I had to shut off the CNN video I was just watching. They were interviewing some freelance journalist who’s over in the Ukraine and witnessed the missile strike on the Malaysia airline flight. When he said there were body parts raining down from the sky and you had to be careful where you stepped so you didn’t step on human organs, I decided I’d had enough. So, was it the Russkies? Or the Russky-lovers? Either way, it’s Obama’s fault for not going to the border to look at Guatemalan child refugees. Or something.
Speaking of Obama and the Refugees (good name for a boy-band), the mayor of Syracuse wrote him a letter to tell him we’ve got room and would be happy to take some of them in. I have no doubt that this story engendered lots of vicious responses from Republicans and Teabaggers (the mayor being both a woman and a Democrat – oh, the horror!), but I didn’t read the comments. I’ve become pretty good and not scrolling to the comment section, though I wish they’d make you have to click a link to read them. I find that if I read the ones form the idiots it only serves to piss me off and then I start to reply and then I just don’t bother because trying to reason with these people is like trying to reason with a cat.
Speaking of cats, I think I mentioned that we had one that was gone for 3 or 4 weeks who I’d pretty much given up on until she wandered back in one day, and there was much rejoicing.
I’ve always been nice to her since I’m nice in general (or so I’d like to think) and I like critters (even cats, though truth be told, they aren’t my favorites). But I’ve tried to be especially nice to her lately to kind of encourage her to stick around because my wife worries about her. So two night ago I was in the process of being nice to her and she started to nibble on my finger (which she does) and then she proceeded to chomp down and sink her fucking teeth into my thumb she actually punctured it in the meaty part and through the nail (right at the bottom of the little half-moon part – aptly called the lunula).
This hurt. Alot.
“Gosh,” I said. “Why ever did you do that, you silly cat you?” I’m paraphrasing there.
By yesterday, my thumb was all kinds of swollen and my whole forearm was sore (with a red streak running from my thumb to my elbow). This kind of worried me, so I came home and had a beer or two. This seemed to help, in that I stopped worrying. Then I opened the bit up with my trusty exacto knife and applied alcohol from the outside. I’ve also been taking massive doses of oil of oregano and turmeric (on the orders of the boss) and rubbing tea tree oil on the afflicted area. Still hurts, but it seems better, and hopefully it’ll clear up because I really don’t want to have to go to the urgent care and tell them my goddamn cat my wife’s goddamn cat bit me, and to have them tell me my blood pressure is high.
Just give me some Amoxicillin. And, yeah, I have a primary care physician. I went to him once back in 2004 or so – I think his name is Seth, though I always think of him as Skippy. He seemed like a nice enough kid and he even offered to stick his finger up my ass, but as I was only looking for a referral to a Chiropractor, I declined.
Needless to say, I am no longer going out of my way to be nice to the cat. I’m actually going out of my way to avoid her, because when I look at her I have the urge to either strangle her or hit her with a 4-pound sledge hammer (which I keep handy on the kitchen table, so it’s pretty tempting to go send her to visit Boomer).
As I’m sure you know, the World Lacrosse Championship semifinals were last night, and the godless Canadians knocked the hometown Iroquois team out of the tourney with a 12-6 win while Team USA beat the Aussies 22-3. The Championship game is Saturday (but you already knew that).
Oh well, time to make some coffee. We were up late last night, and I’ve gotten off to a slow start. Good thing it’s Friday.
I share your aversion to doctors and the medical establishment but this one sounds worth the trip. That red streak alone should get you there. I have always heard something like that is not to be taken lightly. I think it could get nasty pretty fast.
Well, I’m keeping an eye on it and the red streak seems to be gone or at least very faded. If it gets worse then I’ll go to urgent care, which is one of the few things that are nice about modern medicine. In and out with a script.
Worst part is, I’m feeling kind of shitty today, which I’m attributing to a combination of staying up way too late last night and a little hypochondria. That and it’s always hard to tell if something hurts in a normal way (‘cuz everything pretty much hurts these days – not all at the same time, of course. They take turns) or if it’s something more sinister.
I’d really hate for my obit to read, “dead from a cat bite at 53.” It would be one way to get out of work, though.
Hopefully my wife will post a notice if I die so I don’t leave everybody wondering what happened the way Fred did. Maybe I’ll do a delayed “if you’re reading this, it means I’m dead…” post that I can just go in and push the publish date back every week while I’m still alive.
Be careful. That can get in the blood and roll around in a bad way. I can ignore/stall just about anything but that red streak is one I would react to.
If I go to the doc, I’m supposed to bring the cat’s head packed in dry ice, right?
You might like that but I am not giving you permission. Maybe you should put the pussy in lockup for a while though.
By all means, continue the beer therapy. I think it is anti-inflamatory.
Anti-inflammatory? That’s funny, ‘cuz it seems to be causing the center of my torso to swell up something fierce.
I agree with the red streak thing. But (as you probably know by now) I don’t go see a doc until I’ve soaked whatever in hot water and Epson salts and sprayed some Windex on it. It’s a Greek thing.
Nope, that’s they way they test for rabies. But, I agree with Vern…Go see a doctor. You may as well take advantage of an antobiotic before all the bugs become immune to them.
Well things have taken a very sad turn. My wife noticed the cat not acting normal and wound up getting her to the vet this afternoon. It seems she has a massive, probably cancerous tumor in the liver region. She’s home with some steroids to hopefully make her more comfortable, but it’s very sad news. We’ve literally had her since before she was born.
Terriby sad news, pj and rg. I hope you can keep her comfortable. Really do wish our critters were with us longer.
Guess she was trying to tell pj something using her secret feline lingo.
I’m glad she al least made it back home at some point for some comfort and love rather than just staying disappeared.
Sorry that the cat is so ill and that you, PJ, had to be the victim in her attempt to signal her discomfort. Okat has it right: they should stick around longer.
Obama Spent $4k on Marijuana While Visiting Colorado
I hope the helps your immune system
http://www.minnpost.com/second-opinion/2014/02/cat-bites-hand-can-cause-serious-infections-mayo-study-finds
I think it’s getting better.
London Celebrates The Monty Python Reunion By Putting A 50-Foot Dead Parrot In Potters Field Park
It’s not dead. It’s resting.
Yup. Looks like it’s just taking a nap. I’ve seen stranger beings that I thought were dead and they really weren’t, Some of them were supposedy human but I always wondered,.
There are more pics at the link.
No links. I am on the dark side of the NYT paywall. I will be taking my bidness elsewhere.
Media
NBC Correspondent Ayman Mohyeldin Is Returned to Gaza
By BILL CARTER
Only days after NBC removed him from its coverage of the fighting in Gaza, the correspondent Ayman Mohyeldin will be reinstated and sent back into the region, the network said Friday evening.
The decision to pull Mr. Mohyeldin off the story, after he witnessed an Israeli air attack that killed four Palestinian children and then posted remarks on Twitter about it, prompted a round of questions, and much criticism of NBC among Internet commenters. Some accused the network of reacting to pressure from the Israeli side of the conflict. Mr. Mohyeldin is an Egyptian-American who previously worked for the cable news channel Al Jazeera English.
Other commenters speculated that NBC might have felt that Mr. Mohyeldin showed too much empathy in his social media comments. At one point he wrote, “just spent 45 min see family relative after relative learn that their children have been killed in #Israeli shelling of #Gaza port #horror.”
When it removed Mr. Mohyeldin, NBC did not give a reason for its decision, which was first reported by the news sites TVNewser and The Intercept, other than unspecified security concerns.
On Friday, NBC declined to give any explanation — official or not — for the sudden decision to send Mr. Mohyeldin back into Gaza. In a statement, NBC said only that its “deployments were constantly reassessed” in the region.Social-networking sites have given reporters in war zones the ability to immediately communicate their experiences. But those communications have also been closely examined by readers looking for bias.
In a Twitter posting on Friday evening Mr. Mohyeldin wrote: “Thanks for all the support. I’m returning to #Gaza to report. Proud of NBC’s continued commitment to cover the #Palestinian side of the story.”
Your chief foreign correspondent getting pummeled for dropping in on a big story is indicative of a huge problem.
We lost a Maverick.
I had been wondering about Jimmy the other day.
Also another fine Oklahoman.
Yep, from Norman.
Norman!
You won’t agree with all of them but pretty
funny anyway
http://gawker.com/oregon-campus-police-sued-over-extensive-eat-a-bowl-of-1606547420
Isn’t that indicative the authors suffer from lds syndrome?
Hobby Lobbyist
by Paul Rudnick
Many people have been wondering exactly what edged the Supreme Court toward its recent decision involving Hobby Lobby, the chain of crafts stores that has been allowed a religious exemption from funding birth control for its employees. An urgent letter has come to light, which may clarify the matter.
To the Supreme Court, especially Justice Scalia, who is a prime candidate for the benefits of therapeutic elder-crafting in a calming environment:
My name is Eleanor Crimley-Dabbins, and as one of this country’s most dedicated crafters, and a three-time second runner-up in our local Let’s Get Craftin’ Craftboree here in San Diego, I would like to express how thoroughly crafting is intertwined with my deepest religious convictions.
A careful reading of Genesis reveals that when the Serpent first offered Eve the apple she replied, “I bet if I shellacked that apple and studded it with fragrant cloves, and then hot-glued the whole thing with an overlay of jumbo red sequins, it would make a darling year-round ornament for our Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.”
To which Adam, Eve’s husband, responded, “That sounds great, sweetheart. Why don’t you get crackin’ while I finish creating a rustic gun rack from all these hooves and antlers? Because animal parts aren’t just for eatin’—they’re for craftin’!”
So, as you can see, crafting started on practically Day One of the Judeo-Christian world. Why, some folks claim that our planet itself is just a doodad the Almighty came up with after spinning His Rainy-Day-Fun, Pick-a-Project Activities Wheel.
As civilization progressed, so did crafting. Moses originally intended to use his home woodburning kit to char the Ten Commandments onto a knotty-pine plaque, which could also be used, with the addition of screw-in brass-plated hooks, as a holdall for house keys, but he ultimately settled on a poured-resin, look-of-granite option. I like to think that Moses wanted to include an Eleventh Commandment: Thou Shalt Not Use Condoms or Real Stained Glass, Not When the Acrylic Colors Are Even More Vibrant and Easier to Keep Clean!
I’ll admit that I wasn’t always such a fervent believer, either in God or in the sort of homemade Mother’s Day cards that can land a person in the emergency room with a hole-punch wound. My commitment to the twin glories of Jesus and yard-sale-ready collectibles began when I was fourteen years old and my parents dragged me to a Christmas Midnight Mass. As I was yawning, and wishing that I was off with my friends in someone’s unchaperoned finished basement, guzzling eggnog laced with cranberry juice, I happened to glance at the Nativity scene on the high altar—where the miracle of Jesus’ birth had been imaginatively interpreted with sock monkeys.
At that very moment, I heard a voice telling me, “Eleanor, go ye forth and tell of the Lord’s wonders, using pipe cleaners, Popsicle sticks, and enormous Day-Glo crêpe-paper sunflowers with plastic googly eyes and refrigerator-magnet grins.” By the very next day, I had crafted a miniature replica of the Last Supper, entirely out of those tiny Jet-Puffed marshmallows, empty bottles of mini-bar vodka, and human hair.
I soon joined a fast-growing church called Our Lady of the Decoupaged Trinket Box. Our beloved pastor, the Reverend Lionel Harmwater, has led his flock in scrapbooking the entire Bible by adding doily borders to every page, along with oaktag-framed photos of bowling pins on which parishioners have enamelled the faces of their patron saints. This Bible now weighs more than fifty-eight pounds and rests on a reinforced redwood picnic table in the sacristy, surrounded by beeswax candles set inside coffee cans that have been spray-painted to look like spray-painted coffee cans. I love to page through this Bible, to discover pop-up tinfoil angels holding antiqued parchment banners reading “Pray & Crochet!” or “You Can’t Commit Adultery with a Staple Gun!”
Of course, there are plenty of folks who just don’t believe, either in God or in using frayed extension cords to wire together old Frisbees and oven mitts to create a one-of-a-kind holiday wreath for a nursing-home front door. These nonbelievers, or, as I like to call them, people without hand-tooled Navajo-inspired Naugahyde change purses, live mostly in the northeastern portion of America, which, frankly, is a crafting sinkhole.
There is hope, however: a Crafters’ Gospel has just been discovered, rolled up inside a Clorox bottle that had been repurposed as a piggy bank and hidden in a cavern outside Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. This Gospel includes a revelatory sermon in which Jesus, in no uncertain terms, condemns any undecorated surface, including simple pine coffins, which can be made so much more appealing, and therefore more righteous, by adding bottle caps dusted with clear glitter and arranged in snowflake patterns. Jesus also tells us, and here I’m quoting Him directly, that “any truly Christian apron must include both colorful rickrack and a hand-embroidered image of a dancing pepper mill.”
When it comes to the Court’s decision on contraception, I think I can be of service. For my five beautiful daughters, and the other one, I have used a cheerful heavy-gauge yarn, mixing strands of cashmere, alpaca, and barbed wire, to knit what I call a Crotch Cozy. When my girls wear their Crotch Cozies, they not only receive endless compliments in the locker room but sexual intercourse becomes impossible. Any additional form of birth control is unnecessary. Case closed! ?