Homemade French Remedies and Gradeschool AA Meetings | Mental Poo

Monday, March 07, 2011

Homemade French Remedies and Gradeschool AA Meetings

If you were a small child of the 70's like I was, you grew up in a time of great freedom and by 'great freedom' I mean 'extreme danger' because back then:

Cigarettes didn't cause cancer:

And, sure, lots and lots of kids disappeared on their walks to and from school, but I never did during any of my 4-block walks alone so...

Child predators mustn't have existed:

And seatbelts were simply those annoying strappy things that you sat on in the car and they gave you wedgies so you just, you know, cut them off with the scissors that you were running around with - points up, of course.

But every so often I would catch a pretty good cold so my parents would immediately call the doctor.


No. No they didn't call my doctor.

In hindsight it's probably a pretty good thing they didn't call the doctor because of that one time he mistook a cyst in my throat for my Adams Apple (I had no idea the University of Phoenix had a medical program in the 70's) and I almost died.

True story.

So, no. No doctor for me.

Instead of calling someone who was supposedly trained in the field of health care, my parents would simply decide that they would take matters into their own skilled hands as a hairdresser and carpenter and, you know..


When I was really sick and had a fever and dying my father would look at me and then over at the Grim Reaper hanging out just waiting for me to die! die already! and decide it was time for me to have a drink called "Poonce" or "Pownce" but he would say it in a French accent which was appropriate because it made it sound like it was authorized as part of the Geneva Convention.

was made of the following ingredients:

1) HOT Water
2) Orange juice
4) Booze. Lots and lots of booze.
5) Probably more booze.*


As you can see from the ingredient label, the primary goal of "Poonce" was to NOT actually heal me but to instead make me pass out and remain in a coma for five days.

This is why I think it was actually called "Pounce" as in "As soon as I drink this and pass out my dad is totally going to pounce on my mom."

Oh. Look.

I just threw up a little.

The problem with getting your small child completely shitfaced - outside of the obvious legal and moral obligations you have as their parent and caretaker and supposedly someone who loves them and would like to keep their liver as a functioning part of their anatomy - is that you never know what happens to their forming and impressionable little minds once they, you know, black out from all the GODDAMN ALCOHOL POISONING.



Like this one.

Oh! A peaceful desert landscape and...


ah crap.

I remember seeing the flash and the mushroom cloud in the dream but that's pretty much all I remember so the remainder of what happened will now be brought to you from my parents' perspective.

My parents awoke to my blood-curdling scream but I'm sure my dad was probably still in a 12-pack daze so I know for sure it was my mother who bolted into my room first.


Not in my bed.

Luckily for them, I was still screaming at the top of my lungs so it was pretty easy to figure out where I was.

To be honest here, I was a fat shit of a kid so there's no way I would actually fit under my bed so, instead, my mother found me crouched under a table in my room but it was easier to draw it this way.

But my mother found me screaming and shook me to snap me out of it at which point this happened:

As a parent, I need to tell you that if I ever run into my kids' room and he's staring wide-eyed AT NOTHING and whispering over and over 'Did you see it? Did you see it?' that I would be right the fuck out of there immediately because I've seen 'The Ring' and 'The Grudge' and 'Home Alone' and if there's one thing I know it's DON'T FUCK WITH THE CREEPY KID.

Mom: "Rodney? What? Did I see what, honey?"

Me: "The bomb. Mom. They dropped the bomb."

Mom: *flees

I don't remember any of this but when I talked to my mom the next day she told me all about it like she was telling a ghost story.

Not surprisingly, I'm pretty positive that's the last time I had that homemade Pounce or Poonce or whatever the fuck it was.

On a related note, though, I felt much better.

Nuclear explosions clear your sinuses right the fuck out, apparently.


Ann said...

Yeah, I was a kid during the 70's too, and my dad was a biker who's friends used our house as the hang out. So, anything to keep the kids quiet so the party could keep going.

You forgot Poltergeist in your list of movies. Reminds me an lot of the little girl in that. No trip into a TV?

Brutalism said...

In the 70s, my parents got into wheat germ and family meetings. (And they took a disco dancing class.) Then in the 80s, my mom got into tennis and chardonnay.

She probably would have liked your dad.

A Vapid Blonde said...

To this day my mother tells me to have some bourbon if I have a fever.

I obey.

Opto-Mom said...

Oh, and the Sixth Sense had a totally fucking creepy kid.

To me, "Poonce" sounds like what they should call a fart that comes out of a woman's vay-jay. Did I just say that out loud? Sorry!

Christina_the_wench said...

70's kid too, eh? It could have been worse. It could have been a Brady Bunch orgy complete with Alice and Sam and packaged meat

Nah, let it alone. Too easy.

SarcasmInAction said...

I'm an 80s kid, but it was technically the same thing.
Dad would finish his 6 pack and have me sit in his lap and "steer" the truck for him.
AND? I have a scar on my neck from where I had a cyst removed. I tell people I cut myself shaving. It's funny, cuz I'm a girl. Ok. It's not that funny. We should totally compare throat scars sometime.
That surgery to remove my cyst really messed me up though. I still can't wear turtle necks or anything else that rubs the scar. No turtle necks means everyone sees your hickeys. I also still have nightmares about leaning my head back too far and it falls off.

Miss Yvonne said...

My parents solution to every ailment I had was to put a bucket next to me. You know, in case I had to puke. I would be all "my throat hurts" and boom. Bucket. I never went to the doctor and I'm still alive. That was one magic bucket.

vickilikesfrogs said...

My parents gave me the exact same, uhh..."medicine" except mine had honey instead of molasses (and yeah, WTF?) and lemon juice instead of orange juice. Never had any awesome mushroom cloud dreams, though. All's I did was walk around in circles a lot then pass out. But I guess the end result was the same!

Elly Lou said...

This is why I always gave my boyfriends a handful of Benadryl the first moment they started sniffling. Or if they had recently had surgery. Or if they insisted on talking to me.

Moooooog35 said...

Ann: At what age did he allow you to be passed around for initiations?

Brutalism: wheat germ? Are you playing a sitar as you write this?

Vapid: I have some even when I DON'T have a fever.

Opto: You're confusing "poonce" with "queef." Don't do that again.

Christina: That actually sounds like a nice afternoon.

Sarcasm: ARE YOU ME?!?

Miss Yvonne: at least they gave you a bucket. My parents just put me outside.

Vicki: On Wednesday I'm posting an email update to this from my mom. Yes, apparently, mine included honey too.

What did your folks call it? I can't find this shit anywhere on WebMD.

Elly: Benadryl - mommy and daddy's little helper.

The Absent Minded Housewife said...

My mom used to rub this stinky black ointment on me for everything.

We grew up on a horse farm. It was probably horse medicine. If you had a boil it wouldn't last long with that goop. Boil mushroom cloud.

The next door neighbors, who kept cows, found out their kid had a tapeworm and gave their kid livestock dewormer. It worked. Most interesting poop story EVER.

laughingmom said...

My pediatrician "prescribed" cough syrup made of 1. Karo Syrup 2. Bourbon and 3. Paregoric (an opiate). I got a tupperware tub of this on my nightstand and my parents told me to have some if I coughed. After a spoonfull or two I didn't care if I coughed...

PBJdreamer said...


Reminds me of the dad in "My Big Fat Greek Wedding". He puts windex on everything.


that is all

The Sweetest said...

Oh, even if they had taken you to the doctor you would have been given booze. As a kid, I took so much paregoric that I'm sure I had a compromised liver by age 5. Unfortunately, boozie medicine tastes like crap.

Kris said...

I never went to the doctor when I was a kid. Except for that one time . . . but I'm pretty sure that was just because my mom couldn't convince the driver of the ambulance to drop us off at our house. True story.

I rarely got medicine of any sort.

The rule at our house was that if you stayed home from school, you had to be sick enough to sleep for the entire day. Whining meant you were well enough to go back to school. Also a true story.

Yay for excellent parenting!


MrsBlogAlot said...

I guess my 70's childhood was the same except they used the pot-contact high instead of the official black doctor bag on me (-:

Explains my HR Puff n Stuff fascination.

Anonymous said...

I was also a child of the 70's - and a baby of the 60's. I was born little (and stayed little) and had an extremely poor appetite in childhood. My pediatrician, and I shit you not, recommended my parents put red wine into my baby formula as an appetite enhancer. Didn't work, BTW.

Anonymous said...

Yep, baby boomer here (not you though, you were born too late HA HA)

The '70's rocked! I SO miss those days.

My mom was into Gin and Tonics. So when I reached the golden age of partying, but being that I wasn't of golden age to purchase liquor, I decided to make myself some GT's.

To this day, if I smell a GT, I get nauseous.

You're cartooning skills are quite good. New career?

Iain said...

My 70's fever dreams would involved rapidly switching colours and what I seem to remember as "signal processing", something like the cover of Joy Division's Unknown Pleasures album. Horrible.

Unknown said...

Now I'm beginning to understand where the warped mind came from!

Andygirl said...

this explains a lot.

Chelle Blögger said...

Weird... I had that EXACT SAME DREAM last night!

OK, not really. Just trying to make you feel better cuz everyone knows that deep down men are all big babies. :)

Henrietta Collins said...

this blog explains everything, rodney.


meleah rebeccah said...

Wow. This post sure brings back some memories. I was also a child of the 70's, which I like to refer to as the "Good Old DISTURBING Days."

Very, VERY funny, Moog. I laughed the whole time I read this. In fact, I loved this post so much I tweeted and facebooked it.

badlarry said...

My parents only tried that folk remedy crap one time. I woke up in the middle of the night when I was about 6 or 7 feeling like hammered shit. Dad ever the loving caretaker knew exactly what to do.

He gave me a dose of the same medicine his parents gave him and his brothers and sisters when they were sick.

Which consisted of pretty much two fingers of bourbon and a teaspoon or so of honey...you know, for taste.

At the time I had no idea what bourbon was other than it was one of the bottles in my parent's liquor cabinet. Afterward, I would have sworn it must be what they made rocket fuel from.

I got so violently and spectacularly sick from dad's miracle cure that I damn near re-painted an entire wall in "whatever-I-had-for-supper".

Leighann said...

Im glad I wasn't the only one given booze to get rid of a cold.
As far as blogging about my parents sex life.
You're on yer own

SarcasmInAction said...

Am I you??
If you're amazing to look at, charming, witty, super funny, sarcastic, outright insulting and arrogant towards others, judgmental, lazy, love naps, love wine, love cheeseburger Doritos and spending money unwisely, then yes. Yes you are.
The neck scar just puts the icing on the cake. Carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. YUM.

PS. I was 6 when I had my cyst removed. The surgeons told my parents it looked like a soggy cheese ball. What did yours look like?

Chris said...

You know, the longer I visit your site, Moooooog, the more sense this all makes to me. You're truly the victim here.

Ed said...

My mom's cure all was Vicks vapor rub, a humidifier, and Campbells chicken noodle soup.

Which is totally the wrong medicine when you zip your nutsack up in your zipper.

Vapor rub should go NOWHERE NEAR your balls.

Or so I've heard.

Unknown said...

Oh my God, yes. This one is beyond Bravo!

Ann Imig said...

And those nuclear bomb drills in school did NOTHING to help the nightmares...

Anonymous said...

ha ha ha ha ...
fuck i needed that, i do remember the best dreams i ever had was after a shot of sherry to settle my cough

Lady V said...

I think I had that dream - shortly thereafter I started reading stuff like Alas Babylon and hiding cans in the crawlspace. I got over it.


Anonymous said...

Oh my goodness. I had some f'ed up dreams as a kid...mainly walking past the bathroom, looking in and seeing my doppleganger, and her changing places with me and living my life while I was trapped in a mirror...but damn...that's pretty bad too!

Parents and their remedies. I wrote about my grandmother and her crazy concoctions today-must be a theme!!


Elisa said...

Your story brought me back... it's a wonder that any of us growing up in the seventies lived to tell.

J.J. in L.A. said...

The 70's were AWESOME! We had a bar (as in beer/booze) in our family room and nothing put us to sleep faster than a shot glass of the good stuff.

Moooooog35 said...

Becky: Sticky black ointment?

You sure that wasn't asphalt?

Laughing: What was up with everyone wanting to get their kids hammered?

PBJ: Did you seriously just quote that movie here? YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED.

Sweetest: It's like they say, 'a shot a day keeps the doctor away.'

Kris: I'm adopting that rule. Totally.

Mrsblogalot: I know. My kids get that a lot, too.

Sharon: I stayed little, too. We are brethren.

ryoko: I'm the same way with White Russians.

Not the drink.

Iain: You just induced a seizure. Thanks.

Eva: I know. That makes two of us.

Andygirl: It IS a real eye-opener, I'll give you that.

Offended: ..and when we're deep down, we make big babies.

Kage: Does it explain why you want me so? Does it?

Meleah: Amazing how we all survived. Well..some of us.

And thank you!

Badlarry: but did you feel better?

Leighann: I'm seeing a trend. Notice that we're all bloggers...

Sarcasm: um. ew.

Chris: I know. I should file a civil suit.

Ed: I just tried your remedy. FYI, chicken soup is hard to get out of chest hair.

Margaret: *blushes*

Ann: 70's. 70's. Not 50's. I'm not THAT old..Jesus.

Dog3oy: Sherry? Jeez. Why not get all hoity toity.

Lady: I'm just going to pretend I understand that reference so..um..

YES! haha!

Jewels: I think someone has been watching too much 'Freaky Friday.'

Elisa: I know. At least we're all SANE HAHAHA YES! YES We ArE alL SanE!!!

JJ: Booze = good parenting.

Done deal.

If I Were God... said...

All things are relative. Did you see "300"? Spartan sons were kicked out into the wilderness to prove themselves.

Today of course it's all bicycle helmets, 3 stages of carseats, and a cell phone for each kid to call mommy for any reason.

So I, also having grown up in the 70's, think we're comfortably in the reasonable middle ground. We didn't have to fight a wolf for dinner, and we didn't have to talk to a counselor about our feelings.

I think we win!

Anonymous said...

Thank you for this post. I feel much better about my parenting style now. Glad your sinuses cleared up. LOL.

pattypunker said...

i had a nightmare a spider hatched her eggs in my room and the overhead light was crawling with 100s of tiny baby spiders. only it wasn't a dream, it was real and my dad made me sleep me in there anyway. dick.

Jess said...

Holy shit! How have I ever not read your blog before?! This is hilarious. I grew up in the 80s and there was still a little of the "freedom" going around. I think about all the times I walked miles with no parent and am surprised I didn't get kidnapped.
Your drawings are awesome.

Jessica said...

I think we have the same parents.

* The MOM said...

HAH! Sounds like my childhood. Except I got rum mixed with sweet tea in a bottle at night when refused to sleep. When I was sick, I got Nyquil. That explains a lot. Glad we made it through our childhood alive!! :D

Al Penwasser said...

Ahhhhhhh.........the 70s! Disco, The Brady Bunch, and Richard Nixon. Plus, trouble in the Middle East and a looming gas crisis.
Uh, oh.

vickilikesfrogs said...

I think they just called it cough syrup. It's kinda hard to remember since the shit knocked me out cold every single time I took it.

Malach the Merciless said...

Ahh memories of youth

badlarry said...

Moog said...

but did you feel better?

Not really, but I was too blitzed to care.
Slept like a baby...a big drunken puke covered baby.

Spalderdash said...


I just wet myself. My mum's really pissed off. (I'm sitting on her sofa.)


I'm another 70's kid.In our house it was stay in bed, covers up to the eyeballs, you had to "sweat it out" Mine were of the bucket brigade too, so a a bucket next to the bed, which was needed after the hot honey and lemon drink or the dreaded senega and ammonia medicine.If you ventured out of bed you had to go back to school.

Teisha said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Teisha said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Alexandra said...


NO one tells a story like you.

Your stories are so great, that I share them with my 16 yr old.

I don't care if you drop the f-bomb. Those words are so arbitrary, anyway...ask Colin Firth.

But, to see my teenage boy LAUGH his beautiful laugh..when he sees blood coming out from under the creeper's house in your drawing?

I just don't care.

I have him for 2 more years at home, and to have him next to me laughing so hard..a shared grown up adult laugh, because of you..

Oh, mooooog, you have done so much for me.

I adore you.

Cake Betch said...

Hahahahah omfg, hilarious. Thanks for the laugh!!

Mandy_Fish said...

My mom informs me that she used to rub Paregoric on our gums when we were teething as babies. Yes, I'm also a child of the 70s and I like my opiates.

Anonymous said...

My parents always put vicks on my neck and wrapped a sock around it.

Not sure that was a cure for everything. But I survived the 70s.

Madge said...

At 9 my dad used to give me driving lessons on the dirt roads so he could drink beer and not be driving.

Caleb said...

Nice work, Bro-Chi-Minh.

Apparently this style of parenting persisted well into the 80s.

I don't blame my dad though, given that he himself had a workaholic father and an agoraphobic mother. Who were both nymphos.

What chance do kids have?

Nice drawrings.


PS yes, I meant to add the 'r'

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