The Way I Heard It with Mike Rowe - 184: "I can't imagine Facebook is going to let you air this!"

Episode Date: January 26, 2021

"When it comes to erections, if it's not one thing, it's your mother." Yes, Mike actually wrote that in chapter 7 of his bestselling book, and as you might imagine, his mother didn't take it lying down…

The ocean moves us, whether that's surfing a wave or taking in an inspiring view. The ocean feeds us. Sustainable seafood practices bring the ocean's bounty to our plates. The ocean teaches us how our everyday choices, big and small, make an impact. The ocean delights us as playful otters restore coastal kelp forests. The ocean connects us. Find your connection at monterey Bay Aquarium.org slash connects. Hey guys, it's Mike Rowe here again with yet another episode of the way I heard it.

This is episode number 184, and it's called, quote, I can't imagine Facebook is going to let you air this. The title is in quotes because it's a direct statement from my mother who repeats that sentiment more than once during a shockingly yet refreshingly frank conversation that I'm pleased to share with you today. A conversation that begins with the importance of size and goes on to discuss everything from all erections to prolapses to tiny gynecologists to swollen scrotums, specifically the one attached to her husband. It's weird. I'm just going to tell you right up front. Her appearance on this podcast a couple weeks ago led many of you to demand an encore performance. Well, this is it. mom is back in this very special episode to discuss her appearance in chapter seven of my book,

along with the very real challenges of writing about sensitive topics and the differences between her approach and my approach, how these topics became the subject of our conversation as a story unto itself. But it all begins with chapter seven of my book, which tells the true tale of what many consider to be the greatest erection in American history, followed by what I believe to be the most important erection in my professional life. Discussing these things in detail with my mother was not what I expected to do on this episode, but my mom, as many of you know, has become a source of deep and profound unpredictability here on the World Wide Web. So you get what you get, which in this case turns out to be.

a mother and her son doing their best to make the other as uncomfortable as possible. Our conversation is also posted on my Facebook page, or part of it anyway, for those of you who might prefer a more visual representation of the whole mother's son experience. Either way, in the words of my mother, this is... I can't imagine Facebook is going to let you air this. I guess we'll see. Either way, it all starts right now. Is it weird to love people but despise human resources? If so, well, color me weird.

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Soon, his was bigger than Craig's, at which point Craig made some adjustments of his own. Now, Craig's was bigger than Bill's again. And more interesting to look at. Thanks to the enormous tip on the end. But Bill had one more trick up his sleeve. When the measuring finally stopped, one of these men could proudly claim to have the world's biggest direction. When it comes to New York City architecture, size matters. No one knew that better than these two famous partners who'd become bitter rivals in their quest to erect the tallest building in the world. Their partnership had been legendary. Bill was the artist, a brilliant architect, but mostly void of charisma. Craig was the consummate businessman, handsome, silver-tongued, and highly motivated. Together, they had been a perfect team.

Craig landed all the high-profile commissions. Bill designed the impressive, groundbreaking structures that made them both rich. Unfortunately, their egos grew apace with their bank accounts. You see, Craig was an accomplished architect in his own right. He didn't appreciate the constant newspaper articles that raved about Bill's artistic genius. And for his part, Bill resented being seen as the boardroom lightweight, incapable of handling big deals. He hated the way the clients looked at Craig whenever they talked about money. Eventually, the artist and the businessman went their separate ways in a very public, very nasty divorce.

Then, as fate would have it, each one landed the commission of a lifetime. In 1928, Bill was contacted by a business tycoon who wanted him to design the tallest building on earth. Bill agreed and submitted plans for a source. tower in Midtown Manhattan, 809 feet tall. Shortly thereafter, Craig agreed to design the Bank of Manhattan Trust building down on Wall Street. According to his plan, he would build a grand tower, 840 feet in height. Well, when Bill learned that Craig's design was 31 feet taller than his, he quickly added two extra floors to his blueprint. Craig received,

responded by adding an extra floor to his. Bill followed suit. Soon, both men were flirting with 900-foot designs. The public was transfixed. They watched as Craig gained the advantage. The base of his tower was broader than Bill's and could support more floors. Then Bill found a unique way to stretch his upper floors, adding extra height and dramatically altering the aesthetics in a way that no one had ever imagined. When the final designs were approved, everyone assumed the battle was over. Bill's Tower in Midtown would be the tallest building in the world. Craig's Tower on Wall Street would be a close second.

But a man like Craig could never be second banana, especially to his former partner. Both towers were completed in 1930. Then Craig whipped out his secret weapon, that giant tip, which he called the lantern, along with the flagpole that brought 40 Wall Street to 927 feet, two feet taller than Bill's Midtown Tower. Forty Wall Street was the tallest building in the world now, and Craig rejoiced in every glorious inch for about a month, because a man like Bill wouldn't be so. second banana either, especially when his former partner was the man in the number one spot.

Secretly, Bill had constructed a 185-foot spire codenamed the vertex. Its existence was known only to the small group of steelworkers who had built the massive pinnacle and stored it in the building's elevator shaft. And so, on May 22nd, just 30 days after Craig laid a little bit of claim to the world's biggest erection, Bill wrote a private elevator to the 71st floor of his Midtown masterpiece. He looked out upon his former partner's looming behemoth six miles to the south. Then he gave the signal. A giant crane hoisted the vertex into place, making Bill's erection, the biggest in the world, and flipping his former partner, the biggest middle finger, ever raised over Manhattan. Of course, erections are unpredictable things. Size matters, obviously,

but by no means is it the only measure of satisfaction. Bill, for instance, in his haste to make his building bigger, overlooked something that Craig, the consummate businessman, would have never ignored. He forgot to get a signed contract with his client. Now, the tycoon who had hired Bill was refusing to pay his full commission. Bill took the tycoon to court. Eventually, he got his money, but in those genteel days of boater hats and pocket fobs, a lawsuit was considered an ungentlemanly way to do business. By fighting over the size of his commission, this brilliant architect, Bill Van Allen destroyed his own reputation, and even though his iconic tower is now considered by many to be the most significant structure ever to grace the Manhattan skyline, the tycoon

who paid for it, Walter Chrysler, turned out to be his final client and the Chrysler building, his last public erection. Unlike Bill, the artist, Craig the businessman, was well paid for his efforts at Forty Wall Street, his building is no longer the second tallest in the world, or the third, or the fifth, or even the 25th. But it's worth remembering that for one glorious month in the spring of 1930, nobody had a bigger one than H. Craig Severance, an architect who relished the art of the deal more than the artistry of his chosen trade.

something perhaps for the current owner to reflect upon, another New York builder who, from time to time, has ruminated upon the importance of size, a man whose last name now appears on the facade of 40 Wall Street in big gold letters, enormous letters, maybe the biggest letters in the whole world. T-R-U-M-P.

Okay, they might not be the best. biggest, but they are definitely huge. Regarding erections, you know what they say. If it's not one thing, it's your mother. In this case, my own. In her book, about my mother, Peggy Roe wrote unashamedly about her love for all things equine. As a teenage girl, she routinely slept in the barn, preferring the company of horses to people. According to my grandmother, she often missed meals and skipped school to dode on the ponies in her charge. Not much changed after she married my father and brought her three sons into the world. Our purpose, as best we could tell, was to pick up the endless piles of steaming manure that littered the modest pasture behind our farmhouse,

while she made sure that the horses were fed, watered, exercised, brushed, fed some more, brushed again, and tucked in for the night. Sometimes, after that, she would feed her children, but with far less enthusiasm. When I was 12, my mother entered me in an equestrian competition at the Maryland State Fair. She was determined to instill in me the same sickness that had infected her, and resistance was futile. Mom, I said, I don't want to ride English. It's for girls. Don't be ridiculous, Michael. The finest riders in the world ride English. Any fool can hang on to the horn and gallop around on Western tack like a drunken cowboy. That sounded good to me, far preferable to the navy blazer with black piping that I was compelled to wear, along with creamy spandex breeches,

a blousey pirate shirt, and knee-high black boots. Worst of all was the helmet, a rounded bowl of a thing far too small for my already bulbous head, covered in smooth black velvet and held in place with an elastic chin strap. I was so appalled by the thing, I could only stand there while mom affixed it to my head. I looked like a pez dispenser on a pony, a pony named Tammy. The competition didn't end well. The humiliation lingered, as humiliation often does, and to this day I remain deeply suspicious of spandex, helmets, and females named Tammy. But those earlier Your memories have long since been eclipsed by a series of misadventures on various ranches and farms featured on dirty jobs.

The first, and I suppose the most memorable, took place in Texas, with some assistance from a quarter horse called Paid by Chick, a beautiful creature whose ability to ejaculate on cue was far more humbling than falling off Tammy midway over the first jump had been. Paid by Chick was led into the stable and brought to a pommel horse, a piece of gymnastic equipment whose name finally began to make sense. On the other side of the pommel horse, a mare in heat was waiting. While accustomed to that daily dance, paid by chick was already ready. My job was to approach the animal and guide his manhood, or horsehood, if you will, in all its vascular, to a numescence into an artificial vagina thoughtfully presented to me by a veterinarian named Dr. Christine.

The tumens was humbling. The vagina was a bright blue container about the size of a bread box. Imagine a hot water bottle with a heavy-duty fabric handle on the top. Dr. Christine handed me the device along with the tube of lubricant and a baby bottle. Go ahead, she said. squeeze some of the lube into the artificial vagina. How much? I asked. Can't have too much lube, she said.

Now go ahead and screw that baby bottle into the back end. I beg your pardon? Plug the back end of the artificial vagina with the baby bottle, so the semen has somewhere to go. Just go ahead and screw it in. In the long history of sentences, I'd never heard before, that was another one. Sooner would be better, she added.

Over on the pommel horse, paid by Chick had assumed a position of pure, undeniable readiness. His front legs were draped over the side. His eyes were focused on the mare just out of reach. His horsehood was thrusting, pointlessly, into midair. Okay, I said, I'm ready. I approached the engorged beast. Hold on there, champion. You don't approach a horse in that condition without one of these.

Last week, one of our best grooms got knocked unconscious. Occupied, as my hands were, with a fully lubricated artificial vagina, augmented with a semen-catching baby bottle, I couldn't accept the yellow bicycle helmet Dr. Chris was offering me. I could only stand there, appalled, as she affixed it to my head. Like the velvet monstrosity from my youth, it didn't fit, not even remotely. but once again, I was in compliance and ready for action. Mom after that episode aired, Mom called to congratulate me. Oh, Michael, you're so lucky.

Paid by Chick is one of the greatest quarter horses alive, and you look so handsome in your little bicycle helmet. Thanks, Mom. The whole thing was humbling. Yes, she said. I imagine it was. I saw no need to mention that three minutes later, paid by Chick, had humbled me yet again with an encore performance, a performance that filled my baby bottle with another deposit of white gold, a performance worthy of all the close-ups, slow pans, and artistic dissolves

that made dirty jobs, the family-friendly show it was. After all, she is my mother. Well, are you sick of it yet? Are you sick of AI hogging up all the headlines and sucking up all the bandwidth? You find yourself wishing we lived in a simpler time? Do you miss the rotary phone? Well, get over it. The genie is out of the bottle.

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And again, it's free at NetSuite. dot com slash mike that's net sweet dot com slash mike how you doing good how you doing i'm okay hold on i'm going to record this on uh on my side with your permission of course we'll see how it goes i have the ultimate right of refusal if it doesn't go we we call that uh final edit in my business. Right. Okay. And in yours, final edit on books as well. Right. Did you have final edit on your book? Yes. I had a final edit. Oh, the editing process is endless, isn't it? It's tiresome and tedious and soul-deadening. It really is. Okay. You were a smash hit several weeks ago on the podcast, and people have been bugging me ever since to have you back to talk about anything. And since you make a fairly, significant appearance in chapter seven. I thought perhaps, A, I would ask if you have listened to it,

and B, get your thoughts as a mother vis-a-vis her son talking so pointedly about erections and whatnot. Well, you know, it's hard to be completely objective with your children, because I tend to like everything that most things that you do. Not that I approve of everything that you do, but I can see the artistic value in most things that you do. Did you? So you saw artistic value in that episode of Dirty Jobs back in 2005, I think it was? Oh, sure. I like the way you keep things moving and you.

Yeah, I liked your approach generally, but I have to admit, I was a little bit shocked at some of your language. the terminology for body parts and functions. I was just a little bit shocked that you could use that terminology for TV or even in a book. Well, are you referring to the juxtaposition of an erection in the construction world vis-à-vis one in the biological world? Or are you talking about the artificial vagina and the erection of a horse? saying those, I have to admit, I'm just a little bit uncomfortable with those terms in public.

Like when you read it aloud, I was taken aback just a little bit to hear. I mean, not that there's anything wrong with those terms and they are anatomically correct. However, you know, I'm a writer too, Mike. Yes, Mother. I'm familiar. And in my writing, I'm a little more subtle when it comes to things like that. And as a matter of fact, in one of my chapters in my book, am I allowed to mention my book? I can't stop you. There is a section in here where I refer to certain body parts.

And I don't do it specifically. Can I read just a little bit about my approach as opposed to you? your approach? What is the subject at hand that you're going to be referencing? It's about the day my mother and I took a ride on the trail together. She had just learned to ride recently. Went for a trail ride. And while we were out riding, we went past a construction site. And there were a lot of men working on the construction site. And one man had come down to the trail. And as we went by, he, unzipped his trousers and they dropped to the ground.

Can I just read a little short? Just go ahead. Yeah. Bring it to life for me. This is exactly what every son dreams of hearing. Well, no. Mine is really very appropriate. So as it happened, my mother's foray into the equestrian world was brief.

Our final ride together was that unfortunate summer day. A man greeted us on the trail behind a construction site. I'd been whistled at before and was prepared to ignore him. As usual, mom was dressed for the World Equestrian Games when the man waved. A bit too enthusiastically, I thought. She was busy putting on her wriggle smile when he unzipped his trousers, dropped them to the ground, and flaunted the family jewels, such as they were. Did you get that family jewels?

I got it. Peggy don't look, she yelled, tightening her reins and picking up the pace. The man stood perfectly still, as though he were posing for a statue like Michelangelo's David. I took one last look as we moved off at a brisk trot and chuckled that my mother could even think I would be impressed. I cared for two male, thousand-pound horses after all. This display was more reminiscent of the mushrooms

that sprouted in the manure pile overnight following a rain. Sadly, I missed the expression on his face. Now you see? I see what you did there. Yeah, I elude, but I don't really come out and specifically utter those words. No, but you nevertheless left in the viewer's mind an undeniable visual of a man with a tiny penis shaped like a mushroom. Oh, dear name. That's what you did.

A family jewels reminiscent of the mushrooms that sprouted in the manure pile overnight. But see, this is always the. thing, Mom. The sensors, the standards, the practices at the network, right? I mean, it was very difficult to get that segment on the air with paid by chick and the artificial vagina and all of that. Right. Because you can't choose your language in a visual medium. I mean, there is no flowering things up. The camera's on a tripod. The shot is wide. The horse is let in. His tumessence is undeniable. And then a woman of science, a veterinarian, hands you the artificial vagina and speaks very clearly.

So there was, you just couldn't soft pedal any of what was happening. And I remember thinking at the time, I have no idea how we're going to get this on the air because discovery in those days had very specific standards. You know, certain things, certain words couldn't be said. and certain images couldn't be shown, but as they slowly move toward a more open kind of thinking, they employed these pixels and blurring technology. So you remember what that looked like when you saw it in 2005

with all the pixels on it, right? I do remember that, yeah. And I thought to myself, well, that's probably a good idea that they're doing that. But it was insane because after that segment, like the memo that went out said that all penises had to be pixelated, right? But in the artificial, I'm just saying, you can't cut around it. I mean, there's a tight shot. The only thing in the shot is a giant pony erection and an artificial vagina and your son and a bicycle helmet hanging on for dear life. So you can't, there's no other shot to go to.

So what they did was they pixelated the penis. And then that episode rated very high. And so they wanted to see more artificial insemination happening. And of course, we gave it to them. But all the penises had to be pixelated. But none of the vulvas or the vaginas did. So the shots got very confused. And nobody was quite sure what to focus on or what to pixelate or really how to

approach it. So you as a writer get to choose your words and hang on to whatever semblance of propriety you still claim to have, which I want to talk about in a minute. But for me, out in the real world, that's just a, that's an erection on a horse. And you can't dress that thing up. I mean, I guess you could. But it is what it is, you know. Yeah, I know. Well, you asked me what my response was how I felt about what I had viewed, you know. And you know what? Years ago when I saw that on Dirty Jobs, I wasn't as shocked really by the terminology and the visuals as I was reading it. Because your imagination, right? Reading to it, reading it in your book and listening to you read it. Yeah. It was a little more

shocking. But you grew up with horses. You slept in the barn, sometimes probably in the stall. You cared for for stallions. You must have been very familiar. Yeah, I've been around the horse world. In fact, I've been present at Breedings. We took a mare to be bred and I stood there and watched the happening. So, you know, it happens. I know what happens. I just wasn't sure the general public Well, look, I don't know if you take any pride in this or not, but I don't think any, certainly not on discovery had anybody seen that level of clarity with regard to artificial insemination until then. So I don't know. I mean, I don't want the credit, but I don't want to blame either. We were just the first to do it.

It was a good episode and I really did like it. And I love that veterinarian you worked with. Christina was her name? Dr. Christine, yes. I really liked her. Yeah, she made me wear that bicycle helmet. And for some reason, we didn't include this in the piece, but she told me earlier that like the week before,

a groom had gotten kicked in the head, unconscious. He was okay. But at that point, everybody started wearing bicycle helmets, plus for liability. And of course, the thing didn't fit me. So whatever. But look, your point, I think, is that there's always a.

kind or gentler way to talk about anything. But have you forgotten the stories you've written just in the last year about various plumbing issues in your own family? Yes, and that's reality. And you know, Mike, I believe your writing has helped to kind of desensitize my thinking and my writing so that I can come out and really call it what it is. It was. if I'm talking about sensitive body parts. The story that I wrote, your dad and I had a couple of surgeries last year that were of a sort of private nature. Well, they were.

Yes, they were. But it's amazing how, you know, in the telling and retelling and the hearing and you do get desensitized and you're more willing to call it what it is. And so I did in my story, the one about dad's hernia surgery, where he had a hyphenia that was pretty specific. And I think I got away with it. It's going to be in my next book. It hasn't been in print yet. Well, you sent me a letter describing your husband's scrotum in terms of vegetables. You have to, I mean, eggplant, as I recall.

This is only following extreme surgery, extreme swelling and bruising. I mean, ordinarily, I know. But I mean, look, dad's a very private guy too. And, you know, you sent me that letter. I read it. I'll put a link to it in this so people can see it. It was a horrifying letter.

But I never asked you, how did dad take it when I read that letter on Facebook? He didn't mind at all. Actually, when I first married your father 60 years ago, he didn't have much of a sense of humor. He's come a long way in 60 years. And he's able to look at things through the lens of humor. I think I helped him along in that respect. And so he listened to that story and he was divorced from it. It wasn't he, you know, who was listening or who was the subject.

I think he just appreciated it for the, for the humor. And really, it was real. I saw it. He showed it to me. He showed a, what we should tell people, but my dad had a had a hernia. It was a, was it inguinal? Inguinal? It was in his lower abdomen.

Yeah. Yeah. And when he walked, it would pop out and it made a groaning sound. It was kind of eerie. And for years, it was there. And I encouraged him to address it to go to the doctors and maybe have it removed before it caused him real trouble, a real problem. And then eventually it did.

And he had to have it taken care of surgery. While they did it, they addressed something else called a hydroceal, which is a pocket of fluid in that same general area. And in taking care of that, the result was extreme swelling and bruising to the point where, yeah, you know, egg plant was as close as I could come to. A comparison. I came to visit you guys and he he showed this to me with all the enthusiasm that a that a sailor would show off a new tattoo. And I never, you know, I just, but my dad never had that level of familiarity with me before. But he was, he was absolutely freaked out by the size of that thing. And obviously you were too.

It was awful. And of course, my neighbor was involved because she was, she's a former nurse, and she's very calm and collected and reassuring. So I went down and got her that night, the night of the surgery when they sent him home. And there it was in full bloom. And she was, she was really wonderful. So we called, she looked at it and she said, oh, I mean, to her credit, she didn't run from the room screaming. She said, oh, your doctor needs to see this now.

So I called the doctor and he was delighted to get our call at 2 a.m. And he was sarcastic and put us down because we had declined to come in and see him earlier in the evening when he said that we could come in if we wanted to. We said, no, it'll be okay. It'll be okay. but 2 o'clock in the morning, it wasn't okay. Not okay. So she said, is it all right if we send a picture? She said, well, sure, go ahead and send me a picture of your husband, Scrotum.

And so I took a picture. I took two pictures, one from the top and one from underneath. And he said, well, it isn't pretty, but I don't think it's gangrenous. I mean, we hadn't even considered that. And he said, but if we would put your mind, at ease, come into the hospital, come to emergency, and have them take a look at it, which we did. Do you still have the photos? Well, that's the funny part.

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Made. Oh, here comes the star. What's he doing? Would you like? like to say a quick hello to Mike. Hello, Mike. Hi, Dad. You know, when I enter this chamber, it's like entering the twilight zone. I have to be very careful what might come out of the shadows. He called me before and then took exception because I didn't come. Well, you know how he called me?

He said, hey, no, go ahead. Come in here. Every wife loves to hear that. So of course, I went running. Of course you did. Now, he has no idea because he doesn't hear that well right now that he literally just interrupted a conversation about his stroke. Yeah, he doesn't know what we're talking about. Okay, so I had two pictures on my camera in my photos.

All right. I'm on Facebook because my publisher insists that I be on Facebook. And truth is, I enjoy the people that I write for. Well, every once in a while, I have a problem posting something, and I don't understand about posting videos and pictures sometimes. And there's this wonderful woman out in Washington who is part of MicroWorks, and she is always there for me and addresses my questions and my problems. Gary, yeah, she's the best.

Absolutely. So one night I was having trouble. I had posted something, but it didn't show up. So I texted her. I said, would you do such and such? She said, I can, but I need to get into your camera on your phone to do that. So I said, sure, you've got my information. Go ahead.

And then, like a minute later, I'm thinking, oh, my goodness, those pictures are on the phone of your father's scrotum. So I quick went in and I deleted them, so they are no more. I just literally had to sit through a mandatory sexual harassment training compliance thing here in California. And I can tell you, had you sent a photo of Dad Scrotum to one of my employees? I don't know that I'm in the clear for a situation like that. Oh, my goodness. I'm glad I got rid of them. I don't think she's all the, she's never mentioned it. No, of course, interestingly, she hasn't been able to speak now for the last year or so.

God, the idea that you're traumatizing my employees with dickpicks of dad. You know what? The funny thing is when my neighbor Debbie was here and we had the pictures and the doctor said, yes, send me the pictures. I was all ready to hit the button and Debbie said, wait a minute. Hold on. Let's make sure you have the right number before you send these pictures. Of course, my mind. Some poor old woman who gets a phone, who gets a message in the middle of the night while she's watching a Hallmark movie. That would be. be terrible. Oh, God. Now, help me with the timeline, because somewhere around this same period of time, well after Dirty Jobs, and after my book came out, you started writing about

your husband's genitalia. And, I mean, you did. And you also sent me a story about a visit to your gynecologist, which was, you know, very funny. But he was a, he was a little person, right? Well, the story is my GP and I have a good relationship. And she approves of everything that I've written about her in a humorous way. And when I told her that my GYN had retired and I didn't know who to go to, and I asked her if she could recommend anybody, she did i think it's in my second book and so i did go to this man but she told me nothing about him nothing whatsoever right so i mean i was i was lying on the table in position waiting for him to come into the room not knowing what to expect and i'm lying back on the table and i heard the door

open and closed. I didn't see anybody. And then all of a sudden, somewhere down by my feet, this deep voice said something like, hello, Mrs. Rowe. And I mean, I think I said in my story,

I popped up like a frozen waffle and a toaster. Well, he's a little man. And, I mean, he was about the height of all of our storm. maybe. And which is fine. I have no problem, except it would have been nice to know what to expect. A little heads up. Anyway, I think I really scared him when I popped up and he didn't talk. He didn't talk to me much after that, but we did meet in the office and everything was all right.

My objection and the reason I did not go back to that doctor was there was nobody else in the room. I mean, I don't think there was unless there was a little person, another little person in there. A little tiny nurse up on the shelf. But I didn't care for that. In fact, I think it's kind of mandatory for doctors to have an assistant during an examination. So I wrote about it, but I wrote about it with humor and acceptance. And I don't belittle anybody, that's for sure. Be little.

And help myself sometimes. Okay, so there's the midget gynecologist. There's the eggplant scrotum. And what was the other thing around the same time? Oh, I took you across the beltway because you were dealing. And I'm just bringing it up because you wrote about it. So I know it's got to be fair game. But what was that?

It's going to be in my next book. I think I'm going to call the section, Maintenance 101. It will have three stories in it. Uh-huh. Is it going to be a pop-up? No, likely a pop-out. Well, this was about an issue that a lot of senior women have. You don't have to be a senior to have it,

but I know a lot of people my age who have experienced this phenomenon. Certain body parts that are supposed to be inside over the years become curious about the outside world. So they come out, see what it's like in Gay Perry. Well, it's a terrible issue for older women. And for any women, but more often older women. And so I went to my GYN to have that issue addressed. Same one?

I have a lady GYN now. Yeah, full-sized. I really like her. You know what? She Moonlights as a stand-up comic. and she said to me one day, you might be good material. Are you sure you're going to a doctor's office or is this some sort of traveling circus? No, she's really good.

Is she funny? It's never funny in the office, but I'm sure she can be funny when she wants to. It isn't appropriate to be funny when you're talking bladders. So your issue was a prolapse of the bladder? It was. And what was the thing they gave you that looked like a little piece of jewelry? It was called a pesserie. And it's a little, like a little round rubber ring.

It's probably not really rubber. And it's just like a big ring. How big? Well, they come in various sizes from three to seven. And I'm not going to go into any further detail. But if you read my next book, you'll know all the details. because as I said, I've become desensitized over the years. Well, I mean, you took your time getting there.

But if there's a point to this completely unscripted improvisational catch-up, I think it might be that years ago on a show called Dirty Jobs with a little help from a famous quarter horse with a giant erection and an artificial vagina filled with lube that I managed to get on the air, you somehow got permission. to write a bit more candidly than you otherwise would, thereby treating your own fans to images of mushroom-shaped genitalia, Pesseries, a husband with a scrotum, the size and texture of an eggplant, along with tiny gynecologists.

I mean, what won't you write about at this point? You asked me if my GYM was funny, and I said, no, that she wasn't funny professionally. But she did say one funny thing. when I looked at the pestery, I said, she said, think of it as a piece of jewelry. So I texted her one day and I said, I won't say her name. I took my jewelry to the theater last night and today I'm taking it to a concert. So I think she, she appreciates that kind of humor.

I imagine so. Well, will your fans, if they pick up your third book, know the size of the Pessori that is unique to you? Only that there is maintenance required and I compared it to the maintenance on an old vehicle. You have to go in for like your thousand mile checkup and lube job. Well, as I did that, I did discover that the size did increase. So I had to go from like a size four ring to a five ring or six. I went two or three times and each time it got larger.

So I don't know exactly what that means. I don't think it's like your dress size, you know, like women who brag, oh, I wear a size three. I wear a size three dress or, oh, I only wear a size five shoe. I don't think it has that kind of connotation. You can't compare pesseries, right? Like you can't pull them out and have a, you know. Of course not.

I mean, I don't know. No, of course not. Look, I think, do you remember the name of the chapter that we are purportedly discussing right now? In your book? Yes. What is it? It's called size matters. Oh, that's right.

Size matters. And it begins with the juxtaposition of erections, biological. versus construction and a good-natured misdirect. And it ends with the fact that Donald Trump's name is on one of those erections that is now not nearly as large as it used to be in relative terms. And then I subtly pivoted into an observational autobiographical piece involving an actual erection on a horse that I managed to get on television. And now you've brought us all the way back around with a rumination on the

the size of a thing called a pesery because a you're comfortable enough talking this candidly now and b as the chapter indicated size does matter well i will say this that i decided my self-esteem couldn't take any more and i did get rid of the pesry and had the surgery and i'm quite happy although i will say this there are many many women who have great success with a pesibing. Okay. And use them for years. Hmm.

You know what, Mike? I can't imagine Facebook is going to let you air this. Don't they have standards? I tell you, they've been in the news lately. If they're going to clamp down on anything, they're going to clamp down on this. We'll see. There's only one way to find out. Oh, and that's wonderful for my reputation.

You're welcome. So the surgery worked, but the question I now have to ask, and I don't want to make this too weird. But did they let you keep the, pestery. Oh, no. Well, I guess I could have. I didn't ask. Can you get it, Mac? I don't know if they reuse them or not. I can't reuse a pessery. You mean in another human? Like here, this one didn't work so great for Peggy Roe, the writer, but it might be nice for you, Gladys. Go ahead and let's slip it up there, see if it takes. Or try this peccary used by a best-selling author.

in Baltimore. As I'm saying. Or you could send it to me and I could auction it off for the benefit of my foundation. Well, that is perfectly tasteless, Michael. That ain't going to happen, hon. Speaking of tasteless,

do you remember what happened to the baby bottle full of the semen from paid by chick? No, tell me. Come on. They sent me home with that baby. Now, I'd had $35,000 worth of semen in it, but it wasn't usable because obviously you've got to get it quickly into some sort of process so it remains viable. And we didn't do that. So it was just a weird souvenir Dr. Christine gave me. And I kept that baby bottle full of semen for years. In fact,

I had it on the mantle back at the old place in San Francisco. And in the afternoon, when the sun would come through those bay windows and catch. Like a stained glass window, huh? Yeah, I mean, it would, it would, they created like a little, little, what do they call them? Like a spectrum, like little rainbows. The light would go through the semen, and it would cast a prism across the room.

It was really very beautiful. And then I auctioned that off when we started doing collectibles rare and precious, our crap auctions for microworks. And I got over $1,000 for that bottle of horse semen. I can't imagine who would buy something like that. I'm just saying, think what I could get for a barely used, gently worn pessory. I'm Peggy R.

That chip has sailed, hon. So is this interview. But gosh, it's always a treat catching up with you. And I almost dread this interview coming out. Oh, it's live right now on Facebook. Oh, gosh. It already happened. I hope nobody I know sees it.

No, don't worry. There are only 6 million people on my page and you've got hundreds of thousands. Look, I think this is seriously going to take your next book to the next level. I think the publisher is going to be a lot more anxious to get you out there promoting this. I think the Pessery is TV gold. You're welcome. Right. The jury is still out on that, Mike. Yeah, they are. All right, say hi to Dad.

I will. it's always nice seeing you. Nice seeing you too. Careful with that iPhone and those pictures. Oh yeah. Well, it's okay. Although I think I did take a picture of the Pessery, but okay. All right.

Hang up, would you? I have to say goodbye to my listeners, assuming I still have a few. Bye. Love you. Well, that was mom. Weird enough for you. If you made it to the end of this,

man, good for you. Thank you. The books that we mentioned are all available wherever people buy books. My mom both of her books about your father and about my mother. And my book is available on audio if you want that. And if you don't, I'll be back here next week for more of whatever this was. All right then. Thank you. Adios. When you manage procurement for multiple facilities, every order matters. But when it's for a hospital system, they matter even more. Granger gets it. and knows there's no time for managing multiple suppliers and no room for shipping delays.

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