Soak Your Platypus

So in last night’s — or more precisely, this late morning’s — dream, I found myself in the apartment house where my late and ex husband retreated to live with his mother, staying over with him in the apartment she had left him (not quite a correlation with real life), and making a visit to a bathroom down the hall, British-hotel-style, wherein one of the commodes was wholly occupied by a platypus belonging to one of the other residents.

Because apparently, a platypus needs to be soaked regularly. At least in my dream world.

Whether or not this has anything to do with attending a screening of the Song of Bernadette, involving the miraculous healing waters of Lourdes (which emerged in what was originally the municipal dump), is up in the air. Or down in the commode, depending.

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16 thoughts on “Soak Your Platypus

  1. Why did you attend a screening of Song of Bernadette? Incidentally, it’s true that the platypus spends a good deal of its time in water so if you were travelling with your pet platypus it would be necessary to soak it.

    • Well, it’s a classic, I’ve never seen it, and a client wanted to invite people to show off his fancy video setup (a professional sound engineer, he is justly proud of his system). Someone else picked the movie, but it was interesting, especially to a Cathar geek like me who is always intrigued by religious shenanigans in the Occitan part of France.

      And hey, the novel was written by one of Alma Mahler’s husbands. Much more equivocal and socially astute telling of the story than I expected. The twisting and turning of the muckamucks of Lourdes, trying to first suppress and then make money off the influx of pilgrims, is some of the funniest ensemble acting I’ve seen. No platypus in the spring though.

    • Actually in the time I spent bucketing about Britain I was only warned about making sure any place I booked rooms had a bathroom en suite; I never really found myself in a place w that didn’t. But my Brit Ex muttered direly about the chances of finding ourselves in accommodations with “baths down the hall,”, especially when we went to Wales. The only anomaly I ever actually found in a bathroom was the power toilet in Weymouth. A clever device, but they should have posted an explanation of how it worked.

  2. Whatchoo been smokin?

    (Actually, I read Daddy Papersurfer’s comment and remembered Mrs. Premise and Mrs. Conclusion who discuss how to put your budgie down. They reject the option of flushing it down the loo, as you may recall.)

    • I can’t smoke anything at all; I’m already a sinus catastrophe from local traffic.

      I actually don’t recall that debate, but am glad the poor budgerigar was spared the ignominy.

          • All humor is saying mean stuff about something or somebody, don’t you think? The best is when the mean stuff is directed at yourself.

            Here’s what pisses me off: Men in drag (Monty Python is a great example) is endlessly funny; but when women dress as men it never rises above wearing-your-boyfriend’s-shirt adorability.

          • OK, I can only tell so much by looking at the link. I have to find the book itself. I can see that it’s badass, but I can’t tell whether it’s really funny.

            Thanks for the tip. I hope the alternate universe life exists for all of us.

          • The Look Inside option gives you a half dozen or so very not-adorable drag kings. Funny, not really. Just kind of exhilarating.

            The thing about men in drag being funny is, I suspect it has something to do with the inherent ludicrousness of a man wanting to be taken for a woman (or actually to live as one). Why on earth and in the names of all the gods would a man want that? Who would want to be second-classed, trivialized, infantilized, passed over for jobs and promotions, just for a short list? I think part of the humor of men in women’s clothes parallels the kind of humor in which people cluelessly go off at a tangent to their own original intentions or best interests.

          • Right. Exhilarating is what I meant by badass; and maybe it’s not possible for them to be “funny” is still shots.

            But I’m not sure about your theory about the humor of men in drag. Seems to me that there is something ridiculous about many, many women (their mannerisms, their speech, their gait) and this is what men tap into very effectively in those sketches in drag. The question is whether women can point about the absurdities of manliness in the same way. Seems like somebody (Tracey Ullman?) used to manage something like that.

          • Well, to me that’s a part of it — the compound weirdness of a man wanting to make himself ridiculous. Tottering around in high heels and restrictive clothes. I thiink we’re thrashing around in the same territory anyway. Perhaps when women do all that, I just find it too depressing to be funny.

            Male swagger can be farcical, too, but at least it’s meant to communicate power — something a person would want to have.

            Of course the ultimate stand-up-and-cheer (in real life, and not meant to be funny by anyone) was Stonewall when men in full drag, heels included, rioted in the streets for days and resisted arrest by New York City cops, than which you could not get more iconically macho. I’m not yet entirely sure how to parse that whole mash-up of haptic gender signifiers.

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