Pillow Talk with The Pink Professor

How do you like being invited into the bedroom of a couple bubbly newlyweds? It feels kind of funny that you're here, probably to you too, but since it was my idea, I guess I shouldn't complain. Anyway, don't touch anything. I don't know what The Pink Professor's packing, that is, in his luggage or what's in the dresser.

If I get chatty -- I'm try not to -- just remind me, There's places we shouldn't go, TMI! Really, though, we're all adults here, right? I wouldn't dare let anyone in under 18. Wouldn't want anything nasty to slip out -- accidentally or on purpose -- and damage their little ears! Like this pillow talk stuff. Which isn't meant to titillate -- honestly! -- but to inform. Really, to fill you in on mutual friends, since by now, we're all friends with the billionaire and his new husband Garrett Al (aka Geritol and Jor-el).

Last night was Pink's and my first official night here, but being longtime buds we have a lot of experience with this kind of chit chat.

Of course Pink wanted to know about me and the billionaire. Pink was in San Francisco when the billionaire showed up at the beginning of April. So what about us? Seriously, nothing happened! Yes, we were together so much that people seemed to think we were a couple. Like when we got the key to the city, even the mayor called us a couple! But it wasn't anything like that. He was just a very kind guy, and we hit it off like heart friends.

What about Garrett Al and the billionaire? They got close and I didn't even notice it for the longest time. I thought Geritol was maybe employed by the billionaire. But looking back, I'd guess Geritol was probably the aggressor in their relationship. The Pink Professor already knows how Garrett Al came on to me when we first met. Before he knows the boundaries, he tests them. The billionaire, being a straight ahead guy, no doubt liked his forwardness. Plus, remember, Jor-el is basically reformed and can be very charming.

Pink steered us to what could've been a sore point, a consideration of what to do with all our money. I said, "Well, it was a gift to me, but now that we're married, of course the assets belong to both of us." I figured Pink was not comfortable with that much money, close to $2.1 billion, plus it being a gift from the billionaire. But, really, it hasn't changed me in any way, except for that whole unpleasantness with the Biggest Book Sale in the State, when I wasted $10 million for 300,000 books. A real regret.

Pink broached the idea of us being generous with the money, to do good. Which is exactly what I love about him. He's the world's greatest optimist, and he has reason to be; he's seen much success in his work for other people's good. Obviously, I was agreeable. Selfishness with wealth is never really good. It can corrode your spirit and your feelings for community right away. On the other hand, waste not, want not. I sent $10 to the Cancer Society earlier this month, which ought to hold them a while.

Pink came up with an idea that's a great one, that we fund various programs on TV. I've always wondered what it'd feel like if they said your foundation sponsored the following program, like "Downton Abbey:" "This program was underwritten by a more-than-generous grant from the D.B. Kundalini and Pink Professor Foundation, who remind you, 'When in Mayberry, Gomer says Hey.'" We could have all kinds of cute ones. "This program was underwritten by an extraordinarily lavish grant from the D.B. Kundalini and Pink Professor Foundation, who want to give a shout out to the billionaire and his loyal spouse Garrett Al, aka Geritol and Jor-el." Then I'd hear from Geritol! "His loyal spouse?! You make me sound like a dog!" With the billionaire in the background, going, "Woof, woof!"

The Pink Professor asked me if I was still a big fan of Elvis. I smiled as if to say, 'Once a big fan, always a big fan.' "Of course I am. I dream of him almost every night, like always. But now that you and I are married, I promise not to!" He looked to see if my fingers were crossed, but since they weren't, I'm OK. Until I wake up singing "Hound Dog." But I might be thinking of Garrett Al...

Without giving too much away, it being our first night and all, I was very tired and wished him a good night. But I was suddenly roused to new life when I noticed ... feet on the ladder, coming down! "Mother!"

A Great Victory -- We Closed Down a Bed Store!

You probably remember -- it's great to be notorious! -- me sharing before about my church and our pastor, Pastor Wadd. He's really undisputed in this, being well known as the best sexual addiction counselor in the three-synod area. Some of his teaching can be found in my old post, Pastor Wadd -- The Sexual Root of Everything. I'll admit, he can be tough to talk to. He's got a rock-solid stare and a mind that only goes one place.

Over the last few years, one of our church's ministry drives has been to take on bed stores and the sales of mattresses in general. We've pushed hard, a continual thrust. For example, we've even done everything we can to delay bed deliveries. The tougher it is to get delivery, the less likely people will buy them. And it's our fervent hope, if we ever get a legislature with a real set of balls, to outlaw the bed all together. Pastor Wadd's teaching on the bed is right on: The bed is the gateway to sex.

(Full disclosure: I myself have a bed -- I keep some of these details quiet -- but it's only because I have a bad back and can't sleep on the floor like the others at church. Nothing else happens there. Very limited frequency.)

Our work, as it turns out, has been something of a thankless job, that is, with the general public. Some of the infidels, the worst ones, have come out to take us on, trying to start pillow fights and the like. But we have marched peacefully, carrying our GOD HATES BEDS signs even in the face of terrific provocation. Bed stores hate to see us coming. One tried the old ruse of trying to kill us with kindness, bringing out water to us on one of those 130 degree days. We just drank the water and kept marching!

Pastor told us, If Moses could walk 40 years, we can make it another 20 minutes. Which was tough. And I know a number of our people went home and just crashed, spread out on the hardwood floor in misery. They were tired, but it felt great to take a load off. And they were comforted in the knowledge that it really does eventually pay off, all the hardship. That's what we're celebrating today.

I was driving by, out on the east side, earlier today, and saw the big signs by the road, "MATTRESS STORE CLOSING," with some of the details on their close-outs on all beds and bed-related products. They even had "Bedman the Dancing Mattress" flapping and waving his arms, now in his last days. They're going all out! Which I guess is OK. They can't very well just set their store on fire; there's other businesses in the area. They need to get rid of the beds somehow, although a bonfire in the country would be preferable.

It's really great, though, isn't it? Celebrate with me! It's gratifying to think that I did my little part in this, all part of a higher calling. Pastor really is right about the bed and sex. You hear of people going to bed together all the time. City councilmen with their secretaries. Congressmen with congresswomen, in their own kind of congress.

And of course there's the average man, out cheating on his wife, shacking up at the cheapest motel he can find, with some loose chick from work. I can just picture how it must be: Furtive glances all around, parking around back, having fake names picked out, Walt Defug, Alan LaCarte, Izzy Wither, etc. Pulling the curtains, locking the door, using protection, eying the bed, pulling down the covers, slowly undressing one another, her beautiful little black bra, looking deeply into one another's eyes, arranging the towels on the bed, skyrockets in flight, lovingly caressing her sexy tattoo, kissing the downy fuzz on the back of her neck, his fingers in her blond silky hair as they both doze off. Things you hear about. Terrible stuff. Too bad he couldn't just go home. Lay on the floor with the old familiar wife. The mudpack, the curlers, that old housecoat. Nothing new there. She used to be good. And forget the bed.

OK, that's the big news for the day! We're celebrating the demise of the bed store! Yes! The loss of jobs, a ton of money on the merchandise, and all the upheaval it brings! Hallelujah! But I suppose our celebration will be brief. There's several other bed stores in town. We've still got our work cut out for us.

The Perpetual Vibrating Bed

Today's post is dedicated to the memory of John Joseph Houghtaling, inventor in 1958 of the "Magic Fingers Vibrating Bed." A quarter brought 15 minutes of "tingling relaxation and ease."

We remember with great fondness the vibrating bed. But unfortunately, most of them have been junked by now. Mostly because the original repairmen, long ago, threw away the schematics in a shortsighted, selfish attempt to guarantee themselves job security. Not foreseeing that they would eventually die and the rest of us wouldn't have any idea how to repair the tricky mechanisms.

Admittedly, a few brave souls, working with only rudimentary electronics knowledge, usually gotten from fly-by-night technical institutes, attempted repairs, but none of it was any good. Beyond that, it became impossible to get parts, and trying to jimmy rig the devices with non-matching parts from soda machines and jukeboxes gave poor results.

But let's say we could somehow get back the original intelligence to make these things work, that would definitely be a blast from the past, and, more importantly, great for the therapeutic value the vibrating bed offered. I'm thinking of something a friend of mine said, that the vibrating bed was the only thing that staved off headaches for him. If he felt a headache coming on, diving into a warm vibrating bed was the only thing that could perk him right up!

As for me, I had an idea for the vibrating bed in a perfect world. Just fantasizing here! Remember, when you put a quarter in you got 15 minutes of "tingling relaxation and ease." That was a great promise, but it also had a downside: 15 minutes isn't very long! If you're like me, you could only enjoy the first seven or eight minutes. Because you knew it was about to run out, then you'd have to interrupt your relaxation and ease to put another quarter in.

My idea is why not have a method of automatically replenishing the quarters! And I'm not saying you wouldn't have to pay for the extra service. You'd be glad to pay for it if you could only be spared having to roll over and put another quarter in. So here's the idea: You have a way of loading a disc, almost like in a laundromat, with multiple quarters, which then would rotate and deposit the next quarter as needed. What a great convenience that'd be!

But how to pay for the extra service? What I would propose seems natural to me, in fact the only fair method. The only thing I'm bogged down on is how to pay for the final service of moving the pennies. But bear with me, I have an idea...

I'm proposing a hierarchical arrangement of coins to pay for the services. First, you've got the rotating disc of quarters at the bed that would take, say, 12 quarters. At 15 minutes apiece, that's three hours of uninterrupted vibrating, a godsend! But to actually rotate the quarters, you'd have a disc above it that is loaded with dimes. So that'd be 12 dimes. Then to pay for the dime disc, you'd have a disc above it loaded with nickels. 12 nickels. And to pay for the nickel disc, another disc with 12 pennies. How you pay for the penny disc is the biggest drawback, which I can't entirely resolve at this time. It might have to be that the nickels be somehow adequate compensation for the nickel disc as well as the penny disc.

The key thing is that original 15 minutes, great but inadequate, has been wonderfully extended to three glorious hours! Meaning, except for the need to replenish all the coin discs at the end of three hours, we'd have a virtually perpetual vibrating bed!