OPINION: Okie-phobias list draws a bit of icky interest

Mar. 9—I have many friends in the public relations field, and I hope they'll forgive me for saying I find most of their ilk annoying. And I'm sure they'd say the same about me.

Their job — for which most are handsomely paid — is to cover up negative stuff about their employers, and to finagle as many puff pieces as they can into print or on the air. They sometimes do this by subtle bullying, to reach the first goal, and pretending they like the media people, to reach the second. But I still like the ones I know — or most of them. Especially the ones who once worked for the Daily Press, and those are legion.

The rest of those anonymous PR types can take their greasy pablum and choke on it, or stick it where the sun don't shine. I'll be kind enough to give them a choice.

I'm referring to the think tanks, marketing firms and other outfits that flood newsrooms with emails about their studies, analyses, and comparisons. They always assure us if we use their material to "localize" a story, we need only mention them in the text. But these aggregators, collators and curators troll the websites of their victims, and once they see mention of their data, they send cheerful emails asking that we add a "link" to their entity on our story.

I won't do that. I'm not here to promote their service, but rather to serve our readers. I tell them if that's their game, they need to take us off their mailing list. Usually a veiled threat follows, but they never take us off their lists, so when the opportunity avails itself, I block them. Some of them are actually amusing, if I have time to read them. I just note that Tahlequah or some other nearby burg is on the list. If it seems usable, I might forward it to a reporter. If not, I go about my considerably busy business.

Recently I got an email from a "study group" that had a list of where the most Bigfoot sightings were reported. Since I already know that's Adair County, I paid no heed. I wouldn't want to spread false information. Other "lists" I've received touted Oklahoma, and Cherokee County in particular, as among the areas with the highest rates of teen pregnancy (true); this neck of the woods as among the most obese and unhealthy (also true); our lot reigning supreme in terms of smoking (that'll change, if TSET has anything to say about it); the best place where one can live relatively cheaply (accurate), but where one gets paid a pittance for one's work (what a shock); and an area where old people can live out their remaining years in relative comfort (guess I'll find out soon enough).

One that caught my eye recently detailed the most common phobias among Okies. I paused to peruse to see if aquamechanophobia was listed. This phobia includes pool drains, which make me shudder. I know, I know; it's a strange phobia for a regular lap swimmer like myself. Although it was not specifically on the list, No. 1 was "fear of small holes," also known as trypophobia. But because pool drains are also small holes, I seem to be in good company. If that doesn't work, No. 2 — fear of deep water — would suffice. This is known by eggheads in the scientific community as thalassophobia, and since the scariest drains are in the deep end of the pool, I can lay claim to that, too.

Another phobia I scanned for was coulrophobia, and sure enough, there it was, coming in at No. 10. I'm not sure if my son Cole or the notorious Eddie Glenn (the last official photographer for TDP) are actual coulrophobes, but they certainly do not like clowns. In Cole's case, I suspect this has something to do with Pennywise of Stephen King fame. As for Eddie, I once sent him to do a story on a circus, and he returned to the office all sweaty and freaked out, and stated bluntly that he would never again submit to the presence of another clown.

The strangest thing on the list was fear of vomiting, at No. 3. The eggheads call that emetophobia. I wouldn't say I have a fear of puking, but I dread it — and I've done it a few times when don't eat before I take my vitamins. It's the lack of control that's troubling; you can't stop your mouth from painfully stretching wide enough to accommodate the business end of a baseball bat as the heaving commences. Then there's the requisite spitting between bouts, and that's not taking into account the need to keep your streaming eyes resolutely squeezed shut to avoid visualizing the contents of the toilet bowl.

Since you're probably curious, I'll round out the list, starting with 4, fear of confined places (claustrophobia); 5, fear of spiders (arachnophobia); 6, fear of large objects (megalophobia, which may also describe the fear of a certain politician of significant girth); 7, fear of heights (acrophobia); 8, fear of germs (blandly named germophobia); and 9, fear of being stared at (scopophobia). There was no mention of my husband's fear, and there's no name for it I can find. He gets his feathers ruffled if I leave a vehicle door open while I run back into the house for something I've forgotten; he's afraid a skunk or raccoon will climb into the car.

If you're curious as to where the list came from, you may be surprised: It's an outfit called BetCarolina.com: "A sports betting consumer information portal where bettors can find and evaluate the various licensed operators of online sports betting with expert product reviews written by a team of industry insiders." Go figure. And don't ask whether I'll provide a link. You already know the answer.