Don't Look, Ethel!: Slices of Faith, Humor, Inspiration

By Nicholas Doster

It's human nature to look at something when you have emphatically been told not to look.

Those of mythological lore who looked directly at Medusa, the snake-headed creature, were instantly turned to stone.

Lot's wife, in the book of Genesis, could not resist to look back even after God had strongly advised her not to. As we know, her one peek instantly and infamously made her the first box of Morton Salt.

Similarly, Ethel, in Ray Stevens's 1974 hit song, "The Streak," ignored her protective husband's earnest pleas not to look at a serial streaker.

Ethel did not turn to stone or salt, but she did lose her clothes as a result of her looking.

My suspect friends, Bacon and Genius, would highly implore you NOT to read this book.

However, if you would like quick doses of humor, inspiration, and wisdom, this book just may be what you are looking for.

Can you resist? What will your fate be if you do look? The choice is in your hands. Proceed at your own risk!

Certainly, it could do no harm to take just one little peek...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9781685268640

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Slice of Bacon

Bell Curves and Bumper Stickers

Die Like a Man

In the Nude

The Lollipop Conspiracy

Social Distancing

Slice of Big Breeze

Diversification Model

Failure to Communicate

Turn Right at Baxley

Slice of Bone Dry

Public Enemy Number 1

Rocking Chair Soliloquy

To the Moon, Alice!

Ulnar Nerve Entrapment

Slice of Genius

Bird Dog Blues

Coin Flip

Green Footprints and Waffle Fries

It's Always Something

Law of Diminishing Returns

Lunch Hunch

Name Change

Redundancy Blues

The Art of Saying Goodbye

The Total Package

Slice of Faith

A Beautiful Thing

Bewildered but Thankful

Good Ain't Good Enough

Hope in Sorrow

Impossible Don't Exist

Lo-debar and Other Low Places

Love Lessons

Mr. Clean

Resurrection Sunday

Service over Self

The Gift of the One and Only

What's Up with Lent?

Slice of Humor

Citizen's Arrest

Don't Look, Ethel!

Exit Stage Left

Finger-Lickin' Good!

Manners Will Kill You

Music Hall of Shame

Offsetting Intelligence

Pet Peeves

Rudy and Judy

The Domino Effect

When You're Hot, You're Hot

When We Becomes Me

Slice of Inspiration

A Cathedral of Worship

A Five-Toilet Funeral

Are You Looking for Me?

Cuzzy Man vs. Baby Blue

Favorite Quotes

Is Everybody Happy!?

Limitations

Sylvia Anne Schofield

The Greatest Generation

Slice of Wisdom

Baseball, Pitchers, and Crybabies

Business Proverbs

Dress for Success

Everybody's Talkin'

Inflation Fallout

Let Us Reason Together

Porky Schools Mick

Timeless Tips

The Be(s) of Failure

The Be(s) of Success

The Gift of Anonymity

The Pied Piper and Humpty Dumpty

Slice of Variety

And The Winner Is

Defined by Lines

Father, Forgive Them

Flash

Give Me a Head of Hair

Juno, Hank, and Willie

The Main Vein

The Towering Inferno

William the Rambunctious

Extra Slices

Goodbye, Friend

I Want to Hold Your Hand

Porch Time

Sock It to Me!

Glossary

About the Author

cover.jpg

Don't Look, Ethel!

Slices of Faith, Humor, Inspiration

Nicholas Doster

ISBN 978-1-68526-863-3 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-68526-864-0 (Digital)

Copyright © 2023 Nicholas Doster

All rights reserved

First Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Covenant Books

11661 Hwy 707

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

www.covenantbooks.com

Dedicated to

My parents, George Parrish Doster and Marjorie Catherine Terry Doster

And

Andrew, Ellen and Emily

The late, effusive Jim Valvano had a memorable quote that said in essence, If you laugh, think, and cry every day—you will have a full life.

May this book of vignettes be a reminder of the full life that surrounds each of us every day.

Soli deo gloria.

—NDGD

Acknowledgments

Many thanks to Debbie Gilbert for the countless hours she spent editing and typing this work.

I am grateful for the technical and creative advice contributed by my talented brothers, Jonathan and Stephen Doster.

Special thanks to Covenant Books for publishing Don't Look, Ethel!

Reader warning

If you have no imagination, no sense of humor, and no appreciation for Southern culture, this collection of musings may not be your cup of tea.

If you have attention-deficit issues, have little time to read, prefer brevity over length, and are indifferent to mediocrity, you may enjoy this book.

Postmortem-Reviews

Doster's inane ramblings remind me the world needs more people like me.

—Genius

Other than obtaining a college degree, nothing has been a more colossal waste of my time than reading this feeble stab at writing.

—Bacon

If only I could get my hands on this no-name writer's scrawny neck!

—Boss Woman

Doster's pen makes me want to take a long nap. And that ain't a bad thing.

—Bone Dry

I intend to corner this purveyor of impertinence and give him a good talking to.

—Aunt Ulna

The chapter on me was exceptional!

—Cuzzy Man

It wasn't bad as I heard it was.

—Big Breeze

This book is intriguing on many levels. I give you lollipop if you read.

—Boris Karloff

The only comment I have is—Willie Mays is the greatest baseball player ever!

—Juno

Slice of Bacon

Bell Curves and Bumper Stickers

#belowaverage

A good friend of mine, after the birth of his first, long-awaited grandchild, exclaimed, Everything in life is overrated except grandchildren!

Bacon—my socially dysfunctional, unfiltered, painfully blunt, but keenly observant childhood friend—sees things differently. He thinks everything is overrated and exaggerated (except, that is, for Red Man chewing tobacco).

In short, Bacon is just plain fed up with how our society overreacts to everyone and everything.

Whatever happened to the saying Best thing since sliced bread?

Now upstarts and anyone with an ounce of ability are referred to as the greatest of all time. Forget the sliced bread reference.

Bacon, a virtual oracle of wisdom, is convinced participation trophies and not keeping score are further evidences of our weakening society.

He recently called, elated to tell me he heard on the news that a perennial all-pro NFL player had made his children return their participation trophies, much to Bacon's delight. He offered resiliently, There is still hope!

And don't get Bacon started on the plethora of parental bumper stickers extolling the virtues of their children.

Once, he was so disgusted with the growing bumper sticker malignancy Bacon manufactured a bumper-sticker that he placed on his vehicle, referencing his middle-school son. It read, My Son Is Just Average.

Fortunately, Bacon's son takes after his mother and is above average in most categories—with the exception of half of his origin.

Where do you think you would rank on a bell curve? Above average? Just average? Below average?

I got a sobering dose of my bell curve reality the summer after graduating from high school.

*****

Bacon and I had gone to Shoney's for a burger, fries, and Shoney's famous double-decker chocolate ice cream cake. While there, we saw our eleventh-grade chemistry teacher, Mr. Kneeland, sitting alone in a booth and joined him, uninvited.

Mr. Kneeland was as precise as he was astute. Always dressed in a coat and tie, he was a brilliant man devoted to the field of chemistry. The only thing he had in common with me and Bacon was Shoney's Big Boy restaurant.

Never one to engage in idle talk, Bacon fixated on his burger and fries, completely ignoring Mr. Kneeland.

I politely engaged Mr. Kneeland in conversation, which eventually led to Mr. Kneeland asking what I planned to do with my life postgraduation.

Bacon cocked one ear in my direction, listening for my response as he shoveled chocolate ice cream cake into his mouth.¹

The tension was palpable, as I blurted out enthusiastically to Mr. Kneeland, I'm going to be a doctor! Bacon smacked his lips and elbowed me.

Given my below-average performance in Mr. Kneeland's classroom, I justified my intentions by adding that I was committed to becoming an exemplary student in college and just knew I had the demeanor and drive to be a top-notch doctor.

But Mr. Kneeland, unconvinced, and who, like Bacon, had a reputation for being direct, cut me off. He looked me squarely in the eyes and evenly stated, You'll never make it.

Needless to say, I did not offer to give Mr. Kneeland a bite of my chocolate ice-cream cake nor pay for his meal.²

On the flip side, Bacon and I did go to school with some stellar individuals.

Eddie Moon would cruise by our school on his wide spider-handlebar bike and effortlessly pop a wheelie, sustaining it the length of the street.

Steve Gibson, when made to swallow his chewing gum in class, would, after the teacher walked away, calmly regurgitate the gum and beamingly resume chewing.

Harris Sapp could produce a rhythmic stream of belches on demand—how cool is that?—and could play tunes on his armpits that rivaled the Boston Pops.

Anthony Gamble, a.k.a. Do Dirty, could run up the face of an oak tree, do a backflip, and stick the landing with Olympian gold-medal precision.

So where on the bell curve of life do you rate—above average? Just average? Below average? What kind of bumper sticker would Bacon create for you if he knew you?

I consulted the oracle of Bacon for his insight and wisdom on what custom-made bumper stickers he would contrive for our incredible classmates from days gone by.

Bacon responded succinctly: Eddie Moon, ‘Moon Rider.' Steve Gibson, ‘The Recycler.' Harris Sapp, ‘Music Man.' Do Dirty, ‘Backflip.'

Against my better instincts, I decided to go for broke. I ventured, Bacon, what would my custom-made bumper sticker encapsulate?

Bacon, without hesitation, said, You are deserving of two bumper stickers, my dear friend. Amazed at what I was hearing, I listened with rapt anticipation.

Then, pivoting to his signature bluntness, Bacon continued, That's a no-brainer. Your bumper stickers would be ‘Below Average' and ‘He Never Made It.'

I hung my head and muttered downheartedly, I'd rather have a participation trophy.

11.9.2018

Die Like a Man

#don'tcare

Bacon—my contrarian, swim-against-the-stream, walks-to-a-different-beat, lifelong friend—has a unique, succinct way of expressing and maneuvering himself through life no matter the topic or situation. To boot, Bacon has a biting deadpan sense of humor.

In our high school annual, his senior quote was, I just don't care. It was classic Bacon to the core and a precursor of things to come.

While many students, including me, attempted to be profoundly insightful or reflective by quoting Socrates or Churchill or some obscure poet, Bacon did not blink before uttering his memorable quote.

He says what is on his mind with no pretense or desire to impress. Bacon knows his mind, and no one is going to persuade him otherwise.

Once, when asked by a thoughtful inquirer what his top life priorities were, Bacon did not hesitate. Responding matter-of-factly to the astonished person, I like three things: well-endowed women, cold beer, and a good fistfight.

Certainly not the most genteel answer by any stretch of the imagination, but definitely pure Bacon.

With Bacon, what you see is what you get. He is all black and white with no shades of gray—a refreshing presence in the world of the bland and predictable conformity.

I mentioned offhandedly to him that an acquaintance of ours had a heart attack, was given CPR by a family member, and was rushed to the hospital where he was recovering.

Bacon, not missing a beat, locked eyes with me and clenched his teeth, sternly proclaiming, Let's get one thing straight. If I ever have a heart attack in your presence, don't lift a finger to help me.

Why? I asked, dumbfounded.

Because when it's my time to die, Bacon said with urgency, I want to die like a man!

I was speechless—where is Socrates or Churchill when you need them?

It's undeniable, whether you care or don't care: Bacon is one of a kind.

No doubt, God broke the mold after he created Bacon.

Perhaps after reading this Bacon profile, you find yourself amused, disturbed, or confounded.

But rest assured, whatever you conclude, Bacon's resounding message to you is, I just don't care.

2.15.2021

In the Nude

#deyfighset

God created male and female to exist in the buff before the fall. Our nakedness is as natural as Tarzan swinging through the jungle.

Yet it is curious how the naked body fascinates some more than others.

When my brothers and I were testosterone-laced teenagers, our wonderful mother made the critical mistake of telling us that she used to paint from the nude when she was a young art student, post high school. Meaning the art school had professional models pose nude as the art students learned to paint the human anatomy from top to bottom.

My brothers and I coveted this information and would relish sharing our version whenever possible.

For instance, Mrs. Smith might be visiting our mother for afternoon tea and inquire, Terry, what a lovely landscape. Did you paint it?

Yes, Mrs. Smith, she did, we would interrupt on cue.

Mrs. Smith, one of us would innocently continue, did you know Mums painted that landscape in the nude?

Our good-natured mother always took our juvenile comments in stride, as she escorted her pesky sons from the room while strongly emphasizing, "And it is from the nude, not in the nude."

For Bacon, my childhood friend, known for his blunt demeanor and indifference to social mores, nudity is a thing to be enjoyed like a parade down Main Street. This is not surprising for someone whose senior quote in our high school annual was, I just don't care.

Bacon has always been indifferent to whether or not he was wearing clothes.

Growing up, it was not uncommon to visit his house and see him casually walking around in the buff, deaf to his mother's admonitions to clothe himself.

For Bacon, it has never been about being a narcissist or an exhibitionist. He is, plain and simple, comfortable in his birthday suit and does not care what anyone thinks.

While 99.99 percent of the male population wear towels in his private club's locker room / sauna, Bacon is the 0.01% that does not, much to the chagrin of many of his peers.

I scolded him once, as yet again, another group of men evacuated the sauna upon his appearance. Don't you know you make people uptight? Why don't you move to Sweden where the men and women sauna together in the nude? You'd fit right in!

Bacon replied enthusiastically, I don't care if I make people uptight, but I do like the Swedish concept of sauna sharing. Maybe I'll visit there sometime!

Yeah, I bantered, and I bet you'll leave your suitcase at home!

One of Bacon's proudest locker room moments at his five-star club was when he spied a visiting U.S. senator properly robed and shaving in front of the full-wall mirror.

Bacon had seen the senator interviewed on Meet the Press and was mesmerized by the statesman's southern drawl enunciation of deficit when discussing the Capitol's mismanaged budget.

Bacon, a natural impressionist, had perfected the senator's drawl and his patented dey-figh-set. He was determined to use the unexpected locker room encounter to induce the senator to say the magic word, dey-figh-set.

So in full-mirror view, Bacon sauntered up in Swede mode and stood, in the buff, as he addressed the startled senator.

Mr. Senator, I hate to interrupt you, but I just wanted to say that as a concerned businessman, I really appreciate your fiscal stance and your efforts to promote legislation to balance the budget and eliminate the D-word from our nation's dialogue.

The bewildered senator, doing everything in his power to look straight ahead, stammered, Yes, we must continue addressing the ‘dey-figh-set' as a top priority.

With that, the nude Bacon abruptly ended the conversation and vanished, satisfied in achieving his devious