![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
What Suzanne means to us
Jan. 11th, 2007 09:13 amI know that it’s hard for some of us to get up this morning and act like everything is normal. But we must carry on. Suzanne would want us to.
For those of you who don’t know, Suzanne Somers mansion was destroyed by fire the other day. Being a self-described "glass half-full" kind of person I have no question she will bounce back.. But let’s take a moment to remember the great things Somers has given us.
It’s not just "Three’s Company", "She’s the Sheriff", and diet products. No, Suzanne is a poet.
Here is my favorite poem of hers, "Organic Girl" (Workman Publishing, 1973). Maybe someone should read it at the open mic on Friday.
For those of you who don’t know, Suzanne Somers mansion was destroyed by fire the other day. Being a self-described "glass half-full" kind of person I have no question she will bounce back.. But let’s take a moment to remember the great things Somers has given us.
It’s not just "Three’s Company", "She’s the Sheriff", and diet products. No, Suzanne is a poet.
Here is my favorite poem of hers, "Organic Girl" (Workman Publishing, 1973). Maybe someone should read it at the open mic on Friday.
Organic Girl Organic girl dropped by last night For nothing in particular Except to tell me again how beautiful and serene she feels On uncooked vegetables and wheat germ fortified by bean sprouts— Mixed with yeast and egg whites on really big days— She not only meditates regularly, but looks at me like I should And lectures me about meat and ice cream And other aggressive foods I shouldn’t eat. And she may well be intuitive Because several times I have thought about cramming her Unadulterated peace beads down her throat It isn’t simply that she called my pot roast— Simmering in gravy with Carrots and onions and potatoes— An accumulation of obscene vibrations Which could retard my sexuality Nor did I really mind eating alone—and drinking— While she munched on celery and crushed almonds—loudly— I might add— And fed her puffy little kid mashed avocados and honey Instead of something pornographic like milk, Talking incessantly about the beauty of alpha waves, The thrill of vitamin highs and spiritual excursions, And the peace that finally hit her after all this searching, While I was eating pot roast and drinking wine. Whatever it was, when the aggressive fibers seemed to take hold It suddenly began to dawn on my clogged up cells: That organic girl and her love-everybody philosophy Is not nearly as gentle as she is insensitive Not nearly as serene as she is bland and boring Not nearly as liberated as she is rude and intolerant And despite her eminent diet and intercourse with pure alfalfa— Which well may do it for her— She’s damned unhealthy looking!
