Tossing Salt Presents:
A Day of Dougie
Nappies, Credit Card Machines & Stevie Wonder
DougMaynard.com
Doug Maynard

Salutations and how the hell are you? It’s way too early on a very cold Sunday morning. I can’t sleep. And if I can’t sleep, there is only one thing to do. Are you ready for a Day of Dougie? It’s either this or another edition of the Ultimate Wrestling Q&A. I’ve got 50 questions outlined and waiting for answers, but I’m not in the wrestling mood right now. That will be later today. Instead, let’s just get a bit more random.

Let’s start with the easy stuff and then I’ll pull out the infamous Magic Bag for topics of discussion. Medical updates. The Wound Vac is off. I start with the HBO Chambers on Tuesday afternoon. That will be roughly 90 minutes a day, 5 days a week, at the Wound Center. I can’t wait… to get it over with. Film at 11:00.

And now, the reason we’re all here. It’s time for a Day of Dougie. By the way, I’ll probably do a 12 Days of (Christmas) Dougie starting in the next few days. No promises as of yet, but I’m pondering it at the moment. 12 Days of Dougie in a row, and one of the topics of discussion in each edition will be Christmas-related. Doesn’t that sound like fun? I might pass this year, but I probably won’t. Just keep your eyes open. If I do, it’ll probably start on the 12th to finish up on Christmas Eve. No promises, but I’m pondering.

Now, let’s get the infamous Magic Bag and determine what we’re talking about today. We have Nappies, Credit Card Machines, and Stevie Wonder. I wonder who I can offend today because every one of those topics is taking my mind into a sick and twisted place. Don’t judge me. This should be interesting. Let’s go.

Nappies

What comes to mind when you hear the word Nappies? Two things. The plural of naps, as in, “It was a long day. I took plenty of nappies. I was tired.” And the other thing, if I recall correctly, is British slang for a diaper. I’d rather talk about naps because I like sleeping, but I warned you that my mind was immediately going sick as I read each topic.

A nappy is a diaper. And what are diapers full of? Baby poop. And if you’ve ever changed a baby’s diaper, that poop is more toxic than nuclear waste. It sticks to everything, smells awful, and you need to be wearing a Hazmat suit to escape the experience unscathed. The slightest misstep and complete strangers will walk up to you in public, sniff the air, and comment, “You have a kid, right?”. It’s true. It’s damn true! And the more adorable the child, the more notorious and toxic the poop is.

And the worst part of it is, that the kids know and realize this. They enjoy torturing the adults with their foul odors and clingy poop. True story. There is an adorable child in my life. And when she was very little, she liked to be held. She’d see me and reach her arms out. I’d hold her and talk to her and we’re having a great time. Then she gets this smile on her face. And the lump of glow-in-the-dark, green toxic fecal matter would start to form in her nappy. Without fail, every time. She knew what she was doing. When that small smile appeared, I knew it was time to hand her off to her parents and hit the road. She soiled the nappy and laughed at how much it sickened all the big people. And yes, it was on purpose. I love kids, but I’d rather wipe a monkey’s butt. Just saying. Let’s move on.

Credit Card Machines

I don’t like them. They’re convenient and a necessary evil, but it’s just Big Brother keeping track of our movements and spending habits. But they are necessary as we’ve become a credit card world. No one carries cash anymore. So we feed the machine our information and our lives and existence become statistics, data, and tracking by Computer Central. Yeah, we’re fucked.

And this isn’t what I was originally going to speak of when I saw the words Credit Card Machine. My first thoughts were the old-fashioned machines of the 70s and 80s where you had to slide the machine over the card, fill out the necessary information, get a signature, and give the customer a carbon copy of the receipt. It was a drawn-out, complicated, very annoying process. And the slightest mistake in setting the numbers or anything else had to be repeated and done over. I hated those machines even more than I hate the ones now. They sucked.

Stevie Wonder

What can I say about Stevie Wonder? He wasn’t just a great musician. He was outta sight! Stevie Wonder walks into a bar. And a table. And a chair. And a window. Stevie is a great poet. He wrote this poem. Roses are black. Violets are black. Everything is black. I can’t see shit! And Stevie is a terrible father. He never sees his kids. Have you ever seen a picture of Stevie’s kids? Neither has he. Stevie got a cheese grater for his birthday. He said it was the most violent book he’s ever read. Stevie has talents though. He is so good at piano, I’ll bet he could do it blindfolded. What’s black and screams? Stevie Wonder answering the iron. What’s black and screams more? They called back. I could do this all day, but I don’t see the point. Neither does Stevie Wonder. Let’s wrap this up.

And there you go. Thanks for reading. Comments, thoughts, and suggestions for future topics of discussion to put into the Magic Bag are welcome and appreciated. And I guess that’s all for now. I’ll be back later with some wrestling stuff. Until the next time, make it a Day of Dougie. Don’t worry – be happy. I’ll catch you later.

Ubuntu!