The Island of Misfit Christmas Trees

I heard my first Christmas Carol on the radio. It wasn't a real Christmas Carol per se; it was more on the order of Grandma Got Run Over By A Snowmobile. In a couple of weeks another seasonal tradition will begin: The Island of Misfit Christmas Trees. As soon as the turkey carcass is in the trash an army of people will descend on the factory grounds to decorate trees into collages of ridiculous themes that have nothing to do with Christmas. Every goofy group will be represented with the possible exception of the Satanist (there was an upside down tree one year). By the time this funky forest is complete it will draw people from all over to see everything from UFO's to Nascar portrayed in Balsam Fir. There is no amount of drugs that can prepare you to see a Christmas Tree with a plastic head of Jesus come out of the fog at 6 am.

Our town has decided the theme for its Christmas Parade will be A Green Christmas; pardon me while I puke. I guess the Area-51 theme was taken by Asheville.

Patients Bill Of Anesthesia Rights

The Patient has the Right to:

Have their anesthetic performed anywhere in the hospital (including the loading dock).
*No matter how overweight, have General Anesthesia in any position without a breathing tube.
*Be free of all anxiety, pain, hunger, nausea and stress (even if they are "ALLERGIC" to all sedatives, narcotics, anti emetics, gas, anti inflammatory drugs, oxygen, hypnosis and acupuncture).
*Be alert and able to quote Shakespeare within five minutes after surgery.
*Have any procedure including open heart surgery and liver transplant without an IV.
*Physically and verbally abuse the staff (including spitting, biting, scratching and punching).
*Have at least ten family members and friends present at all times.
*Quote at least a dozen articles they read online and in the tabloids concerning how to do anesthesia.
*List at least five family members who have been paralyzed by a spinal anesthetic.
*Eat,drink and smoke right up to the start of surgery.
*Wear all their clothes, jewelry, make up, acrylic nails, body hardware, dentures, hearing aids, wigs, glasses, hats, raincoats and glitter to surgery.
*Show up a day late at admitting and still get their operation.
*Refuse any preoperative test you ordered.
*Ignore any preoperative instructions.
*Drive themselves home.

Ah, Patients! The beloved enemy.

A HIPAA Free Zone

If you put four Southerners in a small room within twenty minutes you will have a an ice cream social without the fat. I'm sitting in my Doctor's waiting room with four other strangers reading the book I brought and waiting "for the call". I'm looking at the heavy older gentleman sitting across from me and giving him my ten second medical assessment. I notice the thin skin, the spidery veins on his cheeks and his overall "Mr. Clean" appearance. I automatically put him in the "sick" category and suspect he's taking steroids for something. Across from me there is a young lady about thirty five with that Northern N.J. transplant look. Next to me is a slender, no-nonsense looking thirty year old "power-chick".

I'm sitting there about two minutes and I can feel it coming. My guess is the old guy is going to kick it off, and he does. He is suffering from prostate cancer that has spread to his bones. The Jersey girl had lung cancer; and she never smoked a cigarette. The power-chick is a few years out from stage three ovarian cancer. I'm at a loss here because I'm sitting there with just a little hypertension ( I have to come by every three months for a follow-up in which my doctor checks my blood pressure and then talks to me for twenty minutes about my dog). Obviously I didn't need to bring a book. During the hour wait I probably talk more than I do in a week. I now know all about these people and the hour has passed quickly. Perhaps it was the lousy magazines or the lack of a flat screen, but somehow the boring waiting room has become a point of social interaction. The "Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act" (HIPAA) doesn't apply to a doctor's waiting room. It's not hard to understand. It's a Southern thing.

In 76 The Sky Was Red

What Is He Afraid Of?

He is not afraid of Obama. Obama hasn't met a dictator he doesn't like. Netanyahu, might give him some pause. Actually, the "only thing that the Iranian government has to fear is its own people".





This is the face of hope in the Mideast: the Iranian people. It sure isn't the carnival of souls that met at the G-20. The West isn't going to do what it takes. They are afraid the price of oil will go to $400 a barrel. Poor Israel, it is like the old story about the pig and the hen. Israel is like the pig and the West is like the hen. The farmer calls them both into the kitchen and says he wants "Ham n Eggs" for breakfast. The hen lays two eggs and walks out while the pig is left standing there. The West risks $400 a barrel oil, while Israel faces annihilation. The average Americans response as it sits around its dinner table to a news report that Israel was nuked would be "pass the potatoes please".

Of course we can count on Russia to help out. They only supply the weapons that are killing our troops in Iraq and Afghanistan. But we have an antisemitic Marxist President who views the democracy movement in Iran with the same jaundiced eye that observes 200,000 protesters on the Capitol Mall. You can see how he would be conflicted.

During the Civil War (War Of Northern Aggression) when General Lee rode through a Northern village a woman was overheard to say, "Why can't he be ours?" That's how I feel about Bebe Netanyahu. He was the only leader to expose the U.N. for the sham it is. On the other hand, Obama gave a performance not worthy of a High School Mock U.N. Can you imagine if we had a leader that was for us as Netanyahu is for Israel? Take a look at our other ally in the Mideast, the Iranian people. One way or another the sky will soon be red over Iran.

Body Dysmorphia Can Have Its Good Points

At my sister's house our bedroom had one of those room length sliding door mirrors. This panoramic mirror also takes about 20 lbs off your body by just standing in front of it. What a cheap and easy way to lose weight and lighten your mood. Really, reality is overrated.




My sister also has a 72 inch wide screen TV in the den. Her TV makes everyone look six inches shorter and 40 lbs. heavier. This is especially true when the people move toward the outer edges of the screen. Along the edges, all the characters start to look like Danny DiVito. I'm sure somewhere in the thousand page manual that comes in thirty-two languages is a note on which button to push to get a picture that is in proportion.


Another thing about Las Vegas was that it was sunny with clear skies.


Tuesday we returned to N.C. to face another six days of clouds and rain. Quick, I need that TV and mirror to lighten my mood.

Upgrayedd

Upgrayedd with two D's for a double dose of car rental fun.

Budget Car Rental is my choice in Las Vegas. Two hour waits because they run out of cars doesn't discourage a true CB (there was a soccer tournament in town that weekend). We arrive at the McCarren Airport car rental center (which is about the the size of the Charlotte Airport). The rental center is just a seven minute shuttle bus ride from the airport. In the new rental center every agency has its own large office. Now the Budget center is about the size of a bank. The counter is fifty feet long and has ten or so customer windows. The problem is they only have two agents to serve the twenty people waiting in the rope line. The old airport kiosk had three agents. It takes about 10 minutes for the agent to process one customer (15 minutes for the chatty agent). We finally get to the counter and I'm praying that the Griswolds have returned the Family Truckster . Luckily I get the no-nonsense competent agent instead of "Chatty Cathy". But, there is a problem, they have run out of full size sedans. I'm willing to take the smaller Ford Fusion (last time they offered me a F-350 Crew Cab diesel pick-up) but instead she offers me a free upgrade to a Lincoln Town Car. How sweet, I get a senior citizen babe-magnet to drive for three days.

I find the silver beauty pictured above waiting for me in the luxury section across from the Kia Rio's. I have to get used to the programmable seat that retracts two feet when the key is removed, but the rest of the car seems to be the usual "fake-fancy" American bland. Without the use of a tugboat I launch this boat out into the streets of Vegas. Except for the ten foot long hood the car is pretty ho-hum. It did cruise well at 78 mph and got about 26 mpg but otherwise I can't imagine paying 48 K for this (more than the cost of two Honda Elements). I guess I am a senior citizen because I didn't turn any heads driving this "Sun City" edition Lincoln. I must be a senior citizen because for the fifth year in a row I missed the exit for the rental car return.

Another Masterpiece

CP has made another signature dish. I call it "Pork Tortellini Pizzaiola". It is amazing how like a Mozart aria, when all the ingredients come together just right a masterpiece is created. I've had Chicken Pizzaiola and my mother made Steak Pizzaiola but they always lacked that one special ingredient: PORK. More than the recession CP's cooking is the main reason not to eat out.