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Psychological Studies of Men in Public Restrooms

By Dr Joyce Bothers and Dr. Ruth Westhymen

Forgoing concern that the following behavioral, literary renderings might fall into the wrong hands, (i.e. the illiterate, the young, the elderly), here is the next segment of “village by village” sociological roundabout, searching for the fool’s paradise on the edge of ecstasy. 

EXCITABLE: Shorts half-twisted around, cannot find hole. Rips clothing in stressful dilemma.

SOCIABLE: Joins friends for a leak whether he needs to go or not.

NOSY: Looks into the next urinal to see how the other guy is fixed.

CROSS-EYED: Looks into the urinal at left, uses center urinal, flushes urinal on right. Upset that he cannot find the right paper towel rack or hand dryer.

TIMID: Cannot urinate if someone else is watching. Flushes urinal as if business concluded only to double back and pee when he is alone. This neurosis can expand if not confronted. Some men can’t urinate if there is someone else in the room, the building, the parking lot, the county…

INDIFFERENT: If all urinals are occupied he goes in the sink.

CLOWN: Look! No hands. He shows off adjusting tie, looks around at mess on floor as if someone else is responsible.

WORRIED: Not sure what he’s been doing of late. Makes flash inspection while standing at urinal.

FRIVOLOUS: Plays stream up and down urinal. Tries to hit fly.

ABSENT-MINDED: Opens vest, undoes belt, unties shoes, wets pants.

DISGUSTED: Stands for a long while before giving up and walking over to the sink.

CHILDISH: Leaks directly into urinal bottom for utmost bubble affect.

PATIENT: Stands ultra-close to urinal, reads newspaper with free hand.

EFFICIENT: Waits until he must perform number two and exits into the stall where he does both functions in one sitting.

FAST: Stands back to take long swath at the urinal, blindly missing and peeing on shoes.

LITTLE: Stands up on box or uses kids’ pisser only to fall in and nearly drown.

WITHDRAWN: Places feet in urinal, goes down leg eliminating noise.

– Manuel Flushe 

Take Your Base, I’ll Take Mine

Take Your Base, I’ll Take Mine

A Critical Analysis of the National Sport

by Quentin Parquay, Royal Legion of Sport

(Editor’s note: Mr. Parquay, a literary critic with The London World and former fellow at Oxford University, has been dedicated enough to sit through rain delays, extra-inning games and traffic jams so as to compose this international peek at baseball in 2015. Although well versed, drifting from Kahlil Gibran to Oscar Wilde, Parquay admits he possesses a limited knowledge of the game having experienced his first contest only last week. The following expose is reprinted from The Hamilton Hemorrhoid, a well- respected, often painful British sports bulletin. It has appeared Steamboat Magazine. Unlike golf baseball was never immortalized by George Bernard Shaw as (to paraphrase) “a pleasant walk ruined.)”

Baseball: 1.) a game played with a bat and a ball by two opposing teams of nine players, each team playing alternately in the field and at bat. The players at bat, after hitting the ball in fair territory must then run a course of up to four bases laid out in a diamond pattern in an attempt to score runs. 2.) a questionable competition of North American origin that promotes bad language, hooky, jawing, bad manners, superstitiousness and the spitting/chewing of tobacco. 3.) the ball used in the game of baseball.

     My interest in the field of baseball began when I first ran across “Casey at the Bat” in 1990. Although the epic poem had been around for decades it had not circulated through the offices of a man who dissects playwrights and Gothic novelists. I hope the following will be entertaining to the reader and beneficial to the fringe fans and the arts as well.


     We Brits cannot afford to be critical of abhorrent fan behavior after the escapades of our cohorts at most football (soccer) matches from Cornwall to Kent. The counterpart American aficionado is actually quite calm and well behaved compared to the football fanatic. He only becomes dangerous toward the late innings after drinking cup after cup of overpriced light beer.

     The aesthetic distance between the audience and the main characters is of special interest to anyone wooed by the theater. The left field character, for instance, is closer to the audience and can be more objective about how his lines are perceived in the grandstands. The thrower (pitcher) cannot gather this same kind of feedback. The audience however is well in earshot of various asides mouthed by fielders and the funny-dressed men behind fourth base that you call home plate. 

     The fan is most often in sympathy with one team or the other. He is most vocal at points of tension between singular characters or sometimes with entire groups of players. He is prone to embracing myths and often makes references to the supernatural as he metaphysically munches on hot dogs with onions and mustard and burnt peanuts, salted in the shell. His metaphors can be figurative, trite and/or utterly classic. His hyperbole is common only to the colonies. In later innings the fan gets swept up in the flow of dramatic monologue that results in comic relief or didactic tragedy.


     Reflecting on the scene behind home plate we see one over-dressed character (the catcher) that carries with him a host of mandatory duties. He must not only catch the ball each time it is flung at him, but he must field difficult “pop flies”, cover his base, backup first base and throw down to second in the event of an attempted steal attempt. (We will discuss thefts and squeezes later in this article). While there is little morality involved in the steal, the catcher is often measured by his pinpoint response to the instant plot. In the local vernacular we hear fans loudly encouraging this catcher to “gun him down” or “nail him with a low throw”. This should not be taken as anything violent. The successful application of these throws and tags can often bring down the curtain for an inning.

     The catcher’s associate behind the plate is called the umpire, a living allegory who attempts to impose his own doctrine. This dark character converts acceptable language into persuasive, tight, one-syllable chants with the sacred narrative “Steeerike, Bawww or Yurooout!”. Otherwise most of the communication is in sign language that is reminiscent of Shakespeare that holds the audience in awe.

     Amusing reaction to the umpire often dwells on King Lear’s cry: “Thou hast eyes to see…and see not!”

     The rest of the extras dress alike so much that it lends an eerie, almost robotic essence to the performance. Each of the two reams is represented by wearing its own costume. It is within the professional ranks that we find strong connection to ancient bestiaries and ethnic euphemisms with names like “Tigers, Cubs, Braves and Giants”. On the local level this practice has been methodically embraced. Long socks may represent the desire to return to simpler days while “softball” fashions clearly illustrate a yearning for a

modernistic, almost impressionist, rendezvous with the keystone future. Significant action generally soils the players’ costumes but adds a delightful descent from the loftiness of pre-game ceremonies.


     Everything happening on the diamond is synchronized into nine innings where one team tries to outscore the other by whatever means available during the scenes that add up to an act. The two teams could play an eternity if the thing reaches extra innings. Imagine a summer day and a pastoral scene in right field where a player is responsible for catching the ball before it hits the ground, then hurling it back into the infield (main stage). He must do this before any players “tag up” and make their way around all four bases and off the set and backstage into the dugout. If the ball is caught cleanly the acting batter is out and has no further lines until he comes up to the plate again in two or three innings. If the fielder misses the ball the hitter gains access to any number of bases while other supporting cast scores runs. The clumsy fielder is often then seen as a goat. Continued performances of this quality will often result in an understudy placed in his position.

     The main actor and navigator of the plot is the pitcher since he initiates the action. He delivers his lines while perched on a pompous little hill 60 feet (18.3 meters) from the batter’s box. He throws a variety of pitches to the catcher aimed at confusing, overpowering and terrifying the man with the stick (bat) in his hand. The umpire then watches closely as curves, sliders and fastballs cause negative capability of the part of the person trying to make contact (with a rounded bat) with the little spinning ball. Some of these pitches exceed 100 miles (or 161 kilometers) per hour. The fastball coupled with an array of sneaky pitches often causes the batter to pop up, ground out or strike out (signified by K for some unknown reason). These activities in no way represent literary onomatopoeia since there is no sound emanating from the ball as it travels to the plate. The onomatopoeia magically occurs when the ball slams into the squatting, supporting actor’s round, oversized glove. Here we see the frontline struggle by the designated protagonist to stifle the antagonist by making contact with a fiery sphere chucked in the direction of his head and vital body parts. It is here that we see another character, the manager, wheel out onto the field angered by the exposition of the background.


     The set can be universal as well as specific to baseball. The only props are the three bases and the plate, the walls, the mound, the backstop, the dugouts (2) and the scoreboard. The size of the stage varies greatly from set to set but is always characterized by white lines that protrude from home plate to the first or third bases. These are the symbols of the action. It is the actor who brings it all into perspective.

       During my last sports melodrama the hero was a young pitcher for the Colorado Rockies. His saga was one of ever-increasing pathos. He quickly extended his poetic license by hurling a “loaded up” ball at the batter’s head. Soon after he balked, a clear sign that he neglected to prepare his lines before taking the stage. By the end of the inning he had reached absurd capacities in low comedy by allowing three other actors to reach untenable positions without exiting the stage. The tone of the play then becomes one of anticipation, bordering on anxiety. The guilt-ridden child actor is sent away by his rigid master to a place called the Minors that was never described by Dante or even the unholy angels. Each summer pantomime contains endless and simultaneous dramas with characters intact. It is this mysterious show and tell that stimulates the lifelong fans of the game. How appropriate in both a literary and mirthful sense. Play Ball!

“The check’s in the mayo.”  – famous promise in Dixie.



(Los Angeles) Local police arrested Guy LeRoy Cuspid, 99, of Redondo Beach, charging him with menacing and assault in the shooting of the Tooth Fairy at his residence last night. Cuspid’s son Slim, 74, had reportedly lost a tooth earlier in the day and had not informed his father that he was summoning the Tooth Fairy. As is the custom, he simply put his lost tooth under his pillow and went to sleep. 

When Cuspid arrived home from his job at a local slaughterhouse, he walked smack dab into the Tooth Fairy in the hallway and opened fire. Neighbors say they heard a series of shots at about eleven-thirty.

When police arrived on the scene, they found Cuspid standing over the bleeding Tooth Fairy and his kid, Slim, crying his eyes out. The senior shooter was transported to jail, the Tooth Fairy rushed to Conquest of Paradise Mission Hospital and Slim was handed a chocolate bar by the arresting officer.

At press time, the Tooth Fairy, in stable but guarded condition, is expecting a complete recovery and should be back at work by Monday according to a union representative.

– Fred Zeppelin

Mayberry Ghost Visits Police Academies

(Malfunction) The ghost of Andy Taylor paid a call on a host of Colorado police academies this week expressing concern over the current state of affairs between law enforcement and the people. 

     The legendary lawman and longtime sheriff of Mayberry, North Carolina told recruits that the us vs them philosophy was all wrong and that the public were not a bunch of criminals like they are told at the academies. He encouraged the police to adopt the concept of serve and protect instead of the current line which separates both parties.

     Students at Police State here questioned the validity of the visit saying that if the citizenry simply stayed in their homes there would not be a problem.

     “We never had any of those academies in Mayberry or even over in Mount Pilot and everything seemed to run smoothly,” stressed Taylor. “If I needed a deputy I had Gomer or even Guber in the wings. They already knew everyone in town and could perform their job without prejudice or profiling. Even little Opie knows what the result will be when we start banding together in armed camps.”

     Speaking at the Augusto Pinochet Police College in nearby Fruita, Taylor told anyone listening that the people are not the enemy and that the police were losing the respect of their constituency.

     “The cop on his beat is a thing of the past,” said Taylor. “Now they just drive around looking for drunks.”      

– Barney Fife


(The following is an opportunity to listen in on grammar where it lives, in the sentences and paragraphs of the English language. Herein you will be privy to the insider’s access as punctuation marks discuss another day on the job. Caution: Please be quiet so as not to frighten the commas or startle the semicolons.)

Comma: Crap. Can’t these people get it straight? What with these run on sentences I can’t get caught up. Don’t they know when to use a period? Back when I was in school they taught you how to construct a sentence and determine who was doing what to whom by the placement of the predicate and the action verb without concern for a lot of fluffy adjectives and dangling participles that had to be diagrammed up at the chalk board while the teacher looked on with that dangerous pointer in her hand and… 

Question mark: What?

Period: Hey, comma, don’t bring periods into this. Sure, I’m on call but I don’t even put my pants on until the sentence is completed. There’s a sense of finality. At the end of the day, I can see that my work has been finished.

Parenthesis: Socrates, Pericles, Xerxes…Aristophanes, Sophocles, 

Oracles…Parentheses. Pretty good company, heh?

Comma: Ego…eeeze. All she does is enclose part of the sentence, which might easily have been omitted. It’s not as if she’s really making a difference, creating anything…but she’s attractive all right. Just look at those curves.

Period: Mindless. It could be worse. There could be two of her. Then we’re dealing with interpolation independent of the surrounding syntactical structure.

Semicolon: That sounds like a clause for alarm. Get it…clause?

Hyphen: Move out of the way. Move out of the way! I’ve got to get to the end of this line. We have got broken words down there. Quite a mess, you know. Move aside, gangway…

Question mark: Where?

Comma: I used to be a hyphen, before I went back to night school. I just couldn’t imagine a lifelong career linking compound words.

Period: Bush league at best.

Comma: Tedious. All that running from one line to the other just to link words that have expressed a desire to remain independent. The language is forever emerging, changing. You savvy?

Semicolon: Yes, I’ve had graduate study…How do you think that top dot got there?

Question mark: How?

Period: I thought it was a typo.

Apostrophe: Cut the proprietary whining. You guys carry far too much baggage but no real weight. I’m the one who substitutes for omitted letters and shows possessive case in nouns. One little mark in the wrong place changes everything.

Comma: Nouns…They are so self-centered, so predicated.

Semicolon: I once knew a verb who could twist herself into an adjective, then back to an adverb, before returning to her original status. Talk about tense! I could tell she was a bit irregular but when I found out she was intransitive I knew it would never work.

Period: Was she copulative?

Question mark: Who?

Semicolon: None of your business. She was in limited contexts, but finite was not in her vocabulary. I don’t know if I was in love or just eager to conjugate.

Dash: Sudden breaks! Sudden breaks? I used to be in demand. Now I’ve got to hustle work. What is this English language coming to anyway? It’s bad enough most of them can’t speak in the proper verb tense and often use the wrong word in speech. It’s downright embarrassing to watch them spell phonetically, never mind mastering another tongue…

Comma: There will always be brackets and principle clauses to take care of these kinds of people. Just be glad you’re a punctuation mark and you’re ruled by very distinct circumstances. These people who use us are still trying to figure out where to put the period…in the case of quotation marks…”

Quotation mark: “Did someone call me?”

Apostrophe: Pompous ass, talking in quotes. Before long he’ll be speaking in italic.

Parentheses: You mean like this?

Quotation mark: I just don’t get the attraction or the slant as it were.

Exclamation point: Sentence construction at eleven o’clock! All hands on deck!

Question mark: When?

Period: Is that an indirect question? Don’t just stand there: It’s probably one of us that they want at the end of the sentence. Grab a couple of commas and a semicolon and follow me!


Making fun of lepers in bad taste


     Hey, I like a good laugh as well as the next guy but making sport of lepers goes too far. Just the other day we witnessed this kind of abuse with a rock throwing incident in one of our National Forests where lepers had camped for the night. Sure, you may not want to camp near them but there is no call for violence. This is ugly. What will these lepers tell their friends back home about their vacation in Colorado?

     The refusal of one visitor to rent a jeep after it had been used by a leper is nothing short of  malicious and reprehensible. Name calling, metaphorical and otherwise, is inexcusable.

     Granted, we do not have a sizable leper population but the ones we do have should be respected.

     Don’t these people have enough with which to contend without insult and injury hurled from fellow humans? Bigotry aimed at these unfortunates is ignorant and hateful. It is the offspring of misunderstandings and fears generated by parents, schools and society as a whole. Like it or not, lepers are just like you and I and deserve a break. After all they don’t generally create problems. Most hide out from the sunshine in black timber redoubts far away from the threats of the modern populace. Most love their dogs. Most pay taxes. Most are not to blame for their condition.

     Now we’re not suggesting you sleep with one or share toothbrushes but at least allow them to breathe the air, smell the roses, wash their raggedy clothing in streams and rivers and live out their pathetic lives. A complete cure for leprosy, but not stupidity, is right around the corner.

– Kashmir Horseshoe

For a related news piece see “Lepers Banned from Local Streams Until Fall” on Page 49

“We do not want to sell a foot of our land. That is the opinion of all. The Whites can come and take gold and then leave. We do not want them to build houses here.” – “Chief” Ouray