Saturday, May 23, 2009

A Couple of Observations This Week

1. Dick Cheney: will you please just go away. When you were "in office," nobody could find you. Now that you are out of office, nobody can escape you. You did enough to screw up this country and trample on the constitution while lining the pockets of your fat-cat buddies. So, shut up already. (And, just because you are trying to pitch a book to publishers is no cause for you to defend your shameful positions as VP.)

2. Kris Allen earned the title of American Idol. He won was because of a broad appeal to the voters in these United States. Adam Lambert didn't lose because he might be a homosexual. He didn't lose for lack of talent. He didn't lose because Clay Aiken doesn't like his version of "Ring of Fire." He came in second. He would have be the American Idol if he had broader appeal. What he does is brilliant. It is simply not some people's cup of tea. No one should take anything away from the delightful singer who is Kris Allen simply because he is a less theatrical guy who also happens to be modest, low-key and a seemingly, genuinely nice guy. And all he wants from life now is just a little more chest hair, LOL.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

What the Hell is "Twitter"?

I know it's "all the go" with the cool kids these days, but I confess that I have never twittered or tweatered or tweaked or twitted or whatever the right word is. In fact, I am not sure I even know anyone personally who uses twitter. I know that famous people use it. Oprah, Ashton, Anderson and other famous people whose names I don't recognize. I call them famous because they must be if news outlets name them as popular twitterers. Right?

I belong to Facebook. For me, that just about pushes the limits I have for narcissism.
Posted at 2:30pm by Angus. "Picked my nose. Not a significant booger found."
Posted at 2:33pm by Clive. "Scratched my ass. Still itching, though."
Posted at 2:37pm by Simon. "I like bottled water. But tap water is okay."

Do people's Facebook friends really care about this kind of crap? Maybe so. Read on.

It seems that the more mundane the post, the more responsive are the readers, as displayed by their subsequent comments on a given post. I have decided that it is easier for someone to respond to a inconsequential post on Facebook because it requires less thought. Flippant responses are easy and quick. Thoughtful responses to thoughtful posts require time and genuine effort. It's much easier to respond to a post a silly as "Picked my nose. Not a significant booger found." Something as easy as "dig deeper" is par for the course.

As for me, I haven't thought of anything worth posting in weeks. So I haven't. I am not awed enough with myself to post something for the sole reason of not having posted for a long time. I have uploaded a few pictures; this has been by request of Facebook friends who I haven't seen in real life in ages. (Even though my vanity DOES allow me to disagree with my brother's ex-fiancee when she said I look like Burt Reynolds. Ouch!)

But this is not a complaint about Facebook--just an observation about how I enjoy laughing at the minutiae of many of my friends who are also members there. I actually love Facebook and I really love catching up with people I haven't seen in ages and sincerely miss.

Regardless, this little blog allows me to push my own personal narcissism and ego to their limits. And that satisfies me enough.

Tuesday is road trip time! The Good Nurse and I are leaving Tuesday at 7pm for Kentucky. The Good Nurse will be returning to NYC after visiting God's Country for a few days. I am going to stay on for at least a couple of weeks, maybe longer. There are many family responsibilities to which I will be able to attend. And this visit also coincides with the opening of frog-hunting season. How convenient. If you happen to be in the area, let me know. We can find you a tractor and you can help get up some hay. Or you can help feed some horses. Or just do some plowing. Whatever is your favorite!

Thursday, May 07, 2009

Playing the Religion Card

Point of clarification for those people moaning at our President, who actually did them a favor (whether intentionally or not) by illustrating what the Bible says about prayer, as the United States marks another National Day of Prayer.

Of course, prayers in public places are not sinful, as Jesus and the Apostles prayed in public gatherings. However, there is a prescribed way--and it is in private, as you can read (in various translations) by clicking on the link above.

Just as Paul taught that being single is better than being married, it is still not a sin to be married (at least not the first time).

I can't stop myself from getting discouraged and disgusted when alleged leaders of churches rip out the wonderful love and unspeakable joy of God's word in order to elevate themselves in the eyes of the public at large. I also refuse to stop myself from calling them out, from this moment forward.

Sunday, May 03, 2009

Six Shot Shacklett

A mild, soap suppository was commonly used as a laxative in the rural areas of the south, and recently enough so that I can remember it. I guess whoever might need relief of this sort could grab a knife, head to the sink, slice off a piece of Ivory and, well, do what you do with a suppository. I can't remember if I personally was ever treated with this regimen. Even if I had been, it would not have prepared me for the highly educated and well lubricated finger of a Flight Surgeon who gave me the second flight physical of my life, way back in 1990. (I'm using the term "Flight Surgeon" generically here; his true role was FAA Designated Medical Examiner. He actually was a retired Navy Flight Surgeon.)

Dr. Shacklett had a modest little office on Memorial Drive in Murfreesboro, TN, spitting distance from MTSU's campus. He was known as "Six Shot Shacklett" because if you showed up there with any signs of an infection, he ordered you back for repeated injections of antibiotics. Thankfully, I remember only once visiting him for an infection: strep throat my first semester in college. (And this protocol of antibiotic treatment has since been discredited.)

It was natural, since I was already a patient, that he would be my choice of physician for replacing my medical certificate that expired the last day of August in 1990. As well, he was affordable and convenient.

Because I was already a patient, I had no reservation when he told me to, "pull my pants down, get on the exam table on all fours, and stick my butt way up in the air." In my mind, I figured he was just checking for a hernia in a different fashion. My back door had always been "exit only" until that hot, August morning. I didn't see it coming; I didn't imagine it coming; I was shocked when it did: an unseen digit of my doctor's hand ramming into my rectum at what felt like Mach 3.

I felt so confused and scared and speechless that I could manage no more than a "yes, sir" or "no, sir," in response to the rest of his questions and instructions.

Subsequent, discreet inquiries to people wiser than I allowed me to conclude that the good doc was examining my prostate. Perhaps ahead of his time, but still NOT REQUIRED for a flight physical candidate of my age--too young to drink, even!--and certainly not required for my class of flight physical exam.

At the tender age of 19, I knew already what I might enjoy in the sack. In none of my fantasies about the opposite gender did any of my secret desires involve *surprise!* penetration by the finger of a doctor old enough to be my grandfather. Sure, my fantasies were about the love that "dare not speak its name," mostly involving the fellas on Fraternity Row and on the intramural teams where I played basketball and softball and football, but I was in denial and I was still (shamefully and in vain) engaged in too-frequent sexcapades with females. (Oddly enough, I imagined that my heterosexual sexcapades might impress some of those fellas inhabiting my imagination. In retrospect, I now realize how my behavior would certainly have discouraged any fella who might be where I was on my journey, and who might be a much-welcome confidant. Unintended consequences and all that...)

My first willing and knowing experience with a guy was not to come for a few more years. But this experience with the doctor went way beyond anything that "dare not speak its name." All the way into the category of "WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?"

Saturday, May 02, 2009

April 3, 1974

My very, very first conscious memory came on April 3, 1974. That was the day that the United States experienced its most deadly series of tornadoes in history. From Michigan to the Gulf Coast, from the Midwest to New York state, the number of tornadoes that touched down was immense: at least 148. Many lives were lost; there was much damage.

Based on my memories, imprinted when I was some 34 months old, my mother, my brother and I were at home. It must have been around 4pm or 5pm in the day. Otherwise, I suspect my mother would have been at work and my brother would have been at school. But we were at home.

Many safety rules came from that day. Before that day, there were many myths about what to do when faced by a tornado. Clearly, we were not of the enlightned group, but Providence intervened.

My mother had decided that we were not safe at our home. In retrospect, it was one of the safer places we could have been that day. While we had no basement, we were protected by features of nature that left us in a "holler" of sorts where we could find cover from the tornado, if not the rains and such that came with it. But we could not leave because my mother couldn't find the car keys. She kept looking and kept looking. By the time they turned up, the clouds of death had moved on. I remember watching with my brother an actual funnel cloud far in the distance of where we were. We didn't know it at the time, but we learned later that the funnel cloud had become a tornado not far away and had taken the life of a neighbor lady.

Driving through the countryside in the days that followed, people saw all kinds of debris strewn in trees and on top of cars and even lodged in structures. We truly were blessed by the amazing disappearance of the car keys. I remember that the car was a Chevy Vega stationwagon. Momma called her "Betsy."

Just telling you about my limited memory would do a great disservice. As well, I take this opportunity to correct some common beliefs and misconceptions. And just educate in general.

1. Don't worry about opening your windows. The reason this is done is to equalize the pressure between indoors and outdoors. Doesn't matter. If a tornado has enough of a pressure variance to cause your dwelling to explode from the change in pressure, the tornado will be powerful enough to destroy your dwelling regardless.

2. It's not a tornado until it contacts the earth's surface. Before that, it is just a funnel cloud.

3. People who report seeing flocks of birds flying into or out of the tornado are really seeing debris being sucked into and blown out of the funnel cloud.

4. If you are in a car, try to outrun the storm. If you can't outrun it, because of traffic or other challenges, get as far away from highways as you can. Try to get into a culvert or the lowest place you can find. A basement or cellar is best, but that might be difficult to find. Real cars become like matchbox toys in a major storm.

5. Statistically, the "trailer homes" that many call "tornado magnets" are those homes that are not anchored to earth. It requires more than removing the wheels and slapping on a mailbox to make a trailer home secure, regardless of weather phenomena. But this is still not the best place to be.

6. Stay away from windows and doors, if you are inside a structure.

7. The best place to survive a tornado is in a cellar or basement. Always has been, always will be. Just ask Dorothy and her little doggie.

8. If you survive a serious tornado, rule number one is never, NEVER, try to light a candle or turn on a light switch. NEVER. While tornadoes have struck every hour of the day, they still are most common during daylight hours. You can make it without artificial light.

9. Tornadoes have struck every month of the year. They can again.

10. If a funnel cloud looks like it is standing still, that is a reliable sign that it is coming toward you. Take cover. This is not a hard-and-fast rule, but statistically reliable.

While the nation's worst storm in history came in the month of April, many states experience the most killer storms in May. Since we are now in the month of May, just over 25 years past the anniversary of the worst storm in history, it is a good time to prepare yourself. Don't just take my word for it. Check the experts' websites. May you never suffer the horror of watching a tornado take a life.