"Even crackpot tinpot dictators fly in to the Mayo Clinic when they get a case of the wobblies"
It's Friday (for a few more minutes), the day when we peek into the life of America's Worst Mother™ (a brand-name of TboggAmeriCo) and her four little treasures: Victrola, Asophidita, Crinoline, and Albertinacan.
This week Tbogg has given us one of his best efforts; I think my favorite part was the visit to Meghan's alternative to Disneyland: Sinners in the Hands of an Angry Family Values Land. So, if you haven't already, go right now and read Happy, funny storytime with Crazy Stick-Up-Her-Butt Lady.
But since Tom only had room for the really funny stuff in his report. part of Meghan's story couldn't be told. Until now. So, sit back and let me recount The Rest of the Story.
I SAID, sit back. Don't make me hurt you.
Okay, I guess that's far enough back. Now, the tale of The Gurdonettes Go to Hospital and Strike a Blow Against Mickey Mouse:
For some unspecified reason, instead of taking the kids to school today, Meghan takes them to a major Washington hospital. Just what necessitates this visit? Cooties? Failure to thrive? Substance abuse problems?
Upon the advice of her counsel, Meghan isn't saying. However, she is complaining about how the receptionist isn't properly solicitous of Meghan's brood, asking about insurance instead of inquiring as to how the young Gurdonettes are feeling. For all the receptionist knows, the kids are dying from gun shot wounds to the chests, and need appendectomies STAT! Of course, if that were the case, a normal person would have taken them to the ER instead of scheduling a routine doctor's appointment, but the receptionist doesn't know that she's not dealing with a normal person here. So, Meghan hates her, for being more concerned about filthy lucre than these precious, snotty-nosed, foul-mouthed, gifts from God.
I hand over the forms. She turns away to process our paperwork. She has not even glanced at the children.
And what a treat she's missing, since the adorable cherubs are looking especially winsome today, despite the scabies. But the receptionist is also failing to notice that Albertinacan has demolished the entire waiting room with a toy wagon -- so, there is an upside to her inattention to children. (We're pretty sure that Albertinacan is there to get help for his crystal meth problem.)
But the receptionist's insistence on doing her job causes Meghan to hearken back to a time when things weren't like this, a time when a healthcare provider's first concern wasn't payment, but, you know, heathcare. Of course, back them Meghan lived in England and was popping out children under the country's socialized medicine plan -- but life under communist rule did have some good aspects.
But at least no one stands, arms crossed, demanding that you fill out a form before deigning to notice how white your knuckles have gone.
And Meghan's have gotten pretty white, as she's just itching to punch out the receptionist for daring to ask how Meghan was going to be paying for her children's medical care. Hell, the hospital should be paying MEGHAN for the privilege of meeting the famous Swamp Fever children.
At least Meghan she can eke a column out of this. However, since the NRO might not like the "America needs universal health care" angle, Meghan orders the kids to do something cute, or face the consequences.
The children tremble for a moment, then snap into action. Little Crinoline tells the nurse that her name is "two-and-a-half." Yeah, that's the stuff -- work that money maker! And Albertinacan cracks up the whole hospital with a fart joke. The kids will eat tonight!
Then the nurse leaves the family alone in an examination room without toys or drugs, and now the pressure is on.
These are desperate moments, as all mothers know. You do not know how long you will be waiting. You know it is your duty to keep everyone quiet and cheerful. You strenuously do not want a scene of juvenile debauchery when the door eventually opens.
Because the state said that if there was another one of those, the kids were going into foster care.
And it was just such a scene that caused the kids' last pediatrician to inform Meghan that another doctor might be better suited to her children's specialized needs -- and happily enough, he'd heard that St. Elizabeth's was taking new patients. (Sure, Meghan tells everybody that the switch in doctors is due to insurance issues, but she fails to mention that it was the doctor's insurance company that insisted on the parting of the ways.)
Anyway, Meghan is frantic, trying to think of a way to keep in the kids in line until the new doc shows up. Usually she makes condom animals for the children ("a good ten minutes of riotous fun"), but this time the alert medical staff has locked the supply cabinet. Then the children spot one of those things you humans call a "book." They all bat their long eyelashes, curl up to Mummy, and tell her that it would delight them all ever so much if she would condescend to read the tome to them.
Well, all except Albertinacan. He's still on a manic high, and is using the wheeled stool as a bumper car. Even though he's making dents in the walls and cracks in the EKG machine in the corner, it does Meghan's heart good to see her little man amusing himself so charmingly.
So, she leaves him to his fun, and accedes to her daughters' request for a story. But there's a problem. The book the girls have found isn't a volume of Proust or William F. Buckley, the children's usual fare. No, it's a DISNEY book. And Meghan tries to keep such depravity away from the tikes, in an effort to keep them unsullied by modernity. SpongeBob, Spiderman, Pikacu, Mel Gibson's Jesus, Karl Rove's George Bush -- Meghan tries to protect her kids from all of them.
I have to say, I regard it as a personal triumph that most of our children don't know most of these characters. One of my friends pokes fun at us for living in "1900 House," but my feeling is that the longer the children's minds are uncluttered by pre-fabricated images, the better.
And the more strange and weird the children are, the more friends they'll have. And Meghan wants what's best for them, no matter how stupid it is.
So, Meghan transforms the tale of Donald Duck Vs. The Gingerbread Man into one about Duckman ("Private Dick, Family Man").
Meghan really gets into it, doing all the voices and thinking up hilarious names for all of the characters (Duck Woman, Funny Looking Dog, Scrooge McDerbyshire, Jonah Mouse, Rich Lowry Rat, Kathryn Jean Lopez Shrew, etc.) She loses the kids, but it amuses Meghan no end.
"Stop laughing," Phoebe says irritably.
" — And I can run away from you, I can, I can!"
But at this point, Meghan's jeu d'esprit is interrupted:
The door opens suddenly, and a white-coated person appears.
Not again! Meghan is NOT going back to Happy Acres! But before Meghan can explain that it's perfectly normal for a grown woman to laugh herself silly by making up names for the characters in a children's picture book, the woman (who turns out to be the pediatrician), orders Paris off the wheeled stool.
This infuriates Meghan. Now DARE somebody fail to be captivated by one of her children?
Molly glances at me with apprehension. There have been incidents when Mummy has not responded politely to such peremptory treatment of her family.
Yes, poor Victrola has seen Meghan knife a man for less. There was that time just last week when Meghan punched out an elderly woman for not laughing when Albertican adorably kicked away her crutches. And Victrola is still traumatized after seeing Meghan use an Uzi on that neighbor who yelled at Asophidita for killing his cat.
But because Victrola is expecting violence, Meghan decides to throw her off guard by seducing the doctor instead. You know, so Meghan doesn't have to pay for the visit when the receptionist figures out that Meghan made up the insurance info (no, Blue Cross, Blue Nun isn't a real company). Meghan starts by telling the doctor what good things she's heard about her, then unbuttons a few buttons on her blouse and sticks her tongue in the doc's ear.
It works. The hard face softens, the manner eases, and in no time she is calling the children by their names and exhibiting interest in their aches and pains.
And if a lesbian encounter was all it took, Meghan is more than willing to make the sacrifice. For the sake of her children.
However, the children are strangely upset by seeing their mother going at it with their doctor, and manifest their trauma by acting out some weird, scatological psychodrama.
"You like to eat peanuts," Violet suddenly tells Molly.
"You like to eat wee-nuts," Paris tells Violet.
"Well, you like to eat poo-nuts," Violet repostes.
"Ew — "
"Glue-nuts," Phoebe chimes in, "Goo-nuts, woo-nuts!
"You like to eat spider nuts, Paris," Violet says archly.
He turns on her fiercely. "Don't say 'spider' around Mummy," he hisses.
Albertinacan, mummy's special protector, threatens to poke a lollipop stick into his little sister's brain if she doesn't shut up about spiders; and he'd do it too, such is his oedipal rage.
But happily for everyone, just then the nice nurse comes in and administers sedatives for everyone, and then has security remove them from the building.
But we are never told exactly why Albertinacan won't allow his siblings to speak of spiders in Mummy's presence. I'm guessing it's because he knows that the subject is a sore one, ever since she went to jail for eating Daddy. ("Black Widow: she mates, then she kills -- and then she enjoys a nice dinner.")
Anyway, in our O. Henry twist, the security guard gives the kids Mickey Mouse Band-Aid to put on the boo-boos they got when he threw them down the stairs.
Some days it's harder than usual to be a kiddie counterculturalist.
Yes, but it will all be worth it when the kids are in their forties, and still living at home, innocent of the world and its evils.
11:48:54 PM 
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