Saturday, November 2, 2013

Do You Know Where Your Weasel Is?

Here's something you don't know about my book Trousering Your Weasel. It's a great gift book. I know this because people no sooner get their hands on a copy than they're trying to give it away. What I'm thinking is that it's something you want to keep a nice stack of on hand, to use as hostess gifts. Sure, wine is more customary, if you want to go the humdrum route. But it's been done. Picture instead arriving at the nice dinner party and exchanging air kisses and then pulling out Trousering with a flourish and saying "I thought you'd like to have this. It's for the toilet tank." And your hostess will be numb with gratitude. She might not even be able to express it.

You'll have to explain right away that if she is expecting to learn how to trouser a weasel, she will be disappointed. Nowhere in the book is that explained, but the information is out there for anyone inclined to hit a search bar for "ferret-legging." This is an endurance sport that originated among Yorkshire coal miners whose prospects for a fulfilling life were already bleak. According to the world's champion ferret-legger, clocking in at five-plus ferreted pants-hours, the trick is to wear baggy trousers and cinch them off at the ankles. At that point all that is required is to hoist up the ferret and pour it into the top end of the trousers, and then belt up. There's no way out for the ferret, but the ferret does not know that, and will begin to search up one side and down the other, and if there's anything to swing on, he's liable to swing. Many parts of the ferret are sharp, and all of it is skittery. The experience can be transformative, because it forces the ferret-legger to live in the present. It's sort of a shortcut to enlightenment.

Actual installation in happy consumer's home
Trousering Your Weasel is not enlightening at all, unless you didn't already know that wombats' poop is square, but it looks really good on a toilet tank, and whatever is currently on your toilet tank has probably gotten dimpled and speckly. The practice of reading whilst on the toilet is one that seems to cleave down gender lines. Most women do not read on the toilet, and most men will risk their underpants looking around for something to read before they go in. Dave has never understood why I don't bring the newspaper into the bathroom with me, and the answer is simple: I go in to the toilet shortly before I am going to take a dump and leave directly afterward. I am goal-oriented and in tune with my colon. Men, however, go into the bathroom when they think it is reasonably likely they will take a dump sometime over the next few hours, so that they are not caught by surprise. They are inattentive creatures by nature, but boy-scout prepared. If something should emerge in that time, they might yet remain on the toilet until they're done reading. I wonder that they don't find themselves crusting over more. Anyway, the gracious hostess will have provided reading material handy-by. If I were to go into someone's house and find a copy of Trousering Your Weasel in the toilet, I would consider it a classy joint. A book of matches is a nice touch, too.

The title refers to an incident in the very first essay, about a man caught trying to smuggle a ferret out of a pet store in his pants. This is a true story, of course; every time you turn around, there will be a new story about someone who has attempted to smuggle some sort of beast--snakes, monkeys--over the border or onto an airplane or what-have-you. And that's just the ones who get caught. It's probably just scratching the surface, as it were, of the total population of trousered fauna. The rest get away with it by taking advantage of the public's natural disposition to look away from a man with especially lively pants. And you can just about guarantee that, like the toilet reading thing, it's going to be a man. Women will bury strings inside their own butt cracks to avoid visible lines. Even a small rodent would be simply out of the question.

Anyway, I thought I'd bring up the gift-book idea purely out of selfless concern for others. If I can solve that vexing hostess-gift conundrum* for a few people, I will have considered my time on earth well spent. And I do want to point out that if you wanted to go to my book page and order a slab of books directly from me, and not amazon.com--that is the kinder way, from the author's standpoint--you can not only get them signed, but shipping is free for orders of three or more books. You're welcome.

*It probably works for Christmas, too.

39 comments:

  1. I'm speechless with gratitude. Numb, too. :-)

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  2. Good to get the word out - you're offering a vital service! TYW is also a magnificent addition to any artistic endeavor... as I prove here: http://blog.dianehenders.com/2013/10/16/what-my-library-says/

    The fine art galleries should already be clamoring for their copies. If they aren't, they clearly have no taste.

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    1. How did I miss that? I even read it already. It must have been one of those deals where I scroll past the pictures that haven't loaded yet. Sometimes my machine has the slows. Thanks!

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    2. My pleasure - I'm such a proud owner of Trousering Your Weasel! :-)

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  3. oh, damn, you just helped me solve a couple of problems.

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  4. My mom did her best, but I must have really bad manners. I will look directly at a man with especially lively pants. Probably follow him a bit, for that matter.

    And if you don't go to the sorts of gatherings where this book would be just the thing as a hostess gift, then you need new friends.

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    1. Truth. And I'm jotting down your proclivities. Nothing my mom tried to teach me stuck, either.

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  5. all that is required is to hoist up the ferret and pour it into the top end of the trousers, and then belt up. There's no way out for the ferret, but the ferret does not know that, and will begin to search up one side and down the other, and if there's anything to swing on, he's liable to swing.

    This strikes me as powerful vindication of the Darwinian concept that stupidity tends to diminish one's chances of reproducing. It's also rather cruel to the ferret, especially if one has a proclivity for baked beans.

    One side of my family is from Yorkshire, but luckily we didn't inherit this particular tradition.

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    1. You might be a carrier. If the Yorkshire side happens to be the top side, the trait isn't expressed.

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  6. What a generous soul you are. And yes, I know exactly where my weasel is. And thank you.

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  7. I'm not always 100% sure of my weasel, but an entire raccoon family was dancing on my roof last night.

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  8. Men go into the bathroom to read because it is the one place that their wives will not interrupt them with some kind of maintenance chore that needs their immediate attention.
    the Ol'Buzzard

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  9. I was going to point out that I frequently come out of the loo several ounces lighter after time spent with TYW, but it seems my femininity will be called into question. Also, ounces might might be an understatement.

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  10. Is your shipping free as far as Australia? because I could hand out a few of those for Christmas.
    We have an entirely different view of ferrets and legging down here. In Aus, ferrets are kept as pets, not by everyone, mostly out on country farms, and they are sent down rabbit holes to flush the rabbits out at the far end to be caught and served up as dinner.
    Any way... we have a unique method of keeping the little buggers out of our pants. You get yourself some "knacky-twine" and tie your pants close around your ankles to prevent any loose ferrets running up your legs and swinging of your ...er....knackers. This is good old fashioned Aussie lingo here. Knacky-twine to save the knackers. (good strong string)

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    1. I'm starting to think I should just pack a suitcase full of trouserings and go to Australia. I seem to have a lot of friends there. Um, gee. Probably not free shipping...knacky-twine! I love it! It's ling-gold!

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  11. Your book will be a wiser choice for a hostessgift since wine is about to have a shortage on the market according to the media,

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    1. I read that too. Which makes TYW an even CHEAPER alternative. How could you go wrong?

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  12. Oh, lordie...even you haven't made me laugh so hard since...well, since I read TYW. I'm going to share this with my husband...if he ever comes out of the bathroom.

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    1. May I just express my appreciation for the Exhaust Fan right now. Even though it's probably changing the climate all by itself.

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  13. You're good! How the hell did you slide past the spam filter? Don't make me haul out the Captcha Code.

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  14. I don't know for sure if that is a naughty question or not. So I have to think about the answer some more.

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  15. Ferret-legging? Frankly, I didn't believe you; nobody could be that crazy!

    But you mentioned coal miners and Yorkshire, so I asked Laurie. He's from Yorkshire, and his family were coal miners. And he remembers them! His next-door neighbour back in the '30s used to put ferrets down his pants and in his shirt.

    Sorry for doubting you.

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    1. Yorkshire men. It's a dying breed. Hey, I'm given to hyperbole, but I rarely lie outright.

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  16. I am reading this from my hospital bed on my kindle. I should have brought "weasle"! Damn! Thankfully my stitches are in my knee and not my belly!

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    1. Aw, man. You got sliced, spliced, and stitched? Get better soon, bud.

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  17. Hey Murr! Your tome does enjoy pride of place in the loo, and almost came a cropper when I ran out of paper last week. I found myself wondering whether its pages were soft, strong and gently absorbent. Thankfully, I had something by Russell Brand which was far more suitable. Roth x

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    1. That's a great idea. My next book will be written scroll-style, with perforated pages.

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  18. I don't have a weasel, but if I did, I probably wouldn't try to trouser it. I think that would be very unkind to a weasel. Even if weasels aren't the kindest creatures on earth.

    Blessings and Bear hugs, Murr!

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  19. There are weasels in pants, and there are ants: http://www.inbedwithmarriedwomen.com/2013/10/dinosaur-erotica-literal-ants-in.html

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  20. I'm not buying any of it. For one thing, plenty of dinosaurs didn't have penises, let alone six foot penises. Most of them probably had cloacas. Not that I want to interfere in anyone's fantasies. Far from it!

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  21. "...wombats' poop is square, but it looks really good on a toilet tank..."

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    1. OH! You've invented a new game! Pull the middle out of a sentence! Lewis Carroll would be proud of you, and I certainly am.

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