Freddogg Off The Chain

Dementia is not funny but what if it is? Dementia is such a cruel decaying disorder and it’s even more outrageous when it befalls brilliant people who lived a life of accomplishment and now can’t remember the difference between the battles in Bosnia and the Falkland Islands and neither can most of us but we never knew the difference in the first place.
Carol Thatcher has written a memoir about the mental decline of her famous mother the former prime minister of England Margaret Thatcher subtitled ‘The Iron Lady is Unplugged” actually the title has something to with living in a Goldfish Bowl swimming in tap water.
It has been reported that 1 in 3 people who live past 65 will die with dementia and I’m starting to think it is nature’s defense mechanism like “you don’t know where your going if you don’t know where you’ve been 30 seconds ago.”
This is what kept me up at night after reading of the Iron Lady’s condition. Her daughter said that Mom-or is Mum the word- has to be reminded that her husband of 50 years Denis passed away in 2003 and so everyday is “I have bad news for you Daddy is Dead Day.”
What ever happened to lying to protect mommy. We all grow up doing it-that pipe ain’t mine- then later in the interest of honesty we eat oatmeal for breakfast and answer mom, ’Daddy won’t be joining us because he is dead just like yesterday, today and tomorrow.”
Why not lie? “Where’s Daddy?” “Camping in Bosnia”
“Where’s Daddy?” “Daddy who?”
“Where Daddy” “Ran away with row house lady across the way”

Seriously, whatever, anything is better than “Look if you don’t see him here and until you see him here he is most certainly still dead. Now can we please move on to other questions?”

Everyone repeats themselves, forgets things and thinks they have chronic fatigue syndrome. I don’t need to be reminded “You ate 7 cookies five minutes ago you don’t need to do it again!”

Freddogg: If it looks like a moon---I am barking!

There is name dropping all up in Delaware this Sunday morning from Church parking lots to bagel shops as every citizen claims to know Joe Biden personally and the crazy thing about that is they probably do but dropping his name cuts no ice because in a small wonder of an egalitarian state like Delaware everyone is better than no one and as good as anyone. If you know Joe has hair plugs you may know him.
I have only been impressed once on a name drop and that was when my late friend Buck Thompson nonchalantly said to me, ”Last weekend I was at the Naval Academy watching a football game with Buddy Ebsen” and I immediately jumped in,” That is the greatest name drop ever! Jed Clampitt! “
Buck went on mentioning Buddy was a “great dancer you know” I do know that after 41 years of marriage Epsen got divorced telling his wife “I’m just tired of your dumb ass!” Actually I don’t know what he said maybe he left a note on the table?
I was in Senate chambers the last time Biden won re-election watching the new Senate crew get certified courtesy of a rouge ticket that ended up in the pocket of my Perma- Frost slicker from the outlet Mall and don’t tell me I didn’t wear it along with sneakers and white socks which is why a security stood next to me in the balcony and finally I turned “what do you want?’ and he said “Fredman you are awesome! Perma Frost?”
The Usher in the house was a runner and I knew him because I take pictures at road races.
Later my friend Dennis and I hobnobbed in the Rayburn Room where the Watergate Hearings had been held and I met Biden’s aid who lives in Lewes “What’s up Kevin?” and he just smiled “Perma Frost? Excellent touch.”
I saw Press and Buchanan doing a CNN show-I was surprised how tall they are-and I saw Press nudge Pat and say “Perma Frost” and everyone in their dumb-assed blazers and red power ties were starting to get on my freaking nerves dropping the name Perma Frost.
As you get closer to power you realize “anybody could do this if allowed” because what is the worse that could happen it’s not like you have to repack a set of brakes.
“Mr Fred your rotors need turning” “then turn the bitches”! Who knows what that means?
I have a great Biden story about how I called him from the Yacht Club bar on a Friday night to solve an immigration problem of a Costa Rican woman but upon refection I’m pretty sure I made up the story.
But I didn’t make up the story about two high ranking members of the Russian Air Force-a long story I knew them from the Walrus Club- who wanted to defect to Delaware beginning with asylum in my house- and I wrote and told them I knew Biden and they both disappeared forever and I could drop their names but then I may disappear prompting a novel “The Spy Who Came in For The Cold Cuts!”

Dr. Freddogg

Pictured above Cheeta and a Herd of Zebras
I was driving to a football scrimmage today listening to a country station on Sirius radio as Merle Haggard was singing the 1967 hit “Lonesome Fugitive” as opposed to “beleaguered by a crowd of too many people Fugitive” and I heard the lyric “I used to raise a lot of cane in my younger days while momma would pray my crops would fail.”
I have been having a problem lately controlling my anger and so I screamed out loud,”That is the dumbest fucking lyric I’ve ever heard and that includes rap.”
Then I’m at the scrimmage and I heard this young coach-looked to be about 25-say to a sweaty high school player on the sideline “You look like Tarzan but you play like Jane.”
But Jane was an old school nasty bitch all scurvy and parasites with malaria and Trypanosomiasis delivered by the dreaded Tsetse fly that nibbled on her nipples at night and she later fell asleep while having sex with Tarzan because Trypansomiasis is actually sleeping sickness and Tarzan had no game anyway. Anthropology professors prefer the technical word to pump up the pompous lecture as saying “flies and shit” reflects badly on the science that ain’t a real science anyway.
Edgar Rice Burroughs created Tarzan in the 1920’s and there have been 27 feature films with different titles all equally stupid of plot centered on good versus evil-the Ho Jane- and a back flipping chimp named Cheeta that is still alive at 76 composes country lyrics and plays the piano.
I taught Americana stuff in high school back in the 80’s and once had a Tarzan yell off won by Charlie Dolson soccer star in 1986 and all teachers though that meant I was a goof off but my class was off the vine and I took busloads of seniors to the zoo which placed me in the role of district wide goof off but all disappearing habitat for “Homo habilis” aside those Darwinian dead enders didn’t understand that citizens of voting age need to visit zoos to develop a sense of global responsibility.
Why can’t I just watch football?

We all encounter those POW license plates but don’t understand why we don’t initiate contact with the driver to thank him for serving his country and being a genuine war hero? Perhaps the driver is a teenager operating his grandfather’s car and playing rap music and parking in a handicapped space and nobody gives a “top of the morning to you” to some anonymous teenager because we hate them all with their baggy clothes, body piercing, planned dumb hair and slinky body posture.
John McCain is often described as a “genuine war hero” but to use a sports metaphor “isn’t that like making the guy who dropped the winning touchdown pass hero of the game after the opposing team locked him in their own locker room for five years?
The object of the mission is to drop bombs and get out of there. How about the guys who returned to base? What are their names? Aren’t they heroes too?
I watched in amazement in real time when McCain walked from the airplane to great his family after five years of being in a North Vietnamese hut. I was like “wow, who survives that?”
The North Koreans held 100 sailors for a year after hijacking the USS Pueblo in 1968 and beat their asses every day. That ship still sits as a North Korean monument of might over America in the harbor of Pyongyang and forget Space Cowboys-no Poontang for a year- I think the walking survivors of that ship are heroes and should be organized into a strike force to go get it back. “Go mash some mutton and bayonet dummies in the school yard. We are placing the Pueblo on an aquatic rollback and taking it to San Diego.”
And so John McCain who will construct a joke if you hand him the elements like North Koreans on a nuclear bomb recently responded “No, I don’t know how many houses I own” and was told the number is seven and he said “O.K. seven” and you just know owning all those properties that somewhere English as a second language landscapers are trimming his bushes.
Speaking of Obama he is the ultimate guy who doesn’t get it. First of all he can’t play basketball- anyone can shoot around. Back in my prime I’d take his boney ass to the rack at will because he just don’t got nothing for me. But I do respect the fact he can read waves and go left or right with the break. He would be the first body surfing President.
The Conventions are about to begin and to go with the sports comparison. Have millions of dollars ruined professional athletes? The answer is positively absolutely and now in politics we have millionaires vying for the power to protect us all.
We are all right fielders on the global stage.

freddogg

A flyweight Olympic fighter from Ghana lost a bout to a Cuban fighter yesterday. His name is Prince Octopus but close friends just call him Prince Octopus.
In Philadelphia there is no such marine animal called an Octopus because the spoken tongue is genetically and environmentally engineered to slur words. I believe the correct pronunciation of this athlete’s name would be Prince Occupus.
You know inside the phone book of the world a Sammy Squid is just waiting for your call. But even that has a certain lilting rhythm to it. Prince Octopus –royalty followed by sea creature moniker-just has no precedent and speaking of Presidents perhaps George Bush could be President Marmoset “but you can call me Snow Monkey.”

Freddogg in your Corner

Emergency room doctors in South Central Los Angeles speaking on the Discovery Channel ER program said if you want to clear “Gang Bangers” out of ‘Cubicle City’ on a Saturday night just yell “who here needs a catheter?”
And have you ever seen a black person in the Emergency waiting room? That is a trick question because once the word gets out the entire extended family including the children of cousins and great aunts are showing up. You never see A person! I didn’t make that rule it’s just what happens.
Speaking of the ‘insert your own catheter’ home kit and what is covered by insurance commercials I think some fat face curly headed dumb assed white woman lamenting “I am tired of re-cat –boiling them on the stove because insurance won’t cover the cost of new tubing” and I’m like “Yo Bitch! It’s 8 a.m. on a weekday. I didn’t know and don’t want to know how many re-cathing women are doing evacuation drills on a given morning! I’ll never look at Chatty Cathy again! Again? The next time will be the first right after Botox Barbie or as spell checker prefers Booty Barbie.
Men from my parents generation and older only got as technical as “women'" problems” and beyond that no man worth his testosterone wanted to know a dam thing and I’m sure there weren’t self cathing women behind curtains because I never saw one in my mothers nursing books and I saw plenty and I could never understand how they got the hideously deformed to wear black electrical tape over their eyes while a photographer with a Yashika twin reflex camera took photos of asymmetrical breasts and trust me-you have no idea.
If I ever see those Flomax bikers and hikers and deep sea fisherman meander through my neighborhood I am going to kick all their asses before they get to the men’s room.
The drug companies are evil and all their commercials should be banned from regular t.v because it is not in the public interest to know any of this stuff. “Certain realities require ignoring” Grand mom Rose used to say after I told her there was a picture in the nursing hard bound book collection of a man with elephant balls or elephantiasis if you’re a medical professional.
She made me tell her the volume and page number and as I left my footprints on the dirty linoleum floor banging the windowless aluminum storm door on the way out I heard grand mom scream “Holy Coconuts!”

Free to roam the wild while trapped inside the cycle of abuse? Speaking of abusing cycles, I once tried to adjust a balloon in the spokes while under power and ended up mangling my hand while crashing into a wall. Did I ever try that again? No, I didn’t need grand mom Rose asking me over and over,”tell me again-slowly- how you hurt yourself!”
I know it’s a syndrome and I know I can’t understand the psychological power of dominance and control but when a middle aged man says he was abused as a teen by Father Murphy over a four year period exchanging sex inside the confessional for the teachers edition of the textbook I’m like “oh yea, like that could happen to a normal hormonal emerging savage of the male sex.
There was this young nun with a “habit” of bumping her breast into the side of my skull when she checked my math computations and when she patted me on top of the head and said “nice job” I wasn’t really sure that long column addition is what she was talking about. Or in Philly Euclidian Geometry “I’ve got your long column right here! Parabolaba Ding Dong ”
Back when I was teaching psychology to fantasy frustrated teenagers I had a guest speaker from a battered women’s shelter. She had all the background to tell stories high school kids would pay attention to but instead she talked of love and esteem and faulty relationships and I kid you not a young black student smart as anything raised his hand and looking straight at me like the woman wasn’t even there said, ”Fredman when is this woman going to talk about bitches getting slapped? Cause if you slap a black woman you had better follow it up with a punch and then move to another state because she is coming to kill your ass and we all gotta sleep sometime.”
Another time I had an experienced psychiatrist who spent a career chairing in prison group therapy sessions for repeat pedophiles as we cycle back to peddling.
This dude brought a therapy dog to class-a welsh corgi- and I asked him if the anti vivisection society knew about his dog and then the guy pouted and petted his dog for 45 minutes and said absolutely nothing of interest so when he left my students asked,”Fredman tell us some sex offenders stories because with all your friends I know you have a couple and yes there was Vinnie who dressed in all white and washed dishes at Frank’s Diner and paid boys a dollar to show him their heinous heinies and when Teddy told me the heiny exchange rate was easy money I told him about inflation and stagnation and supply and demand and my grand mother’s “sick bitch” theories of society and Vinnie was breaking the law of man while Teddy was breaking the laws of nature.
I knew all this in third grade
Trapped inside the cycle my ass!That's why wheels roll.

Father Freddogg