You know, back in the 70s, when you were writing for The Post, I made a pittance writing for those little (you could hold them with one hand) couples' "sex" magazines. And the topic I picked and wrote about is all the ways people had managed to off themselves while trying to get off. Erotic suffocation, natch, but it went so much, uh, further than that. This, remember, was way before Google. I had to do my research the hard way. Asking real people about it. Going to "sex libraries," one of which belonged to an odd couple on the Upper West Side. The way one man offed himself while getting off, the one I most remember, was a guy in Germany who somehow wired a potato masher to some kind of electrical generator, and used that the stimulate himself. Too many amps? Perhaps. I can't remember the technical details now. And BTW, European men where those banana hammocks as bathing suits too. Linda
Great story and well told! Can't help wondering if you and Mr. Death kept in touch, how often - and how long he remained working for NYC. Did he for example, return to France where causes of death might be more exotic (jumping in front of a Lambretta at the Champs Elysees, from the top of the Eiffel Tower, or perishing from an overdose of Galette-saucisse, leaving only the lips for identification)? If so, did you visit? Your post about the Post is most intriguing (not the least for its Lefty leanings at the time). Please continue to keep us all informed :-)
Given his line of work, I suppose leopard-print briefs makes sense.
Cheers to great (sexy even) memories of hot men!! What a great story! Omlets are so much better made by interesting people.
You know, back in the 70s, when you were writing for The Post, I made a pittance writing for those little (you could hold them with one hand) couples' "sex" magazines. And the topic I picked and wrote about is all the ways people had managed to off themselves while trying to get off. Erotic suffocation, natch, but it went so much, uh, further than that. This, remember, was way before Google. I had to do my research the hard way. Asking real people about it. Going to "sex libraries," one of which belonged to an odd couple on the Upper West Side. The way one man offed himself while getting off, the one I most remember, was a guy in Germany who somehow wired a potato masher to some kind of electrical generator, and used that the stimulate himself. Too many amps? Perhaps. I can't remember the technical details now. And BTW, European men where those banana hammocks as bathing suits too. Linda
you are getting great mileage out of that skull--
your Duluth fan club
Great story and well told! Can't help wondering if you and Mr. Death kept in touch, how often - and how long he remained working for NYC. Did he for example, return to France where causes of death might be more exotic (jumping in front of a Lambretta at the Champs Elysees, from the top of the Eiffel Tower, or perishing from an overdose of Galette-saucisse, leaving only the lips for identification)? If so, did you visit? Your post about the Post is most intriguing (not the least for its Lefty leanings at the time). Please continue to keep us all informed :-)
"Joyce, what was the provenance of that uterus?"
Can I tell you how much I adore your writing and how seriously I missed you all those years you were involuntarily on leave from the Times?
Another hit out of the ball park! I LOVE your story-telling!
This definitely makes me see Arlene Francis in a different light.