Invasion Of The Storm Troopers
Well, all us Gators have been sitting around Gainesville having a jolly old time watching the UF football team knock off the Tennessees and Kentuckys of the world on their way to a pretty 4-0 record after a month of play. The offense is running wild and the defense is slapping everybody upside the head and all the fans are happy as clams and everybody lived happily ever after. The End.
Wait a minute. You don’t like that story? You say that all good tales require conflict, that the heroes must encounter some sort of difficulty and strive to overcome it and therein lies the tale? Oh. Okay then, how’s this: The next two weekends Florida gets to play the top two football teams in the land, Alabama and LSU. And we don’t want to hear anything from all you Oklahoma guys who think you’re number one—you went over to Tallahassee and struggled to score in a close win over FSU. The next week, FSU’s defense was battered by Clemson. Sit down in your chair and be satisfied with being number three or we’ll sic some SEC team on you.
This weekend, Darth Vader, also known as Nick Saban, leads his Alabama Crimson Tide into town for an epic battle with the Gators. This is the first time in eight years we’ve been underdogs in our own stadium. And rightly so. After beating Alabama in the SEC Championship game of 2008, the Gators dropped the same game in 2009, their only loss, and went up to Tuscaloosa last year and got pounded. This year’s Alabama team looks every bit as tough as last year’s, so a monumental effort will be required. And not just on the field, either. The fans must fortify themselves with strong drugs and ceremonial nectars and present a virtual cacophony, a mind-numbing wall of noise to impede the Alabama offense. Everybody must do their part, even the lowly Hare Krishnas, who generally bob and weave and chant outside the stadium, but who this week will be inserted just behind the Crimson Tide bench in an effort to irritate and distract. There’s only so much mrdanga drum and tambourine music people can stand before they drop to the ground wailing and gnashing their teeth. We’re looking forward to the carnage.
The Further Deconstruction Of Bill
We feel obligated to write these advisories as a warning to our younger friends of what they have to look forward to in their allegedly Golden Years. Maybe they will take precautionary steps to place themselves in less danger or maybe not, but at least they will have been forewarned. We like to do our part.
So, Tuesday I went to Shands Dermatology for the first of three “excisions” I will be having. My appointment was for 8:30 in the morning, which, considering the half-hour drive to Gainesville and the horse-feeding requirements, is pretty early. The helpful Shands lady called me a day earlier to remind me.
“Your appointment is at 8:30, so we’d like you to be here at 8:15 to fill out some paperwork,” she told me.
“Well, why isn’t my appointment at 8:15 then?”
“Tee hee, good question.”
I dragged myself in there at the required time, filled out the silly paperwork and was called in to meet my fate. A very nice African-American lady did the prep work and explained how things would go.
“Even though this is a slow-growing melanoma and shouldn’t be too deep, they have to send it to the lab. So, they’ll pack the wound instead of sewing it up, just in case they have to come back next week and excise more tissue.”
“Thanks for the warning,” I told her. I once had to return (to a different doctor) three times before they got one of these things completely removed from my left jaw. It’s not fun.
The doctor soon appeared. She was a very large, charismatic woman. Suffice to say, if I were choosing up sides for a rugby match against a team of prisoners from Sing Sing, she would be my first pick. She did the deed forthwith. Her supervisor inspected the job and pronounced it exemplary. They slapped a bandage on me and sent me home.
Next morning, the bandage was filled with blood. I neglected to report earlier that the site of the damage was just behind my left ear, so when I cavorted about town it was very noticeable.
“Oooh, mama, look at the ugly man. I think somebody shot him in the neck and he won’t go to the hospital because they’ll have to report him to the police.”
“Shut up, Conrad.”
My schedule for Wednesday was already demanding enough. I had to go to the Quest lab to have blood drawn for a physical next week with my GP. And then I had to go over to Kinetix, the physical rehab facility, to get my back looked at. And, of course, I couldn’t eat since part of the blood work involves a lipid profile. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear this is the sort of day OLD people are expected to put up with.
Fortunately, I got to Gainesville early and went right to the bloodletter’s. I got a very nice lady who thought it appropriate to tell me her daughter had been skwushed in the 9-11 debacle in NYC and I was certainly very sympathetic about that. I got done in time to dart over to McDonald’s for some quick breakfast before my next stop. I never told you this, but Siobhan and I have a contract with McDonald’s which requires at least one of us to visit each day to procure at least one vanilla iced coffee. Breakfast sandwiches, orange juice, fries or frappes are optional. This took care of Wednesday. While blissing out over my savory breakfast, I got a call from Dermatology advising that I could return any time before noon and have the bandage replaced, although they were “surprised” the wound was bleeding “very much.” Which means, in Bill talk, they didn’t believe me.
I went to Kinetix with my bloody neck bandage, forgetting about the other one on my arm from the Quest lab. The paperwork woman looked me up and down. She didn’t say anything but she was probably thinking “I didn’t know we took homeless plasma donors here.” The physical therapists, being very young, cared less about this and eagerly went about their jobs, measuring me, stretching me out, busily writing notes on their little clipboards and asking an infinite number of questions regarding how does it feel now.
Then, they gave me some stretching exercises to do. They told me they thought my problems might originate in “your core,” which is difficult to stretch. But, believe me, they would have exercises to do it. After about 20 minutes of this fun, they gave me a sheet of exercise instructions, made me a followup appointment and sent me on my way.
The Dermatology People looked at my blood-gorged bandage and agreed that, yep, it probably was a good idea to come in and have things looked at, although, despite the bleeding, the wound looked breathtakingly wonderful. I corralled a bunch of bandages and other goodies so Siobhan could fix me next time and went home. The rest of the day passed in boring, predictable fashion and after the array of insults afforded my obviously declining body, I want you to know that I’m okay with that.
Racing Report
Cosmic Crown will run in the 5th race at Calder Saturday, a maiden $40,000 event at 5 ½ furlongs. We’re chagrined to report that her previous rider got days (a suspension) so we will be forced to use a different jockey. Super Chief is awaiting gate approval, expected this weekend, and will run shortly. Ice Elf has her first real work Saturday morning.
A Shocking Report
We realize that our readers are very busy individuals with far more important things to do than research the daily newspapers for important new information that could impact their lives. And that is why we do it, to provide an important public service you would otherwise be without. We are not making up this news although you might be inclined to doubt it.
This month, 150 pigs disappeared from a farm building in Lafayette, Minnesota. Oh well, you might say, what’s a mere 150 pigs among friends? Well, that’s because you don’t realize that another 594 snorting, squealing hogs disappeared last month in Lake Lillian, farther north. Yep, just whisked away in the night. And in Iowa, with added cover from vast stretches of tall cornfields, pigs were being snatched twenty or thirty at a time from as many as eight different facilities in the last few weeks, according to the sheriff of Mitchell County, who complains that pig identification can be a problem.
“They all sorta look alike,” says Curt Younker, the sheriff, who has not had the pleasure of pig thievery in his area before this. “Suddenly, it’s a plague.”
Some livestock economists pointed to the thefts in this hog-rich region as one more sign of the grim economy, a reflection of record-high prices for hogs this year and the ease of stealing pigs from the large barns that often are far from the farmer’s house.
“This is the hot commodity of the moment, like copper a few years ago,” said Ryan Bode, whose family company discovered 150 of its pigs missing last Friday, shortly before they were to be taken to market.
“Hundreds of pigs don’t just disappear,” said Marc Chadderly (apparently incorrectly), a sheriff’s investigator from Nicollet County.
We think this could be the work of a Free The Pigs outfit built along the lines of PETA. A small guerrilla band, operating out of a Volkswagen microbus, zipping randomly across the Midwest. In any case, there can be no arguing about one thing. This is obviously a job for Wonder Wart Hog.
Putin Returns
After several years on the sidelines climbing mountains and wrestling hyenas, Russian Premier Vladimir Putin will be reinstalled into the Presidency forthwith. We never liked those restrictive laws that deprive talented statesmen from being President-For-Life, so congratulations to Vladimir. Now can we have Bill Clinton back? Yeah, yeah, we know about all that, but what’s a little sex between friends? We’re in a mess here, people, and we need President Bill to straighten it all out. He did a great job last time.
Republicans Grope For New Savior
Well, Sarah is not playing. And Michele Bachmann has been exposed as dumbest-woman-on-earth (as previously reported in this space). Newt Gingrich and the Seven Dwarves can’t get any traction and recent White Hope Rick Perry becomes a greater buffoon with each debate. Worse yet, unsatisfactory moderate candidate Mitt Romney is gaining strength. Whatever is a right-wing fanatic ecumenical abortion-hating NRA slave to do? There must be somebody out there they can love. Mustn’t there? The newest candidate is rotund New Jersey Governor Chris Christie, who has said seventy-five times that he is not running because he “is not ready” to be president. He isn’t, either, although he is way smarter and more politically astute than the other candidates whose names are not Mitt Romney. Who knows what will happen? Christie, perceiving little opposition on the right, may choose to waddle in. It’s amazing, however, how the popularity of these candidates takes a quick nosedive—even among their own advocates—as more facts about them are revealed. Look at Rick Perry, once the hero of the Neanderthals. Now he is unsatisfactory to many because of his permissive attitude toward scholarships for Texas illegals. Christie, not nearly so conservative as Perry, is certain to come under fire from the right when some of his own shenanigans are revealed. We can hardly wait to see who’s next. Where is Richard Nixon when you really need him?
That’s all, folks….
