Here's a word for you - aetiology, or etiology.  It's pretty close to being a diagnostician except with aetiology the diagnosis includes identification of the causes of a particular disease or medical disorder.  Anyway, that's what this blog is about - sort of.  Actually it's about an aetiologist named E. Howard Twitt, a diagnostician for the ages . . . and not because he's all that good at it.  In fact, quite a few reputable diagnosticians think E. Howard Twitt is a quack.  I tend to agree with them, but I get a bird's eye view of things sometimes.

This story starts with me having a bad day, perhaps one of the worst bombing days I've ever had.  The legislature was out of session for the year, some national holiday had all the banks and federal offices closed, and I couldn't even find a lawyer to bomb.  Oh, I found a group of them eating at a outdoor cafe down near Town Lake, but that's an off limits thing with us pigeon bombers.  We follow the principle of the three E's - never bomb anyone eating, exercising, or engaging in sex.   Common sense tells you it's just not fair to dump a big load of shit on someone who's trying to feed himself, stay in good shape, or get laid.

I cruised around campus over at UT for a while, thinking maybe I could find somebody hanging around a frat or sororiety house to target.  I managed to get a couple of frat rats in a convertible, but they were too drunk to even know I'd shit on them.  I barely missed a bald headed guy trying to grope a coed just outside a bookstore on Guadalupe.  I did hit a homeless guy sleeping a few feet away on the sidewalk, and thinking the bald guy threw something on him, he got up and kicked him.  The gal getting groped (and not putting up much resistance, I might add), got grossed out and ran off down the sidewalk.  Sometimes misses aren't all that bad.

After that, my day got extremely boring, and all I managed to get done was crap on a confererate civil war hero's statue.  I was about to head back toward the capitol building, and that's when I got lucky and ran across E. Howard Twitt.  He was sitting out front of a trendy bookstore, signing copies of his newest book and palavering with people who'd gathered around.  I swooped down, perched on a window canopy nearby, and started watching the action.  The book he was signing was called 1001 Ways to Enhanced Sexual Gratification, which didn't really do much to stimulate any interest in me . . . until I moved closer and read the subtitle, which was But Only One Really Works.  And then I saw that he was not only selling the book but a ten ounce bottle of liquid called Stiffydip.  And right next to the bottle was a squeezable tube of stuff called Stiffylube. 

Then I noticed a large group of people inside the bookstore watching a video on a wide screen monitor.  The video was showing none other than E. Howard Twitt standing behind a table.  A six inch thick solid oak board, an open jar of clear liquid, a hammer, a nail, and a can of earthworms had been placed on the table.  Since I was outside the bookstore, I couldn't hear what he was saying, but I could most definitely see the video.  I watched as Twitt picked up an earthworm and dangled it in the air, making sure everyone knew it was lifeless.  Then he dipped it into the clear liquid a couple of times, picked up the hammer, and drove it directly into the oak chunk of wood.   The people viewing the video, most of them appearing to be senior citizens, were rushing directly outside to get in line to purchase Twitt's book and attending liquids and lubes . . . and all for the bargain price of a hundred bucks.

Well, I made up my mind right then and there that E. Howard Twitt was most surely a fraud.  I made sure to watch the video from start to finish, even found myself a perch where I could hear the audio, and his claim was that he'd found the main cause of penile disfunction in men.  After exhaustive research, he said, he had isolated an enzyme produced by the brain that caused sexual stimulation leading to erections.  The natural ageing process causes some parts of the brain to function less well, such as with memory . . . and with sexual functioning.  The liquid and lube contained a substitute for this enzyme, a discovery made by some doctors in Estonia or Finland or some place like that. 

Twitt's video further guaranteed his liquids and lubes to maintain erections for at least an hour.  In the event the erection didn't subside in a few hours, he even provided another liquid that was guaranteed to wash off the stiffydip or stiffylube.  And all three of his products were, of course, made of all natural substances that would not harm the users.  I couldn't believe people were actually believing him and buying that stuff.  His video included testimonials, and maybe that's what sold people on the book and products.  I had to admit, it was a good sales pitch, and Twitt came off as being a true scientist . . . a real aetiologist.

The sign out front said that Twitt would be at the bookstore for two more days, so I had plenty of time to round up the squadron and come back for a bombing run or two.  Right now, though, my legs are getting tired, and Paula's starting to bitch about holding down the shift key.  She's still a little pissed about the woodpile remark, so I'd better go now.

More later on E. Howard Twitt.

Polly, 11/04/07