Slobberpalooza '76 Redux

In the July 10, 2011 “Humor Me” I reported on a time in which I fell asleep in a history class in high school. A person calling himself “Wheeler Wildcat” posted this on Facebook claiming to have witnessed the event. I will be making parenthetical comments.


One day in high school, during the very last period of the day, I was in my history class. We had all been given topics to study and it was now time for each of us to give an oral presentation in front of the class. I had already given my report and now I was forced to sit there and listen to person after person drone on and on about topics that they hardly knew anything about. I was really just hoping for a meteor to strike the classroom or to suddenly be consumed by a particularly fast acting strain of flesh-eating bacteria – just anything to end my suffering and boredom. (He did not like book reports. Personally, I would rather listen to a book report than be suddenly consumed by a fast acting strain of flesh-eating bacteria. That’s just me.)

Sitting to my right was my friend Alan. We took a lot of history classes together in those days. My recollection is that we had just had our tennis class together the period before. Since this was in the springtime, we were still pretty hot and tired from the tennis class as we were sitting there being subjected to the endless stream of drivel.

We were breaking the monotony of the moment by discussing Alan’s latest song parody.(I find it amusing that my song parodies would be more interesting than American History.) At that time Alan was producing parodies of popular songs that were MUCH better than anything that “Weird” Al Yankovic (this is the only Wheeler graduate from the 70's that ever spelled "weird" correctly) ever produced later on – if only Alan had known that there was a way to make a living doing that! Two of his song parodies that I remember are “There Must Be 50 Men Running for President” (a parody of Paul Simon’s “There Must Be 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover”) and “Bad Barf” (a parody of Neil Sedaka and Elton John’s “Bad Blood”). Time has dimmed my memory of the complete lyrics but I do recall the chorus of “Bad Barf”:

Bad (BAD!) Barf (BARF!)
The steak is on the floor
And what’s more than that
It’s rolling out the door!

If Alan still remembers the complete lyrics, and since Neil and Sir Elton are still living, perhaps it is not too late to get them in the studio and FINALLY lay down that track. (I was really proud of “50 Men Running For President” because I have been able to use it in every election cycle since. I’m working on next year's: “Don’t have a fit, Mitt….)

I recall that someone had finished their report and that there were a few comments from the teacher. As the next speaker started her talk I focused on her for a few moments to see if she was going to say anything interesting. She said nothing of importance so I looked back over at Alan to continue our discussion of the lyrics. However, in the brief time since we had last spoken, Alan had fallen asleep.

“Fallen Asleep” really does not adequately describe Alan’s state at that moment – Alan was basically totally comatose. He was draped over his desk with his head laying on its right side so that his face was facing me. Alan wore glasses; the force of laying on them on his right side had forced the left side of the glasses up several inches from his left ear. Thankfully Alan was not snoring although his mouth was pretty much wide open, with his lower jaw resting on the surface of his desk. Alan was completely zonked out.

I was already planning the various ways I was going to tease Alan about this when I noticed something even more remarkable – Alan had already drooled a considerable amount of saliva out of his mouth and on to his desk. In the brief few moments since we had last talked Alan had managed to create a pool of saliva that was at least eight inches in diameter – and growing. When that much saliva is involved, an amount that is clearly of Biblical proportions, you cannot merely refer to it as spit; that quantity of saliva DEMANDS respect and so must be referred to by the Biblical name of “Spittle”. Thereafter this was referred to as “The Enormous Lake of Spittle”. (At least, I'm Biblical.)

I could not imagine that a human being could produce that much saliva in such a short period of time. Even if you locked me in a room with Pamela Anderson, Scarlett Johansson, Sofía Vergara, and, of course, all the women of the Wheeler High Class of 1977, it would take me at least an hour to drool that much. (I will say this: considering it is 34 years down the road, the Class of ’77 could still make you drool.) Teenagers are well known for having overactive glands – it is just that, in Alan’s case, it was his salivary glands that were raging out of control. (Great, the story of my life: overactive salivary glands.)

I am certain that if Alan’s drooling abilities were to be made known to medical science he would soon be on the cover of every medical journal in existence. I am not sure what units they use to measure the volume of saliva but I think that, if Alan’s story were to become known, soon the standard unit of salivary output would be known as The Alan. Soon the tabloids would be filled with stories like the following:

“Wetumpka, Alabama resident Hawk Flemm has a basketball-sized tumor growing on one of his salivary glands and, as a result, is drooling a Quarter of an Alan PER DAY!!! His drooling is so intense that he has to wear an adult diaper wrapped around his head just to keep from drowning any toddlers and Yorkshire Terriers who happen to be nearby!!!”

I would also guess that there is no instrument that is designed for humans that has a large enough capacity to measure Alan’s drooling ability. Somewhere, there is probably some scientist who has a government grant worth billions of dollars a year who measures the salivary output of African Bull Elephants or Blue Whales; perhaps they could somehow gather up 10 or 12 of the Elephant and Whale Slobber Measuring Devices and have enough capacity to fully measure Alan. They might possibly have to keep emptying them out just to keep up.

Over the years Alan and I have discussed who the person was whose lecture caused him to zonk out. I have a crystal clear recollection of who was speaking when I noticed he was comatose; Alan’s recollection of who put him to sleep is different. I suppose it is possible that it took a while for Alan to complete his descent into his comatose state and that one person was speaking at the beginning of that descent and another was speaking when I first noticed. I am in possession of the names of both people but I will keep those names to myself for now. (I am willing to release the name: a skinny kid that said he was from Hawaii named Barack Obama.)

In the realm of saliva, I like to think of Alan as a mythical, Babe Ruth-like figure – he is “The Eminence of Expectoration”, he is “The Pharaoh of Phlegm”, he is the “The Maharajah of Mucus” - he is “The Sultan of Slobber”. (I like "The Maharajah of Mucus".)