Hunting for the Homeless: Part Two

Posted on November 25, 2012 by captaincliff

Normally when you think of Atlanta, Georgia, what do you tend to associate it with,  besides the Redneck Olympics, titty bars and horrible downtown areas devoid of urban planning or management? You think of the homeless. Normally there are TONS of homeless people out milling around, begging, offering to wash your car windows with a homemade squeegee, or even trading random biblical verses for dollar bills.

That’s right. On any given day there are dozens of people without homes panhandling on the city streets of Atlanta, lying in makeshift cardboard tents or standing outside of liquor stores trying to stay warm. Suddenly, however, on the day we show up laden with fresh Thanksgiving leftovers and overflowing with self-righteous goodwill they are nowhere to be found. Ok, it’s not exactly correct to say they were unable to be found. It’s just that they were already full from about twelve other well organized “feed the homeless” events that offered a higher quality and better culinary fare.  Apparently some local church or bunch of goody goody non-profit organizations had already put together a number of barbecue and smoked turkey buffet stations in the parks downtown. Every time we thought we found the “jackpot” or “motherlode” of homeless people to offer up our (by comparison) measly looking Big Lots brown bag turkey lunches, the toothless,disheveled  but bright eyed homeless person would politely say, “No thank you sir. Happy Thanksgiving”.  Then they would walk off carrying two or three stacked white styrofoam boxes stained with thick barbecue sauce, sweet potato pie crust and giblet gravy. Honestly, like Jimmy Carter admitting to sinning in ones heart, I caught myself considering getting in line at the cardboard buffet table. It looked that good. I even considered “trading” two of my turkey sandwiches and two Dasani water bottles to a homeless person for one small carton of ribs. That seemed reasonable… at the time. I’m sorry, but I was hungry.

We did manage to drive around aimlessly for about two hours and unload about ten sandwiches. Maybe they were just being nice to us and took pity on our plight. I cant really say. We did notice two other cars full of desperate looking suburbanites also trying to giveaway free food and drinks. One of the cars seemed to actually be “competing” with us in finding new untapped and unfed reserves of homeless people. I may have imagined it in my mounting frustration, but I could swear this BMW with two 40 something blonds and a teenager wearing an Abercrombie hoodie cut us off and dumped about a half pallet of free soft drinks next to a homeless looking guy sitting on a bench while reading a book. Well, the jokes on them because I’m pretty sure the guy was a grad student in electrical engineering at Georgia State or Georgia Tech. Still, I suppose with his student loans anything free of charge would be much appreciated.
Eventually we drove to Little Five Points where hippies and homeless people intermingle and make the accurate assessment of homelessness virtually impossible. We retreated to Starbucks and Junkman’s Daughter for caffeine and spiritual renewal. Of course, on the way back to the car the privately employeed Vortex police had booted my car for “exceeding the maximum allowed parking time of 15 minutes” and leaving the premises. I didn’t even know that was illegal, nor did I know they could charge $75 for such a fascist parking policy.  Still, staying ever mindful and keeping my wits about me, I asked the “cop” if he wanted a fresh turkey sandwich with homemade stuffing and fake Belgian cookies. Predictably, he declined, but like the homeless folks we encountered, he was very nice about it.  On the way home, in a car full of crabby family members, I began to silently calculate how much I would have to charge for each sandwich to make up for the parking ticket, gasoline and labor expended on behalf of the homeless. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t regret the original intention. It’s just that my mother taught me to never throw out any leftovers that are  still “decent food for someone who needs it”.  I think I ate four turkey sandwiches for dinner that night, not counting leftover shrimp dejonge, mashed potatoes, gravy and a small plastic bag of cheapass Keebler cookies. Anybody still hungry?
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Hunting for the Homeless on Black Friday

Posted on November 25, 2012 by captaincliff
Part One
 
CaptCliff has a special tradition on Thanksgiving. After we (the Mazer clan of Atlanta) pig out into a near comatose state of gluttony and uber-sloth, we all get together on the following day (Black Friday) not to “shop until we drop” but to help the homeless. We know we cant build them tidy new homes or provide them with expensive clothing, but we can feed them with tasty leftovers from our Thanksgiving feast. 
 
Instead of a normal family sized butterball turkey, I purposely buy a mutant bird from Costco that is so large it barely fits in the oven and often has to be tied to the roof of the car when I leave the parking lot. Maybe its a conjoined Siamese turkey since everything at Costco is sold in multiples and in bulk. By cooking such an unusually large bird which has to be marinated using a standard size kitchen mop and Octomom’s mega-turkey baster syringe, we have enough leftover white meat and stuffing to make around 50 sandwiches for the homeless. 
 
To be perfectly honest, the rest of our triple plastic bagged gift packages for the homeless are “filler” items, ie. cookies, cakes, crackers,etc. from one of my favorite nearby stores, Big Lots. In case you didn’t know, you can get a lot of cheap but fancy sounding European foods there that either have small dents on the packaging or are obscure brands that European people know not to eat. In contrast, Americans such as myself consider these same exact items “exotic” and therefore, possibly gourmet. Feeding the homeless requires  not only great compassion and generosity, but also supreme confidence that none of them have been former contestants on Top Chef or were previous employees at Big Lots.
 
Cut to the chase…literally. We loaded up the Expedition with enough turkey sandwiches, apples, distilled water and Keebler cookies (the ones only sold in Belgium) to weigh down the back end to minimum clearance. We looked desperately for a Homeless Person phone “app” to link to my smart phone’s GPS, but none currently exist, even tho I know for a FACT that certain enterprising start-up companies are presently utilizing the homeless as advertising platforms and human billboards for their worthless Chinese made products. Instead we decided to do it “old school” and went cruising for the homeless. In other words we decided to use guile, logic, and gut intuition to track them down. Since man, regardless of his social status is a very social animal we deduced that groups of the homeless would tend to hang out together or “cluster” in small tribal bands, somewhat like Native Americans out West before we nearly exterminated them. After all, we also wanted to be relatively time efficient and didnt want to drag this whole “pay it forward” stuff out unnecessarily, or at least not to the point of missing an important football game on TV or something. Unfortunately, what lay in store for us this year was something that nobody, not even Nick Nolte would be able to predict.  
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On Thanksgiving and Jacob’s Ladder

Posted on November 24, 2012 by captaincliff

On Thanksgiving and Jacob’s Ladder by Cliff Mazer, Ph.D.   (submitted to the Atlanta Jewish Times)

In a world of increasing anxiety and competition to “succeed”, particularly in Jewish households who esteem success and high achievement, Rachel Lavictoire’s essay, “Climbing the Ladder” really hits the nail on the Home Depot-like head. Interpreting the correct biblical meaning of Jacob’s dream of an ornate “ladder” with angels ascending and descending to heaven is nearly as complex and up for interpretation as my post Thanksgiving fantasy of going to Costco on Black Friday to buy a 4-pack of Tums. I thought I just wanted to get some needed relief.

 

According to the law of parsimony, it is always advisable to seek the simplest yet most elegant explanation to any complex puzzle or personal problem. As a Psychologist who has helped my clients interpret their dreams for over 30 years, I try to do the same. We are all individuals under God, and there is no single “dream” book or dictionary that fits all. Two things are obvious about Jacob’s ladder. Like all ladders it is composed of steps, rungs or “little bites” as Rachel’s father suggested. All of us do better to take life one step or bite at a time, and if the bite is a particularly good one, like being together with family or friends on Thanksgiving or Hannukah, all the better to savor it fully. 

 
Second, ladders or stairways to heaven, whether in the Bible or in wildly popular Led Zeppelin songs denote the need to be mindful. Pop Stars, Patriarchs and pre-med students are equally advised to center themselves and become more of a “rock than a roll”. There is much to “wonder” about in this hard to fathom world full of “sturm und drang” as well as daily stress and massive superstorms. We are challenged every day to take a few deep breaths, count our blessings, trust in the presence of God, and take one step at a time towards our goals, whether they be “lofty” or not. In my case I just want to overcome Thanksgiving indigestion and to do so in time for Hannukah.
 
Cliff Mazer, Ph.D. is a Clinical Psychologist and humorist in Sandy Springs, Georgia.  Contact:  404-932-7193
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Men, Shtupping and Dr. Suess

Posted on November 14, 2012 by captaincliff
Shtup

(Adult / Slang)

Or:


Riddle me this. The President was just in Amsterdam on his way to some little Nuclear Security Summit meeting or another. Already three Secret Service agents have been sent home for getting totally trashed off duty. I guess they didn’t even make it to the Red Light District or the groovy hash bars. They did the same thing in Cartagena Columbia except then it apparently also included hookers and beer pong. When I read progressive websites like the Good Men Project I notice I have somewhat paradoxical reactions. My first thought is, “Man this is great stuff! Maybe there IS hope for men and mankind. Maybe men are finally evolving into mature enlightened beings far removed from their caveman roots and self-limiting stereotypes. My second reaction is, “Wait, if men are growing substantially in terms of social and emotional intelligence, why are there still so many men who “fall from grace” before our media saturated eyes and end up in the Bill Clinton Hall of Shame? Nobody doubts that there has been a sea change in society regarding applied science,artificial intelligence and computer technology. Whether the men who use all this technology have changed their own basic psychological source code and cognitive operating systems is debatable.

In times of trouble, social unrest, and economic instability, we turn to our most respected elder statesmen, both alive and departed. Theodore Geisel, otherwise known as Dr. Seuss, once said, “Adults are obsolete children”. With society being the way it is and information moving at the literal speed of our current computers and hand held devices, even the beloved author of Green Eggs and Ham might be future-shocked by modern techno-culture’s rapid pace of change and obsolescence. What he would think about men being men and guys acting like selfish jerks is anybody’s guess, altho there might be some suggestive literary clues.

The Grinch, a Seuss character known for his social immaturity, greed and self-centeredness would also seem to be someone who isn’t all that enamored with technology and the latest greatest mobile apps, even if he did seem to have the right bright green thumbs for it. As it turns out, some adults are becoming both psychologically obsolete AND more reckless with age. Most of them are men. Imagine Mr. Geisel’s confusion upon reading the headline news today regarding our Presidents security detail and who’se shtupping who…or is it whom? Apparently there is a military crisis occurring in Crimea on top of everything else going on, and its not just about the gazillion dollars we spend on high-tech wars in places we cant pronounce. It’s also about the four star generals and their lady friends who happen to not be their wives. Man may well be a “social animal”, but there is evidence to suggest that some of our military leaders and certain key personnel in the security and intelligence community are still pulling double duty by becoming exceedingly friendly with prostitutes or somebody elses spouse. When it was suggested that our military “stand firm” and “Be All That You Can Be” is this possibly what they really meant?

Perhaps the good folks at The Good Men Project (TGMP) are not interested in what I, a 60 year old Baby Boomer Psychologist and sex therapist have to say on the subject. Regardless,they truly do appear to represent the best of what men can be and are hopefully becoming. They are to modern manhood and masculinity what Elizabeth Warren’s  grassroots army of volunteers were to her stunningly successful Senate campaign.Those smart as a whip college kids and young people carried the day (and the candidate) to a transformative victory over the predictable status quo. Similarly, the old ideals of masculinity and the outdated male stereotypes will eventually end up in the same locked and bolted backyard storage shed that now houses society’s archaic notions about race, gender, slavery, child labor, homosexuality, and “legitimate rape”. However, if fathers are significant role models for their children, then what anachronistic notions, gender-biased views, and bad behavior are some of us continuing to model, often without realizing it?

More specifically, what is it with men in authority and all the binge drinking, continuing frat boy behavior and extramarital shtupping? What seemed to start (in terms of public disclosure) with JFK in the White House swimming pool has gone on unchecked and unabated right up to and beyond General Patraeus’s resignation from his position as CIA director for engaging in unsavory “drill routines” with his female biographer. No wonder he stayed in such good shape and did so many push-ups everyday. The push-up thing alone should have tipped off the FBI and most certainly his wife.

Let’s be perfectly honest. Can we all just agree in classic Jack Nicholson in “A Few Good Men” style to just be willing to “handle the truth” for a moment? It doesn’t matter if a man is black or white, flaming gay or stodgy straight, right wing, left wing or solid centrist, many guys have a tendency to act like idiots and cheat like 6 year old girls playing Monopoly. They bend rules, lie like Persian rugs, and no matter if they are introverted tax accountants, quadriplegic world renowned theoretical physicists or Secret service agents tasked with guarding sex-crazed presidents and/or more contemplative commanders-in-chief, many men remain vulnerable to serially screwing up and shtupping outside the bounds of marriage and committed relationships.

Certainly I cant say this is the case for every man or every Catholic priest (dont get me started) but given the opportunity, a large number of men (approximately 60%) will probably in their lifetime seek shelter and possibly a few forbidden-fruit fueled orgasms in the beds and boudoirs of non-commissioned partners. That is until they’re caught, and then pretty much on cue every guy (except maybe trial lawyers and politicians) does a big mea culpa and falls on their sword if they are wearing one. If they aren’t or dont have one they go to celebrity “rehab”, claim to have a sex addiction, or blame it on undiagnosed bipolar disorder . I’m talking about the short-term mild kind of mental illness that allows them to slink home quietly after 30 days. By contrast, killing and eating the people you sleep with would more likely be blamed on bath salts and bipolar…of a more serious variety.

I suppose the Good Men Project folks would say that shtupping outside of marriage is definitely something guys need to work on. Fidelity and faithfulness certainly seems to be something that is easier to proclaim about belief in God, country and the US Marines than when it comes to keeping Private Peters in ones pants and making sure a “cigar is just a cigar” and not some creative Clinton-esque sex prop in the Oval office. Thanks again for that disturbing visual image seared into my subconscious, Mr. President. Trust me, I would really rather read Dr. Seuss and imagine myself in Whoville celebrating the colorful Who Centennial. Instead I am left once again to ponder “who” among our leaders is what Dr. Suess would call a  “bad banana” and a “king of sinful sots”. Full disclosure: It turns out that Dr. Seuss, the venerable Theodore Geisel also couldnt control his own inner Grinch, and his late in life marital infidelity was a contributing factor in his wife’s unfortunate suicide in 1967.

Finally, I realize as a Clinical Psychologist I could give a long-winded explanation on the bio-psycho-social reasons for man’s tendency to stray and how and why men in power fail so miserably when it comes to monogamy, even in comparison to other “lesser” species including wolves, bats and prairie voles, but that would just add to the list of our paltry male-centric excuses and clever obfuscations that guys use to justify our less than admirable behavior, Admirals included.
Cliff Mazer, Ph.D. is a Clinical Psychologist and blogger/humorist who lives in Sandy Springs, Georgia. He loves Pirates and blogs under the psuedonym of CaptCliff at:https://captaincliff.wordpress.com  Contact: 404-932-7193
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Important Alert: Cheetos Crime Spree

Posted on November 11, 2012 by captaincliff

Due to the ubiquitous presence of completely insignificant information on the internet, I have ascertained a strange recent phenomena involving a connection between crime, violence and eating Cheetos. As a Cheetos lover (addict) myself, I was, of course, compelled to investigate further.

Two prominent news stories indicate that eating Cheetos can in fact lead to your death, mostly because someone else gets so pissed off about it they either stab you or try to beat you to into unconsciousness. Maybe its the way it makes your clothes, mouth, lips and tongue bright orange. Perhaps its the irritating manner in which Cheetos eaters talk in an unintelligible language of grunts, groans and airway clogged consonants like, “Wa Ya sayin? Aga toomaen ma moud..”.  It could even be the chemical preservatives and food additives that today extend the average shelf-life of a bag of Cheetos to between 12 months and 3000 years. Yes, the remnant of Cheetos-like substances have been found in archeological excavations in Ancient pre-semitic Israel as well as Paleolithic Cave drawings in the south of France. One scholar has suggested that Early man may have even used a naturally occurring unprocessed form of Cheetos for multiple purposes including loincloths, clothing, packing material, hair dye, wall chalk, bedding, and edible jewelry.

Regardless of its functionality and unusual versatility, few researchers deny that the physiological consequences and side effects of eating too many Cheetos can lead to violence, psychosis and the need for even more empty calories and carbohydrates. The fact that two men in a skeevy part of St. Louis (see link below) were willing to fight and die for Cheetos is lesson enough for the rest of us. Certain things like marijuana probably should be legal. Other things, like Cheetos (original, not those crunchy gluten free imposters) should be more carefully controlled and regulated by lawmakers and at least one large, inefficient government agency composed of all middle managers and upper level bureaucrats. Finally, the combination of psychoactive substances like pot and Cheetos is an important area of ongoing clinical research and something that I, CaptCliff have boldly offered myself and my orange stained bloated body to science. Send all free samples to CaptCliff, Box 134%$#@, Atlanta, Ga. 30328.

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Come On People Now

Posted on November 7, 2012 by captaincliff
To all my friends and family who voted for Romney (and there were a fair number of you):

Please dont panic. The sky will not fall. Your doomsday fears and exaggerated beliefs are not true and will not happen, ie. Barry is a flaming Communist, Michelle and the kids are Muslim, David Axelrod manipulated the weather and purposely caused the massive super-storm Sandy, the Obama Healthcare mandate will immediately cripple the economy, gay people will marry one another, randomly start adopting children and turn into baby-eating zombies, and Israel will be forced to turn in their nuclear arsenal, etc.

What REALLY needs to happen is people have to start compromising in a reasonable fashion. We could use all the zillion dollars that was wasted on negative ads and super-PAC fund-raising on both sides.

Republicans, please realize that the more radical Tea Party elements in your midst are no better than radical Islamists who say they are defending their “Founders” cherished principles and beliefs but are really carriers of bigotry, prejudice and unscientific assumptions that promote a dangerous herd mentality and lack of introspection.

Democrats, there is a need to encourage personal responsibility. We do need to confront the looming debt crisis. We must “conserve” and preserve our moral as well as fiscal sensibilities and remember the practical reality that if you give a mouse a cookie it will eventually forget how to forage and expect more free stuff in the future. I hear two wild cats meowing outside my door right now to prove the point.

Both parties, read your history books. Nation-Empires always crumble due to a combination of predictable factors like corrupt oligarchies (1%ers), tyrannical power hungry despots, an easily swayed fear-induced citizenry, and treasury draining wars and foreign occupations as well as imperialistic ambitions masquerading as “peace-keeping”. We simply cant “afford” the price of modern warfare that take good men and women and return them physically and psychologically wounded/traumatized, emotionally damaged and prone to violence and self-harm. Shaking their hands in the airport on their initial deployment and then failing to check on them three or four years later when they return home shattered is a national disgrace. We should have learned better from Korea and Vietnam.

Hipsters: Consider that some of your elders are worth listening to, even if they cant text with their thumbs or reconfigure any of their digital devices and technological gadgets without you. Social media is cool but it has it’s limits.

Baby Boomers All:  Come on people now. Smile on your Brother. Everybody get together and try to love one another. Trust me I know that’s not easy……but we need to try, like we did once before and tend to forget.

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CaptCliff on Celebrity News

Posted on November 6, 2012 by captaincliff
BabyBoomers1
There is a reason you dont see the following headline on TMZ or your Facebook newsfeed:  Baby Boomer Rocks Gray Beard and Extra Large T-Shirt at Starbucks!! Simply put, it ain’t news. Why then is it deemed significant enough of a story to let the whole world know when Miley Cyrus, Lady Gaga or Snooki walk outside showing anything like a “baby bump” or midriff revealing blouse? Is mere celebrity reason enough to report anatomical details about someone usually reserved for ones proctologist,neurologist, or obstetrician? How would you like it if your last sonogram, colonoscopy exam or MRI (along with the dye stained brain images and photos of your rectum) were downloaded to the world wide web with the banner, “Everythings in the Pink Says CaptCliff’s M.D. and Shrink” ? 

 
I know I wouldn’t exactly be “proud” of it, nor would I be clinking champagne glasses with friends at Spagos or Le Bernardin to celebrate the blessed event. Actually, I can’t really say what they do in LA or Beverly Hills. They are pretty weird out there. At least I know that in my hometown, Chicago they don’t have a big cork board at the entrance to Ditka’s or Gibsons Steakhouse for patrons to display the latest color slides of their endoscopy and upper GI series. Now that I think of it, maybe its not such a bad idea, especially at the aforementioned red meat emporiums, like Peter Lugers. 
 
My original point, now lost in ADD-like tangential thinking, is that somebody needs to reign in the so called journalists who are making an oxymoron out of the term “newsworthy”. Personally I care to know that my colonoscopy results were clear and “pink as a baby’s tush” (Dr. LeVine’s quote, not mine) alot more then I care to know what Pink was wearing at Brentwood Mall last week. As for my shrink and his professional opinion, that’s none of your damn business!
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CaptCliff the Hungry Hungry Jewish Hippo

Posted on November 4, 2012 by captaincliff

CaptCliff is pretty cheap. Also I’m kind of a food whore. Put those together and what do ya have?  

Here’s a good example.  Lately I’ve had chinese food on the brain. Sometimes I go on food “rolls” in which all I can think about is a certain food item like hamburgers, baked potato chips, Pad Thai, vanilla cupcakes…or basically whatever enters my head randomly and gets stuck there. 

 
Having the munchies, at least in my case, can lead to near fatal binges on ice cream, toast, crackers, cereal, starches, sugar, carbohydrates and whatever is left on the USDA food pyramid. There is no precise explanation or computer model that predicts what I will fantasize about food wise. Anyway, lately it’s been Chinese food. 
 

Yesterday I worked out at LA fitness around 3PM. Keep in mind that “working out” for me includes about 40 minutes on a treadmill while watching Law and Order and another 20 minutes walking around the gym repeatedly dousing my hands in antibacterial gel, people watching, and doing phony stretches in front of impressive weight machines that I never use. Watching other people use them starts to make my shoulders sore. Better not to aggravate the arthritis….

Then I did what my son Eli the personal trainer instructed me NOT to ever do. I walked directly from the gym to the Chinese restaurant two doors down. It said it was OPEN, so I couldn’t help myself. It had a large red neon sign. Also, there were very few patrons inside so I felt sorry for the owner. Somehow I was able to associate my ordering Chinese food right at that moment with contributing to the global economy as well as helping all the people currently starving in China…..and Staten Island.

Long story short. I convinced myself to be “good” and instead of ordering 5 deep fried entrees and three greasy appetizers, I ordered vegetable lomein and chicken fried rice. I also bargained with my “inner (obese) child” and agreed not to fall for the highly effective advertising gimmick on the door announcing a 2-for-1 Lobster in garlic sauce special.  Sure I wanted it, but the “special” wasn’t so cheap even at double the crustacean. I sat in the back of the restaurant and waited patiently for my takeout while plate after plate of Lobster dripping in garlic, ginger, and green onions whizzed by my head. Unlike PETA, I did not feel sorry for the lobsters in the two giant fish tanks who kept looking my way as if to say,  “Yo,  I may have a skin problem. Pick my chubby friend, Harold. Far end of the tank. Very sweet guy, unusually large hands…”

When my takeout order finally came (it may have been 15 minutes but felt like 4 hours) I pretended to be polite and calmly accepted the neatly tied plastic bag in hand and smiled warmly at the owner like a normal human being.  Inside the car and on the way home (only 5 minutes) I actually felt more like Buffalo Bill in Silence of the Lambs and/or the 1000 lb. woman in the trailer who sat on her cellphone and couldn’t reach her refrigerator for three days.  You know that certain intoxicating smell of chinese food in the car?  What is that, some aromatic form of garlic infused opium or MSG laced heroin??

In the safety of my own kitchen I took a sharp knife and slashed open the plastic bag like a wild animal and/or starving serial killer.  In the folding boxes I found NO lomein and NOTHING resembling chicken fried rice.  It was the dreaded “mistaken” order, something that happens regularly at Wendy’s or Burger King, but rarely at Chinese restaurants. What do normal people do? They take the mistaken order back and politely request the correct meal.  Did I do that? Hell no. I ate every mis-ordered order in the bag and slurped up the leftovers until the clock struck the magic hour and I changed back from a ravenous werewolf into a normal man,  albeit one with distinctive brown gravy stains on his shirt.

So, where’s the “hook” you ask?  Guess what I’m having for dinner tonite?  Me and the dark-haired woman are having the Lobster 2-for-1 special free of charge, thanks to the apologetic owner who politely fielded my strategically placed “complaint call”….the one I made right after I finished the whole damn thing.

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Sex, Love and the Yellow Brick Road

Posted on October 25, 2012 by captaincliff

The Wizard of Oz:  ”Child, you’re talking to a man who’s laughed in the face of death, sneered at doom, and chuckled at catastrophe… I was petrified.”

 

 

 

I’m going to talk about sex and love but first I have to mention the Wizard of Oz. What do these two things have to do with each other, you ask? I’m not sure but every decent writer uses clever literary devices like cinematic metaphors, so Oz is as good a symbol as any when it comes to sex education and love relationships. Both involve elaborate and unrealistic fantasies for one thing. Also, there is something compelling if not compulsive about both topics. People are literally obsessed with sex, with love and similarly are pretty darn cuckoo about the Wizard of Oz. That is unless it’s being shown at the same exact time as the World Series or maybe America Got Talent. I admit if it was a sports competition like the World Series, sex would generally win, except for certain superstitious and/or die-hard Yankee fans who would abstain from sex indefinitely if it was proven to lead to another baseball championship title. In contrast, Chicago Cub fans, while ever loyal, would easily choose sex (or probably barbecue ribs) over baseball, mostly because they are used to losing.

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Why do people love the Wizard of Oz? I sometimes wonder why this particular fantasy and cultural preoccupation? Is it the tradition and nostalgia of seeing it on TV year after year after year? Is it the rush of watching the old movie “morph” into dazzling cinematic Technicolor from its drab homespun opening scenes? Or, could it be some hidden subconscious psychological desire to see shockingly odd and different marginalized members of society take a bouncy road trip together way way before there was AAA, Mapquest,  iPhones or GPS technology? Of course its no big surprise they get lost and freaked out. They had no clue where they were REALLY GOING and were too naive or dumb to consider asking the Mayor of the Munchkins or any relatively sane person in Oz for an actual map or written directions. They did have pens and paper back then, you know.

 Actually, if you think about it they must have been downright delusional to consider it would be a cakewalk to just “follow the yellow brick road”. What kind of half-assed adult guidance and support is that? I’m not even factoring in the added effects of wandering through a poppy field full of opium laden flowers let alone blindly trusting the advise of a so called  “good witch” who was clearly high on something herself (and possibly harboring some rather serious sibling rivalry issues).
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Well, sex and life itself is a bit like that. We really dont know what we are getting into, we have unrealistic expectations, we lack concrete information, and the future is highly uncertain. Many of us get into all kinds of trouble, encounter multiple obstacles and, looking back on it, the journey itself seems to be the very best part. It’s easy to get nostalgic…if it wasn’t so embarrassing. Let’s face it, much of the “advise” and “reliable information” we get growing up about sex is half-baked if not completely wrong. Like Dorothy (in relation to the Land of Oz), what we are told about sex is often riddled with exaggeration, misinformation, myths based on our childhood fears and teenaged fantasy based expectations. On the way we eventually learn what is realistic and maybe even what’s far more important in life and in loving relationships.

 

Still, there is something to be said for being willing to share our silly assumptions and cockeyed childhood memories.  Honestly, sexually and psychologically speaking we all start out dumb as doorknobs (rather than “blank slates”). Nevertheless, just like Dorothy in TWOO or the Parker Brothers board game sharing it’s name, we merrily skip down the road of life with equal parts optimism and obliviousness. Some of us, as the Wizard finally admits in The Wizard of Oz, are absolutely “petrified”, but go ahead and do it anyway. Thus, especially when it comes to our sex lives and romantic relationships (and the base knowledge required) we tend to believe what we hear or are told by others, no matter how non-credible the source. We even at times accept the unimaginable or the wretchedly weird like trees that talk and monkeys that fly. All together that makes for some pretty tall tales and goofy stories to share around the collective campfire much later in life.

 

Maybe the Wizard of Oz is just fiction, a wild fantasy dreamed up by a delusional farm girl in Kansas. Or maybe its one of those broader life lessons about personal journeys… like learning what is true and real and especially sustainable from what is initially a mistaken reality or topsy-turvy romance novel ideas and beliefs. Either way it makes for a highly imaginative tapestry of other peoples road trip stories and screw-ups that we can relate to. I think they call that a “fail compilation” on You Tube today. What were some of your sex and romance related “fails” growing up?

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A law firm specializing in personal injury claims posted the following information online:

Ambien Side Effects: Sleepwalking, Sleep Driving & Sleep Eating

 

UPDATE: Saiontz & Kirk, P.A. is no longer investigating potential Ambien Lawsuits for injuries as a result of the medication. Read More…
As a side effect of Ambien, experts explain that it is possible for a person to be half asleep and half awake.  This state causes people to do things that they would not do if they were awake, or to attempt to do things they are not alert enough to do.

Serious and catastrophic injuries have been reported as a result of 1)Sleepwalking 2) Attempting to drive while asleep  3) Sleep eating and 4) Complete Memory Loss

Folks, CaptCliff is here to tell you it’s all true. Especially #1,#3, and #4. Let me tell you a little story that will leave you amazed, dazed and quite possibly frantically calling the 1-800-BAD-DRUG hotline. This actually happened. Last night. I kid you not. All of it has been verified by the frightened woman who attempts to sleep beside me peacefully.  Speaking of sleeping, I dont get enough of it, so I take Ambien, prescribed by my friendly neighborhood shrink. I dont like to take it but if I dont, it’s a long long long night involving a lot of bad television and the painfully slow ticking of clocks. I dont mean the minimal tick-tok and slowing of space-time as  in my (or yours) oh-so-boring fourth grade history class but the incessant sounds of silence and spinning out of control cuckoo clocks at the beginning of a scary Twilight Zone episode. I’m talking Rod Serling in my bedroom kind of night.
Let me cut to the chase. Apparently I did the following things last night in my Ambien induced sleep and have no earthly memory of it:
1) I got up, walked downstairs and opened several newly purchased boxes of breakfast cereal, Triscuits, Melba Toast, Fiber One bars and strawberry special K granola treats.  I then proceeded to take out the 8 Special K bars and arranged them in some still unexplained cryptic pattern on the kitchen table. It may or may not be the same   tonal pattern and unusual arrangement used to contact the alien mothership in Close Encounters of the Third Kind. We dont know yet.
2) I opened the refrigerator, ate half a banana, and took out a bag of deli ham (shaved Boars Head Honey Maple to be exact), ate some of it like a wild forest creature and then carefully returned the uneaten portion….to the small kitchen drawer where the pencils, pens and take-out Chinese menus are kept. Dont even think to ask me, “Why there?”
3) I walked in my sleep back upstairs and instead of lying down and sleeping like a normal person, I proceeded to sit up in bed and watch tv (it wasn’t on) while talking complete nonsense dialogue  from a lively dream I was deeply involved in…in my head.
Here comes the freaky-deaky part. My bedmate then attempted to wake me and engage me in normal 3AM conversation like, “What the fuck are you doing?!” and “why are you watching a blank TV screen?”  Apparently I then tried to change the channels with an “imaginary” remote control while babbling, “When is this show going to be over?? It’s been going on way too long!?”  In retrospect those seem like reasonable questions deserving of a semi-rational answer.  Instead, no reasonable or rational response was given and subsequent efforts to rouse me from Ambien-land were unsuccessful. However, she did manage to remove a half=eaten banana from my boxer shorts. I’m not kidding. There was a banana in my pants and I wasn’t glad to see her… or even know about it. I then reacted and said outloud, “Hey, what is THAT doing there!?”

All in all it coud have been much worse, as other Ambien users have reported getting in their cars while asleep and driving on highways the wrong way.  That would be really bad. Other people I know have engaged in “sleep shopping”, a dangerous practice involving the use of credit cards to order large quantities of tacky clothing, bad costume jewelry and cheap cutlery on QVC… all while asleep. They and their  spouses are always completely surprised to see the parcels and packages arrive on their doorstep while also wondering who the generous gift giver might be (who happens to have their same exact postal address) and why he/she has such consistently bad taste.

Anyway, I am endeavering to solve this puzzling somnambulistic side effect which IS anecdotally reported by a certain number of Ambien users, but still not acknowledged as a major problem by the pharmaceutical company who makes the popular sleeping pill. Instead they remain busy counting their piles of money and sending their drug reps on Hawaiian vacations promoting their success in creating mindless zombies with deli meat hanging from their gaping jaws, Triscuit crumbs in their beards and half-eaten bananas…in bed.

Until the problem is corrected I have ordered all family members to put masking tape on the kitchen pantry doors at night and tie me to the rattan headboard of my bed, much like Odysseus lashed to the mast of his ship. I dont think I need to plug my ears to resist the Sirens and their seductive songs, but keeping my mitts out of the Triscuits and the cold cut drawer is starting to feel like a Homeric epic with serious Rod Serling undertones. Welcome, my few loyal readers to the middleground between light and shadow, science and superstition. It is the dimension of imagination and total weirdness we call……The Ambien Zone.

Posted on October 22, 2012 by captaincliff | 2 Comments