Missing Teeth

Chocolate Flecked Yellow Cake with Milk Chocolate Frosting

Out here in the gig economy, we're scrolling through online job sites, taking cake orders and editing jobs, and buying lottery tickets because you just never know. I do know there are Russian bots out there and enormous intrusions into my privacy and yours, so I probably deserve every bizarrely targeted ad I get, but I'm mostly intrigued and sometimes thrilled by the random shit that finds its way to me. I can't help thinking that something good and lucrative will surely land on my lap and all my troubles will be over. Nearly every day, I get a slew of requests in my email box to interview promising writers of upcoming books with titles like Finding Your Wow or The New Discipline: Building A Tiny Home for Time-Outs. Money is never mentioned, though, and I honestly can't bring myself to tell them that my audience, while faithful, is more devoted to learning about the intersection of politics, disability, parenting, poetry and mermaids than how to explore inflatable zones. I removed the link from inflatable-zone.com to ensure that you aren't projected into some kind of alternative universe, although there's a fair argument to be made that we're already living in one:

Hello Dear,

I am Ellen from inflatable-zone.com

We just found your articles on your blog were attractive. I think your style of writing is quite good and fit to introduce my company's products. We are looking forward to establishing a cooperative business partnership with you on the basis of equality, mutual benefit.

We would like to sincerely invite you to cooperate with us.

Back when many of us thought Bush was the worst President in all of history and couldn't understand why our fellow countrymen would vote for the guy they "most wanted to have a beer with" yet still felt somewhat connected to them as human beings (unlike today's clusterfuck of living amongst seeming aliens who voted for and still defend that POS running the kakistocracy), I got this request:

Dear Elizabeth,

Can I write an article for the a moon, worn as if it had been a shell? It would be regarding Danney Williams, the man who says he is the son of Bill Clinton. 

Let me know if you want to chat about this. 

Sincerely,

Reader, if there's one thing I know, it's that laughter is good for the soul, that having a strong and dogged sense of humor and absurdity will save you from all manner of insanity and despair.

Dear Poet / Writer,

Greetings! Hope this letter finds you in a cheerful mood !

As well known to the intellectual world The Home of Letters (India) or
HOLI is engaged in literary, publishing and socio-cultural activities for
the cultural uplift of man. It acts like a platform to exchange sublime
ideas between the poets, writers, scholars and the intellectuals of the
world through its various publications, books, anthologies etc. It is a
House which organises small seminars from time to time (depending upon
finance) where poets, writers, scholars and the intellectuals discuss
various educational, literary and socio-cultural topics. It also awards
individuals for their high level achievement in personal or professional
life / for outstanding accomplishments in the literary, intellectual or
academic realm / for outstanding contribution to the fields of art, culture,
education and society / for their commendable contribution in promoting
world peace and universal brotherhood with humanitarian ideologies. Since
1997 HOLI has been playing a very significant role in the above fields.

You will be pleased to know that we
would like to confer upon you “MATTHEW ARNOLD AWARD" for sweetness and
light in creative writing.

The multi-colour certificate (20 X 14 inches in size) is beautifully
laminated on
WOOD and photo-framed (for
hanging on wall / for
placing on table or shelf), which will be sent to you by Regd. Airmail.
Your
name will be published in one of our publications in future.

If you are interested to receive this WOOD-LAMINATED citation you may
send USD 150 (as
administrative, processing, packing, postal charges etc.).

*Mode of* Payment : Bank Wire
Transfer (please ask for our SWIFT bank details)

The universe is abundant, no?*


Are you still with me? Do you need to order a cake, maybe? I'm obviously not doing anything constructive today.

What about the title of this blog post? You know, Missing Teeth? Here's today's email, a request for me to interview a dentist acutely aware of the missing teeth problem in America:


Dr. Shamblott is available to discuss why there is a significant high percentage of American with missing teeth even when there are a variety of options to prevent tooth decay and to replace missing teeth.  If you’d like to schedule an interview with him, or having him write exclusive materials for your publication, please let me know, I’d be happy to coordinate all the details.

Reader, is it condescending to email this public relations firm back that my services as an editor might be a better idea, starting with the subject line?

Expert Discuss Missing Teeth in America

*No, I'm not really going to accept my Matthew Arnold award for sweetness and light by wiring $150 US dollars to The Home of Letters. Don't worry.

The Pee Pocket and Its Relevance to My Blog and An Exit Off The 405

Not a day goes by that I don't get some kind of marketing query from some misguided person or company who thinks my blog is somehow influential enough to warrant me posting about the object or invention or service they have to sell. I'm not influential enough, apparently, to convince neurologists to stop prevaricating about the effect of cannabis on refractory epilepsy, but damn if this might be the place to make THE PEE POCKET  best-seller. In the query email, I was told that THE PEE POCKET is geared toward athletes, travelers, the elderly, parents of young girls, pregnancy and -- oh, yeah, here's why they found me in the search engine -- the disabled.

Here's a picture of THE PEE POCKET:

You can use it while you're standing up ya'll! Seriously, if this product excites you, go on over to the site and learn more.  I was almost tempted to show it to The Brothers before I came to my senses, but it did make me remember all the times I drove back and forth from Los Angeles to San Diego with Baby Sophie in the back of a rental car to visit the osteopath. That was in the waning days of the last millenium when I lived in New York City but did these six-week stays in southern California by myself with the baby -- sometimes in a motel, sometimes with friends or relatives. I actually drove the highways by myself with Sophie in the back seat, at night! We had no phones, then, ya'll! No GPS! Sophie was a sickly thing back then and even when a toddler couldn't walk or do much of anything. She was so drugged up and irritable that she also never slept (neither did I), even in the car (neither did I). When I had to go to the bathroom, I had to carry her in with me, and one time I had an overwhelming urge to pee and pulled off the highway on some dark, godforsaken exit where I quickly realized that I wouldn't make it to the bathroom by the time I unbuckled the sleeping (finally!) child from the carseat, made my way to the bathroom, unzipped my own fly, pulled down my jeans -- well, you know the drill -- not to mention the pitch dark, the flickering flourescents, the whole south LA scene at a dark highway exit. How I could have used THE PEE POCKET in that moment! Instead, I grabbed Sophie's bottle, dumped out the contents, which was probably the nasty, thick ketogenic formula we were trying at the time, and proceeded to pee right inside of it. I'm not going to tell you how it all turned out, because this is not that kind of blog. Suffice it to say that I tossed it out the window into a metal garbage can and scratched off in my Focus and back onto The 405.

Whew. Like I said the other day, Cast my memory back there, Lord. Sometimes I'm overcome.