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thenonconformistcurmudgeon · 7 years ago

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Wombat-Less

I have been given permission by the blog author’s wife to guest write as she now has temporary guardianship of him. I am a psychologist treating the blog author for a new psychological condition called Insta-Fame, also known as inflated and deflated ego disorder. The wife explained that the author’s readership would want to know what happened to him and that this fascinating case study could be a cautionary tale to the modern life and dangers of instant celebrity.

The blogger wrote what appeared to be a well-received story, The Smoking Jacket. Reviews were mostly positive. After the story went viral, he was inundated with requests for appearances, lectures, readings, storytelling, was on the college circuit as well as pitchman requests for smoking jackets, smoking hats, shuffleboard, luxury goods, and hot air balloon rides. He cashed in on every opportunity. The adoration and adulation was all encompassing and it was consuming him.

He had a major literary supporter in Professor Hufnagel of NYU. Hufnagel declared him the new Hemmingway. However, Hufnagel already had a lot of critics in academia and his support and championing of the blogger started a firestorm. Professors from real Ivy league schools such as Columbia and Cornell challenged Hufnagel’s opinions and a forum was set up to debate the blogger’s literary abilities entitled Can Blogs Be Literature? The blogger was unaware of these detractor opinions when he went to the symposium as he had been so engrossed by his fan’s obsessions with him.

The panel discussion did not turn out well for either Hufnagel or the blogger. They were both ripped to shreds and dragged through the mud. The blogger’s style and content were referred to drivel, pandering, hackneyed, trite, tawdry, desperate, and not worth even wrapping fish in. They laughed at paragraphs and phrases, commenting with mockery and scorn. The proud blogger got up towards the end of the discussion, yelled out “philistines” and left in a huff. NYU was deeply embarrassed. Although Hufnagel was a tenured geology professor, NYU did decide to fire him anyway and deal with the consequences later.

The blogger was clearly deflated. Word got out that his writing was not so good after all and his appearances were cancelled. The death knell for his literary prowess came when the Kardashians said they liked his work. Writer’s block ensued and he was incapacitated with dread when Microsoft word stared at him from the one-eyed monster.

Although he was generally now considered a has-been, he was offered reality show appearances on Dancing with the Stars and Celebrity Big Brother. He turned his back on pretend fame and decided to put the money he did make to good use. He had always been a big idea man but never had the capital to go through with his inventions and schemes. Although there was that time that the squeezable Chinese take-out food while driving idea made it to the focus group phase but was shot down instantly. Now, with some capital and a distressed mind, he fell into a descent of foolhardy choices.

The blogger thought about disappointments in his life that others may also have had and that he could fill a niche to create something that would fill their needs. He thought about the time that he and his family travelled to Australia but failed to see a wombat. He might have seen a dead one on the side of the road but knew he was clenching at wish fulfillment at the time. His lack of a wombat sighting did niggle at him time and again over the years but he could not see how he could find a way to guarantee a wild wombat sighting in these here United States that would be believable.

Then it came to him. On his trips out west, he always went out driving back roads in the hopes of tumbleweed sightings, the bigger the better. His love for rolling plant life came from old Western movies and TV shows where they would roll in and out of a dusty town. He thought, who isn’t enthralled with giant tumbleweeds hurtling across the prairie. In real life, there was only an occasional satisfying sighting. He thought there must be millions like him that would pay for the privilege of guaranteed sightings and he started Tumbleweed Safari Tours.

The blogger purchased a large plot of land in the Sagebrush state. To keep costs down, he hired youngsters out of college who thought they were going to an organic farm to volunteer and learn skills but there really wasn’t much to sagebrush growing, wrangling, and capturing. The tour consisted of the following: All participants had to ride a burro in the steaming hot backcountry, either buy or rent a ten-gallon hat, and were encouraged to call their fellow tourists pardner, likely in “Howdy Pardner”. Tour guides were encouraged to call the tourists “greenhorns”. The blogger of course had to have the biggest 10-gallon hat of them all. He knew he could guarantee sightings because the volunteers would wing them across the path when coming down the trail or had some nailed up into some fences. Instagram pictures of participants in their hats, with their burros, next to the giant tumbleweed was highly encouraged.

Although there were some extremely satisfied customers, the tourist numbers were paltry. After several weeks, the volunteers left en masse and before they left, defecated in all the ten-gallon hats. The blogger wasn’t defeated though and still had substantial capital and he had all that land out west. Another feature of old Westerns was the stagecoach. He thought folks would love to recreate the experience of stagecoach riding so his next idea was Authentic Stagecoach Touring.

The Western Stagecoaches happened to be very slow and uncomfortable. They went about 5 miles per hour on very pitted roads. If you wanted to sleep, you had to do it sitting up and it was considered bad etiquette to rest one’s head on another passenger. The stagecoaches had three rows of seats, allowing for nine passengers, six of which had to have their knees knocked with the folks across the row. Passengers were also allowed to ride on top, and these folks were known as “hangers on”. Stopping at night and sleeping in a barn with terrible food was common. Since the blogger wanted it to be authentic, passenger tourists did a lot of grumbling due to the conditions, gave horrible reviews on Trip Advisor, and the venture sunk straight away.

The blogger sold what assets he had left and returned back east. The wife engaged this psychologist to treat him as he was a shell of his former self. Defeated, deflated and unhinged. His descent into madness was accompanied by frequent mumbling and rambling about rubber straps, shuffleboard, the writing of potboilers, cat heroes, telling anyone who would listen that he planned on growing a pencil thin moustache along with mutton chops at the same time, the ten commandments, the fear of a dry bird at Thanksgiving, and numerous other obsessions that he would corner friend and foe about.

This psychologist engaged the blogger in grounding techniques such as eating in a food court at a mall, comparing prices between the family size boxes and the smaller containers of food at the supermarket, mindfully raking, going to middle school soccer games, playing monopoly, trying to choose a pair of glasses frames among the hundreds in an optical store and many more daily life events. The theory was to engage the blogger in the ordinary boredom of everyday life to help snap him back to reality.

The blogger is now much improved. He does have some minor set-backs as he continues to search for the vertical and horizontal hold knobs on modern LED TV’s. As you can see from the following psychotherapy session transcript, he is pretty much back to his old self as he is able to keep on one obsession at a time.

Psychologist: How are things going?

Blogger: I believe the new Miss. America is a fraud and it was fixed. You know she was Miss. North Dakota first. Now it is not possible that Miss. North Dakota can become Miss. America unless there was some kind of judging chicanery. All right, she did have that daring move during her jazz routine where she had to walk over a chair, I give her credit for that. You know only 3 Ms. North Dakota’s ever made it to the top ten before. She was asked what was number one on her bucket list and she said she wanted to make it to the top ten so that she can show all the women in America that even if you come from a lonely geographic outpost you can make it to the top ten of Miss. America. After the pageant, she said “It doesn’t matter where you come from, if you have Miss America spirit, you can do it.” Maybe, it wasn’t fixed after all.

Psychologist: Anything new on the job front?

Blogger: Yes, I applied for a job with the Maine Board of Tourism. I think I nailed the interview and am waiting for a call back. I suggested that they have an ad campaign pushing the month of November for tourism in Maine. Instead of focusing on the facts that it is cold, dark, cloudy and generally a grey pall over the state, they can sell that there are no tourists, few people out and about, and no leaves on the trees so visitors would be able to see more of the state that way. They would have unobstructed views.

Psychologist: Yes, well, our time has just about run out for today and your insurance benefits will run out after our next session. Since you seem in such good spirits, we can plan for a termination session.

Blogger: Yes, that will be fine. Termination, you know I wouldn’t mind the job of an undertaker. You know they don’t call them undertakers anymore, now funeral director. I like the term undertaker, what’s wrong with that term that nobody uses it anymore, in fact…

Psychologist: We can pick up with that the next time and you can bring me a check for the remainder of your co-pays.

Blogger Addendum: Psychologist is a crackpot. What psychologist has their office decorated with a series of paintings they did at paint bar nights? Quack.

#Wombat-Less

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