Patooey

So when I was well enough to attend many activities last weekend, I was having walkabouts around town. I had wandered up to the Book Festival last Saturday am. It was oddly not really my thing. I got better energy off the Kerrytown one last year. But I wanted to pop up to see my friend playing Indian music at one of the stalls (I think it was the U-M international center or something similar). He failed to mention it was a “for kids” performance but whatever, it was cute.

On the way back I did some downtown erranding. One thing I am in search of is a Rosie the Riveter coffee mug for Nigel as I have, stupidly yet accidentally, broken his. Naturally, I also had to hit a couple of used bookstores. Dawn Treader was less than helpful. UBU was more than helpful.

But the thing that left a really lasting impression ‘shudder’ was when walking west on E. Liberty a pungent waft of patchouli began assailing me. I looked around, no one was even close. I focused on the wind, it was out of the west. Which indicated that the likely culprit was the woman with two children, walking towards me but still almost half a block away. Sure enough as we approached each other it just got stronger and stronger.

Here’s the thing about patooey. It is not parfum, it is not cologne and it is most definitely not, by a long stretch, an “essential” oil. It’s primary use? In hot countries with little refrigeration it is used to anoint the dead because it is one of the few things that can somewhat cover the stench of rotting flesh. Why would you put something more pungent than a corpse on your body and think you looked good in it?
Oh, I suppose I have to acknowledge that it can be used in the base notes of other Parfum. But that ratio is like, one drop to a vat, of other stuff. Stuff that actually smells good.

Patooey is one of the most rank things man has ever devised. I am going to put it right up there with the sludge pit at the water treatment facility. I was going to compare it to napalm but OK, it is slightly less offensive than things that actually kill people. In the sense that wishing you were dead is still somewhat better than being dead.

Stop wearing Patooey!
This becomes NOT a matter of freedom of choice. Yes, you probably could legally wear a dead otter around your neck but would you want to deal with the social consequences of that decision? And just when does it become a legal issue if you are causing others, many others, to gag and vomit?

Just as the majority should not oppress the minority, neither should the minority oppress the majority. And in this case you oppress both the majority and that minority who have environmental allergies who should not have to keep over a half a block distance from you to not be attacked by by your fumerage.

Lady, if not for our sake, do it for the children.