Category: Allegory, parable, rhetoric

St Joe’s Most Eligible Bachelor

7/2017

Contestant Number 1

Late one night, a well-dressed man was seen lying under a tree in a St. Joe neighborhood.  A raccoon was seen behind him and the observer became concerned and called the police.  When the paramedics arrived they found that the man had become incontinent of stool and the raccoon was dining on the product.  He was taken to the emergency department to be evaluated.  Needless to say, alcohol was involved.

The next day the ED received a call from the gentleman wanting to know if he was seen in the ER the previous night.  Then he wanted to know what he was seen for.  It was suggested that he probably didn’t want to know.

Contestant Number 2

At 4:30 Sunday morning, TaJuane (not really his name) came to the emergency department with 2 friends and his 6-month pregnant girlfriend.  A deep cut on his left forearm was the reason for his visit.  It seems, somebody had “dissed” him (shown disrespect to him) and he lost what little temper he had left and he punched a window.  Showed that window who was boss; yup.  So as I was sewing (suturing his wound), we talked about this and that.  He used to work at Home Depot.  Not anymore. I guess he used up some of that temper and got fired.  So now, he can’t make his child support payments to the soon to be ex-wife and he and his girlfriend are having difficulty making house and food payments.  Did I mention that no alcohol was involved, but meth was?

The next day, he returned to the emergency department.  When the provider walked into the room, he said, “Wass dis” pointing to the wound I had closed so well?  When he was told the summary of events the previous night, he was stupefied and could not recall any of it.

Like Johnny Carson was so fond of saying, you just can’t make this stuff up.

From your grumpy Uncle/Brother Dave.  We may soon publish the winner.

Weary

Every Breath You Take

Mores and culture. Aren’t Mores just a redefinition of culture?

The term “social mores” was introduced into English by William Graham Sumner (1840–1910), an early U.S. sociologist, to refer to norms that are more widely observed and have greater moral significance than others.  It is like culture, but with emphasis.  More meaning magnification.  Like “cop killer” is worse than “killer”.

What brought this up was my having perseverating song lyrics from “Every Breath You Take” in my head for several days. I had never noticed it before since I tend to hear rhythm and intonation and have never listened to lyrics very much.  It’s a hearing thing.  Until recently, I had no idea what this song was about.

The lyrics are the words of a sinister, controlling character, who is watching “every breath you take; every move you make”.  Essentially, it is a song about stalking, intimidation, controlling another person, implied threats.

Well, it was a very popular song in the 1980s and became a popular theme for weddings, TV shows, movies, etc.  It was written by Sting and was the biggest hit of 1983.

Sting commented, “I woke up in the middle of the night with that line in my head, sat down at the piano and had written it in half an hour.  The tune itself is generic, an aggregate of hundreds of others, but the words are interesting.  It sounds like a comforting love song.  I didn’t realize at the time how sinister it is.  I think I was thinking of Big Brother, surveillance and control.”

Today this song might get you 5-10 in the State penitentiary.

Your grumpy Uncle/Brother Dave.

Weary

Hooverboard Hip

7/2017

Mary wanted to give her granddaughter a nice gift for her birthday. She watches TV and cable a lot so she knew that hoverboards were all the rage with the young. She, of course, didn’t understand how they worked. But she had grown up with the Lost In Space (1965-1968) generation and was fascinated with science fiction-like technology.

So, Mary bought her granddaughter a hoverboard. She went all out and got the deluxe model with 3 extra batteries that only took 16 minutes to recharge. This thing had a 12-mile range and a top speed of 16 MPH. It had lights and unlike the cheapo models, it had only one wheel. It had 2 on-board sonars and was Bluetooth capable for onboard music from your iPhone while you hoover.

Her granddaughter was out with her Dad when Mary got home with the new gift. She was excited and called her grandson in to help her open the package and get it ready to use. Needless to say, her grandson was also fascinated with the gift. He had it up and running in a matter of minutes and was hovering around the living room like he was born on it.

“Wow, this is really cool grandma!” said her grandson.

“Well, it certainly looks fun,” said Mary.

“Shelly is really really gonna like this, unless you just wanna give it to me instead,” said her grandson, grinning conspiratorially from ear to ear. Nothing but sibling loyalty in this family.

“Your birthday is next month, you’ll just have to wait and see what I decide to get you,” said Mary with a false tone of derision.

Mary was quiet for a few moments, deep in thought when she realized her grandson had said something; “Are you all right grandma?”

“Yes, I am,” said Mary with a big smile on her face. Then surprising even herself, she said, “I want to try that thing!”

“Uh, Grandma, I don’t think that’s a good idea. These things can be tricky and are made for young people,” said her grandson, shocked but strangely proud of the gumption Grandma showed.

“You shush your mouth sonny, I’ll show you that old people can be just as much fun as you little smarty mouths,” she said as she put the device on the ground in front of her. She lifted her left foot and stepped onto the left side of the board’s center wheel. Then, holding on to her grandson’s right shoulder with her left hand she stepped up with her right foot and leveled the board on the wheel. She felt a rush of exhilaration as she seemed to be just floating in the air. She felt like she was 8 years old participating in an episode of Lost in Space, in real time.

And then, she was going 16 MPH straight at the 54″ plasma TV that her son and daughter in law had bought for her last year for Christmas. She didn’t make it to the TV, having fallen off very abruptly, crashing into the coffee table; but the hoover board did and she wouldn’t be watching Lost in Space reruns on that TV ever again.

That was yesterday. Today, Mary went to surgery to have her left hip and knee replaced. It is Shelly’s 13th birthday and Mary is 72 years old and wouldn’t be 73 for another 6 months. She had a lot of family support. Her son, daughter in law and grandson were there, in the surgery waiting room.

Shelly was there also, but against her will, “Like what? They need me to do the surgery or something?” Shelly was really pissed because grandma had ruined her birthday. The hoverboard was fried because the batteries dislodged and it caught on fire when it hit the new plasma screen TV and because she now can’t watch her favorite reality shows on MTV because the TV is broken. Crazy old lady, she thought.

So, as said by Roscoe Lee Brown playing the character of Jebediah Nightlinger in the 1972 movie The Cowboys, “If that isn’t true, it should be.”

Your grumpy Uncle/Brother Dave. (1)

  1.  Disclaimer: The above recitation is only slightly embellished. The event did occur, but the names were changed to protect the participants.

Weary

Guns, Knives, Saps and Thanks

7/2017

On the way to work tonight, I went to the store to get supper. I wasn’t in a hurry but wasn’t dilly-dallying around either.  There was a guy walking ahead of me who kept walking slower and slower, glancing back at me and obviously trying to impede my progress. Finally, he stopped.

He asked, “Do you work in the ER?”
“Yup, I said.”  Not knowing where this is going.  Many of my patient encounters “off-campus” have been confrontational.

He said, “I was in the ER last weekend with a broken arm.”  He pointed to a sling on his left arm.

I thought, OK, I can at least hold my own against a 30 y/o assailant with a broken arm.

“Wasn’t me, I worked last weekend but didn’t have any patients with broken arms,” hoping that I wasn’t forgetting something.

“Well, I was there, drunk as hell, cussing, fighting and puking. I was acting like a jerk and I just wanted to apologize.”

I bet I looked like a doe on the Interstate looking into the headlights of a Peterbilt. First time in 30 years anyone has apologized to me for that kind of behavior.

In 30 years, I’ve seen a wide variety of weapons carried, forgotten and brandished in the hospital. Long guns, handguns, knives, brass knuckles, swords, sticks, nunchucks, poor hygiene and body odor. I’ve seen them brandished in boast, in threat and lost to search.

I’ve seen handguns found by security in a purse left in the cafeteria, in vehicles when security moved a car and on the patient’s person when searched by LEOs.  I’ve had them brandished in threat at me, at other ED staff and at LEOs.  One fool medical student brandished one at the nurses’ station in front of sheriff’s deputies, security and me in the boast of now being “in the club”.  He had just received a concealed carry permit and missed the lecture on the “concealed” portion of concealed carry.  I’ve seen a gun skid across the floor when a fellow physician was changing into scrubs and forgot it was clipped to his pants.  I’ve seen a shotgun by the chair of a father who thought social welfare was going to take his daughter from him and had asked to talk to me about that.

I’ve seen saps.  One, in particular, served dual duty.  It was a sock filled with sand compressed into a 2-inch diameter by 8-inch long liner concealed in the pants extending from his groin down into the right leg of his pants.  It had a string tethering it so it would stay in place.  The girls must have loved it.

Knives have shown up in pockets, waistbands, purses, boots, shoes and backpacks.  I’ve seen sheath knives, all manner of folding knives and one sword.  It is kind of ironic that while growing up, the mystery of the “switchblade” and the fact that they were illegal was so alluring.  As young as 8 or 9, I had seen, wanted and tried to buy a switchblade on one of our visits to Juarez, Mexico.  Now you can buy them down at Walmart in most states.

The popular item today is the small to medium folder with “open assist” by a spring mechanism, basically a switchblade.  But, until last night I had never seen one clipped to the inside of a bra.  Sure hope she doesn’t hit that little lever actuator while putting on her coat or something. Might cut them puppies free or damage ’em.

Your grumpy old Marine Brother/Uncle Dave.

http://www.grunt.com/grumpy-old-marine-t-shirt

Weary