotten smaller, because they still fit the same way. And somewhere he found a long pointy red hat.

“Take that hat off,” Jessie demanded. “It makes you look stupid.” He just looked at her and laughed. She didn’t want the neighbors to see him wearing it. She grabbed at the hat, but then grimaced.

“Feel this hat,” she said, giving me a direct order. To my surprise, the hat was as hard as a rock. I was taken aback. Jessie and I couldn’t pull it off. We looked at Paul with total bewilderment. Then I touched his shoulder and it was hard too.

“What happened to you?” I asked. He just stood there watering and smiling and didn’t answer. I wondered if he could even talk. Could his mouth move if it was stone? His eyes were still alert and moved around, looking at me and the lawn.

“Quit turning into stone and come in the house,” Jessie demanded, but by noon Paul had turned completely into a yard gnome. All the yard work was meticulously done, but we never saw him move a muscle or a stone arm or leg, or give a toss of his hard head. He was as hard as a rock, and couldn’t talk, so Jessie turned off the hose and went shopping.

“I knew he would figure out a way to avoid doing his chores,” she said.

Stay tuned for Part II of  The Yard Gnome

Did You Celebrate Multiple Personality Day?

I am so embarrassed. I missed Multiple Personality Day, which was March 5th. I hope I have not lost any readers because of my memory lapse!

Did you celebrate? Are you a multiple or a single-minded individual? I’m sure many of you had great celebrations with cakes, gifts, and balloons, but what about those who are not multiples? We could call them indivisibles, with liberty and justice for all. I think that’s what we should call them.

My guess is that most multiples had no idea it was Multiple Personality Day. Most of us try so hard to appear normal that we forget everything else.

Some parts of me realized this special day was during March, but my overall presiding personality, Control, wanted confirmation in black and white. Unfortunately I was not able to find the information I wanted on the internet, but I did find a great video on multiple personality, which I presented in my last post.

Since I have mentioned Control, I will describe him/her/it. Control was created in the eighties, when I became a married middle-class woman living in a small university town. My third husband kept coaching me on how to raise my two daughters from previous marriages. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to do it right.

“You have to be consistent,” he said. Well, if there’s anything a multiple can’t do, it’s be consistent. An untreated  multiple has little chance of being consistent. Some of us can’t remember what we did yesterday, much less what significant lesson we were trying to teach our children.

So I created Control, who has no feelings, no gender and no past. This personality was the perfect entity to run a complex household. He/she kept track of holidays (unlike Nancy), car pool schedules, grocery lists, Doctor’s appointments, church responsibilities, cleaning schedules, laundry and meal planning and execution. (I don’t actually execute my meals, I do cook them!)

Control handled all of the above without getting upset. Most of my other personalities can’t do that, because they get upset if there are too many details. They get overloaded and then, wham, they change into someone else!

So that is my excuse for forgetting Multiple Personality Day. I hope you were able to have a nice celebration anyway! Did anyone do anything special?

Procrastination is my mind bandage

The most obvious symptom of being a multiple may be lack of action. When you have several people inside you and they all want to do something different, if they don’t agree on what to do, you have a conundrum. This leads to all sorts of confusion and disagreement on the inside. Sometimes I just sit around doing nothing because “we” can’t decide what to do.

After my last blog I learned a few things from Madelyn Griffith-Haynie who has a post on procrastination and task anxiety. Her blog is called “ADD and so much more”, and it’s on wordpress.  She explains that we are most likely to procrastinate on a task that has many steps. For example, I don’t mind going out to the mailbox, which is by the road, on spring, summer and fall days, because it’s just one task. However, in the winter I hate to go get the mail because its takes five tasks.

  1. Change my shoes to boots.
  2. Put on my coat, gloves and hat.
  3. Walk to the mailbox, get the mail, and walk back to the house.
  4. Take off my coat, gloves and hat.
  5. Take off my boots and put on my shoes.

For that reason I put off getting the mail, and I owe thanks to Madelyn for her wisdom on the subject.

I have found something to do while I’m procrastinating and trying to get my personalities to agree on what we are going to do. It is my mind bandage. It is freecell, the solitaire game of all games. I can play it without thinking too hard, so my numb mind can be deciding what to do at the same time.

I found a website to help me through my dilemma. It is called Freecell.net and there I can play competitively. The site has twelve kinds of freecell to choose from and playing against other people and having a little competition enhances the idea that you’re really doing something. The site even has a special screen for people who are playing while they are at work. It looks like a screen from excel. The people who host freecell.net are geniuses.

Oh, Oh, I’m starting to feel kind of weird. I must be facing a big decision, because I need my mind bandage. I think I’d better get over to freecell.net right away, so I can relax and calm down!

Turkeys Queuing up for Badminton

I have to admit I was ignorant about the abilities of turkeys. There have been so many jokes about these birds I just figured they must be as stupid as people say. However, last spring I had the most amazing experience. I saw a flock of turkeys walking across our backyard, and I ran to get my camera. I got the shot of the birds, never even noticing they were headed for the badminton net.

Later on, I looked out and I was astounded when the turkeys began gathering around the net. From out of nowhere they produced racquets and birdies. They separated into two teams, males and females and began volleying the birdies across the net. It was amazing how good they were. Who would’ve thought? And you wouldn’t believe the noisy gobbling!

The female turkeys won three games to two. They celebrated by pecking the male turkeys all the way home to their nests in the woods. Unfortunately, none of the pictures of the turkeys playing badminton turned out, but I have this one to prove that turkeys will line up to play.

Do you have any anecdotes involving turkeys that you’d like to share?

Are you an Oxy Moron?

Is the expression “just plain crazy” an oxymoron? I am nominating it, because people are either plain or they’re crazy. How can someone be both? If you’re crazy you will automatically do many things that show that you are not plain: such as stopping in the middle of the sidewalk or the mall and turning around quickly and going the other way. Plain people don’t do that. They continue on for a few feet, pretend to stop at a store window and then slowly meander back the way they came. In other words, they are just as insane as the crazy people, but they know how to cover it up.

Perhaps all plain people are crazy people who know how to “act” plain.

How about people who talk to themselves? The plain people only do that when they are at home by themselves, so no one can hear them. Crazy people do it whenever they feel like it. That way they can hash out any type of inner argument from any angle. I’m sure lawyers must do this a lot when they are preparing for a court case. At least I would. Or course, I’m not a lawyer, I’m a crazy person.

Actually I once learned that it is healthy to talk to yourself when you’re alone, because part of your brain is listening and figuring out if what you’re saying is true or not. How many of us believe that one?

Another sign of being crazy is sharing way too much personal information at the first meeting. A plain person waits until the second or third meeting and then blows their new friend away with a whooper. I believe the term is TMI, too much information.

How about the person behind you in the check out line who gets too close? Are they oxy morons or just plain crazy? I have learned several defenses against these people who are  breathing down my neck.

1. I turn slightly and stick my elbow out so they can only get as close as the end of my elbow. Ha!

2. Leaving my groceries where they are on the conveyer belt, I move up to the front of my cart and let them hover around the back. That’ll teach them.

3. If the just plain crazy person still comes up behind me I turn around and glare at them. If I had more courage I’d say something like “Back off lady.” (These boundary breakers are usually women, aren’t they?)

Actually I would never have the nerve to say that to anyone. They might hit me. Glaring is about as violent as I get, oxy morons or not.

The Multipologist

During my first ½ year of blogging about multiple personality I have made up several words that need attention from Webster’s wife Merriam and his daughter, Kory.

Multiple – a person who has more than one personality. The aforementioned person may or may not know about it. The psychiatric community diagnoses these unfortunates as having Dissociative Identity Disorder. They may consider themselves insane, crazy, deranged, a kook, or a nut case. In my case, I knew I was crazy from the age of four, but doctors of psychology didn’t find my “alters” until I was fifty. In other words, it is very hard to diagnose a multiple.

Deranged – A crazy person with no ability to think clearly. Blogger.

Derangement – Rearranging the furniture until one feels deranged and/or nauseated.

Multipology – The study of patients with multiple personality. One could possibly receive a degree in multipology, i.e. a BS in multipology (not a Bachelor of Science degree.)

Multipologist – One who feels apologetic about studying multiples, or is an expert in the field of multipology.

Multipoligamist – One who is married to a multiple or several multiples.

Weirdom – A state of being weird and unable to do anything but type.  May closely follow an episode of derangement. Seek professional help.

Lastly but not leastly, here is the dictionary definition: Multiple personality n (1901) an hysterical neurosis in which the personality becomes dissociated into two or more distinct but complex and socially and behaviorally integrated  parts each of which becomes dominant and controls behavior from time to time to the exclusion of the others.

I recently came across a blog I love. It is called Harmless Drudgery, and the writer, Kory Stamper, claims that she is seeing life from inside the dictionary, mainly because she works at Merriam-Webster. I can’t imagine a better job than being around words all day, except that, since we think in words, it might become difficult to think clearly after lunch. Perhaps Kory receives visitors on the job, and I could bring her my list of words.

The conversation could go something like this:

“Hi Kory, I’m Nancy and I made up some words for the dictionary.”

“I’m sorry, Nancy, but we can’t put words into the dictionary until they are commonly used.”

“They are commonly used. I use them all the time.”

“By commonly used, I mean a lot of people must use them in common conversation.”

“Maybe they do use them!”

“Maybe they don’t.”

“Well, I do, and I want them in the dictionary.”

“Too bad, until they come across my desk as being in common usage, Merriam-Webster doesn’t put them in the dictionary.”

“Well, humph! Do you happen to have the address for Funk and Wagnalls?” (I leave the office feeling somewhat deranged).

Scatter-Brained or Part Deranged?

I started laughing this morning even before I got out of bed. Before that, I lay awake a long time contemplating my problem. It all started when my grand-children came this summer and I taught them to play Chinese Checkers. I laid out the circular metal board and then got out the marbles, which I keep in a heart-shaped, blue paisley print paper-maché box. It’s really pretty and I love it, and we had fun playing the game, but when I started to put the marbles back in the box, I noticed it was very dusty and dirty. I remember deciding I needed to wash it before I put the marbles away.

Last week I dreamed that I had washed the box and it had turned to mush. In the dream I straightened it out as best as I could, and was trying to figure out where to set it, so it could dry. I dreamed I had laid it on the ping pong table in the garage.

This morning I had another dream about this box. How Freudian is that? I was looking all over the house for it and I couldn’t find it. My marbles were spilling all over the place. As I woke I was wondering if my husband Bob had thrown out the mushy remains. When I finally was fully awake this morning my first thought was,

“I’ve lost my marbles!” I laid there and laughed about it for awhile. Talk about scatter brained.

Then, out loud I said, “Where are my marbles?”

Did I really wash the box and if so, where was it? And where did I put the marbles? I hopped out of bed and went into the next room where I keep the box under the lingerie chest. What better place for your favorite box? It wasn’t there.

“Oh no! I’ve lost my marbles!” I thought of going out to the garage to look, but I was still in my jamies. Finally, I looked in the place where it would most likely be, if it wasn’t in the place where it was supposed to be; in the toy chest. I opened the chest and there it was, completely intact with all the marbles in it. It hadn’t been washed into mush after all!

Oh sweet relief! I didn’t lose my marbles after all!

Does anyone else have problems separating dreams from reality? It seems like it must be a symptom of being crazy, or just taking too many medications. What do you think?

The Blog-O-Meter

The Blog-O-Meter was recently developed by Dr.  Seribe Rul Cortext of Weir Leary Labs in Berkeley. You can measure your blog progress with this unique chart. What’s your Blog-O-Meter reading?

How many wrongs make a right?

Has anyone else been bothered all summer by phone calls from political figures or parties? I made a mistake about a year ago and answered a questionnaire from a political organization and they must have given my address and phone number to all the other politicians. I have been getting two to four unwanted phone calls a day, plus more questionnaires and letters begging for money.

I have filled out so many questionnaires that I’ve lost my ability to tell right from wrong. This must be what happens to politicians. It’s not that they purposely make wrong decisions, it’s just that they have been in the political arena for so long, and filled out so many questionnaires, that they can’t tell right from wrong.

What is wrong with that picture? Do two wrongs make a right? Do two rights make a politician? Are we wrong to think that certain rights are right? Are we right to believe that certain wrongs are really quite wrong?

As far as the questionnaires go, I have decided to save them for the cold weather and use them as kindling in my fireplace. I think they will do more good there than returned to the senders, which causes more work for the mailmen and the underpaid secretaries. They could also be shredded and used for packing gifts or items to be returned to gift catalogs.

Are the Democrats right or are the Republicans right? Perhaps I should send out a questionnaire asking my friends and neighbors what they think about filling out questionnaires.

My feelings are summed up in one word:  BALDERDASH!

Scientists Discover Funny Bone

Recently, two scientists from Weir Leary Research Labs in Berkeley, California were found rolling on the floor of their laboratory giggling and laughing out loud. They professed to have found a picture of a funny bone on their x-ray screen, and they could hear it laughing. See below.

The scientists, Morton Jibberish and Phemius Phullhardy received a million dollar grant in 2012, to explore their hypothesis that the funny bone exists in many humans, but is entirely missing in others. When present in the human body, the bone is located between the true ribs and the false ribs, and has been named the mockternal articulation. A third scientist, Alred E. Gone, who worked with Jibberish and Phullhardy for several years, has been admitted for treatment to Shaky Grounds, the local mental hospital.

Can a Politician be a Lunatic? I have a test.

It has come to my attention that some of my readers were confused by my last blog, WHO WILL REPLACE THE LUNATICS? Some of those readers mistook the word lunatics for the word politicians. This is a grave matter that must be taken up with all seriousness.

Political figures are not necessarily lunatics, although the laws and measures  they pass do not verify that statement.

Can a politician be a lunatic? YES

Can a lunatic be a politician? YES

What is necessary is a test to be given to all people who run for office in the USA. Here are the questions that I nominate for the test.

  1.  What state, city, county or area do you wish to represent? ________. If the person cannot name and spell the area they want to represent correctly, I say they should be running for vice president of tenth grade.
  2.  Spell the names of your parents and give your own address and phone number. This is a must for everyone in the USA and if the information is not accurate, NO RUNNING FOR OFFICE!
  3. Who is the President of the United States? If the political hopeful gets this wrong he/she should be expunged expatriated expelled sent away from the country.
  4. Name your spouse and children.  Spell each name properly. Do not pass GO. Do not collect $200.
  5. If the political hopeful is still hopeful at the end of the test AND gets all the questions right, send him/her on their way to the nearest political party headquarters. Give the candidate for office directions to BOTH headquarters, spin him around three times, and whichever one he finds first, let that one be his party of choice.

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