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FINAL DAYS - Buy Now
Famous painters are on parade bottom left
of the local paper. A long dead quartet
boldly printed - but only as names for beds.
Furniture City's final day sale features
Picasso, Cezanne, Monet and Reubens in a range
of four sizes. The copy writer was obviously
well-informed on those various Masters'
sex lives: Picasso has "high spring support,"
Cezanne "durability," while Monet has mere
"comfort layers." Ruebens who preferred female
ampleness has "wool and foam to eliminate
pressure points." Poor Van Gogh doesn't rate
a mention, not even as a pillow slip. But then
bleeding ears are so messy, resistant to the most
persistent action of Cold Water Surf. And who
would want to sleep on top of Salvador Dali?
All those melting clocks, make you late for work.
But why stop at bedding? Why not composers'
lounge suite sales, or a cluster of poets for
kitchenware? I await tomorrow's paper eagerly.
THE KEEPER OF THE PSYCHE
They are closing the gates of the brick asylums
and letting the staff back into the community.
Including the Superintendant no doubt
who some years ago wrote my friend a letter
refusing her permission to visit a patient.
Seems management were surprised to find
during an earlier visiting experiment
that "psychopaths and criminals had large
numbers of female followers, while admirable
and successful men appeared to have none."
One patient "who had murdered a woman in a most
brutal manner had 22 female visitors in a single
day, two of whom claimed to be his fiance!"
Then a treatise on genetics and Darwinism
as a prelude to how disturbing management found
"the tendancy of the female population
to choose partners least likely to produce
offspring capable of surviving the modern world."
For a finale, 160 words of reassurance.
The hospital was of five-star hotel quality
with a single room per patient, half with radios.
They could study, or play table tennis.
There was a hospital band and excellent food
that included roast pork! Boasted weight gains
to everybody within one month of admission.
My friend sent the man a flower, six ads from
her paper's personal column, and a book on diet.