BOB EASTLEY: Mister ED

Hey, Wilbur. There’s been an awful lot of television coverage lately devoted to ED. My first thought, considering the current political climate, was that perhaps it stood for Election Drivel. However, further analysis makes me think perhaps it’s some guy named Ed. Ed Norton? Ed Asner? Mr. Ed? I’m at a loss.

Most of the television coverage seems to focus on women, beautiful women, wandering around the house in their underwear with a distant, rather longing look in their eyes. My first thought was that they were pining for ED, but it seems that they are somehow trying to get rid of him. This confused me even more. Why don’t they like him? Perhaps he’s a former boyfriend who won’t take the hint or a distant uncle who came to visit and overstayed his welcome.

Again, according to these commercials, it seems that the most effective way to get ED out of your life is with a big, blue pill. I suppose it’s some sort of strong tranquilizer. You slip one in his coffee, and drop him off at Aunt Edna’s house after he passes out.

The other way to solve this odd equation has something to do with bathing. Apparently, an effective way to get rid of Uncle ED is to hide in the back yard and not answer the door. For some reason, you need a pair of matching bathtubs sitting side by side, and you and your wife can sit in them, holding hands, and hoping Uncle ED gets tired of ringing the front doorbell. If he leaves, problem solved. If he persists, you simply duck down and pretend you’re in a foxhole.

My wife and I thought we should try it, but finding a pair of matched clawfoot tubs on E-Bay is a bugger. Besides, it takes about twenty trips hauling water from the bathroom to the back yard, which is way more grueling than we imagined. By then the water is cold, and there are mosquitoes, and then there’s the BIG issue of getting from the house to the tub unnoticed. So, we finally just gave up and went back inside. I’m sure the neighbors were pleased.

The other part of this convoluted (I like that word) issue deals with the time element. Perhaps I wasn’t paying close enough attention (as usual), but it seems that, if Uncle ED stays more than four hours, you’re supposed to contact your physician. My doctor is a heck of a nice guy, but his physique is more like that of a distance runner than a bouncer. I’m not sure he’d be up to evicting a large, problem relative, and I rather doubt if he’d be willing to try. Wouldn’t it make more sense to call the police?

Anyhow, you can see my dilemma. If any of you can shed some light on this peculiar topic, please feel free. Why is the problem relative always named ED? Why are these lonely women strolling around in their underwear? Could the blue pills be used to eradicate other problem intruders, like pamphlet-bearing door-to-door religious cult members? Why does anyone need two bathtubs? Why am I so flummoxed?

Contact Bob Eastley at eastleyr@ferris.edu

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