Sunday, June 29, 2008

Jumping Frenchmen and Fainting Goats

Dear Dame Wotta,
I am writing to you because I am at the end of my rope with my husband. I still love him dearly, but cannot take the way he responds to me anymore.

I will give you an example, the other day when I came home from work, (I arrive a good hour before my husband gets home from his job, in a firework factory) I decided to surprise Renee by being spontaneous and sexy. After taking a hot scented bath I donned garter belt, stockings and high heels, nothing else, carefully did my makeup and went downstairs to wait for the sound of his car. When I heard him pull into our garage, I went and waited by the door. As he opened it I jumped out into his arms and covered him with kisses. He responded by socking me in the jaw and yelling, after which he introduced me to his boss who was standing behind him, twice.

We all went inside, I was feeling pretty embarrassed that my husbands boss had seen Renee take a swing at me.

While I put the steak which should have been my dinner on my blackening eye, I made coffee for both of them. I served it to them in the nook. Because one eye was covered with a raw steak, I tripped just as I reached the table, spilling a little coffee on Renee; once again my husband jumped up and socked me in the other eye.

Now I was really embarrassed, my husband’s boss, Pierre had seen Renee hit me twice. I was also in pain as hot coffee had spilled down my naked breasts.

I tried to cheer up the mood by getting a box of leftover Christmas crackers from the cupboard and pulling them with Pierre, at which point, my husband, presumably in a fit of jealousy, pounded me again, yelling crackers over and over again.

I went out slamming the door in a fit of pique listening to my husband yelling behind me, “Door slam, door slam”. He’s so ignorant.

This is one of many examples. I go out of my way to surprise my husband as often as I can so we don’t get stale. This is because I care. It always seems to end with me being punched out though. He deliberately mocks me too, by repeating things I say in a funny voice. What an asshole. I yell right back, sometimes we go like that all night.

Dear Dame, what must I do, I’m thinking of leaving him, but I’m afraid of what the neighbors might say as my husband has recently been diagnosed with an illness.

Please respond as soon as possible.

Regards - Anonym

P.S. My husband’s illness is known as Jumping Frenchmen of Maine. It was passed down by his Father who was a tree feller.


Dear Anonymous,

Although I fully sympathize with your situation it’s my opinion that you should educate yourself more fully as to the parameters of Renee’s disorder and what it means to you both. It seems unlikely that his condition is treatable so you will have to decide if you’re prepared to live with it.

It seems that surprising your husband in any way isn’t a good idea, and the only things in your relationship likely to remain fresh are the bruises.

Let’s see if we can concentrate on some positives:

Echolalia is the term used to describe the uncontrollable repeating back of the order the sufferer has heard. This can be useful, allowing you feedback on what you actually sound like to others, and also allowing you to keep better tabs on the confusing conversations, serving as a limited ‘memory’ function.

I also advise you to visit Renee’s boss. If he bears no visible signs of having been beaten then it could mean that he already knows how to deal with this condition. Ask him for some tips.

You must use a vocal tone that is faster, sharper and louder than anyone else’s when issuing commands if you don’t want to get swiped. This is imperative if you wish to keep your complexion, as continual facial trauma will cause sagging and lines. You’ve already jeopardized the future correct nourishment of any unborn children by having red hot liquid hurled over an area designed by nature to be cooler than the rest of you. Perhaps what you need is not less clothing, but rather a fabric using asbestos in its infrastructure that can be fashioned into some type of jalebi.

One other possible solution – I hesitate to mention it – is Renee’s boss, Pierre, married? Perhaps a possible future marriage for you and he might be less painful and more lucrative? Also, you could both move to adopt Renee for his own good. He could earn his keep completing tasks given with simply issued commands and live in separate quarters to minimize the potential for further violence. This will also minimize any guilt you may be feeling, after calling your poor suffering husband names (‘an asshole’ was I believe the term you used). Stop fighting, no more fireworks, and certainly, no sex – not with Renee anyway, it’s far too dangerous.

Jumping Frenchmen of Maine is thought to be related to several other diseases, including an unusual hereditary genetic disorder found in the domestic goat called myotonia congenita, or ‘fainting goats’. At the slightest shock or loud noise or movement, down they go, legs stiff in the air, unconscious. It’s a pity in a way that Renee cannot react that way – it would save you such a lot of trouble. Firmly believing that laughter is the best medicine, below is a link to information on Jumping Frenchmen and best of all, one also to the dear little goats and you can watch them all fainting at the slightest provocation. Make sure you watch full-screen. I'm not being cruel, but it's better that way.

Good luck to you, Dearie!

Dame Wotta Tripp

FAINTING GOATS

Jumping Frenchmen of Maine

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