Archive for August, 2013


Monday, August 19th, 2013

Some great stuff coming in about this week’s blog and podcast at  Here’s one from Proud Podcast Participant Carole:

Beans, beans, the musical fruit-

The more you eat, the more you toot.

A burp is just a gust of wind, coming from the heart.

But when it takes a southern trend, it then becomes a…..

Southern burp!!!!

Two little poems taught to me by my mother lo these many years ago!!! (She had a great sense of humor.)

I have discovered that as I age, I am becoming a bit of a “flatulence farmer” myself.

My husband and I joke when we have something like franks and beans for dinner. I’ll say something like “Well, I’m taking my life in my hands tonight..!!!!” He has remarked that I am “giving him some competition” of late in the off-gassing department.

The master bedroom in our home in was rather tight for space. Every now and then, he’d have a gaseous episode while asleep that would literally awaken me and make my eyes tear. (Once I had to leave the room and turn on the ceiling fan!)

If we’d had an interesting meal (like Mexican food, for example), I’d caution him: “Do me a favor – turn your butt towards the wall and away from me. That way, if you let one rip, it’ll have to ricochet off of the wall and hopefully will lose some of its’ energy (and stink) before it reaches me!!!!”

Another time, we were lounging in bed watching tv, and our Abyssinian cat, Sami, was stretched out at the foot of the bed. When hubby flatulated, it was so loud and forceful that it scared the cat who leapt up with the fur on his back at attention (and his tail puffed out as they do when frightened) – he whipped his head around in the direction of the noise – and tore out of the room like his butt was on fire. We laughed till we cried.


I guess I must be plenty immature – because we find flatulence funny (not to mention a necessary part of existence). We find lots of ways to laugh about it.


Thanks for making me smile.


Sunday, August 18th, 2013

The question about the story in the current podcast at is bringing in some absolutely fascinating answers. Here’s one of the best:

My take on the story is this.
First of course I’m wondering if it happened?
Did it happen to someone you know?
Did it happen to you?
When did it happen? As in – time frame ’50’s 60’s 70’s etc?
Because a lot would depend upon that, especially vis a vis birth control.
Nothing worse than wondering if you’re pregnant –which must have been a genuine thing in the 50’s and 60’s, I imagine (as I was still in grammar school.)
So – if that were the time frame, I would say yes – he did the right thing.
Now getting into the 70’s and beyond, female expectations and conscious desires had evolved from the 50’s and 60’s- but as I say, I really know nothing about mature female expectations before the 70’s, as I was playing double Dutch jump rope and buying mint julep candies for 2-cents a piece from Sister Cecilia.
I have to say that growing up as a first generation American of European descent and strict Catholic upbringing,  and having to focus really hard to rise above family challenges and social stereotypes about female success – this kind of thing would never have happened to me.
I guess the first time I might have experienced such a thing would have been in my late 20’s, when I had my graduate degree and I was on my way.
But there then arose the concern about AIDS, and there’s nothing worse than wondering if you’re going to die.
Not to sound cold, which I totally am not – I think I would not have wanted the guy in the story to do anything more than he had. I would think that my mind would be so blown by the cheating thing that I could not have handled the encounter upon which you speculate.
You’re quite a romantic, Dick. It’s a very sweet quality. Your frame of reference seems very West Side Story. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
But I think -actually I know – that young women today would be quite upset if the guy in the story went from being consoler to attempted sexual partner.
It’s a brave new world out there.
Thanks for the engaging question!

Flatulence Farming

Friday, August 16th, 2013

Why is it that females frequently flee flatulence ? (Actually they always do, but I wanted one more f word in there.) There are several f words that get the attention of the pure and pious forces for good in the community. Flatulence is of course more fragrant than most. The nick name for flatulence that rhymes with heart, is so terrible that I can’t actually say it, because the podcast that goes with this blog is carried on some radio stations, and the government is concerned about the effect that f word might have on the tender sensibilities of chil-dren. (The government evidently has never spent any time listening to the conversation in a fifth grade grammar school boys bathroom.)

 When I was in the fifth grade, I had a dog by the name of Whistle. Any time any of my family flatulated, we blamed it on the dog. Because lots of times when flagrance hit the air it really was the dog. He was so en-flatulated we had to keep him away from open flames or he would have become the dog-gone.

One of the biggest differences between men and women is that we are flatuance farmers, and those of the somewhat more evolved and highly sensitive sex are not. The closest I’ve ever come to an admission by a female person of finding flatulence funny comes from Proud Podcast Participant and right-on radio lady, Brooke D who says, “I made fart noises on my son’s belly when he was a baby to hear him laugh.” There you are again. The kid’s a guy. Guys are flatulence farmers. We grow flatulents carefully and try our best to harvest them just as they ripen and burst into glorious , fragrant, blossoms. Then we laugh.

In my book, Staying Happy Healthy And Hot, (available at you will find this explanation of guys. “Many people who are not guys will sometimes call those of us who are guys, ‘Maturity Challenged.’ And they’re right. But it’s not our fault. The Big Louie Institute For Figuring Things Out released a report recently that explains the whole thing. The report notes that a guy’s brain is swimming in a sea of testosterone, which gives him a deep voice, a beard, and a hand just the right size for using a TV remote. The testosterone in which his brain swims absorbs some of the shocks of life that sometimes hit him right in the head. Like a baseball, an unexpected blast of Yanni’s music, or high levels of verbal communication.

Now please remember that testosterone is a preservative. And what does a preservative do? It keeps meat and stuff from growing old and gnarly. And of course, growing is another word for maturing. So naturally, a brain swimming in testosterone simply cannot grow and mature. It’s not our fault. We’re only guys. We do the best we can with what we have to work with.” That’ s from  page 69 of Staying Happy Healthy And Hot (available at, The book has become something of a bible for the Louie Louie generation lads and ladies.

Dick’s Details Quiz. All answers are in the current podcast.

1-   Why are Louie Louie Generation lads and ladies sexier than their usually younger Pimple People counter parts ?

2-   What might a breathy phone call in the middle of the night mean ?

3-   What kind of effect can ladies like Catherine-Zeta-Jones and my Lady Wonder Wench have on Louie Louie Lads bodies ?

Dick’s Details. They take your mind off your mind.

Guys are flatulence farmers. But there are absolutely no women toiling and tilling on the flatulence farms of America. And why is that ? All women have fathers, who are guys…all of whom farm flatulence. So why don’t flatulence farmer’s daughters farm flatulence too? Flatulence is an important part of life. It indicates a healthy diet full of fiber. Were it not for flatulence, very healthy guys full of fiber would blow up.

But there are those detractors who will say that I am being coarse, immature, and silly. Which I am of course. But you might like to know that I am following in the flatulent footprints of none other than Mark Twain, who, while in college, started the fad of igniting his own flatulence, then falling down laughing. I have often thought that our Apollo astronauts may have carried small cans of beans to help boost their rockets to the moon in a similar fashion. 

In fact, Big Louie says that flatulent founding father, Ben Franklin narrowly missed being the inventor of the rocket engine when that lightning bolt hit his kite. Cows are said to be a major producer of flatulence. Why don’t we add that to the list of natural energy sources for our country. We could power our rockets, and our cars with what they produce. You could make a fortune advertising the stuff as Cow Pow !

Yeah…I know. Maturity Challenged. It’s not my fault. Testosterone. It is difficult to overcome the things testosterone makes a guy do. However, there is a story from the Night Connections Personal Audio CD in the current podcast. It’s about a young guy who managed to do just that one night.

He was a good guy. But I sometimes wonder. Did he do what his buddy’s ex really wanted…in fact what she  really needed him to do? He just held her till she stopped crying, then he told her a couple of non flatulent jokes to make her laugh. He was being a gentleman. But would she have found more of a deep, calming, comfort, and maybe even a little healing of the heart if he had taken her to bed…and made gentle love with her ? I don’t know. Maybe you do. Let me know. I’m very interested…especially in hearing a woman’s point of view.

The story is called, The Young Guy Scores. It’s from the Night Connections Personal Audio CD. If you like it, you can just keep the current podcast. Or if you want a fresh copy, just check out the Night Connections icon on the home page.

Ok, so all guys are flatulence farmers and all women are not. All guys. Although I don’t know about the pope. But I must confess I’ve always wondered why they always have that incense going when he’s in public. I’ll bet the president is. Women mature. Guys do so only after all other possibilities are exhausted, and then it’s only a temporary move. Usually we just learn how to act grown up.

But we are good for some things. We do the gross things you don’t want to do…take out the garbage, kill bugs…use the toilet plunger. And it seems to me that the fact that we always want to have sex with you should be good for your ego. if things got nasty, most of us really would do whatever we had to do to keep you safe, even if we got hurt doing it. We’re kind of simple, and easy to please…some kind of nice music, a comfortable couch and you = a happy guy. You can squeeze our arms as hard as you like during the scary parts of a movie. Our old T shirts make very comfortable pajamas. We usually make the first move on that couch. And we do know a few non flatulent jokes, and sometimes one of them even makes you laugh…and we really love that sound…your laugh… and we really love you.

We’re good for some things.

Wonder Wench Writes

Friday, August 16th, 2013

Sometimes, nothing works the way it should.  Some of you, obviously, know that my job as Chief Louie Louie Lass in Residence, is to pick apart anything Big Louie His Own Bad Self and my very own Lad has to say about life. 

Case in point will be obvious when you LL Lasses see/hear what the Lad says this weekend.  I won’t destroy your enjoyment of things by “telling all” but I do advise the more highly evolved of those present to be VERY careful of what you’re wearing … 

To get back to my job as Wonder Wench, may I just say that this week has been a trifle skewed to the darker side, which is why I forgot all the bits I wanted to add to his list of no-no’s.  I must admit that he did a fairly neat job this time and although I would like to, I can’t point fingers.



Friday, August 16th, 2013

I expect tonight’s blog and tomorrow’s podcast to get a pretty stinky reception from at least half of you. So why am I doing it? This little voice inside (I call it Rumplestilskin Pfarfenugen) has been hollering in my head…because I was about to burst…so I said…”Ok…do it and duck.” The blog is called “Flatulence Farming.” I ask the more evolved amongst you for forgiveness in advance.

Sunday, August 11th, 2013


From Proud Podcast Participant Sgt. Tom:

You forgot “Your call is important to us.” 

Also any variation of a
doctor’s office calling you to remind you that you have an appointment with the
doctor at a particular time, when they never seem to remind the doctor that he
or she also has an appointment with you at that very same time.

From Proud Podcast Participant Carole M:

How ya doin?” As you know, I’m in sales and have been for years.  I’d walk into a customer’s office/shop, and they’d say “how ya doin?”.   You KNOW they aren’t interested, don’t care, and are not even listening for a response.

I got so tired of it, that one morning, just for fun, when some guy asked me that, I responded:
“Oh, terrible!  I slipped and fell and hurt my back, and my dog died.”   He looked at me brightly and said “that’s GREAT!!!  Have a nice day!!!!”   
Suspicion confirmed.
I thought you’d appreciate my story.

Gum Control

Thursday, August 8th, 2013

We need some Gum Control laws around here. Yackata, yackata, yakata… Night and day…stupid statements from politicians, TV talking heads, and every day people…beating their gums…we’ve got to have some gum control here. Any time I hear the words, “Have a nice day”, I get dangerous. My Lady Wonder Wench straps me down into my big, comfortable, manly, black leather poppa chair in my living room until I calm down. I get a terrible urge to jump up and shoot a shoulder launched rocket with a soap warhead right into the gums of the “Have a nice day” sayers. I think they should be hit with a big fine or even a jail sentence, or better yet a jail paragraph.

As you very well know, people who say “Have a nice day” very seldom mean it. For most people, “Have a nice day,” basically means “Go away. I’m finished with you. Now you’re just bothering me. Go fall into a nest of hungry saber tooth alligators, gangsta rap singers and insurance sales people. And don’t bother me again while I’m trying to tweet my twitter.”

When somebody gives you a phony smile and hits you with, “Have a nice day” you’re supposed to flash your own phony smile and say, “You too.” I don’t. My standard reply to “Have a nice day” is “Thank you, but I have other plans.” And hardly anybody ever notices. Because they don’t really care. They’re not listening. Gum Control. We need some real Gum Control laws around here to wipe out comments like “Have a nice day”.

Another example of a violation of gum control is, “Drive safely.” Why are you saying this to me? If you didn’t tell me to drive safely, do you think I might drive like all the rest of the loose nuts suicide terrorists on the highway?

And as I have explained in my book, Staying Happy Healthy And Hot (Available at Amazon dot com) The word, “Well” at the beginning of almost every answer to a question should be another violation of any reasonable gum control laws. “Well doctor, do you think I’m going to live ? Well…you’re really not well. Swell. I say go to hell with well. They are machine gumming us with well.

Big Louie, the chief mustard cutter of our Louie Louie generation has the list of the top ten words that you said should be violations of any decent Gum Control laws when I asked you to send them this past week. But here are some that didn’t make the top ten list, although they probably make you want to tighten your seat belt when you hear them too. For example, “It’s not as bad as it sounds.” Oh yeah…then why are you backing away from me while you’re talking to me ? The word “Monday” should be another Gum Control violation. What a crumby way to spend one seventh of your life. “It’s just a temporary tax.” SHOT   GUM ! “Re-calculating.” That’s a new one. “It was on sale.” That’s an old one. “Didn’t you hear that noise ?” I never do, but she does. “You’re just like your mother.” Another shot gum. Any positive statement with the word “but” at the end of it is a big time violation. As in, “I love you, but….”  Big Louie says this is not to be confused with the perfectly acceptable statement, “I love your butt.”

How about, “I told you so.” “Stop and ask directions. We’re obviously lost. Slow down. Stop. Why don’t you let me drive?” “I’ll call you.” “Here, let me try it.” “I’ve seen bigger.” “We…need…to…talk.” Come in, shut the door and sit down.” Bang, bang, bang, bang. Yackata, yackata, yack. We need some Gum Control.

Dick’s Details Quiz. All answers are in the current podcast.

1-   What caused a huge, secret epidemic of broken teeth between 1810 and 1858 ?

2-   How long would it take you to spend a million dollars if you spent a thousand dollars a day ?

3-   Why does Big Louie think we must have gotten very sexy in 1930 ?

Dick’s Details. They take your mind off your mind.

Gum Control laws should cover what we say, what we don’t say when we should, and maybe most of all, HOW we say…the things we say. There’s a story about that in my Bedtime Stories Personal Audio CD.

It’s about a woman who was fully dressed…but she felt completely naked…and alive…and in love…there in a man’s arms. The tingle in her fingertips wasn’t static electricity from rubbing his hairy back. It was much more dangerous than that.

The story is called, “Mr. Small Talk,” and it’s from my Bedtime Stories Personal Audio CD. If you like it, you can just keep the current podcast. Or if you want a fresh copy, check out the“Bedtime Stories” icon on the home page.

In case you missed some of the blogs from last week, I took the most frequently mentioned words you told me deserved big fines for violently violating any decent Gum Control laws, and asked you to vote them into order for a top ten list. Here’s the result:

#10 – “I’m from the government, and I’m here to help you.” There were a couple of different ways of putting it, but this was the main idea.

#9 – “We’re sorry, but we cannot complete your call as dialed.” That woman’s voice sounds like she’s really saying, “Wow, I can’t believe you’re such an idiot that you can’t even dial a phone number.”

#8 – “There goes the electricity.” Did you ever lose power, and catch yourself walking around flipping light switches anyway ?

#7 – “Root Canal.”  Every time I hear “root canal” I try to reduce the pain I know is coming by visualizing some other kind of root canal. Like a group of scantily clad cheer leaders, cheering and rooting like mad for the team, soaked to the skin in a small, narrow, man made body of water through which ships are passing. But it hurts anyway.

#6- “Watch this.” Every time I hear that, something very bad happens very soon.

#5- (After a job interview, the words) “Good luck to you.” That’s just another way of saying, “Have a nice day.”

#4-“ License and registration please.” But officer, I was just trying to keep a safe distance ahead of that idiot behind me.

#3 –“Is that water on the bathroom floor ?” Probably not.

#2- This could actually be part of #1, but it’s so dastardly that it deserves its own recognition. “Nothing can go wrong”… go wrong, go wrong.”

Before I tell you the worst offender of any decent Gum Control laws, I need to mention that it’s just one word that was expressed in a lot of ways. One of  my pilot buddies put it this way, “In preparation for take off, please place your flight attendant in her upright and locked position. If you are seated next to, or married to a small child, please place their mask on your face first.” Many of my sky wanderer friends said, Just as you’re landing or taking off, “oh sanctum effluviam” only they said it in English which we have translated into bad Latin to protect the delicate ears of any young people listening, but mostly out of respect for the licenses of the radio stations that carry the podcast. You get the idea. So here’s the one word that deserves the biggest fine for the most violent violation of any decent Gum Control laws…the biggie…Number One!  It’s just the word…”Whoops.”

 Thanks for helping me put this list together. I’d tell you to have a nice day, but I’m sure you have other plans.


Thursday, August 8th, 2013

This weekend’s podcast ( )is going up Friday morning instead of Saturday morning. So is the blog. (  Podcast Master David Summer is going to Maine for a week of communing with the moose on Saturday. The podcast is called GUM CONTROL, and it includes lots of suggestions that you sent this week…THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

Wonder Wench Writes

Wednesday, August 7th, 2013

There is a lady named Angela who knows all about “hand-some,” only she calls it angels and uses her fingernails to give guys backrubs … and, yes, that includes my own dude. That’s all right with me … I like Angela …

 But hands don’t always do the right job.  They get agitated and jump around and miss the right moment to touch a Lad (or Lass) and even wave off a genuine attempt to reach across the table or desk or even room to give someone a hug.  That’s because hands are attached to brains … even if peripherally … and brains do not work the way we expect them to.

 Brains follow what they have been taught … in school, in church, at the table …

And it takes a great deal of effort to make hands and heart work together. So don’t keep your hands in your pocket (except to keep them warm) and let them dance when and where they want to.



Tuesday, August 6th, 2013

Here are ten of the gazillion suggestions you’ve sent for Saturday’s blog and podcast “Gum Control…words you don’t want to hear somebody saying to you.” I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me ( at ) which one you think should be #1. I’ll make a top ten list, and include it in the blog. By the way, some people sent reasonable but terrifying answers, like “The test is positive.” Since this is a for fun list, I hope youll understand, but I’ve haven’t included those. And I’ve included all references like, “Oh shit” under the general heading of Whoops.


Watch this

Nothing can go wrong

Root canal

Is that water on the bathroom floor

There goes the electricity

License and registration please

Sorry, but we cannot complete your call as dialed

(After a job interview) “Good luck to you.”

I’m from the government, and I’m here to help you