Jet Age Jesse James (5)

On Feb. 10, 1980, 8-year-old Brian Ingram of Vancouver, playing in the sand along the Columbia River, found a stack of $20 bills frayed around the edges.

The serial numbers matched 294 of the bills -- or $5,880 -- given to Cooper. All the money was found in the top layer of sand on the Tena Bar.

FBI agents combed the beach but were unable to find the other 9,706 bills.

In 1986, the FBI presented Ingram with a $2,760 reward, including 15 of the original Cooper bills. His mother said he bought a motorcycle and VCR and the rest was deposited in a bank for college.

Jet Age Jessie James (4)

Retired FBI agent Ralph Himmelsbach, who investigated the Cooper case until the day he retired in 1980, believes Cooper gambled and lost.

An extensive ground and air search of the Lewis River basin in southern Cowlitz County turned up nothing. The FBI checked out hundreds of possible suspects without success.

Himmelsbach told The Daily News in 1996 that the pilot later told him the plane actually flew slightly farther east than originally thought, which would have put Cooper's jump over the Washougal River watershed.

Even if the FBI had known that from the beginning, Himmelsbach doubted the search would have been successful, noting that a small airplane disappeared in the same area that month and wasn't found for a year.

Jet Age Jesse James (3)

During the flight Cooper handed the flight attendant a note. She didn't bother to read it, assuming he was a middle-aged man making a pass.

The note, which she later read at his insistence, listed his demands: have $200,000 in $20 bills and four parachutes waiting for him in Seattle or he would blow up the plane.

He opened his attaché case to show her what could have been about eight sticks of dynamite with wires attached.

Authorities co-operated and gave Cooper 10,000 $20 bills and four parachutes, although as events unfolded they may have unwittingly sabotaged Cooper's escape.

Because Cooper wouldn't accept military parachutes, which have automatic opening mechanisms, Seattle police tried to find an open skydiving school, eventually tracking down an owner on his day off. One of the four chutes was an inoperable ground-training model grabbed in the haste to meet Cooper's demands; another was a small emergency parachute.

Cooper ordered the plane to fly Mexico and agreed to a refuelling stop in Reno. Cooper also ordered the pilot to stay under 10,000 feet with landing gear down and the flaps at 15 degrees, which ensured the jetliner could not fly faster than about 230 mph. Military planes in pursuit could not fly slowly or low enough to keep the 727 in view.

After the plane left Seattle, Cooper sent the flight attendant to the cockpit with the rest of the crew. The last time she saw Cooper, he was tying the 21-pound bag of money to his waist.

At 7:42 p.m., five minutes out of Seattle, a light came on in the cockpit indicating the rear stairway door had opened.

At 8:12 p.m. and over Southwest Washington, the pilot noted a change in cabin pressure, presumably caused by the stairway springing shut after Cooper jumped.

In Reno, authorities found two parachutes on board but no Cooper.

Cooper had apparently gotten the cords to tie the money to his waist by cutting up the best parachute available to him. The two parachutes he took with him were the emergency chute and the inoperable ground-training model.

Jet Age Jesse James (2)

The afternoon of Thanksgiving Eve, 1971, a man giving the name Dan Cooper bought a $20 one-way ticket to Seattle at the Northwest Orient counter in Portland for Flight 305. His appearance fit the 1970s version of nondescript. The composite drawings somewhat resemble crooner Bing Crosby. None of the witnesses were completely happy with the sketches.

According to the FBI file, Cooper was a white man with an "olive, Latin appearance," in his mid-40s, 5-foot-10 to 6-feet tall, 170 to 180 pounds, with dark brown hair parted to the left and ear-level sideburns. During the flight he donned black wrap-around sunglasses. He had a low voice with no discernible accent, chain-smoked Raleigh filter tips, drank bourbon and water, wore a black suit with a narrow tie, and carried a briefcase.

The briefcase, which he later partially opened for a flight attendant, contained what appeared to be dynamite.

Jet Age Jesse James

He made international headlines, stymied the FBI and inspired, songs, books and a movie.

D.B. Cooper probably never lived here -- to this day authorities don't know who he was -- but he makes our notorious list because investigators searched southern Cowlitz County after he bailed out of a jetliner on Nov. 24, 1971, with $200,000 strapped to his torso.

Admirers call him the Jet Age Jesse James and imagine that he's sipping bourbon and water on a beach somewhere.

Detractors call him a foul-mouthed thief and a lunatic. They figure the only good thing about D.B. Cooper is that he probably died when he jumped out of the Boeing 727 he hijacked that dreary November night.

Some of the stolen loot turned up eight years later in the sand along the Columbia River about five miles northwest of Vancouver, but no trace of the man has ever been found.

Little Girl Long Hair (7)

You know what happens next? - The plane taxies onto the runway, gathers speed. Little Girl Long Hair turns to her mother:

Mum, we taken off yet?

No, darling, it’s jus’ someone having a baby!

Kola, don’t think I can allow you to get away with that joke. – Besides (with a trembling voice) the plane takes off with the unidentified man clinging to his attaché case…

Relax, doc. Flight is safe as houses.

Well, I believe something is about to come up on the microfiche.

Wilson and the Bagman

Cut in of the Bagman smiling out of full lotus.

A Beatific moment
As the Bagman levitates
Upwards and then sideways
As if he’s got
Some of those jet boots
You know, just like Captain America
It may be, doc. It may be.

As the Bagman returns to his full lotus
A puzzled Wilson inquires:

Don’t you eat lotus?

Bagman: In the remote paths of the Himalayas one normally sits in it. However, I do believe among the mainland Chinese -

Kola (Staring with hostility): Won’t you let me finish?

Doc: Kola, it’s the art of the Bagman. - Anyway, there must have been a shit load of cash in it. -

Little Girl Long Hair (6)

… Well, I had him down as chiselled and dark.

Once upon a time, I believe it was twenty years ago round the time of Sergeant Pepper…

Yeh, and the MacCartney roach was walking barefoot across Abbey Road.

Funny you should say that, but the Sheikh was there.

In Abbey Road?

I kid you not, Kola. If you look very carefully at the album sleeve of the glorious Sergeant Pepper you will see a youthful Sheikh standing right next to Karl Marx, and that sad guru Whatsisname?

Billy Shears said:

For your informations, there were four gurus on the Pepper sleeve:

Stormtrooper said:

Information is uncountables, ersehole!

Holding up his hand, the Doc says:

My mistake… Must’ve been that there fifth guru everyone is inclined to forget about, the Bagman Gita.

Little Girl Long Hair (5)

At the last minute a man arrives on the plane.

Is he carrying an attaché case?

What do you think, doc? Of course he’s carrying an attaché case, though I doubt very much the lock flips when he runs.

Describe the man.

Well, he’s kinda fat.

With a moustache?

Wears a khaki jacket over his trousers – and one of those towels round his head.

Just like Sheikh LeBooty.

Or, for that matter, Omar Sheriff. – To quote the manist directive: all towel heads look the same.

Au contraire, underneath his tach and beard, the Sheikh has very distinctive chubby face.

Little Girl Long Hair (4)

They make it to the plane?

Yes, Little Girl Long Hair was particularly impressed by the hair dryer over the left wing. She wanted to flatten her curls.

I thought she’d already done that before the trip. – Anyway, they found their seats.

Yes. They put all the presents in the locker above LGLH but not the botanist net. That went to the back of the plane.

(Smiling) Ready for take off.

Little Girl Long Hair (3)

Where are they now?

Moving towards the second level.

Ah, second level security is always tighter…

In fact, the machine just went off. Little Girl Long Hair had something metal in her pocket. Her ugly sisters informed the Man with mucho sarcasm: She wants to give you a sweet.

And what was in her pocket?

A penknife.

I knew she was dangerous. Who gave her that?

Guy named Mabete.

Who was he? – A deviant, and cell operator.

Their servant back home.

And, therefore, extraneous to the story?

Entirely. -

Little Girl Long Hair (2)

If LGLH gets the window seat, I hope they get to the duty free for the discount bourbon.

As a matter of fact, mum has presents –

Cut in of harassed bag lady
In sari

Let me guess. A botanist’s net for grand-dad… and some cloth for her granny who wants to make one of those wrap-round skirts that reminds her of back home. - What about dad?

He gets the cigarettes. – Not those Players that she does not like but Silk Cuts that he can’t stand. Of course, she bought some sweets for Little Girl Long Hair. Her two big sisters want perfume – preferably Chanel Number Five. Mum vetoed that idea, saying it’s far too expensive.

Little Girl Long Hair (1)

So, tell me, oh seer of the wraparounds, what is our little pre-teen up to now?

Looks like she’s kicking up a fuss by the check-in. - She wants the window seat, but so do her two ugly sisters.

Cut in of 2 Ugly Sisters
In Doc Martin Boots
Tank tops and Military Fatigues

Really? How old are they?

Too old for you, doc.

In that case, they must be winning.

Remember LGLH always gets what she wants, least according to her two ugly sisters.

Little Girl Long Hair

Kola (As if peering into the remote view of her wraparounds): Doc, you ever hear of Little Girl Long Hair? –

Doc: No, I can’t say I do, Kola baby.

Kola: Little Girl Long Hair always gets what she wants.

Doc: Then she cannot be a relation of the General.

Kola: Doc, looks like LGLH is about to enter the ziggurat of terminal three.

Doc: In that case, she better watch airport security.

Kola: I do not believe she can be any threat to security. – After all, she is under age.

Doc: Then I sincerely hope she is wearing panties and something over her head.

Cut in of LGLH’s freckly face
in girlie school uniform,
white socks up to knees

Doc Spot

On back of ringing tone of ancient dial phone can be heard voice-overs on Radio Doc:

Just received (by mail order): these really groovy wraparounds as worn by D. B. Cooper and Bono. Got this built-in hyper-reality button. Truly amazing! You get to remote view all kinds of weird stuff.

Doc, are you kidding?

Kola, it’s truly a miracle of modern manist technology.

Kola (snatching shades from doc and donning them): Let me see, doc! – Wow! - Right where I’m looking appears to be one of them ancient ziggurats.

What? - The one playing vampires v. wolverines?

No.

Then, it must be aliens v. predators come to prey on human flesh.

Wrong again!

Hell, I give up! Must be the humming birds v. the contingency colonels.

The humming birds?

Kola, don’t you know, it’s a new kind of employee at the court of King George. Their job is to hum, while everyone including the colonels chew their pencil ends.

Gioconda Smile

The Senator was not in the habit of committing himself to paper, but, over the next few days, the need became more urgent.

Finally he sat down to write:

What is happening? Am I going insane? – Each time I look up I see the one who I have come to call the pilot. Usually he is just sitting in a chair. Sometimes he has in his hand what I believe to be a flight manual, but deep down I am not so sure this is what it is.

Once, when Davis was speaking in my office, I thought I caught him in a smile. One of those ambiguous - Gioconda smiles. Yet, it is strange. It is almost as if I do not wish to define exactly how he is looking at me. – It is fear I know. Fear that if I do, something sinister will creep into his expression. –

Senator’s Dream (3)

He remembered being given instructions – instructions that he could not quite hear.

The cellular was the old one – the one with the yellow cartoon face of Homer Simpson. A Christmas present from his granddaughter a couple of years before.

With Homer staring at him and the Senator interpreting it thus i.e. as some abject comment along the lines forget it, Frank, put it down to the beer, he got out of his car and walked towards the wheely bin.

The Senator knew if he opened up the wheely bin, he would find something left by the pilot – something which was extremely important to him – and possibly the world.

At that point, or certainly in the sequence he remembered, he woke up.

It was four in the morning; the room was still heavy with darkness.

Senator’s Dream (2)

At that point or certainly in the sequence he remembered, the Senator’s cellular rang.

The voice on the cellular was heavily distorted, but the Senator understood enough to make out a sentence that, on waking, he interpreted to mean there’d been a change of plan.

Senator’s Dream (1)

By the time the Senator realised it was a dream the scene had shifted to an underground car park; he was at the wheel of his car. It appeared that he had an appointment, otherwise why would he be sitting there?

He had the impression that he had been waiting, though for how long was not clear.

Just when he thought it was all some awful joke propagated by the dream, he saw a flash of uniform in his wing mirror. - It was the pilot. Why he should think that, but he knew.

The details stuck in his mind:

The pilot walking towards the exit with his luggage. – A heavy suitcase (on wheels), shoulder-bag and trench-coat.

At the exit he stopped and opened up a wheely bin.

Incident Room

The door of the incident room had been left wide open. They thought nothing had been stolen until a man from forensics remembered about the black box. They’d put it in an envelope to send off to the lab. But when he went to look for it, it could not be found.

Must’ve been lost in the post!

Some heavy-handed ironist shouted from the back of the room.

Standing on the rostrum preparing to answer the media’s questions, the Senator had the feeling that he was going to deny everything until, under pressure from some inexplicable interior source, he found himself talking, like Davis, about boxes within boxes.

The thought crossed his mind he might have been naked.

Springer Memorial

It was the day of the Springer Memorial. They had a shot of his dead friend on the TV news. – The boat, must have been a family video. Langland looking somehow younger, more spruce – throwing a line. – Did he catch anything?

The Senator switched off the TV and rang up Paul, told him he’d changed his mind and wasn’t going. Then he walked across the corridor to his wife’s room.

He sat down on the bed, watching her as she did her hair at the dresser.

What’s bothering you, Frank?

I don’t know, he said. Feel pretty weird. Guess I must be sick.

Well, she said. Why don’t you go back to bed? I’ll get the maid to bring you up something.

Double Indemnity

Welling was hitting on the insurance claim. - Turned out the pilot had some kind of double indemnity working in his favour. Hate to say it, Senator, everything appears to be in order. We have to pay out.

Shoot, said Davis. The fucker’s dead.

Don’t make any difference, Mr Davis. It’s written in black and white.

Well, that’s the first time I ever heard you have to pay out to a dead fucker in a case like this. – (Chuckling like Edward G Robinson) – Must be that damn box, put a jinx on us.

The Senator whose mind was elsewhere (the louche figure reclining in the armchair appeared to have in his hand a flight manual. And what was he doing with that?) said eventually:

Paul, I believe we have to be in another meeting.

Right you are, Frank. It’s the Cricketers. They want us all in the clubhouse by ten.

When they got up to go, the louche figure was still sitting there with the flight manual in his hand.

Chinese Box

The Senator was in the meeting with various people including a Dolphin insurance man Welling and the aforementioned aviation expert Telling when he saw the louche figure reclining in the armchair.

It seems remote, but nonetheless not impossible that the black box will return in some other guise.

Davis, the Senator’s Chief Doctor of Spin, who was also present, was the only one who appeared to be enjoying the situation.

It’s like one of them there Russian dolls… You open up one doll and there’s another smaller.

Except these are boxes, said the aviation expert Telling.

Whatever you say, Mr Telling, boxes, dolls. Smacks of oriental to me. What you reckon, Frank, we got ourselves a Chinese box?

Learjet Mystery (2)

In the words of the civil aviation expert:

It was one of the weirdest accidents in fifty years of commercial flight.

Initial findings suggested that the cabin had failed to pressurise (on take-off!). It was this that probably rendered virtually everyone on board unconscious. The plane had run out of fuel after aimlessly circling the skies (for three hours!).

The discovery of the remains of the French born pilot, washed up on the shore, several miles down the beach, had at least put paid to one of the more bizarre theories about the crash; the pilot had been seen parachuting out of the plane, leaving it to its fate.

It remained unclear what had happened at the end. An air sea rescue operator, who was ordered to shadow the plane during its final minutes in the air, saw an unidentified man grappling with the controls. In all this a rumour persisted that tickled Telling’s throat. Could this have been one of those foo flyers? Though, personally, he was of the opinion that it was most likely the punctured latex doll that was found with the wreckage some thirty feet below the sea…

Learjet Mystery (1)

(1) Flight list of the Baywatch crash lists six passengers, including two executives and their PAs. When contacted, the families involved do not claim to be missing members.

(2) To date, the black box has yet to be recovered.

Learjet over Baywatch

Gag note doing the rounds of countrywide newsrooms:

Learjet Crash Over Baywatch
No one hurt
Mr Universe in gym
P Anderson under knife

KR chatroom

Meanwhile in the KR chatroom:

Can’t figure it out. What’s up with the professors?

Let me guess. - Pundits were short on the ground. The professors charge smaller fees.

Not in my neck of the woods.

Then, Childe Harold was out to lunch. Mart was quietly losing at pool.

Still it doesn’t make any sense.

The professors are not in the profession of making sense.

Anyway… they must be slipping.

Either that, or it’s a question of marshalling their resources stroke forces.

For Mars Attacks! You must be kidding!

Jabba, I detect an unhealthy degree of anguish in your voice tonight. (Click here for my consultant’s fee.)

Fuck you, Jonathan.

Jabba, you seem to have forgot all about their spaceship, or for that matter, their moon base.

Fuck you, Sharkie.

It is not Sharkie. Sharkie’s out to lunch.

Well, Hoarfrost, whoever you are… everybody seems to have forgot about the foo flyers.

It is forgotten, not forgot. Who on earth are the foo flyers, my tortured rubber soul?

You surprise me, Jonathan. Anyway, I have a funny feeling we are about to find out.

Late Late Show (2)

Returning to the Late Late Show Studio

Cato Masked Interviewer: Finally, we have in the studio Professor Michael of Cuneiform Studies. Professor, would you care to comment on the cuneiform identified in what is being widely touted as the second Danker video?

The Holograms of Horn and Hex hover intently, as Professor Michael of Cuneiform points his stick at the chiselled letters cueing a glissando-ing slide. (Must be that old duo, Sly and Robbie putting in their oars-worth)

The professor hums and hars over his pronouncements, hedging towards some kind of qualified conclusion that is lost in the gasp of the hovering professors:

Zounds! It cannot be! - Sumerian C!

Are you thinking what I am thinking, professor?

Indeed, indeed! ‘Tis an omen!

(Chuckling) The Return of the Dark Gods!

Murder Sleep

The Bald head of Doctor Dino flashes across the screen, disco lights flashing on his medicine chest:

Doctor Dino (Voice Over): Suffering from insomnia, trouble hitting the land of Nod, why not try

Macbeth’s Fast Action
Murder Sleep

Murder Sleep

Strongly recommended by World leaders everywhere.

Late Late Show

(Present in the round: Cato Masked Interviewer, Ed. of Catholic Future, Professor of Cuneiform, Professors Hex and Horn hovering in hologram form)

Ed. Of Catholic Future (Eyes closing in media res): Of course it is not for one to condemn these images of his Eminence, but one’s heart goes out to the millions of inter-galactic (!) believers who in light of this scurrilous attack on his Eminence –

Cato Masked Interviewer: And would you say, Monsignor, his Eminence has been personally upset by what your paper has described as a cartoon in very poor taste?

Ed. Of Catholic Future: Naturally one would not like to comment on the personal feelings of the Pontificate, but one has it on good authority that he has found all this deeply wounding.

Cato Masked Interviewer (Nodding respectfully): Of course, very troubling. Certain bounds and limits must be set for satire, if our poor leaderines are not to be denied their sleep. Talking of sleep! –

(!) Appears there are some greys out there get some kind of weird buzz of his Eminence’s papal ad-dress (particularly of a Sunday)

Raz-stinger Scud!

In the Late Late Show studio where His Eminence is pictured as a turreted Gandolfo tower raining hell over a bearded Mullah who ducks for cover, screaming “Scram everybody! It is the Raz-stinger Scud!”

Curse of Events (7)

Finally, just for chuckles: the said religious tracts were traced to a fourteenth century Islamic scholar known playfully in academic circles as the Necro-monster.

Curse of Events (6)

Following a second sighting of the President, in his flak jack, this time in a stadium full of other flak jackers, a Pentagon spokesperson confirmed suspicions regarding the Danker videos. While the first video had been declared as ninety nine percent fake, forensics was still unable to pronounce with any certainty on the second video of Black-hooded Jihadis, or for that matter their wildly fluctuating ransom demands.

Curse of Events (5)

A second video of the Bi Professor was posted this time surrounded by several jihadi (dressed like reverse Kluckers, in black hoods) against a backdrop of indecipherable cuneiform.

Ransom figures were bandied around. Three figure sums became six figure runs. – Shazam Inc share prices hit the roof over banzai on the Nikkei, palpitations and possibly strokes on the Dow Jones. As Wall Street was taking its early morning coffee break, a prayer was offered by the ed. of Catholic Future for the Vatican to intercede; Childe Harold went epileptic.

Meanwhile no one had been able to trace the professor’s Palestinian wife.

Curse of Events (4)

The homo line/ kook angle was flatly contradicted by the news that the kidnap victim was happily married and had been so – it turned out - for over ten years to a Palestinian refugee. No one could see why anyone would want to kidnap the professor of semiotics. It did not make any sense from any geo-political perspective. – Why kidnap one of your own kind? Or at least in sympathy with your views? ran the argument, leading one quipster on the BB to wonder aloud if the professor swung both ways. – Or if, indeed, Hamas and the PLO had finally lost their marbles. Amid the ensuing kerfuffle the Foggo story was shunted to the back pages, then quietly dropped.

Curse of Events (3)

Suddenly the Professor’s life work, particularly in academic journals took on great importance.

His publishers rushed back out soon to be pulped copies of The Unseem of Seem, much admired by one of his Berkeley colleagues.

While the dean of the Professor’s university was unavailable for comment, his astute Berkeley colleague went on the Late Late Show to discuss its rich semiotic seam, and his own hastily appended introduction:

The Professor of Ice cream.

Curse of Events (2)

Suddenly it was announced that the said professor, whose name was Danker, was an American citizen (on his mum’s side; his dad hailed from the unlucky dip of the Teutonic Genepool).

The said flight manuals were duly traced to an obscure flying school in Neverland.

Various expert opinion makers syndicated to the more feverish papers rushed to authenticate the said religious tracts and suspect passports abandoned in the boot of the infidel Sedan.

Curse of Events (1)

It was the curse of events. - That old Macmillan vibe. Over the next few days, they finally caught up with the Commissioner:

In an infidel car boot (sale) near the airport: three suspect passports were found along with flight manuals and incriminating religious tracts.

A video was posted on the net purporting to show the death of a homosexual western professor at the hands of an anonymous group of jihadists.

While no linkage was presumed between the two events, the president was seen landing in his helicopter and turning - wishfully to salute the tin-head waiting for him on the White House lawn.

Dusty

The news had just broke about Dusty. Some gee shucks guy was jabbing away on Fox. Well, heck, Dusty… he’s just a regular guy. Used to do a job for us back in the heydays of the Curtain War. You know, ran a little peep show, “exhort” service by the Wall. In fact, I believe it was Dusty who helped Prez Kennedy pen that there famous infamous speech. Ich bin ein Whore-finder, son… Musing: guess who was bearing false witness for Foggo? Dusty after all still had friends… Tenet and co no doubt trying to get their own back on the half bakered Republican sinner whose name was at once funnier and less so than the imponderable Beckettian allusion dared one to hope.

The Necromonicon

Sez here in the Necromonicon.

Who wrote that?

An ancient Arab, fourteenth century scholar…

Who was in contact with Belzeebub?

With the conversation proceeding along the following lines, the Commissioner was – in spite of his better judgement – prepared to stick it out.

Legend has it he was sent by the King of the Assassins.

And Lovecraft knew that?

He did. At least he must have intuited it. For there is no evidence he actually read the Necromonicon. But it was so that he envisioned the tupla.

You are saying he conjured it from the book?

I am saying Lovecraft made the tupla come alive for literature.

Fair dinkum.

Jackie meets Dan

The scene was like something out of a creepy slasher movie. Kinda Jackie meets Dan, Dan Brown.
Hacked off limbs, sprayed blood
Eyeball in ashtray
Victim head rolling round the Pentogram

The boys could take their pick

(1) Ritual murder
(2) Suicide staged or otherwise
(3) mayhem courtesy of Devil Fourth Class
(4) Occult kink meets horror kink and maybe just some sex kink in there too


Musing on this Mousetrap of Mixed Metaphors, Alvarez told himself:

Hold up, agent. There’s no need to exaggerate, even if these were unsubtle times for ones political enemies…

The final touch then, a sepia hint of further skeletons hiding in the closet, among the cuddly toys of the Homo Khalid.

ET Go Home

It was a piece of prime real estate situated in a suburban cul-de-sac. The lawns cut every day. Just the sort of place you could take the dog for a walk, the kids could rip up the pavement with their BMXs and trick bikes. (ET go home, yeh). That was it, the Middle Amerikas of modest success and ambition that somehow flunked out around the middle eighties.

A man wearing latex gloves emerged from the house.

The neighbour was saying to the Globe man:

All I know is he pays his rent and he’s a nice guy.

They brought out the stash. Box upon box of top shelf material, adult home movies, virtual reality sex toys…

The Commissioner, half in melancholy, half in disgust, went home.

Telegram Sam

On the trail of pundit musing, a telegram arrives from Dr K. King:

Doctors of Death
(Currently
At annual convention)
Answer
Will
Post

Pool-side

Pool-side, lining up his cue, Fils Amiss holds forth:

In times of crisis – i.e. the continuing war – impending crash – the appearance of omens – see Nephilim, population in need of reassurance – and reassurance being the province of all good doctors. To quote Sontag from beyond the grave… if Death comes to all, and life is indeed crapulous… we live in a world of Krapp’s last tape…

Mister Amiss

At London airport

A man stepping through the metal detector… is invited by the young female attendant in the cheap bra to take off his shoes. Prey they do not detect his stash in the heel of his left brogue.

A man with mike calls out from the back of the waiting hordes:

Mr Amiss, would you care to comment on the proliferation of doctors in the Black Box?

Casually – one might even say louchely pocketing his wallet and Trojans, Mister Amiss declares:

I promise to talk, but only over a game of pool.

Pundit Search (2)

As Sharkhunter and Hoarfrost trade colourful insults:

Guys, we are forgetting the Childe Harold.

Indeed, but the Childe Harold only ever offers silence albeit of a theatrical nature.

Or at the very best, menace.

Childe Harold writes: “Only a cunt would come with a joke like that”.

Harold, surely you have not forgot. In the BB the c-word is strictly off limits.

This is censorship. May Kenneth get on your erse.

Guys, what we need is a real heavyweight – possibly jumbo jet to pronounce on the doctors…

You are quite right, Hoarsome. I do believe one has just touched down at London airport.

Let me guess… Is it Fils Amis? - At last! Someone of real substance to pronounce on the doctors!

Indeed, everything somehow felt amiss without him.

Pundit Search

Well, this does surprises me with the likes of Jabba around.

I am here, Jonathan. But do not feel qualified to comment on doctors. Besides, why not apply your mensa mind to the issue at hand?

Jabba, you should know, I have sworn the Hippocratic oath.

Ah, this is tragic. Where is bleedin’ Knightie when you need him?

Knight Rider only ever comes out for 911s, not 999s.

Heavens forfend! You defend him too much, Hoarfrost.

Fuck you, Sharkie.

Readers Queries (7)

Bumptious reader morphing into smart erse with PHD in meta-textual analysis wishes to know:

Why are there so many doctors in the BB? - This proliferation of doctors has been puzzling me for some time. - Would any of the BB pundits care to comment on this curious anomaly of authorial substitutes?

Editors: Sorry, pundits appear to be unavailable for comment. We shall have to put the question through our search engine.

Placebos

Wow, cries the patient in plain admiration. And there was I wondering, where you put the placebos?

Frowning, the doctor is adamant there are no placebos, though he was working on a second medicine chest.

I dig, said the patient. Must be in some kind of parallel universe.

The doctor beams.

In the parallel universe, there is only room for placebos.

The patient beaming back:

Glad to I know we are on the same wavelength, Doctor Robert.

Jack’s Cocktail

For the delectation and edification of the patient the contents of the smoke-screen medicine chest were itemised as follows:

(1) With dental hygiene in mind: gently whitening Sensodyne toothpaste, floss, Plak Out and Gel; oxygenated water; six-month supply of flexi-bend toothbrushes (medium strength)

(2) Dietary supplements such as iron and zinc tablets; the gamut of vitamin pills, multivitamins, Vitamin C of course in soluble as well as capsule form; garlic pills and cod liver oil.

(3) In case of indigestion, stomach upsets and constipation: freeze pack of dried fruits (prunes and apricots); laxatives, liver salts - Milk of Magnesia.

(4) Various sachet solutions for colds and flus such as Aulin and Tachipirina; Nurofen and Aspirin again in soluble and capsule form, along with a dangerous handful of suppositories

(5) A dinky little first aid kit containing skin colour plasters, various shapes and sizes of gauze, bandages and folding scissors

(6) Various creams and oils i.e. Tea Tree, Johnson’s Baby and Nivea cream

(7) Old Timer’s cures such as Bart’s Rescue Remedy.

(8) Last on the list, a little bag of tricks known as Jack’s cocktail. Consists of a daily regimen of pills (as proscribed to Mr Nicholson): a baby aspirin; Liptor, to deal with certain cholesterol issues; and a Celebrex to ease the pain of arthritis with a Prilosec waiting in the wings should heartburn develop.

Smoke-screen medicine chest

Before him was a smoke-screen medicine chest with a child-safe locking system screaming Jaspar.

Mother Cupboard

Finding himself in a large – apparently back-less mother cupboard. -The cupboard was full of clothes – jackets, suits - all beautifully pressed, attractively hung. I dig, the patient exclaims. You must give me the name of your tailor, doc.

With a baroque flourish, the doctor sweeps aside a bank of Saville Rows; secretly he feels a little like Lucy about to step into Narnia.

Emergency!

The doctor jumped up and pushed back the sliding door. Uncannily, the corridor was just like that of a hospital. - Numbered rooms on either side, squeaky under foot.

The patient was half expecting to see one of those pretty nurses in uniform bending down – Windsor style – to scrutinise a ladder when someone grabbed his arm. - Not in there, he hissed. There is an emergency!

Doctor Robert

The bald head was beaming. - According to the name plate on the desk it was Doctor Robert Dino, which was why he the patient was wondering if that was Doctor Dino or plain Doctor Robert, and if he did in fact work for the National Health?

Doc (Spontaneously): Your diagnosis I find is persuasive. – You have to all intents and purposes convinced me. What do you intend to proscribe?

Bald Man (Positively beaming): Of course, my medicine chest is at your disposal.

Doc (Beaming back): That is very kind.

Gruel or Porridge

The bald head in front of him bobbed up and down on the high-backed swivel chair.

Of course, I am not saying you should follow a strictly prescriptive diet. With these phobias, and though I do not myself suffer personally from the said complaint I have it on good authority. -Indeed from Carpe Diem himself. Above all, in conflicts with the higher plains one experiences a deep necessity for grounding. I strongly recommended the gruel. - It can have a curiously settling effect on the stomach. - Alternatively porridge. – Porridge is an equally effective remedy. - Must be Scottish oats, mind. – (Laughs) – Why, soon we will have you tossing the caper and stripping down the willows.

Body Interview

Interviewer: How would you define your relationship to your body?

Respondent: Problematic, but isn’t everybody’s.

I: What do you like about your body?

R: People say I’ve got nice legs.

I: What don’t you like about your body?

R: My legs.

I: Are you happy with your body?

R: Isn’t that the same question?

I: The interview is designed to elicit carefully nuanced responses.

R: Well, continue.

I: Are you on a diet?

R: At the moment, no. But I do take exercise.

I: How often? - Be honest.

R: How ‘bout once every three and a half weeks?

I: Are you, or have you at any time been inspired by Doing It The Ron Atkin’s Way?

R: Personally I am more attracted to the Peebles method. You put stones in your mouth, and then you bury yourself in the sand for twenty-four hours.

I: Sounds drastic.

R: The Peebles method is drastic, but nonetheless effective. - Any more questions?

I: A final question: do you have any recurring worries re your body?

R: For example.

I: For example, accentuation of the jowls or jugs, an inclination to calve around the hips, a certain sagging in the nether regions.

R: This is not recurring, but rather a recent preoccupation. Over the last few months my skin has begun to peel.

I: Interesting. - Where exactly?

R: Well, more or less everywhere.

I: As for your underling – or rather underlying feelings about this, would you say it is a dermatological condition?

Vortex(t)

The bed is cold
Kola has gone -

Head sawing at stomach
The Doc blanks optimistically

If he is to avoid being swept up in the vortex(t) of this cruel – champagne silly head, he must mensch certain physical and psychological states:

dehydration
irritation
possibly the beginnings of irritable bowel syndrome
obviously angst
on top of this vertigo
and fear of further out of body experience.