Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only column experiencing consternation, anxiety, distress and other phobic-oriented feelings.
We were thinking about this during a power-point meeting, when we realized none of us here in the Mothership will ever become a high-ranking public official or priest. (Phew.) But it made us think about the deep-seated fears held by some real-life people, many of whom work right here in the Inside Out Dishwasher. Some of these fears – as documented by real live people with doctoral degrees – are very true fears, fears every red-blooded American should have coursing through their synapses.
Some of our favorite fears include scabiophobia (scabies), papaphobia (the Pope; that one’s prevalent this year …), venereophobia (venereal diseases), pyrophobia (fire), phasmophobia (ghosts), pediculophobia (lice) and ketagelophobia (ridicule).
But there are others. You knew that.
Can you imagine being struck with siderophobia? You’d never be able to go out on a clear night because the STARS might get you!
How about symmetrophobia, the fear of symmetry? Aaaaaah! Get. It. Off. Kilter. Sideways. Now.
What if you were afraid of dirt? You wouldn’t be livin’ up here in the High Country, that’s for sure. Stuff swirls in the air this time of year, which brings us to the fear of allergies, which we feel is a genuine diagnosable problem, but isn’t listed in our book of hypochondria.
How about being diagnosed with phobophobia, the fear of fear. Wouldn’t that be one of those snowball things, that gets worse the more you think about it? You’re thinking about your fear of fear and your fear starts to escalate and you realize it and that makes the fear worse and the next thing you know you’re running out of the house, screaming and – oh no! STARS! Back in the house!
We’re so scared, we’re going to change the subject.
We have some – how shall we put it – delicate news here.
A man named Buck Weimer of Pueblo has something for folks, like his wife, who suffer from Crohn’s disease, and others who merely get a little bit too much fiber in their diet. He got the idea because an unfortunate incident one Thanksgiving dinner years ago. So he invented … Under-Ease – the undies you wear for those you love.
If your flatulence is gassing your buddies off the chair or out of your ski cabin, you owe it to them to wear Under-Ease, skivvies that stop the stink associated with bad wind (you know, windy pops, trouser coughs or Rocky Mountain barking spiders).
WARNING: FREE ASSOCIATION THOUGHT! We are reminded of a basketball game we attended in Philadelphia, in which three rowdy college boys were joking around. A rather obese woman sat behind them. All of sudden, someone let one rip. The game came to a halt. People fell over in their seats. And one of the college boys turned and gave a look of admonishment to the fat woman behind him. And she said, “Don’t be looking at me; I done seen you tilt.”
WARNING: END OF FREE ASSOCIATION!
Under-Ease are airtight nylon boxers have built-in exit holes to gas can escape though filters – seven layer devices with charcoal sandwiched between wool. Sounds comfy!
Need a pair? Need a gift? http://www.under-tec.com
We are truly bummed, here at Summit Up Headquarters. The ice melt device has fallen in the lake, without even giving the community time to get all excited about it. The deadline for turning in guesses was Friday, and on Sunday, the last of the ice melted away and kerploosh! In it went. We are not only bummed for the community, but are bummed because we didn’t guess, even remotely close, the correct date or time.
However, there are some excited folks out there, people who stand to win a nice little wad o’ cash! Congratulations! We are jealous! We are green with envy! We wanted to spend it all on a vacation diving in the Caribbean! We wanted to pay off credit card bills! We wanted to buy a new mountain bike! We wanted to get the IRS off our backs! We had such dreams! Such fantasies! And alas, they have been dashed. Heavy sigh.
We out. We out seeking to squelch the roar of barking spiders. Phhht!
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