Thanks for the Red Pill, Gran and Gramps!




  I was thinking the other night that I sure do bag A LOT on senior citizens.  I know it doesn’t seem fair,  but they’ve always called to my heart as one of my favorite subjects to satirize.


I never really reflected on why that was.  I mean I’ve never felt guilty about it either.  It’s kind of like they deserved it for some reason. Then last night as I’m cruising the internet for any pictures of Richard Gere where he ISN’T photographed with a gerbil, a flashback hit me with perfect clarity.  All of a sudden – BOOM! I’m stuck reliving a part of my childhood that was buried on purpose for a reason .. 

After reliving  lovely detail of the event, I find it boils down to one thing. I’m still not done exacting payback from my decades-dead grandparents, nor do I expect to ever BE done.  I now realize I’ve been using the geriatric population vicariously to exact vengeance from “Gram and Bumpa”, but as you’ll see by my story, I’m still feel quite justified in doing so.  And yes, I’m aware that the senior population  itself is innocent of any wrongdoing against me, but so what.  They’re here, they’re old, my grandparents are dead,  they’re PAYIN!

Just so you know, I’m not about to unburden myself of a deeply buried story of grand parental incest – ( old women baking cookies, a photo-happy takin’ Granddad, bottles of Mrs. Butterworth syrup, crying kids, and jazzy porn back ground tunes, oh yeah, and lace doilies) – don’t worry.  Those memoirs were written and posted years ago on an Amish “Anything Goes During Barnraising Season” -themed blog which resides in an forever-undisclosed location in cyberland.


Get the Crisco, the brownies and the litt'uns...

Franklin! The littl'uns are here. Grab the CRISCO, that 1970's Traffic Album, your Kodachrome and those brownies!


So anyway, let’s go on. 

Remember “The Matrix”?  Although the movie was greatly  exaggerated in the interest of the story, it isn’t that far off the mark with the “blue pill/red pill” theory.   For example, in certain situations in your life, you can choose, if you wish, to swallow a blue pill (figuratively speaking) and stay as  ignorant as you can of whatever reality you don’t care to know about. 

Example?  OK.  Say, you don’t WANT to acknowledge facts that your husband is screwing your best friend.  You can “blue pill” yourself and live in denial about it in a variety of ways:  Believing whatever your husband tells  you, getting drunk and staying drunk 24/7, eating yourself into the size of a small tent, devoting yourself to the teachings of Dr. Phil – anything to distract yourself from dwelling on one of life’s little ugly truths is a “blue pill”.    And if you work super hard at it, you can sometimes achieve “blue pill blissful unawareness” –  of not only certain realities BUT also unawareness of your surroundings as well, permanently – or at least long enough for death to kick in and carry you to the official land of  What’s Next – Anything?   Most anyone can accomplish this if they set their minds to it – and the blue pill IS a perennial favorite with a lot of folks. 

But sometimes…

Sometimes you happen to be a poor defenseless little girl – innocently engaged in the happy acts of childhood – chasing butterflies, giving little sister a bloody nose just because, thoughtfully writing out your  Christmas toy wish list 8 months in advance so Mom and Dad have adequate time to prepare themselves for a really EXPENSIVE toy-filled Christmas – you know the usual stuff kids find fun at that age.

And collectively as children, we are happy in our simple, logical views of our world. We’re confident in the order of the universe – Mom and Dad are here and  we’re loved and secure, blah blah blah.  It’s all a certainty to us that the future holds nothing but toys and other fun stuff.  Then one day, seemingly out of nowhere, someone pins you down and force feeds you a “red pill” that tastes nothing like you thought the color “red” would taste…

And after you experience whatever trauma your red pill revealed, you now find it forcing  you to  reflect on life and what you’ve been told is real so far; and you reason to yourself that there’s probably many more “red pill” realities in life than anyone’s ever let onto you.  This is what happened to me.   I was “red pilled” when I was far too young to accept calmly the atrocities of what I witnessed. It not only stripped me of my child’s-fantasy life – that by rights should have continued on for at least a few more years -but it also ended up coloring the way I will always view old age, old people, and every other thing reeking of decay and rot that goes along with it. 

That having been said – May I present “My Editorial Justification for the literary  “gunning down” of  ” the oldies”:

I was 7 at the time.  My grandparents had arrived at our house  for a 3 day visit with the family. The rule was – anytime when they came to visit, one of us kids would be expected to give up her room to them and bunk with her sister for the duration of the visit. We were given the usual bull crap reasons  as an excuse – they were old and frail and my parents didn’t want to “inconvenience” them by making them sleep on the couch and with no privacy.  (Notice my parents never offered to take turns with us and give them THEIR BED).  Whatever.  But my sister and I  adored our grandparents who spoiled us, loved us, told us interesting stories and were just plain fun to be around.  Plus Gram’s hair was always nicely done and her clothes elegant.  Bumpa always smelled good and they both had bright friendly smiles.  I lived for their visits.

So sweet and clean

Such lovely grandparents

My complete disappoint in them, however, came to life on a Cartoon  Saturday –  it must have been around 8:30 a.m. because I remember being excited that Scooby Doo was on. 

Because my grandparents were staying in my room this time, I had bunked with my sister the night before.  When I awoke that Saturday, I quietly dressed and went down the hall to my parents room with the intention of asking my mother if I could have pop tarts for breakfast – (she was always frazzled by Friday and MUCH more easy for us kids to manipulate on the weekends). I knocked on the door once, and  slowly opened it.  The room was empty and the bed had already been made,  but since I could hear a woman’s voice coming from the bathroom dressing area, I figured Mom was in there still getting ready, talking to herself again.  So I rounded the corner …..

OK hold on now – just want to be clear about one thing. What I probably REALLY saw when I came around the corner expecting to see my mother was something like this:

Still scarey - but without the imaginery head of my nightmares..OR is this actually scarier?

VERY doubt about it! In fact, I'm scared now...









But what my CHILD’S eyes saw as I rounded the corner was THIS:  


OR is Grandma #1 SCARIER in actual reality?







 Two monsterous stars of a double whammy creature feature too frightening for even late night TV.  


(NOTE: Just to not sicken you further, I’m NOT going to show a picture of my Grandfather  at this time…real OR imagined – Weren’t the last two enough? DON’T feel cheated – Feel Greatful!)  Anyway…

Turning towards me in obvious alarm, and yelling at me in stereo screech, “GET OUT! We’re not dressed yet!” were two mummified-looking creatures. Their ancient heads with sunk-in eyes, prune-lipped  mouths and corpse-colored pallor,  sat  atop  two obscenely wrinkled and sagging bodies – with bulbous  appendages  reptilian in appearance – a veritable smorgasbord of skin tags, scattered sparse hair and nipple-esque growths.  They were both completely naked, except for socks.  Starting to get the picture yet?  No? Let me continue.

The “woman” didn’t have breasts like Mom or my barbie dolls had – you know, perky and high up on the chest.  Instead her “uniboob” was ONE single wrinkled bag of hanging skin – lumpy and mole-covered – that nearly reached what I know now was her HooHa.   The “bag”  grotesquely swung to and fro – like a pendulum keeping time with the jiggly underarm jello that swayed gently back and forth as she pointed a bony skeletal finger at me to LEAVE!  The “man” was especially frightening but in an almost comical way – the black knee hi trouser socks riding up on his bony ankles with a hole in each toe served only to exaggerate a pale, fleshy worm- tube thingy that was growing to a misshapened grey-haired skin pouch. And the whole damn nightmare appeared to be growing out of his  “pee pee” area, and it looked mean as hell!  As he took a step forward his “worm thingy” suddenly caught air and started moving back and forth in a rhythm,  as if to a pop tune only it could hear.  

I had just been eye-slapped by the double-visual of  both grandparents butt-NAKED!  Fully expecting to turn into a pillar of salt, I did’nt dare look back as I ran out of that room – like the very hounds of hell were after me. 

Just to reiterate to the reader:   My psyche was damaged AT SEVEN YEARS OLD by this sight.  And because I was a bright little thing even back then, I had already figured out within the 5 seconds it took for me to blow that popsicle stand of horrors –  this kind of old age and decay was inevitable.  And it would even happen to me, if  “I was lucky and the Lord blessed me with a long life”, as Aunt Anne used repeat every 15 minutes to whoever was in earshot at family get-togethers. 

And I certainly didn’t need to be hit with that reality at 7 – Come On!  Couldn’t this one have waited to be revealed to me at …say…36?  By then I would have already come to terms a few years before that “it’s all downhill from here!!  Seeing naked, wrinkled, bumpy, toothless, death-masked old people without their cover of false teeth, wigs and clothes to hide the evidence of decay wouldn’t have phased me one bit then! But noooo.   It  had to happen while I still believed in Santa Claus.  

That cherished childhood rite of passage was ruined for me too, by the way.  Thanks Gram!  Thanks Bumpa!  

Starting that Christmas season I was the only kid on the block that couldn’t be made to sit on any Santa’s lap at any mall.  And I absolutely refused to wait up for Santa on Christmas Eve anymore.  I was positive wherever Santa showed up – mall or other, he would be toothless, spotted with growths and hanging worm things, and of course buck- naked except for black trouser socks with the holes in each toe.  And no way was I planning to be within 50 feet of him if  he came down our chimney with his bag of presents  – I’d already seen an old man’s bag of presents, remember? I didn’t need to see it ever again.     

Climb up on old Ruldolph here! I'll give you a present worm th....I mean CANDY cane!

Climb up on old Ruldolph here! I'll give you a present worm th....I mean CANDY cane!









In springtime, I also added to my “realities to avoid” list, areas in my neighborhood where kids had reported seeing the Easter Bunny – No easter candy was worth taking the chance of seeing an Old Rabbit’s Peter.  And finally, whenever I would lose another baby tooth it went secretly  into the garbage instead of under my pillow.  I wasn’t going to be trapped in bed one night, waking up suddenly to see the gummy toothless grin of a cackling ancient Tooth Fairy looking down at me – not  for a freakin’ quarter a tooth.  And I knew for a FACT the Tooth Fairy I’d see would have no teeth – hadn’t he’d been buying them off kids left and right forever? 

Yep, fantasy land for this girl was over… and she was just a baby.

And the geriatric population will continue to pay for the sins of my grandparents…


DISCLAIMER: Obviously this is just a joke.  I love old people – I have several working for me right now – cleaning the bathroom and kitchen tile with their unused Depends.  And although it’s true I really did witness the horrifying vision of seeing my grandparents naked when I was just 7, I never ran out screaming like I had seen the devil, like I implied in my story.  What actually happened was I had a grand old time pointing and laughing at Grandpa’s “worm thingy” until Grandpa broke his false teeth when they fell out of this mouth as he was yelling at me.  When he stormed off to “read Field and Stream” in the bathroom, I then started in on my grandmother …and her ugly old UNIBOOB.

See?  Everyone PROTESTS them, not just me!

See? Everyone PROTESTS them, not just me!


13 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. FreakSmack
    Aug 03, 2009 @ 01:38:29

    You know me, I just had to go look for Anything goes during a barn raising. When will I learn to leave well enough alone?


  2. surveygirl46
    Aug 03, 2009 @ 01:59:48

    SURVEY SAYS…..BEEEEP! never..

    But I did leave that groovy cartoon for you to “visualize” if you must….


  3. FreakSmack
    Aug 03, 2009 @ 02:25:48

    Oh no, I think what I’ve seen was your way of forcing a granny porn red pill down our throats. My eyes may never recover. I don’t think I ‘ll ever look at granny the same way again.


  4. Trackback: Thanks for the Red Pill, Gran and Gramps! | acne skin care
  5. surveygirl46
    Aug 03, 2009 @ 03:26:33

    Ya know i was thinking…why are YOU thinking of GRANNY at all? ewww


  6. FreakSmack
    Aug 03, 2009 @ 03:55:58

    I’m not clicking any of your links. Like I said I found more than I wanted to see on my first search. You do not want to see the horrors that go on during nude barn raisings

    @Ya know i was thinking…why are YOU thinking of GRANNY at all? ewww
    —uh it’s kind of hard not to after reading this post and seeing the naked granny pics you posted – and I’m sure as hell not thinking of gramps


  7. surveygirl46
    Aug 03, 2009 @ 04:22:49

    The thumb? Oh that, Granny told me you always had one stuck up somewhere….LOL


  8. surveygirl46
    Aug 03, 2009 @ 05:29:18

    Look like this in the FUTURE? I ALREADY look like that NOW….in fact, the chick on left with the gigantic droop sacs? That’s yours truly…


  9. thinkinfyou
    Aug 03, 2009 @ 13:57:02

    Happily I can admit that I never saw my grandparents naked. I can’t even imagine how that would have scarred my already warped mind.


  10. surveygirl46
    Aug 03, 2009 @ 18:41:39

    Yeah, CLOWN – I agree. I think that’s why i’m REALLLLLY out there…LOL


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