"I received this note, and it deserves a reply:

"Dear Harry: I am 50 years old. Some of my E-Fest friends say there is no Beth Tyler. My parents always told me that if Harry says it, it is so. Please tell me the truth. Is there a Beth Tyler?"

Steve Elysburg, Pennsylvania

Dear Steve,

Your E-Fest friends are wrong. They've been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They only believe that which they can see. They think that nothing can be real unless they comprehend it.

Yes, Steve, there is a Beth Tyler. She exists much the same as the anticipation of listening to the enema nurse fill the bag, hearing the snap of the glove and feeling the involuntary flinch as the lubricated gloved finger first touches your back passage. It would be a weary world without Beth Tyler. There would be no memories of a mother's loving touch, or a lover's erotic insertion of a favorite rectal nozzle, and no spreading warmth as the soothing solution enters the normally one-way trail up your colon.

I'm sure that you enjoy chocolate chip cookies Steve, but have you ever demanded to meet Betty Crocker? Her picture smiles from the boxes of mixes, a warm motherly smile gives you the assurance that you'll revel in the almost naughty chocolate goodness of her cookies. Would you want to give up that taste, that smell, that chewy goodness just because you haven't actually met Betty Crocker?

Beth Tyler is alive and well in the soul of klismaphiliacs everywhere. She's the goddess that men dream of when taking a solo enema. She's the lover who tells you, "You've been a little cranky today, I'm going to give you a nice soapy enema tonight to make you feel better." or the demanding wife who announces, "I haven't used my strap-on for ages. Why don't I clean you out and you'll enjoy some anal sex tonight?" Beth Tyler lives in the heart and mind of the attractive woman who has been inspecting the various enema and douche packages at the drugstore, in the fantasies of the woman who is "curious" about enemas in her FetLife profile, and in the dreams of the spinster who fills her lonely bag for her solo Friday night enema sessions.

From the fantasies of a college boy to the memories of an octogenerian, Beth Tyler is oh, so very real.

Yes Steve, there is a Beth Tyler.

Harry

(My apologies to Franklin P. Church who wrote the "Yes, Virginia, There is a Santa Claus" reply in the New York Sun in September 1897, a hundred twelve years ago.)"