Disorder in the Court

The following excerpts are from a book called Disorder in the American Courts, and are things people actually said in court, word for word, taken down and now published by court reporters who had the torment of staying calm while these
exchanges were actually taking place.


ATTORNEY: Are you sexually active?
WITNESS: No, I just lie there.

_____________________________________

ATTORNEY: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?
WITNESS: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.

______________________________________

ATTORNEY: This myasthenia gravis, does it affect your memory at all?
WITNESS: Yes.
ATTORNEY: And in what ways does it affect your memory?
WITNESS: I forget.
ATTORNEY: You forget? Can you give us an example of something you forgot?

_____________________________________

ATTORNEY: What was the first thing your husband said to you that morning?
WITNESS: He said, 'Where am I, Cathy?'
ATTORNEY: And why did that upset you?
WITNESS: My name is Susan!

______________________________________

ATTORNEY: Do you know if your daughter has ever been involved in voodoo?
WITNESS: We both do.
ATTORNEY: Voodoo?
WITNESS: We do.
ATTORNEY: You do?
WITNESS: Yes, voodoo.

______________________________________

ATTORNEY: Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn't know about it until the next morning?
WITNESS: Did you actually pass the bar exam?

____________________________________

ATTORNEY: The youngest son, the twenty-one-year-old, how old is he?
WITNESS: Uh, he's twenty-one.

________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Were you present when your picture was taken?
WITNESS: Are you shitt'in me?

______________________________________

ATTORNEY: So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8th?
WITNESS: Yes.
ATTORNEY: And what were you doing at that time?
WITNESS: Uh.... I was gett'in laid!

______________________________________

ATTORNEY: She had three children, right?
WITNESS: Yes.
ATTORNEY: How many were boys?
WITNESS: None.
ATTORNEY: Were there any girls?
WITNESS: Are you shitt'in me? Your Honor, I think I need a different attorney. Can I get a new attorney?

______________________________________


ATTORNEY: How was your first marriage terminated?
WITNESS: By death.
ATTORNEY: And by whose death was it terminated?
WITNESS: Now whose death do you suppose terminated it?

______________________________________

ATTORNEY: Can you describe the individual?
WITNESS: He was about medium height and had a beard.
ATTORNEY: Was this a male or a female?
WITNESS: Guess.

_____________________________________


ATTORNEY: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice which I sent to your attorney?
WITNESS: No, this is how I dress when I go to work.
______________________________________

ATTORNEY: Doctor, how many of your autopsies have you performed on dead people?
WITNESS: All my autopsies are performed on dead people. Would you like to rephrase that?

______________________________________

ATTORNEY: ALL your responses MUST be oral, OK? What school did you go to?
WITNESS: Oral.

______________________________________

ATTORNEY: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?
WITNESS: The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m.
ATTORNEY: And Mr. Denton was dead at the time?
WITNESS: No, he was sitting on the table wondering why I was doing an autopsy on him!

____________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Are you qualified to give a urine sample?
WITNESS: Huh....are you qualified to ask that question?

______________________________________

--- And the best for last: ---

ATTORNEY: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: Did you check for blood pressure?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: Did you check for breathing?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy?
WITNESS: No
ATTORNEY: How can you be so sure, Doctor?
WITNESS: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.
ATTORNEY: I see, but could the patient have still been alive, nevertheless?
WITNESS: Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law.


(A tip of the hat to my truck-driving benefactor, Earl for these gems.)

No.1275

At Home At the Movies

By the time Saturday rolls around, I will have spent three weeks convalescing at home with a serious case of cellulitis in my right leg. One thing that I learned, or rather had previously acquired knowledge reinforced, is the fact that day time TV sucks.

Bearing in mind as I was ordered to stay home and off my leg, such TV programming was conducive to creating boredom, ergo sleep! Mercifully Cable offers a smattering of alternative programs. For the most part, however, that offering manifests itself as an exercise in frustrating channel surfing.

Even my evening staples such as the Sci-fi, Discovery, History, Animal Planet, and National Geographic channels, etc., can be less than interesting in the day time.

How many reruns of episodes of Stargate:SG-1, and Stargate:Atlantis can I watch? Do I really need to "discover" the threats to the Great Barrier Reef again? How do you hold the interest of a condemned couch potato? Why, subject him to the "history" of the fast food industry, of course! The Animal Planet's Meerkat Manor is must-see TV if you are into zoology. Thanks to National Geographic I can observe a bunch of South American tribesman running around naked except for long hollow tubes over their willies!

Ah, yes. My Cable provider offers On Demand. They have an impressive menu of programs, including movies, that I can watch anytime I wish. There are many I haven't seen - as well as a few that I actually want to see - for free! They have several titles that are available the same day the movies are released on DVD at the video stores for a fee equivalent to the rental fees. The charge is just tacked onto the cable bill and eliminates the trips to the video store.

Against my better judgement, I decided to pay to see Michael Clayton. I thought day-time TV sucked! I should have known I wouldn't like this movie because of - George Clooney! This man CANNOT act! I'm sorry ladies, I know most of you like his handsome looks, but looks do not an actor make! I clicked it off after about fifteen minutes into the film. I've yet to see a movie featuring him that was even just okay - and that includes those "Ocean" rip-offs.

Gone Baby, Gone, directed by Ben Afleck,and starring his brother Casey and Morgan Freeman, was a GOOD movie. I recommend this film-noir feature. This one was worth the money I paid.

Tonight I will purchase another film, The Bourne Ultimatum. I have seen and enjoyed the previous two chapters of this trilogy. I am looking forward to seeing this one.

I have also partaken of several of the "free" movies from the "On Demand" menu. Stealth starring Jamie Foxx is a sci-fi actioner about a top-secret jet plane with artificial intelligence that goes out of control. Good special-effects. Underdog is a cute live adaptation of the cartoon series. Blade Runner/ Final Cut is a re-release of one of the best sci-fi films of all time, with extended scenes and added special effects. A great movie has been made even greater.

I also watched some free 'older' films that were well-worth seeing again. These included: Dr. Strangelove, The Sting, Short Circuit, Rainman, The Big Chill (love the sound track), and The Rocketeer among others. If you've never seen Being There you should. Peter Sellers is marvelous as Chauncey the Gardener who ends up making national policies for the White House staff.

I hope I didn't bore you with my "exciting" TV viewing as of late, but my life has been excruciatingly active over the past nineteen days and I had to share it. Well, goodnight. I'm off to settle in my recliner for a private screening of The Bourne Ultimatum.

(While on the subject of day-time TV, check out a list sampling some of the stupid answers given by contestants on the game show The Family Feud HERE.)

No.1274

A Picture Lasts Longer

William F. Buckley, Jr., 1925-2008


Say It Ain't So, Charlie Brown!


Father Knows Best!


Guess Who's Coming To Dinner?


ACME Politics As Usual For Wiley Clinton


If The Times Says So...

No.1273

Revenge of the Writers Guild

(Health Update: Let me thank everyone who has expressed concern and given me well wishes over the past three weeks. The cellulitis is clearing up, but it has been a slow healing process. It is looking favorably that I will be returning to work next week, but that decision is in the doctors' hands. I have been obeying the doctors' orders and am keeping my leg elevated as much as possible. The rest, the hot compresses and the seemingly endless ingestion of antibiotics are working their magic.)
(the Bewitched Bionic Woman)
In light of the recently resolved writers strike, the networks have found themselves running around like the proverbial headless chicken in attempt to salvage the seasons of their many programs. It seems, however, that there was slight problem.

Somehow, all of the previous scripts, lists of cast members and plot lines, etc., were left on the producers' desks. To make matters worse, some files of programs no longer being aired were also stacked on the desks. As luck would have it some clumsy office cleaner knocked those files onto the floor, scattering the paperwork all over the floor. With no time to properly sort the files, the writers were given equal handfuls and sent on their way to do their thing.

Oh my, it sure looks likes that the story lines and cast members were slightly mixed up. If you are confused as what to watch to catch up on your favorite programs, perhaps the following will help.

1. Desperate Housewives: Friday Night Lights - The girls get so desperate that they seduce the players of both teams during half-time in the middle of a football stadium. Will either team will be able to get up for the second half?

2. Biography: Nip/Tuck - The Joan Rivers Story - Synopsis: self explanatory

3. Lost at Meerkat Manor - The stranded group find themselves caught in the middle of a vicious battle between two clans of meerkats.

4. Scrubs Survivor - The Survivor hopefuls face their toughest challenge yet when they must undergo surgery from interns without malpractice insurance.

5. Gilmore Girls Gone Wild - The girls let more than their hair down while on vacation.

6. Dr. Phil - You're Fired! - Finally exposed as a phony psychologist created by the delusional Oprah, Donald Trump has his say.

7. Prison Break/Boston Legal - The prisoners succeed this time by opening up a law practice.

8. The Bewitched Bionic Woman - Jamie learns that in addition to her bionic enhancements, she do magical things by twitching her bionic lips.

9. The All-New Simpsons - The original cartoon characters are replaced by Jessica, Ashlee and O.J. and the audience never notices.

FILE THIS UNDER: HUH?
The Cott Beverage Company has announced a new line of flavored bottled waters. In and of itself, that announcement isn't extraordinary. This line of waters, however, isn't exactly ordinary.

Cott will soon be distributing bottled waters for pooches. FortiFido is designed for the discriminating pallates of our canine friends. While the water is safe for human consumption, it is designed specifically for dogs.

The line of waters will be available in four flavors:

(1) -The Peanut Butter flavor will contain calcium to promote the growth Fido's healthy bones.
(2) -Parsley will contain zinc for healthy skin.
(3) -Spearmint is designed to eliminate bad doggy breath.
(4) -Lemongrass promises to help your dog maintain healthy joints.

I can only guess it will be just a matter of time before someone comes out with Cat Water, Pot-Bellied Pig Water, Ferret Water, etc.

Why am I thirsty all of a sudden?

No.1272

Echoes of Eddie -9

Can a dead man reach out from the grave to exact revenge against those responsible for his death? Welcome to the ninth installment of a story that explores that possibility. If you've not done so, read the story from the beginning HERE.

"As you can see, Hunter is still an asshole," said the young waitress as she sat down opposite him in the booth. "Are you okay, Steven?" she asked with concern as she reached to him with a napkin and placed it against a small cut on his chin.

He nodded and took the napkin from her. "Do I know you?"

She lowered her head as if hide the fact she was nervous, "Yes, you know me." She looked into his eyes and continued, "I've changed. I don't look the same - nothing like I did ten years ago."

There was something about her mannerisms, the way she tilted her head to one side and the twitch of her lower lip, that produced a glimmer of recognition. He sat up straight and uttered, "Marjorie?"

He stared in stunned silence as she bit her lip and looked away from him. Could it really be her he thought? Gone were the pink-framed coke-bottle eye glasses and the prominent corrective braces. Gone too was the chronic acne that had marred her young face. She had been transformed over the years into an attractive young woman. He could hardly believe that sitting there in front of him was Eddie's kid sister.

The pair spent about twenty minutes exchanging brief histories of their lives over the past decade. Like Steve, she too had left Soddy-Daisy shortly after her brother's death, and like Steve she had only recently returned due to the illness of her mother.

"It was like everything ... the people ... the whole town ... just changed overnight," she said looking into his eyes. "I can't explain it, Steve. It was as if a dark shadow had been cast over the whole area."

He nodded, "Strange. I felt the same thing. I just knew I had to get away from here. It was if I didn't belong here anymore. I couldn't even bring myself to go to the funeral." Tears were starting to form in his eyes as a wave of guilt swept over him. He turned away, not wanting her to see his face.

"We knew, Steve. Mother and I knew why you weren't there. He was you're best friend. It must been very hard for you..."

"I guess. But still, I should have at least visited you and your mother before I ... ran away."

She placed her hand on his and whispered, "Steve, you don't suppose that ... Eddie ... that he never really left?"

Steve shivered suddenly and pulled his hand away. "What are you saying, Marjorie?"

She jumped up from the booth and began to pace the tiled floor of the coffee shop. She stopped abruptly and stood before him, her arms folded across her chest. "Haven't you felt him, Steve? Ever since you arrived back in town ..."

Steve rose and faced her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and calmly spoke, "You too? You think I'm a ... what did Hunter call me? A pariah?"

She didn't answer but remained still. There was genuine fear etched on her face. The telephone on the counter next to the cash register began ringing breaking the awkward silence. He lowered his arms and allowed her to move past him to the phone.

He remained still as she picked up the handset. "Hello?"

Steve sensed something was wrong as several minutes passed and Marjorie hadn't spoken. He rushed to her side. She was just standing there, her mouth agape and her face pale white. She was holding the phone away from her face. He could hear a man's faint voice. "Hello? Hello? Marjorie?"

Although she was grasping the phone so hard that white was showing on her knuckles, Steve managed to pry it from her hand. "Hello, hello!" he spoke into it.

"Steve? Jack here. I thought you might still be there."

"Yeah, I'm here. What in the hell did you say to Marjorie? She looks like she's seen ... a ghost!"

There was a brief pause before Jack replied, "Do remember old man Jackson's Esso gas station? It's a Mobil now."

"Yeah. What about it?" He glanced at the stricken young girl. She has slumped against the wall. She was shaking and sobbing uncontrollably.

"There's been another accident over here." Steve froze upon hearing his brother's announcement. Jack must have been waiting for the words to sink in before continuing, "It's Freddy Tate. He was working on a car ... the jack must have slipped..."

( To be continued... Echoes of Eddie -10 )

No.1271

Basket Weaver's Hotline

MENTAL HOSPITAL PHONE MENU

Hello and thank you for calling The State Mental Hospital.

Please select from the following options menu:

If you are obsessive-compulsive, press 1 repeatedly.

If you are co-dependent, please ask someone to press 2 for you.

If you have multiple personalities, press 3, 4, 5 and 6.

If you are paranoid, we know who you are and what you want, stay on the
line so we can trace your call.

If you are delusional, press 7 and your call will be forwarded to the
Mother Ship.

Under no circumstances should you press the number 8. I SAID UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES ARE YOU TO PRESS THE NUMBER 8!
Since you cannot follow instructions our specially trained personnel are now on the way to your house with a pretty little jacket for you to wear.

If you are schizophrenic, listen carefully and a little voice will tell
you which number to press.

If you are manic-depressive, it doesn't matter which number you press,
nothing will make you happy anyway.

If you are dyslexic, press 9696969696969696. If you are bipolar, please leave a message after the beep or before the beep or after the beep. Please wait for the beep.

If you have short-term memory loss, press 9. If you have short-term memory loss, press 9. If you have short-term memory loss, press 9.

If you have low self-esteem, please hang up our operators are too busy to talk with you.

If you are menopausal, put the gun down, hang up, turn on the fan, lie down and cry. You won't be crazy forever.

If you are blonde, don't press any buttons, you'll just mess it up.

This coming week is National Mental Health Care week.
You can do your part by remembering to contact at least one unstable person to show you care.

Well, my job is done .....Your turn

(Thanks, Earl. I hope you weren't trying to tell me something.)

No.1270

Milquetoast and Marmalade For Tea

DIRTY TALK
There was a romantic full harvest moon rising on the eastern horizon. Ma and Pa, both in their seventies, were enjoying the beautiful autumn evening together, sitting on their front porch swing, rocking gently.
....Suddenly, Pa turned his head and said to Ma, "Screw you, Ma!"
A minute or two went by. Then Ma turned her head toward Pa and calmly replied, "Screw you, Pa."
....Again, another minute passed, and Pa said to Ma, "Screw you, Ma."
Another minute went by, and Ma said to Pa, "Screw you, Pa."
....Yet another minute elapsed, and Pa responded to Ma, "Screw you, Ma."
A minute later, Ma said to Pa, "Screw you, Pa."
....There was no reply - just complete silence for several minutes.
Then, Pa turned to Ma and said, "I don't know about you Ma, but I really don't get too much out of this oral sex!"

S & M
Cindy and Sally meet at their 30th class reunion, and they hadn't seen each other since graduation. They begin to talk and bring each other up to date. The conversation covers their husbands, their children, homes, etc. and finally gets around to their sex lives.
Cindy said, "It's okay. We get it on every week or so but it's no big adventure. How's yours?"
Sally replied, "It's just great, ever since we got into S & M."
Cindy is aghast. "Really Sally! I never would have guessed that you would go for that sort of thing."
"Oh, sure," says Sally. "He snores while I masturbate."

STILL HOT!
There was this couple who had been married for fifty years. They were sitting at the breakfast table one morning, when the old gentleman said to his wife, "Just think honey, we've been married for fifty years."
...."Yeah," she replied. "Just think, fifty years ago we were sitting here at this breakfast table together."
...."I know," the old man said. "We were probably sitting here as naked as jaybirds fifty years ago."
...."Well," Granny snickered, "what do you say - should we?"
Whereupon the two stripped to the buff and sat down at the table. "You know, honey," the little old lady breathlessly replied, "my nipples are as hot for you as they were fifty years ago."
...."I wouldn't be surprised," replied Gramps. "One's in your coffee and the other one's in your oatmeal."

DYING WISHES
A man went to the doctor, and the doctor told him he had only 24 hours to live. He goes home to tell his wife and after they both had a long cry over it, he asked her if she would have sex with him because he only had 24 hours to live.
.... "Of course Darling." she replied. And so they have sex.
Four hours later they are lying in bed and he turns to her again, and says, "You know, I only have 20 hours to live, do you think we could do it again?" Again she responds very sympathetically and agrees to have sex.
....Another eight hours pass, and she had fallen asleep from exhaustion. The man taps her on the shoulder, and asks her again, "You know dear, I only have 12 more hours left, how about again for old times sake?" By this time she is getting a little annoyed, but reluctantly agrees.
....After they finish, she goes back to sleep and four hours later, he taps her on the shoulder again and says, "Dear, I hate to keep bothering you but you know. I only have eight hours left before I die, can we do it one more time?"
....Well, she turns to him with a grimaced look on her face and says, "You know, you don't have to get up in the morning. I do!"

SERVICES RENDERED
An old gentleman in a nursing home placed a sigh on his door that announced "STUD SERVICE." Within a few minutes, and old lady seeing the sign went into his room and asked, "How much do you charge?"

To which he replied, "$5.00 on the floor, $10.00 on the couch, $20.00 on the bed." The lady gave him a $20.00 bill.

He asked, "One on the bed?"

No, replied the lady, "Four on the floor."

DOWN FOR THE COUNT
After a few years of married life, this guy finds that he is unable to perform anymore. He goes to his doctor, and his doctor tries a few things, but nothing works. Finally the doctor says to him, "This is all in your mind," and refers him to a psychiatrist.

After a few visits to the shrink, the shrink confesses, "I am at a loss as to how you could possible be cured."

Finally, the psychiatrist refers him to a witch doctor. The witch doctor tells him, "Sure, I can cure this," and throws some powder on a flame. There is a flash with billowing blue smoke.

The witch doctor says, "This is powerful healing, but you can only use it once a year! All you have to do is say '1-2-3' and it shall rise for as long as you wish!"

The guy then asks the witch doctor, "What happens when it's over?" The witch doctor says, "All you have to do is say, '1-2-3-4' and it will go down. But, be warned - It will not work again for another year."

The guy goes home, and that night he is ready to surprise his wife with the good news. So, he is lying in bed with her and says, "1-2-3," and suddenly he gets an erection. His wife turns over and says, "What did you say '1-2-3' for?"

No.1269

Profiles in Discourage

It's the best of times. It's the worst of times..
It's my most favorite of times. It's my least favorite of times.
The times to which I refer of course, are those times that find the American people trying to elect either the best of or the worst of candidates! There is no middle ground here, it'll be either the high ground or the low ground. Once that man (or woman) is sworn in as our next President, what you see now is NOT what you're going to get.

A Brief History Lesson

I don't know if anyone keeps such statistics, but it would be very interesting to know how many voters who voted for George W. Bush, now deny that they did. Ironically, if the votes of those same people were cast the other way in the 2000 election, the results would have probably been unaffected. As it was, Al Gore won the popular vote by nearly 540,000 votes, but Bush was elected President by virtue of only five (5) more electoral college votes.

Al Gore was not the only Presidential candidate to win the popular vote but lose the election to the electoral college. As recently as 1960, Richard M. Nixon lost the Presidency to John F. Kennedy, despite having garnered an 18,574 advantage of the popular vote. In the elections of 1888, Grover Cleveland won the popular vote but fell to Benjamin Harrison when the electoral votes were counted. Although Rutherford B. Hayes won the 1876 Presidential bid by a single electoral vote, Samuel J. Tilden captured the popular vote. (It should be noted that electoral votes of four states were in dispute, and as such Congress gave the office to Hayes.)

I found it interesting to learn that in 1824, John Q. Adams is the only President to have lost both the popular and electoral votes and yet still became President. He was installed by the House of Representatives with a vote of 13 - 7. Although it has been accomplished many times since, in 1828, Andrew Jackson became the first to win both the popular and electoral votes. Perhaps most interesting of all the Presidential election facts I was able to dig up, was that in 1872, Ulysses S. Grant became the first, and to date, the only President to have ever won every single electoral vote.

Least Favorite Time

It's the long drawn out process, especially with the earlier than usual start this time around, that helps make it my least favorite time. I get bored with all the rhetoric. I am sickened by the campaign promises the candidates cannot possibly keep, never mind the ones they have no intention of keeping.

My grandfather once said something to me that I've never forgotten: "The man who would make the best President, cannot afford to run for the office." When I became old enough to know just what he meant, I realized how true his words were. We aren't electing men who necessarily want to make our nation better, we have been electing those who have bought themselves the publicity to get into position for one of the most powerful positions in the world.

Since it was doubled in 1999 to the current salary of $400,000 per year (and $50,000 in non-taxable expenses) none of our Presidents actually needed the money. I suppose the pension of $171,900 plus unspecified expenses and services doesn't hurt though.

Why don't we level the playing field? Suppose that in order to be elected President of the United States, the salary of the position would have to be a salary hike for every candidate. If they make $400,000 or more, then they do not qualify as a Presidential candidate and as such cannot run. Do you think then we just might actually have some candidates who'd make good Presidents?

Most Favorite Time
Thanks to the Editorial Cartoonists and joke writers, the elections can also be my most favorite of times. Not since the Presidency of Richard Nixon can I remember the editorial cartoonists having such a rich supply of fodder. The remaining Big Three (four if you include Huckabee) inspite of themselves are already filling editorial archives across the country.

I hate to spoil your dinners, but think about this; one of these individuals is going to be the next President of the United States! Never have so many had so little to offer.

"The founders of Ben & Jerry's ice cream are endorsing Barack Obama instead of Hillary Clinton, which makes sense, because Baracky Road is a catchier name for an ice cream than Pantsuits and Cream." - Conan O'Brien

I wonder, where did McCain get that automated mannequin that was standing on stage next to him? I suspect that Hollywood is ready to cash in if McCain is elected by re-leasing in a special DVD set, "The Stepford Wives." How long will it be before Cindy's former drug habit becomes a point of contention. (After all, she stole drugs from the World Health Organization to support her habit.)

Michelle Obama is quickly making her husband realize he'd better start carrying rolls of duct tape with him while he's on the campaign trail.

"For the first time in my adult life, I'm proud of my country, because it feels like hope is making a comeback." - Michelle Obama

I'll let her take her foot out her mouth and maybe she can answer these questions? How old are you, 40-something? ...And you never had a reason (until your husband ran for President) to be proud of American? Just who were you rooting for on 9/11?

It must be awfully traumatic to be Mr. and Mrs. Obama - two struggling Ivy League graduates making a combined salary of nearly seven figures in this God-for-saken country that squashes dreams and leaves its citizens without hope and pride. (And I thought I had it tough - broken soul and all!)

Let us not forget Hillary! She already has more editorial cartoons drawn about her than the combined horsepower of NASCAR engines currently on the circuit.

Yes, throw in their husbands and it promises to be a very good time for me. I can hardly wait for the cartoonists to kick themselves into high gear. I love this time because I can bash the candidates at will - even the ones I like!

No.1268

Blonde Is As Blonde Does

I'm going to throw up something out the vault for today. I'm not not feeling very chipper. I seem to have the chills one moment and my forehead feels on fire the next. My leg is still sore although the swelling has gone down considerably and most of the redness is gone. I sure hope I'm not coming down with something else....

Excerpts From the Diary of a Blonde

Dear Diary,

It's fun to cook for Tom. Today I made angel food cake. The recipe said beat 12 eggs separately.The neighbours were nice enough to loan me some extra bowls.

Tom wanted fruit salad for supper. The recipe said serve without dressing. So I didn't dress.What a surprise when Tom brought a friend home for supper

A good day for rice.The recipe said wash thoroughly before steaming the rice. It seemed kind of silly but I took a bath anyway. I can't say it improved the rice any.

Today Tom asked for salad again. I tried a new recipe.It said prepare ingredients; lay on a bed of lettuce one hour before serving. Tom asked me why I was rolling around in the garden.

I found an easy recipe for cookies. It said put the ingredients in a bowl and beat it.There must have been something wrong with this recipe.When I got back, everything was the same as when I left.

Tom did the shopping today and brought home a chicken.He asked me to dress it for Sunday. I don't have any clothes that fit it,and for some reason Tom keeps counting to ten.

Tom's folks came to dinner. I wanted to serve roast but all I had was hamburger. Suddenly I had a flash of genius. I put the hamburger in the oven and set the controls for roast.It still came out hamburger, much to my disappointment.

Good Night.


Dear Diary,

This has been a very exciting week! I am eager for tomorrow to come so I can try out a new recipe on Tom. If I can talk Tom into buying a bigger oven, I would like to surprise him with a chocolate moose.


I have to go the store to buy some deodorant.

The blonde walks into a pharmacy and asks the assistant for some bottom deodorant. The pharmacist, a little bemused, explains to the woman that they don't sell bottom deodorant, and never have.

Unfazed, the blonde assures the pharmacist that she has been buying thestuff from this store on a regular basis, and would like some more.

"I'm sorry," says the pharmacist, "we don't have any."

"But I always get it here," says the blonde.

"Do you have the container it comes in?"

"Yes!" said the blonde, "I will go and get it."

She returns with the container and hands it to the pharmacistwho looks at it and says to her, "This is just a normal stick of underarm deodorant."

The annoyed blonde snatches the container back and reads out loud from the container, "To apply, push up bottom."

Dear Diary,

That sure is a stupid man working at the drug store.

(If you are tired of the standard astrological readings you find on your daily horoscopes, why not check out your Appalachological Signs for a more accurate reading.)

No.1267

The Spy is Falling

( C )ROCKET SCIENTISTS

I'm by no means a Rocket Scientist, but it occurred to me that these so-called great minds have missed a golden oppurtunity. Surely, I'm not the only one to have seen the obvious solution.

The news coverage has been keeping us well informed about another hunk of space junk about to go kerplunk! The media has been ever-diligent in spreading fear throughout the world. The Spy is Falling! The Spy is Falling!

I'm not down-playing the threat to innocent people down here on earth, because there certainly is a risk factor involved. I ask you, just how many of you have home owners insurance policies protecting you against falling spy satellites. I don't remember that little talking lizard in his commercials saying that your automobile is covered against space debris. I won't bother worrying you about your health and life insurance policies.

The current plan is to blow the thing up with a ship-launched missile before it enters the atmosphere. As I see it, any big thing blown up with a smaller thing will create a whole bunch of littler things. Thus, the more things falling down to earth, they will be spread over a larger area and as such will create the potential for a greater number of insurance claims.

It's a moot point now. The Navy announced that they lauched their missile and succcessfully hit their target, the satellite. It is not known if they destroyed the fuel tanks containing 10,000 pounds of deadly hydrazine. It also unknown how much debris entering the atmosphere will make it to the surface.

Also in the news, the Space Shuttle Atlantis landed safely in Florida today. WHAT? There was a shuttle already up there in orbit. That's in orbit - as in outer space! That's outer space - as in the same outer space that contains a spy satellite that was free-falling to earth!

This non-rocket scientist cannot help but ask the burning question, why didn't they use the space shuttle? I'm sure some honest-to-goodness "Real McCoy" rocket scientist can pull a slide rule or a scientific calculator out of his pocket protector and give several legitimate reasons that I wouldn't understand anyway as why the space shuttle couldn't be used.

It seems to me it would have been possible for the shuttle to retrieve the spy satellite in orbit. It has grabbed the Hubble Telescope before, and this thing was much smaller and in this case less delicate given its state of inoperability. Then with a gentle nudge, the shuttle could have sent it deeper into space or into a higher orbit. Yes, they would have had to deal with it again some time in the future, but at least it would have bought some time and lessened the urgency.

Mr. Rocket Scientist will probably bring notice to a certain matter of fuel. It seems that after launch and once in orbit the space shuttle only maintains enough fuel for its orbital thrusters. He'll then pat himself on the chest and remind me that the shuttles do not risk re-entry carrying fuel.

Well, duh! They just came from a space station - the International Space Station! You mean to tell me you can't store a few five-gallon tanks of gas in a space station? ( I keep a couple in storage in my garage for the snow blower and lawn mower.) Okay! They've already lost a couple of space shuttles and their crews, and wouldn't want another tragedy, I can understand that.

In the end they hit the spy satellite with a missile. Whether or not they totally destroyed it or simply reduced it to thousands of pieces, the world be holding its collective breath for the next several days (weeks?) wondering how much of it will not burn up in the atmosphere.

There are probably some all-nighters already being planned by the executives at Geico, Mutual of Omaha, E-Surance, etc., looking for any loop-holes to deprive claimants.
MY SOLUTION

Now I offer to you my solution that could have been used to avert the emergency. This would have been cost effective and would have saved the world and the insurance companies a lot of grief in the future.

I would have launched a special missile carrying a lot of hot air. The missile would have utilized as extraordinarily large bay doors, the mouth of Hillary Clinton. Upon approach to the crippled spy satellite, the bay doors would have been carefully aligned to open and engulf the craft. A dividend of this maneuver would have been realized immmediately because sound doesn't carry in space. As such, there would been not a single word as the mouth opened and took in the satellite.

Next, thrusters would have been fired to carry the satellite-bearing craft a safe distance away from the earth. I would have saved a lot of money by not loading the missile with heavy and expensive fuel.

Once the thrusters would have run out of fuel, the second stage of the missile would have come to life as the ears of Barack Obama would have then been deployed as giant solar collectors.

It would have taken less than an hour for the solar cells to have been fully charged. As programmed, the missile would have then been sent onto a week-long trajectory directly into the sun.

Yes, my plan would have not only spared the world from the dangers of a falling spy satellite, but it would have also spared the entire world a whole heap of grief in the years to come.

If I don't say so myself, it is commendable that I was able to come up with this solution all by myself. I did it without a slide rule or scientific calculator, and I did it without benefit of a pocket protector!

No.1266

Echoes of Eddie -8

Can a dead man reach out from the grave to exact revenge against those responsible for his death? Welcome to the eighth installment of a story that explores that possibility. If you've not done so, read the story from the beginning HERE.

During the short ride into town they didn't say a word to each other. Himself lost in clouded thoughts of both the present and the past, Steve couldn't help but feel that he was on a deadly crash course with the future. His brother however, appeared outwardly stoic staring straight ahead as they sped through the winding turns of the narrow road.

A crowd had gathered across the street from the old City Hall building mindful of the police barricade that had closed the street off to all traffic. Perched in a cherry-picker a utility worker was occupied with a transformer junction above a small gray compact sedan. Lying across the crumpled hood of the car was an obviously live wire. The smell of ozone permeated the area as sparks of electricity danced about and arced across the ill-fated vehicle.

As he and Jack began to weave their way through the milling crowd, they could see the lifeless figure slumped over the steering wheel. Steve became aware that the people seemed to be giving them a wide berth, moving aside as they passed. He could hear a buzz of whispers and noticed several of the men and women pointing in their direction. He began to realize that he and not his brother was the center of their attention.

The utility worker shouted down to the fire chief who had been standing nearby that the power was secure. A group of firemen and EMTs then converged on the vehicle. Steve watched in grim silence as the young man's body was placed onto a stretcher and completely covered with a sheet before being wheeled to a waiting ambulance.

The crowd was beginning to disperse as a flat-bed tow truck aligned itself at the rear bumper of the car. Steve looked about as the crowd thinned, many of them taking circuitous routes seemingly to avoid him. He recognized many of the townfolk in the crowd but to a person they avoided eye contact and did not acknowledge him. Even his brother Jack no longer stood close to him.

He glanced down at his clothing and realized to his dismay that he still had on the soiled shirt and pants he had been wearing during his brush with death up at the quarry. Though self-conscious of his appearance, he knew that the nervous looks from the people had nothing to do with his hygene.

He could see Jack standing with a small group to his left. Although his brother's back was to him, there were furtive glances from those gathered about him. The faces were familiar despite the decade that had passed since he had been back in town. There to Jack's right stood Hunter Jameson. On either side of him were Freddy Tate and Jennifer Pope. Although his face was hidden, there was no mistaking the curly red hair of Brad Sampson.

The cacophany of the fire engine's back-up bell brought his attention to movement just to the right of where he stood. A careless young woman wearing headphones had just stepped into the path of the engine. Steve lunged out and grabbing the strap of her pocketbook pulled her roughly back onto the sidewalk.

"What are doing?" she cried out as they tumbled as one onto the cement. Even as he tried to help her to feet she struggled against her perceived assailant. Several well placed swings of her fist struck his face.

She suddenly relaxed as their eyes met. He too was able to let down his guard. "You almost walked into the fire truck," he managed to say.

She accepted his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. "Steven? Steven Cooper? Is it really you?"

He flashed an uncertain smile, "Hello, Tiffany. Long time no see."

He felt a little nervous. Tiffany Blake had been the most popular girl in school - Valedictorian, cheerleader, Prom Queen. She was by far the most beautiful girl he had ever known. Tiffany Blake under normal circumstances would have never given him the time of day ten years ago. Yet, they had shared a common bond - one Edward Nolan, and both of them had been present the night he had died.

At her insistence they entered a nearby coffee shop and sat down in a booth away from the window. They sat in silence until the waitress placed two cups of hot coffee before them.

It was Tiffany who spoke first, "I don't want to seem ungrateful, but thanks for saving me out there." She jiggled her spoon nervously against the rim of the cup before setting it down.

He studied her carefully, noting that she had changed so little in ten years. She was still beautiful. He blushed as he realized she was staring at him. Did she ever suspect that he'd been hopelessly in love with her so long ago? What would she think now if she sensed he still felt that way?

There was a sudden shadow of a figure looming over them. "What in the hell is going on here?" The menacing man who stood there was none other than Hunter Jameson. "What are doing with my wife, you nerd bastard?"

Tiffany tried to speak but the angry man grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to her feet from the booth. Steve tried to stand in protest, "Hunter, there's nothing ..." His words were silenced as the man's fist grazed his chin causing him to fall back into the booth.

Stunned, Steve could only listen as the man roared, "This is all your fault! None of this would be happening if you'd only stayed away! Why did you come back anyway, you god damned ... pariah!"

(To be continued.... Echoes of Eddie- 9)

No.1265

Sarcasm Takes Center Stage

SARCASM -(Sar-chasm) - The gap between what you and everyone else thinks is funny.

Here is a smattering of some sarcasm in its usual guise as ... insults. Some are directed at women, some at men and some of a more general tone. You may find that you have some well-deserved targets of your own worthy of these verbal broadsides.

They've yet to make the man who can compete with a chocolate dildo.

My wife doesn't like guilt trips, she owns the travel agency.

I only fake it so he'll buy me stuff.

I still miss my "EX" but my aim is improving.

Choose your words carefully. Anything you say may be thrown back in your face with vicious sarcasm.

No man has ever been shot while doing the dishes.

My wife keeps saying I never listen to her ... or something like that.

I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, I was aiming for your balls.

If size doesn't matter, why aren't there four-inch dildos?

It's not premarital sex if you're not planning on getting married.

His wild oats have turned into shredded wheat.

Where have you been all my life and why didn't you stay there?

Why do I have to get married? I didn't do anything wrong.

A man is incomplete until he gets married. Then he is finished.

I've never expected anything from you and you've always come through for me.

Wipe your mouth, there's still a tiny bit of bullshit around your lips.

You look like a Greek God - that big mother with one eye!

I see you're playing stupid again. It looks like you're winning!

Cancel my subscription. I don't need your issues.

I'd tell you to go screw yourself, but from what I've heard you wouldn't be very good at it.

Those who say it cannot be done, shouldn't be interrupting us doing it.

Thanks for telling me to get a life! Want me to grab one for you while I'm at it?

Why don't you slip into something nice ... like unconsciousness.

If I gave a shit, you'd be the first person I'd give it to.

You have no idea how much planning and effort goes into my casual disinterest of your opinions.

If you are part of the solution, I'll stick to the problem.

Keep America beautiful. Lock yourself in a closet.

I'd like to see things your way, but is it possible for two heads to fit up your ass at the same time?

Take a few of these gems if you'd like and share them with, but don't limit them to, your friends, families and enemies.

No.1264

Open Any Window

OPEN ANY WINDOW

Open any window, and what do you see?
Open your eyes and heart and let it in,
A brand new world just for you and me;
Forget the past and let a new day begin.

Open the door and what is it you find?
Breathe in deep the essence found there;
And venture to other places in your mind,
Each of your steps can take you anywhere.

Follow the road and where is it you'll go?
You've been there before you might learn.
Your heart leads the way,you must follow
'Til it finally stops you and makes you turn

To look back upon the door you left ajar.
Why does it beckon you, what is so wrong?
The journey was short but it took you afar
To that once place you are safe and belong.

See the open window, and what do you see?
Someone else opening memories from a shelf,
Wondering what could have been and will be.
Open any window and you'll see yourself.

-Mike Ashley


I've waxed a little poetic here today. I'm not really sure what it means. I think it has something to with our mortality? Maybe it has something to do accepting who we are and our lots in life?

This poem is actually a product of a few thoughts I had been jotting down in the margins of newspapers during the past week while I was waiting to be treated at the hospital. There was a line or two scribbled next to the crossword puzzles of four different papers. Before tossing the newspapers, I decided to copy them onto a pad of paper.

I had four verses of the above poem in front of me and it didn't feel finished. I gave it a try, even though I had no trace of a memory of what I may have been thinking when I composed them. I changed the order of the verses. None of them appear in the order in which they were originally composed.

I wrote the final verse today after about an hour of beating my skull trying to think what this thing was all about. You might to surprised to learn that the final verse that I wrote today actually became the first verse of the completed poem.

The image seemed to work nicely with the completed product.

Anyone specialize in analyzing poetry? Maybe somebody can tell me what it means?

No.1263

Getting Tired of Putting "Leg" in The Title

"I don't suppose that you'd mind this being your last visit to us?"

Did I detect sarcasm in the voice of this young scallawag of a doctor?

I'm sure that whatever education it took for him to become a doctor cost more than my Associates Degree in Business Management, but I think he'd be better off forgetting about moonlighting as a stand-up comedian.

"I think you'll be more comfortable remaining home for the next week or so and letting nature take over the treatments."

("Hell no, doc. I can think of nothing better to do than to hang aroung a hospital waiting room all day. I mean where else can I go to watch people suffering while I'm in pain myself?")

So it came to an end, my week of out-patient care. After sitting around for two hours, I spent a grand total of 5 minutes split between a nurse and the doctor.

Now I am truly on R & R. For at least a week, all I need do is to keep my leg elevated above my heart, take 3 anti-biotic pills a day, apply hot compresses periodically, and ... rest.

The leg is obviously better, otherwise the doctor would've either ordered more IV treatments or considered admitting me. There is still some swelling and redness and some pain, but even this untrained eye can see and feel the improvement.

Hopefully, this will be the last time I try to be so creative with the titles of my posts. In a nutshell, I was getting awfully tired of finding a way to put "LEG" in these titles.

No.1262

A Leg of a Sacrificial Lamb

(Shuffle-clop! Shuffle-clop!)

The eerie sound would resonate for a few moments and stop. Then there would be a cry of creaking boards in a darkened hallway. Finally, there was a low moan of a wounded creature.

To hear my wife's version of my ardous mid-morning treks from the bed to the bathroom, one would think she was spinning a haunting ghost story.

What a way to celebrate a birthday!

In a pleasant moment of sleep I dreamt of the beautiful girl popping out of a cake! Alas it was a nightmare!

My leg was still elevated when I awoke. It was still red with bacterial infection. Worse yet, it was still painful.

It was still my birthday! I hadn't turned backed the clock. I was sixty years old! I went to sleep fifty-nine. Funny, even though only a few hours had passed, that "Inter-spacial Date Line" had been crossed. There was no looking back.

Rather than be surrounded by family and friends sharing ice cream and cake, my birthday was going to an ignominious one. My days agenda was established by the preceding day and those before it. I would instead be surrounded by doctors, nurses and other patients. There would be no candles to extinguish; no sweets of which to partake.

Today went much smoother that the day before. The hospital personnel weren't nearly as harried. The in-coming emergency traffic was manageable. I arrived at 2 in the afternoon and was through triage by 2:15. I thought I had a chance of being out of there before 4 o'clock at the latest. Under the circumstances, I thought that would be a pretty good birthday gift.

Like I said, it was my birthday. I was finally released at 5:30! Today was supposed to be the fourth consectutive and final day of Intra-venous treatment. That may be so, but it is yet to be seen to be true.

The doctor determined that I had to come in at least one more day, tomorrow for precautionary observation. They may decide that I need another IV then! I have this fear that I could be admitted and have to spend the weekend there.

Tomorrow is another day. Happy Birthday to me?

No.1261

You Pulling My Leg?

Today was a rough one! As for my treatment, that went fine. My time with doctors and nurses while receiving the 3rd consecutive day of anti-biotics via IV took less than an hour.

It was the rest of the afternoon leading up to the treatment that was rough. I arrived at the hospital at 1:30 for a 2 pm scheduled IV treatment. I though maybe if I got there a little early maybe we could get started and finish all the sooner.

Ah, but the best laid plans of barefoot mice and men often takes them on a path littered with tacks and broken glass. (Pardon my retooling of the old adage.) Today, for some reason, the emergency room was besieged with a lot of very ill and seriously injured patients. As should be the case, serious cases requiring emergency surgery and attention take precedent over everything. I understand that the hospital at one point was turning away arriving ambulances forcing them to find other hospitals.

The emergency arrivals included and elderly man who had broken his shoulder, possibly more, from a fall off a ladder. According to his wife, he was attemting to change a burnt-out lightbulb on the porch of his sister. The sister, who was vacationing in Florida, wouldn't be returning home until the end of April. The man chose that day to tackle the job.

Another man had a collapsed lung from falling onto a rock buried in a snowbank. It seems his leashed dog got its chain wrapped around a shrub in the yard. He was simply trying to free the animal so it could come back in the house when he slipped on the icy snow.

I'm going out on a limb here to guess that the next fellow was probably a redneck. It seems this good old boy decided to dive from from a third-story back porch into a snowbank. Apparently the snowbank wasn't quite as deep as he thought it might be. It seems he forgot about the out-door barbeque buried in snow somewhere out there in his backyard. HE FOUND IT. I can also only imagine that just before his heroic leap, he yelled to his wife, "Hey honey, watch this!"

Finally at 4 o'clock I was called to triage. I was first in line for the treatment area they call Fas-Trax. It would be still another hour before I was called in for treatment. It seems even then there were no treatment rooms available. So I was parked in a wheel chair in the hallway. The nurse appologized for the delay the lack of available rooms. She said they could check out my leg and administer the IV right there. I said that at that point in time they could sent out to the parking lot. I just wanted to get treated and go home!

The IV itself took all of 10 minutes. Then the doctor took out a Sharpie pen and drew an outline on my leg indicating the present edges of the redness there. From the lines drawn by the doctors on the previous visits it was clear that the infection is slowly receding. There has been over an inch of recession in those three days.

This doctor, however decided that I would at least need still another return there for another IV treatment. Originally, today was to have been the final day of hospital care. I was in no position to protest, the leg is still quite red and painful over most of its surface. Then shen added some frightening words, that if it doesn't start to improve faster, they will have to consider admitting me to keep me under closer observation.

I've still got a ways to go before I am back on my feet.

As was the case yesterday, I don't have a lot of stamina and this post took a lot of effort. Still, I want to keep a journal of this trying period. Sleep is calling - screaming!

No.1260

L3GGO My L3G

It isn't very pretty to look at, but this will give you a fair idea of what my legs looks like now. The left leg (in the forefront) is relatively normal. The right leg is swollen and bright red. Even the ankles are swollen.

No, that is not a photo of my legs. I found this on the net while looking for an image that closely resembled my situation. This image does just that.

Today went a lot smoother than yesterday. I had to come in for just an IV dose of an anti-biotic. They decided to draw some more blood since I was there, to check on my potassium and white cell level. The potassium was back up thanks to the four pills they administered yesterday. Also, the while blood cell levels were on the rise.

The doctor said the infection was starting to withdraw, but it still take another two or three days before I noticed any appreciable difference in the levels of pain. I have to return tomorrow for at least one more IV treatment. He did give me a prescription of anti-biotics that will replace the intra-venous intrusions starting tomorrow.

I arrived there at 1:45 for a 2 o'clock appointment. I was home by 4 pm.

Even today, considerably shorter in duration than the day before, was very tiring. I slept from about 4:15 to 8:15. After getting some groceries into my system, I decided to record my day here on the blog.

As I'm sitting here typing, I am finding myself nodding. I guess the body wants some more rest. Who am I to deny it?

No.1259

A Leg To Stand On

Well today was my first actual (full) day of treatment for my recent bout of cellulitis.

Yesterday (Monday) was a total waste. After arriving at the clinic at 11:30, I had no way of knowing how wasted I would want to be. When I walked in I thought I must have turned the wrong way in the corridor. What I walked (ala Chester B. Goode) into looked a Hispanic block party. There wasn't a seat be had in the waiting room (which are appropriately named by the way) and no open wall space to lean against.

I don't know if it's true of all Hispanics, and I'm not out to denigrate the race as a whole, but it seems to me that a visit to the doctor for them is a major family event. I sure wouldn't want to be caught in the middle of their baptism or a first communion fetes! Let's see starting over there on the left, that must be the Grandmother sitting next to her daughter and her husband. The one to his right is probably Uncle Pedro. Okay, who's the sick one? The 3 or 4-year-old kid on the floor with a running nose shreading someone's newspaper?

I made my way over to the desk to sign in on the register, which would also give me some idea of how many patients might be ahead of me. You gotta be kidding! In bold face in three languages was the message: DUE TO THE LARGE NUMBER OF PATIENTS, NO ONE CAN SIGN IN UNTIL 3PM OR LATER.

I wondered what might happen if I yelled down the hallway in the direction of the treatment rooms, "I have insurance!" Would there be a plethora of doctors, interns, and nurses storming from the back, kicking and gouging each other to get to me?

I guess the Hippocratic Oath dictates nowadays that a running nose supercedes, or is more of an emergency than a bright red, badly swollen leg from the knee to the foot. What ever happened to the triage process?

It was afternoon by that time and I knew that directly across the street from the Mass General Satellite location there was a Burger King. I'm not terribly fond of Burger Thing, but it was the closet place I knew in the immediate area to get a bite to eat. Even though it was so close, it was too far to walk on my leg using a cane and trying to cross a very busy street.

As I was waiting for an opening in the steady line of traffic I could see that the burger joint was very busy. Through the large windows I could see that the patrons at the tables and the kids in the playroom must have been the rest of the family reunion back in the waiting room. I mentally tossed a coin in my head - it didn't matter what that coin landed on - it was the winner. I flipped my directionals to the right instead. I went home!

Call me a quitter! Call me an idiot for foregoing necessary medical treatment, but I wasn't up to it. I decided to suffer another day, there's always tomorrow.

(Insert here duplicate of opening sentence.)

The MGH clinic I visited yesterday and few times in the past is not a bad treatment center - once you get in to see a doctor! Today I went instead to the Melrose-Wakefield Hospital ER. The co-pay at the MGH is $25, reasonable. The Melrose ER charges a $100 co-pay!

The higher-priced fee also comes with a much better atmosphere, and I'm sorry, but a better class of fellow patients.

After the initial examinations I was mentally prepared by one doctor that I may have to spend the night. That was not something I wanted to hear, but would have to accept if they deemed it necessary. After the technician scanned my leg from my groin to my ankle I was wheeled back to the treatment room. The doctor said he had good news, there were no blocked or clogged arteries in my leg and that I would not be spending the night. Next they drew five vials of blood and then hooked me up to an IV of antibiotics.

After the IV I was free to get get dressed and go home. However, I am return there for the next three consecutive days for more IVs. After those three days he would prescribe antibiotics in pill form. So far from the blood samples they have determined that white cell count was down and that my levels of potassium were low. I was given two potassium pills to take before I left and two to take tomorrow morning. They are just about the biggest pills I've ever seen for a human.

My only instructions for home was to stay off my feet as much as possible, to keep my foot elevated higher than my head and to apply period hot compresses. (I didn't tell the doctor that I maintain a daily blog. After all how could I possibly post with my feet higher than my head?)

To all my well-wishers, the last time I was back on my feet within a week with just one IV. I know this time, the cellulitis is worse and is infecting more of my leg than before, but surely four IVs will prove effective.

Sign me, Chester B. Goode )"Mr. Dillon. Mr. Dillon!)

No.1258

Echoes of Eddie -7

Can a dead man reach out from the grave to exact revenge against those responsible for his death? Welcome to the seventh installment of a story that explores that possibility. If you've not done so, read the story from the beginning HERE.

Steve was having trouble breathing. He felt as if he was hyperventilating. Jack and Catherine sat quietly by until he composed himself.

"Impossible! You must have misunderstood her, she must have said something else."

"No, Steven. She said it clear as a bell. We thought she was just rambling," Jack said.

"Then when you mentioned the accident..." Catherine's eyes were becoming teary again.

"Look, we all know Eddie died ten years ago. Mama knows it too. I don't know about you two, but I for one, do not believe in ghosts."

"Catherine," they all looked up as their mother's voice echoed from the sparse room in which she was sitting. " Jack, Steve, you two had better come too." With Catherine in the lead, Steve and Jack followed her to the back of the house. Looking more frail than before, the old lady craned her neck to look up at them. "I'm afraid there's going to be another tragedy, kids. Jeffery this time!"

"Now what makes you think that, mama?" Jack asked.

A peaceful smile seemed to come to her as she slowly begun to succumb to sleep again. Steve knelt before her, "Mama did Eddie tell you this?"

Jack grabbed Steve by the collar and pulled him away. "What's the matter with you? That's a hell of thing to ask her."

Their mother opened her eyes and said, "Yes. What a nice boy he is." Her eyes rolled and she fell asleep.

Once they had returned to the kitchen, Jack confronted his brother. "What was that all about? Don't tell me you're starting to buy into this ghost thing - the ghost of Eddie Nolan?"

"Of course not, Jack!" He was trying to choose his words carefully. Could their mother, so close to death herself, be somehow linked to some kind of psychic vibes? Was she somehow a portal between the living and the dead? His thoughts were interrupted and he turned to Catherine.

Catherine's cell phone began chirping. "Hello? What? Jennifer, slow down. Who? Where?" She removed the phone from her ear and stared blankly at the device in her hand. She was visibly shaken.

"That didn't sound good," said Jack.

"There's been another accident. Jeffery Weeks is dead."

Steve grew tense, anxiety grabbing at his stomach. Jeffery too had been there that night at the quarry when Eddie died. In a little over an hour, three people had died and all of them had been connected to that night. He saw that Both Catherine and Jack were visibly shaken themselves, immersed in their own private thoughts.

He fished his car keys out his pocket and looked up his two siblings. "Catherine, where was the accident? I'm going down there. Either of you want to tag along?"

"In front of City Hall. I'm staying here, I can't leave mama alone," Catherine said shaking her head. "I don't think I want to see it anyway."

"Jack?" He called over his shoulder as he headed out the front door.

"Cath, while we're gone give everyone a call, everyone who's still with us. Fill them in on everything and I mean everything! We need to get together..." he nodded toward the idling car in the driveway, "All of us...including Steven."

"Do think that's wise, Jack?"

"Just do it, Sis." He stepped through he screendoor onto the porch. She watched in silence as her two brothers drove off toward downtown Soddy-Daisy.

To be continued.... Echoes of Eddie -8

No.1257

A Laugh For What Ails You

Seeing as I will be spending much of Monday at the doctors, most of which will probably be in the waiting room, here's a handful of doctor-patients jokes.


Checkup

This 65 year old woman is naked, jumping up and down on her bed laughing and singing. Her husband walks into the bedroom and sees her.
He watches her a while then says, "You look ridiculous, what on earth are you doing?"

She says, "I just got my check-up and my doctor says I have the breasts of an eighteen-year-old." She starts laughing and jumping again.

He says, Yeah, right. And what did he say about your 65 year-old ass?"

She says, "Well, your name never came up."


Tennis Elbow

A man complained to his friend "My elbow hurts I better go to the doctor."

"Don't do that," volunteered his friend "there's a new computer at the drug store that can diagnose any problem quicker and cheaper than a doctor. All you have to do is put in a urine sample, deposit $10, then the computer will give you your diagnosis and plan of treatment."

The man figured he had nothing to lose so he took a sample of urine down to the drug store. Finding the machine, he poured in the urine and deposited the $10. The machine began to buzz and various lights flashed on and off. After a short pause, a slip of paper popped out on which was printed:

You have tennis elbow. Soak your arm in warm water twice a day. Avoid heavy labor. Your elbow will be better in two weeks

That evening as the man contemplated this breakthrough in medical science, he began to suspect fraud. To test his theory he mixed together some tap water, a stool sample from his dog, and urine samples from his wife and teenage daughter. To top it all off, he masturbated into the jar.

He took this concoction down to the drug store, poured it in the machine, and deposited $10. The machine went through the same buzzing and flashing routine as before then printed out the following message:

Your tap water has lead.
Get a filter.
Your dog has worms.
Give him vitamins.
Your daughter is on drugs.
Get her in rehab.
Your wife is pregnant.
It's not your baby - get a lawyer.
And if you don't stop jerking off, your tennis elbow will never get better.


Attractive Patient

The doctor had just finished examining the very attractive young girl.
Doctor: 'Have you been going out with men, Miss Jones?'

Miss Jones: 'Oh. no, doctor, never!'

Doctor: 'Are you quite sure? Bearing in mind that I've now examined the sample you sent, do you still say you've never had anything to do with men?'

Miss Jones: 'Quite sure, doctor. Can I go now?'

Doctor: 'No.'

Miss Jones: 'But why not?'

Doctor: 'Because, Miss Jones, I'm awaiting the arrival of the Three Wise Men.'


One Year to Live

A fellow went to the doctor who told him that he had a bad illness and only a year to live.
So he decided to talk to his pastor. After the man explained his situation, he asked his pastor if there was anything he could do.

"What you should do is go out and buy a late '70's or early '80's model Dodge Pickup," said the pastor. "Then go get married to the ugliest woman you can find, and buy yourselves an old trailer house in the panhandle of Oklahoma."

The fellow asked, "Will this help me live longer?"

"No," said the pastor, "but it will make what time you do have seem like forever."

No.1256

Heaven, Guns and Cookies

(I can't walk or stand on my right leg. When I do attempt to do so, the pain is just awful. This is a recurrence, I think of the cellulitis that I had back in November. The last time I waited almost a week before I went to the doctor. NOT this time. I woke up Saturday morning and when I tried to get out of bed, the pain shot through me. I'll have to suffer through it for the weekend and then see the doctor on Monday. I seem to be also running a temperature as I'm going through bouts of chills and then sweating. For my Saturday and Sunday posts I'm not going to try to be creative. This post is a few jokes.)



WHAT PART OF YOUR BODY GOES TO HEAVEN FIRST?

The nun teaching Sunday School was speaking to her class one morning and she asked the question, 'When you die and go to Heaven...which part of your body goes first?'

Suzy raised her hand and said, 'I think it's your hands.'

'Why do you think it's your hands, Suzy?' Suzy replied, 'Because when you pray, you hold your hands together in front of you and God just takes your hands first.'

'What a wonderful answer!' the nun said.

Little Johnny raised his hand and said, 'Sister, I think it's your feet.'

The nun looked at him with the strangest look on her face. 'Now, Little Johnny, why do you think it would be your feet?'

Little Johnny said, 'Well, I walked into Mommy and Daddy's bedroom the other night Mommy had her legs straight up in the air and she was saying, Oh ! God, I'm coming!' If Dad hadn't pinned her down, we'd have lost her.'

The Nun fainted.


THE GUNFIGHTER

The young dude in the Old West wanted to be the fastest gunfighter alive.

Sitting in a saloon one night, he spotted an old graybeard who had the reputation of having been the greatest gunslinger of his day. The kid went up to the old man and told him of his dream. The ancient legend looked him up and down and said, "I got a suggestion that's sure to help."

"Tell me, Tell me!" said the young dude.

"Tie the bottom of your holster lower down on your leg."

"Will that make me a better gunfighter?"

"You damn betcha," said the old man.

The kid did as he was told, drew his gun, and neatly shot the bow tie off the piano player. "Wow, that really helped! Got any more suggestions?"

"Yeah - If'n you cut a notch in the top of your holster where the hammer hits, the gun'll slide out a lot smoother."

"Will that make me a better gunfighter?"

"You damn betcha."

The dude did as he was told, then drew his gun, and lightning quick, shot a cufflink off the piano player. "This is really helping me out! Is there anything else you can share with me?"

"One more thing," said the old timer. "Get that can of axle grease over there in the corner and rub it all over your gun."

The fellow didn't hesitate and immediately started smearing the grease on the gun barrel.

"No, no, the whole gun," said the graybeard. "Handle and everything."

"Will that make me a better gunfighter?"

"Not likely, boy. But when Wyatt Earp gets done playing that bar piano, he's gonna shove that gun up your ass and this way it won't hurt so much."


ITALIAN COOKIES

This is for all the Italians out there, and those who are lucky enough to be married to an Italian, and even to all the friends of Italians.

An elderly Italian man lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite Italian anisette sprinkle cookies wafting up the stairs. Gathering his remaining strength, he lifted himself from the bed. Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort, gripping the railing with both hands he crawled downstairs.

With labored breath, he leaned against the door frame, gazing into the kitchen. Were if not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven. For there, spread out upon waxed paper on the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favorite anisette sprinkled cookies. Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted Italian wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?

Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards the table, landing on his knees in a crumpled posture. His parched lips parted, the wondrous taste of the cookie was already in his mouth, seemingly bringing him back to life. The aged and withered hand trembled on its way to a cookie at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his wife...........

'Get out of here!' she shouted, 'They're for the funeral.'

No.1255