Blog #397                                October 17, 2024

 

Have you ever been to China?  Do you even realize how big China is?  If the population of China walked past you in single file, the line would never end.  Let’s check that one out.  Let’s assume one Chinese citizen can walk past you every five seconds.  That’s 6,307,200 pilgrims a year.  For those of you who think a square root is a turnip, just trust me on the math. There are 1.4 billion Chinese and during the five seconds it takes you to meet one Chinese, three more will be born.   Just more useless information to fill up your head. 

 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you’re feeling well today and ready for some more of whatever it is we do here each week.  A portion of what we do here is to discuss my myriad daily challenges.

 

Like doctors.  Do you ever have trouble communicating with your doctor?  The first time I visited Dr. Blood, he told me I had Monoclonal B-Cell Lymphocytosis.  I turned to him and calmly replied, “Twas brillig, and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe.”  Aha!  Now we both understood each other that neither one of us understood each other, and we proceeded to speak English.  Try it sometime.  Your doctor will get the message.  By the way, the monoclonal stuff is just some heebie-jeebie thing in my blood that nobody has to worry about.  Is heebie-jeebie a medical term?  I bet it is. 

 

The doctors spend much too much time at school learning Latinesque words like lymphocytosis.  Instead of all that medical gobbledygook, they should just spend ten years as a wife and mother.  That’s the best medical education there is.  I know you women agree.  I recently had my annual physical with Dr. Doctor.  Late that afternoon, the nurse called.  That’s always bad news.  Your heebie-jeebie test came back positive and Doctor wants you to see a specialist.  My wife, who is not just another Hostess Cupcake, got my attention and whispered, “Tell her you want to take the test again.”  What? I replied.  Take the test again?  That’s ridiculous.  She insisted, so I suggested that possibility to the nurse.  What? she replied.  Take the test again?  That’s ridiculous.  I insisted.  So, I went back in and took the test again.  Guess what?  Negative!  It’s amazing how good my wife is about medical diagnoses.  You should call her sometime.  On second thought, she charges a fortune.

 

Let’s talk about game shows.  My niece used to work as a game-show producer in L.A., and I was talking with her last week.  She told me there’s a new one coming out soon.  It’s called Who Wants to Shoot Donald Trump.  So far, they’ve had 22,312 willing contestants sign up, all of whose names have been forwarded to the FBI.  The winner will get free room and board at Leavenworth for the rest of his life.

 

In last week’s edition, I included a paragraph saying God will forgive us, but will we forgive God.  I got a fair amount of comment about that.   In the Yom Kippur prayer book, I noticed a page called “A Prayer of Protest.”  I have condensed it here, including only a few sentences:

 

Hear our voice.  All of us have seen suffering in our midst.  God, are You there?  Do You care?  Hear our pain.  Hear our grief.  Give us strength.  Help us to be kind.  Restore our faith in You.  I guess it’s all a matter of faith. 

 

I know religion isn’t my thing, so I’ll stop talking about it.  But I do know about Rock ‘n Roll.  I’ve even been thinking about starting a rock band for old people. First, we have to pick a name.  I have a few in mind: The Grand-Mamas and the Grand-Papas -- Peter, Paul and Methuselah -- The Rolling Kidney Stones -- Sonny and Wheelchair.

 

It was time this week to get Shakespear’s nails cut.  He really behaves himself well at Dr. Cat’s office, and it doesn’t take very long.  After all, they only have to trim three paws.

 

The techs at the vet are so nice

They smile while they cut his nails thrice

He has three legs, you see

So that when they bill me,

We get 20% off the price.

 

All you math wizards out there are about to upbraid me because, I hear you cry, it should be a 25% discount as one leg missing is 25% of the usual complement of four.  Am I going too fast for you?  Now, I must admit, you are mathematically correct, but 25 has three syllables and 20 only two, and the integrity of the poem is --- oh, the hell with it!  Go pick on somebody else.

 

Oh, there’s my cat.  Say hello, Shakespeare.

Cv$l’!k[do9

Well, he tried.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  Of all base passions, fear is the most accursed (Henry VI, Part1).  I’m not afraid of getting my nails cut.  And I’m not afraid of riding in the car.  Pops got me my own car.  It’s just the right size, has holes on three sides for me to go in and out, and it’s covered on top with some scratchy stuff.  It doesn’t move, but I love it.  I call it my Cat-illac.  The only thing I’m afraid of is that, when we go for a ride, he’s giving me away to someone else.  Please don’t do that, Pops.  Purr.

 

Weekly Word:   Upbraid means to find fault with, to scold.

 

Ok, that’s enough.  We’ve talked about a lot of different things.  Maybe I should tell you a joke.  Sam, for his 70^th birthday, buys himself an expensive pair of alligator boots.  That evening, he wants to surprise his wife Sadie with his new purchase, so after dinner, he goes to the bedroom, takes off all his clothes and puts on nothing but the alligator boots.  When he walks into the kitchen, he says:

         

SAM:    Sadie, do you notice anything different about me?

SADIE: No, you’re the same old husband with the same old peepee hanging down

SAM:    But, Sadie, the peepee’s hanging down to point to my new alligator boots.

SADIE: Too bad you didn’t buy a hat.

 

Now you can go but be back here next week.  And don’t forget to stay well and count your blessings.

 

Michael                                             Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com