Multiple sclerosis, What was I thinking?

Getting the shaft

My mother is fond of passing along the myriad catalogs she gets in the mail. She’s the Imelda Marcos of mail-order products.

(I’m not saying I’ve called Hoarders on her, but that’s only because she keeps things pretty tidy when she knows I’m coming over.)

Most of the time, I thumb through the catalogs half-interested because I probably have no need in my life for a tissue box in the shape of a nose or a clock featuring the Three Stooges.

But this one is different, she insisted.

Page after page of shafts of varying heights, some sparkly, some engraved (initials could be important on this sort of item). All reasonably priced.

And she knew I was in the market for a new one. Mine, admittedly, is getting kind of beat up. It was the right choice for when I got it, this economy model, but its beginning to show its wear. And it’s not that jazzy. Red, but otherwise pretty plain.

“Express your personal style,” the catalog enticed.

And I wanted to. But what to pick from all of the options? There were sleek models, the discreet fold-up kind, fancy ones made of lucite, some constructed of carbon-fiber that are durable yet weigh next to nothing.

There are even special versions for southpaws. Some offer comfortable grip handles.

I think my favorites are the “cleverly designed” models with adjustable height.

The names are catchy, too. Purple Majesty. Evening Splendor. Creme Pearlz. 8 Ball.

If I wanted to go even fancier, there are options for a quad style with shock-absorbing technology built in.

And then there are the knobs. I can go Union Jack, or even maple leaf for Canada.

If I’m in a bootlegging mood, there are a couple of options that are “great for weddings” and come with a built-in flask. One is even in the shape of a baseball bat.

I could go all cutesy and get the rhinestone encrusted ladybug version. Animals always make these things so much less intimidating.

Or, if I’m feeling wild, and I mean butt crazy, end-up-in-another-country-with-no-eyebrows-kind-of-wild, I could opt for the “unique, distinctive” genuine bull penis model.

Made from a professionally taxidermied organ of a real bull.

No bull.

As in, I think I draw the line there. I mean, this is a cane we’re talking about. Not anything kinky.

13 thoughts on “Getting the shaft”

  1. When Dad died, Eddie found a genuine bull penis cane in my Dad’s closet. We did rock-paper-scissors to see who got to take that bad boy home. Eddie won. If only I had gotten it, then I could let you sport it around town for a while 😉

  2. OK but… What??? I don’t know what a bull’s penis looks like but I can’t quite imagine it to be big enough for that purpose. Uhmmm. Now I have to ask, why didn’t you scan it and post a photo?

  3. I thought I was so-o-o special when I bought a paisley one. But a Bull thingy? I never saw a catalog for canes, but one mail order company has canes that are gorgeous — all shapes and sizes with lovely tops carved in wood or silver. If only the purpose for having said item could be as beautiful!
    Peace,
    Muff

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