Caution; Unsavory words and thematic elements
They didn’t literally prescribe; Ass fuck, take twice daily before lubrication. They came very close to literally writing; he’ll have nothing and like it (the like it part is hyperbole). I don’t feel like retyping all that, I think it’s orphaned on my desktop, if I can’t find a half written, chewed on, recap of the highlights then I stand by the first sentence.
In the meantime, I’ll ramble if it’s quite alright with you and whatever that is you rode in on. I’ll assume the faint of heart and the ass-fucking adverse have already moved on to less musky pastures. It’d be cool if I caught a homophobe up in that net, just because they are the one group of motherfuckers who manage to keep their opinions in the closet these days. Heh, funny and 90 degrees towards ironic, but I wasn’t shooting for those, it just seems to be true. Racists and misogynists seem to think they are not only justified but that battling current public opinion is a good fight. Homophobes seem to just sweat and smile these days. The them what is figuratively ass-fucking me are 75 percent female (collectively, not individually) so they are using figurative strap ons. Ok, so it’s a poor extended analogy, in no small part because it’d be both to intimate and possibly medically appropriate (shut up, you don’t know) and they are trying damn hard to not to do shit like that. Oh, and they lost a half a billion-dollar civil class action suit regarding a sports medicine doctor and a zillion charges of rape, molestation and any degree in between that could be demonstrated. Years, we are talking years of such fuckery. Anyone who could or should or probably did know, resigned before breaking off a chunk for themselves.
Whew, that was a hell of a damn paragraph. I’m not going to feel compelled to cuss for a good six hours by the time this motherfucker is posted.
I think Michigan has the most weird ass bugs in the continental US. Sure, there are deadlier ones in the southwest, and motherfucking flying cockroaches from Florida’s panhandle to at least Beaumont Texas, but, you know, variety wise flying cockroaches and scorpions only count as one bug. I have never seen a box elder bug anywhere but here, I know they are supposed to be all over the lower forty-eight, but maybe they are homophobes and are hiding. Here they let their freak flag fly. When I was a kid I would search (and find) salamanders (not a bug, but, I like them) bees, wasps, hornets, inch worms, fuzzy psychedelic caterpillars, potato bugs, cicadas, crickets, grasshoppers, at least three different kinds of ants (red, black and big ass). A lot of those are now scarce, maybe the box elder bugs et em, but there is shit I’ve never seen before; big ass ugly caterpillars, a beetle that looks like a box elder bug but isn’t (also you only see one or two at a time, box elder bugs don’t travel far from an elder or in groups of less than a thousand) things that look like dragonflies but aren’t, dragonflies, oh, and still there are buttloads of fireflies (I love those things) and a bunch of ‘What the hell is that? Seriously, what the hell is it?’ There’s some sort of county wide infestation of a tic from Texas (it’s got a name like Longhorn Tic or something, this past month alone I know two people and a dog who’ve been bit). To bring it all home, unlike the doctors at MSU internal, there is no ass fucking bug.
Whew, four more cuss words and I get a trophy. Ok, I found the two-day old orphan I started when the piss in pissed off was still warm, you know, two days ago. I’m going to paste it to the bottom (heh, he said bottom) of this and find other places to spread my positive outlook. Um, it may or may not have an ending (heh, he said end, bottom end, heh). You are welcome to add an ending in that case, or, just string together a lot of words that’d get you nun slapped.
Marathon, the end user gas station, has set a new low bar in edjumacation. Here in this sleepy little university town the guess-the-vocabulary word was; Sartorial. When you get fitted for a cap and gown (which here is eight long years of undergrad drinking) it ain’t a tailored costume, it’s sartorial elegance, subjectively.
My doctor’s office has set a new low bar in health care. This will probably be the last time I bitch about this. Come September first they will officially not be doing jack shit for me. They aren’t good enough for me to want them to do jack shit, there are a lot of better doctors that can do nothing for me, some of whom I won’t have to lay out damn near 12 k a year in insurance for.
I mentioned money so let’s start there. In the past three months they took a UA which won’t be covered by insurance, a head MRI, an EMG, two blood tests and two office visits wherein they did no treatment whatsoever. Oh, and in one of those non-treatment visits I had to sign a narcotics contract. Three weeks later (that’d be yesterday) they culled all my meds forever. Which, you know, could be under ‘it is what is’ if this journal said shit like that, except that they neglected to put anything in it’s place treatment wise. Miracle cure? No, that’d be an outright lie even though it would be a justification that would make sense. It’s more like ‘It is what it is and what it isn’t and what it is is bullshit and what it isn’t is healthcare’.
I’m pretty sure if I told them to fuck me running they’d say I’m not healthy enough for that so I should take a cold shower. Truth is I have nothing to lose by calling them out, daily, by, ahem, um, ah, email.
Hmmm, the above was written a few hours ago when I had some restraint and a fuck or two left to give. Here in the unstable future I have less restraint and less than no fucks to give (though I have a few used ones for sale at haredawgsrustyusedfucks dot com.). I’m in a hostile and partially petty email war with the poor nurse whose job is to answer emails at the clinic I’m likely no longer a patient at (at? Sounds wrong. With? The clinic where I’m soon to be an ex patient? Sure, that works, but now that it works it’s a stupid sentence.). At least she’s gainfully employed, unlike the hierarchy there who are woefully employed, employed at the cost of ethics and positive karma. I have yet to go off point. She hasn’t either. I’m hostile and she’s snarky. It’s a fair match up; her people have the power, I have justified righteous indignation. It tastes better when it’s justified. How do I know? I’ve eaten a lot of both kinds of righteous indignation, the unjustified kind is more fun but less satisfying.
I know that first sentence of the two hours closer to forever promises violence and sex and possibly money and fails to deliver on any. I’m pretty much writing what comes to mind; those shelves are well picked over. An email war is lacking in sex, violence and money unless it’s violent, sexy and rich. This war is not. It’s pissy. If that email war took a UA it’d be suspect for the density of the sample. I will purge this all from my mind when it’s over. I promise the latest that can be is December 31st. I still need their records and I have to keep my current insurance until then.
I’ve had two full hours of bad ideas. If they had a Nobel prize for bad ideas (well, sometimes they do, but they call them something else) I wouldn’t win but I might get a free ride to Geneva. The first and most persistent one would be to go to a methadone clinic. Yes, I would qualify, the standard is one year of documented narcotic use, or, you know, whatever loophole the owner does or doesn’t want to wrangle. I read the federal law several years ago, that and knowing the album Blue Trane by John Coltrane, got me a job as a methadone counselor. I keep trying to lose that idea for a zillion reasons. The fantasy reason that keeps trotting it back is maybe it’d get my doctor in trouble, I mean if nothing else a methadone clinic keeps records of fucking everything and reports to the feds a minimum of four times a year. If I could find a way of bringing it up and gauge the reaction … petty and pissy. It’s not about the drugs, I mean it’s not about craving the high, it sure would be if I signed up at a methadone clinic though. A very similar idea that has an inch or two of higher ground to it is to hang out in front of a methadone clinic (or inside if they’d let me) find someone who just had a dirty UA and ask them where they cop. That’d be solely about the drugs.