Nurse the Hate: Hate Wonder Woman

I love when a story is so spectacular, yet so completely beyond comprehension you know that it can’t possibly be true.  Yet, because the tale itself is so amazing, the desire for it to be true carries it into an area of almost fact.  A great example of this type of story is the widely repeated story of Rod Stewart being hospitalized due to the sheer amount of semen he consumed backstage at a concert in the late 1970s.  I am not sure how much ejaculate the publicly heterosexual Stewart would have had to have swallowed to be sent to a hospital, but I think it is fair to say it would be “a lot”.  As the average male produces about a tablespoon of semen per ejaculation, this would lead one to conclude with simple mathematics that the number of men that Rod Stewart would have had to have serviced with oral sex would also be “a lot” to need to have his stomach pumped.  Even those loudly critical of Mr. Stewart’s “Do You Think I’m Sexy” cringe worthy 80s material would concede that it probably isn’t likely that a man that has forfeited great fortunes due to his serial womanizing would have veered into leading some sort of homosexual blowjob train on dozens of willing men backstage at his own concert.  Yet, ask almost anyone that went to High School in the 80s about Rod Stewart, and you’ll get that story.  It’s just too good.  You want it to be true.

Today I was minding my own business when I received a phone call from a woman that began with a simple question, and ended with her telling me a story so spectacular that I want it to be true more than anything.  This is a story from a very conservative woman.  Someone that has never told me anything even slightly off kilter.  It was so out of the blue...  So out of character...  The story so amazingly crazy...  I know that this story isn’t true, but it just doesn’t matter.  It is so twisted and fantastic, I will remember it forever.

This woman maintains that two co-workers of hers were attending a party recently in Los Angeles, somewhere in the Hollywood Hills.  While at this party, they noticed a plexiglass platform had been constructed ten feet above the assembled guests.  It was described as a clear walkway leading from a balcony across a section of the guest area.  At a point in the party, with great fanfare, 1970s TV star Lynda Carter emerged in her Wonder Woman costume and walked across the platform.  At almost dead center, she stopped and removed her bottoms.  She then squatted down and shat on the platform with cheering guests looking up from directly below her as the feces plopped above their heads.

There is no way this can possibly be true, yet who could put all those elements of a story together from their imagination?  Are we to believe that Lynda Carter, now in her early 60s, is still appearing in public as Wonder Woman, not at Comic Book Conventions or Nostalgia Shows, but at some underground scat party?  Has Lynda Carter’s financial situation deteriorated where she will accept bookings at this type of event “for the right price”?  How would one even book something like this?  Do you just call a talent agent and say, “I see you have Lynda Carter on your roster.  I am interested in booking her for a bit of a “special event” I am planning at my house.  Now, before you say yes, I have to be completely upfront with you.  I’m looking for her to ah… um… interact with the audience in a way that she may not be totally comfortable with at first, but hear me out!”  Is Lynda Carter your first call?  Is there somewhere a tablet of crossed out names of other Hollywood actresses that wouldn't take the gig?  "Damn it.  Kate Jackson said "no".  It looks like our Charlie's Angels party is off."

What if instead of it being on financial necessity, she went to the party because she is into it?  What if that's "her thing"?  How great would that be?  "Hey Donnie!  Lynda is coming to the party on Saturday but she says she really wants to do her Wonder Woman thing.  Can she come over around Noon to have her guys assemble the plastic walkway?"  Maybe that's one of those "Hollywood Insider" things that John Q. Publics like me just don't know.  Maybe if you ran into someone that is on the inside, somebody really powerful and influencial like Martin Mull or Justine Bateman, they would tell you all kinds of things like that after you bought them a few drinks and earned their trust.  "Oh yeah.  Lynda Carter has been doing that since the mid 80s.  No one even notices anymore.  It's not like when Merv Griffin used to always show up and jump on trampolines naked with little Asian boys.  Now that was uncomfortable." 

The image of an elderly Lynda Carter in a tattered Wonder Woman outfit, barely held together due to the effects of age and consistent use, wobbling out in the colorful boots while Japanese businessmen go wild under a glass platform is too much.  Afterwards I picture her walking around the party in a robe and slippers while party guests gave her all kinds of lip service.  "Oh Lynda!  You were great tonight!  Just fabulous!"  She would demurely accept the praise and offer small apologies, "Oh, I wasn't good tonight.  I shouldn't have had falafel for lunch."

I know that this story is utterly false.  Yet, I can’t shake the image in my head.  It’s too crazy.  I want this to be true.  I know I will wind up repeating this story even with the caveat of “…there’s no way this is true, but listen to this…”  It's now stuck in my head.  You know what?  Now it's also stuck in yours.