Good afternoon Dave! So. Did all that hanging upside down help you get the kinks out of your spine?
I don't know...seems like those Yukapatooies are on to something. Lowell :-) > Good morning, > > [EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote: > > > Dave Laird <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote in part: > > > >>With my head bound up in constriction bands to help > >>fight off sinusitis inflammation, > > > > They make those? I always thought such a thing would be a good idea. > > [laughing] I *knew* I should have stuck with the original story if I was > going to be facetious, because there once was a time when poultices were > applied using constriction bands to fight sinus infections. Even within my > lifetime I remember my Grandma using that method on one of my distant > cousins. > > My original story about being sick? The reality was more complicated than > any story I could possibly create, for you see friends of my family, > fearing the worst for my health, summoned a pair of native healers from up > in Stevens County off the Yukapatooie Indian Reservation. > > When Saggeeba the Healer came down to Spokane from the Nations, she > brought with her Ottumwadiddley, a Moojoo Witch well-known throughout the > Greater Inland Northwest for strange but highly effective cures. Since at > the time, I was feverish, my sinuses infected and my lungs filling with > fluid, my wife had laid me down in the center of the Great Room with my > entire clan gathered around me, no doubt preparing for my last hours on > earth. > > Once she arrived, Ottumwadiddley proceeded to dance the Dance of the > Irreverent old Fart followed by a quaint little native dance called "Make > the Wounded Dog Rise Again" that damned near brought the entire house down > when, during the heat of the dance, I groaned in agony right on cue after > one of the native dancers inadvertently trod on my ankle. > > The healing procedure was actually a quite complicated affair, really. > After taking one of my wife's prized 4 quart stainless steel pots out of > the kitchen, and filling it with boiling water, the Moojoo Witchcraft > Woman opened a jar of some strange dirty-brown ointment, and peeling off a > few handfuls of the stuff into the boiling water, she erecting a tiny tent > made out of a pair of skivvies she purloined from the laundry basket. > After muttering a few choice words in her dialect, she immediately jammed > my head in the only tent flap available in the skivvies, and held my head > there against my will. > > Being downwind of the once-infamous feed lots in Moses Lake, Washington in > the heat of August had NOTHING on whatever ointment she dumped into the > boiling water! > > Were it not for the sixteen coats of Krylon paint on my oldest Ford > sitting on blocks in the back yard, the sheer powerful smell of her potion > would have eaten the bondo right off the Ford makeshift front end > forty-five feet outside. At the time my Uncle Cedric plowed into the cop > car in Terrebonne, Oregon last winter, bondo was all we had left to patch > the right front fender of my old car. Since the cops were looking for a > badly-damaged Ford Torino, we put a makeshift Ford Fairmont nose on the > poor thing and loads of bondo to make it look better. > > So, after nearly two hours spent screaming my lungs out beneath the > makeshift teepee she'd erected over the steaming cauldron in the middle of > the Great Hall floor (which she thoughtfully kept refurbished with more > scalding hot water from time to time), and all the ancestors, relatives > and even the family Dawg sitting on my feet to keep me from exiting this > strange theatrical performance, I finally was allowed to emerge six hours > later. > > Whereupon Ottumwadiddley threw a noose over my ankle and, tossing the rope > up over the rafter in the Great Hall, hoisted me into the air upside down > by my one undamaged ankle. Muttering something in her language, she waved > a ham fist in my general direction, and sitting down on her massive hams > in the middle of the floor, proceeded to light up a clay pipe filled with > some unmentionable grass or weed, and simply sat ignoring my screaming > pleas to cut me down. > > Somewhere much later, although I can scarcely remember when, because I > must have passed out at some point, everyone simply abandoned me, hanging > upside down, and Ottumwadiddley had simply put a big brass bowl right > beneath my head. At first I didn't understand the brass bowl, but after a > few times of waking up upside down and then passing out again, I began to > realize the bowl beneath my head was filling up with snot and various > forms of corruption so vile it defies the imagination, all of which > obliquely had dripped from my poor nose while I hung upside down. > > Sometime around midnight, the contingent from the Yukapatooie Band of > Indians simply picked up and left, leaving me hanging, so to speak. > > This morning, after threatening dire consequences of the first order if I > wasn't cut down immediately, several family members finally removed the > ugly bowl from beneath my head and gently set me down on the floor. > > Suffice it to say, my sinuses are clear, but my intentions are that I will > NEVER entrust my health to another member of the Yukapatooie Band of > Indians ever again in my life. > > That's my story, and I'm sticking to this one. 8-) > > Dave > -- > Dave Laird ([EMAIL PROTECTED]) > The Used Kharma Lot > Web Page: http://www.kharma.net updated 11/24/2004 > Usenet news server : news://news.kharma.net > > Fortune Random Thought For the Minute > Beggars should be no choosers. > -- John Heywood > _______________________________________________ > Libnw mailing list > Libnw@immosys.com > List info and subscriber options: > http://immosys.com/mailman/listinfo/libnw > Archives: http://immosys.com/mailman//pipermail/libnw _______________________________________________ Libnw mailing list Libnw@immosys.com List info and subscriber options: http://immosys.com/mailman/listinfo/libnw Archives: http://immosys.com/mailman//pipermail/libnw
