Excuse me my dear, but your ear just fell off and I think your nose is melting

Don’t you love stories like this one from Yahoo! News?

WASHINGTON – American laboratories handling the world’s deadliest germs and toxins have experienced more than 100 accidents and missing shipments since 2003, and the number is increasing steadily as more labs across the country are approved to do the work.

No one died, and regulators said the public was never at risk during these incidents. But the documented cases reflect poorly on procedures and oversight at high-security labs, some of which work with organisms and poisons so dangerous that illnesses they cause have no cure. In some cases, labs have failed to report accidents as required by law.

Oh puhlease, feed my paranoia!  Can’t you imagine sitting with your friends around a table and look up to see Billy Bob’s left ear lobe fall off into his drink.

“Uh Billy Bob, is there something you want to tell us about what’s going on down at your place of business?”  Billy Bob wipes his mouth with his napkin and his bottom lip is missing.  “Nope, everything is fine down at Lenny’s Lab of Life ‘Liminators.  Oh we had a small spill this morning but I was able to get it quickly with my handkerchief.  Why do you ask?”  As everyone flees the table and Billy Bob has a rather confused look on his face as it begins to slide off of the skull and into his plate.

Worse than that is when Diane mentions she really shouldn’t be hugging everyone because they are quite sure whether the airborne virus they’ve developed is capable of being absorbed through the skin or has to be inhaled into the lungs before it turns your innards into mush.  Accidents happen, right?

I think maybe we might want to slow down the licensing of more labs until we get the ones we have under control.  Can you imagine waking up tomorrow to find that little virus that can affect felines has obviously escaped the lab since every cat in town has the wide eyed death staggers while barking like dogs.  What do they say then?  Oops?  Or do they ignore it and hope that everyone who has touched one of the cats is only barking out of sympathy?

Murphy’s Law and Frustrated Cynicism Run Amok tend to lean towards the thought if a disaster could happen then the probability of such an occurrence increases substantially with the number of money hungry morons running the facility and in America, those aren’t comforting odds.

Ok, I think my job of spreading comfort and joy is done here.  Have a wonderful day and may your body parts stay where they belong and may the air you breathe be filled with only those particles that we are already comfortable with in our daily regimen of inhalation (i.e. carbon monoxide, second hand smoke, industrial pollutants; you know, those “safe” ones that our car, cigarette, and industries continue to reassure us are totally safe and normal).

Nothing Big But I Broke 6,000 Hits

Yeah, let me feed my ego for a moment and relish the 6,000 mark on my new blogsite.  I left the old one after 10,000 hits or so but this one has not had the same amount of traffic so it is a nice thing to stop and enjoy.

Sigh.  That is nice.

Urban Birds Tougher Than Country Birds

Our research dollars working for the betterment of all humanity have struck a goldmine of information with the latest study that shows city birds are tougher than country birds.  Really?  What was your first clue, Sherlock?  Could it have been;

• The recent wearing of colors by grackles gathering around parking lots?  The Crips and the Bloods swooping into each other, defecating on each others territory as they flit around with little knives, chains and zip guns while singing songs from West Side Story might have been a clue if you weren’t too busy rolling in your government dough.
• The changing of pigeon coos to a low raspy song that can only be obtained with swollen cheeks filled with junk food found on city streets as other birds line up to kiss their tracking rings also might have been a clue if you weren’t sipping margaritas in the hot tub provided by the government to expedite fact assimilation.
• The recent onslaught of Blue Jays flipping Cardinals the human while rapping to harsh trilling songs that are rhythmically annoying as the bigger Blue Jays make bass booming sounds in the background could’ve also been an insight to urban bird toughness but no, you were having much too fun heading out into the country to observe the more docile beer drinking birds that sit on back porches watching college football and whistling at any avian mascots that happen to catch a little camera time.
• Has anyone notice the white winged doves are now packing and shooting back at hunters?  They didn’t pick up the whole drive by shooting talent from the country my friend.
• The ultimate proof of urban birds being tougher?  The grackles are copulating and reproducing at an alarming speed despite all the attempts of city folk to eliminate them while the crows are getting taken out by mosquitoes.  ‘Nuff said.

So next time you want to study the difference between urban and city residents, try something a little more challenging like how urban cats don’t stand a chance against their country brethren who have to fight off natural predators such as coyotes, raccoons, wild dogs, and drunken rednecks with four wheel drives that think running over cats is a sport worthy of its own show on ESPN.  That my friend would be a study worth reading.

Writing Wedding Vows

We have decided to write our own wedding vows and I am thinking, “Yessssssssssssssssssssssss! Finally an audience that has to listen to my writing!” I don’t think Twyla is as excited about this wonderful opportunity of mine and has suggested I plan on keeping them simple, sweet, and focused.

Oh the options, the options…

I could go with poetry…

Roses are red, Violets are blue, You picked me and I picked you. Short, sweet and to the point.

I love your smile, I love your wit, You bring my life style, And I know we won’t quit. See? Great possibilities.

There is also using a good quote to lead into a nice sweet loquacious litany of love that would make Willie Shakespeare weep with envy. I have several in mind including this one from Mark Twain;

This 4th of February will be the mightiest day in the history of our lives, the holiest, & the most generous toward us both–for it makes of two fractional lives a whole; it gives to two purposeless lives a work, & doubles the strength of each whereby to perform it; it gives to two questioning natures a reason for living, & something to live for; it will give a new gladness to the sunshine, a new fragrance to the flowers, a new beauty to the earth, a new mystery to life; & Livy it will give a new revelation to love, a new depth to sorrow, a new impulse to worship. In that day the scales will fall from our eyes & we shall look upon a new world. Speed it!
- letter to Olivia Langdon, 8 September 1869

Or perhaps this one from the great philosopher, Erma Bombeck;

Marriage has no guarantees. If that’s what you’re looking for, go live with a car battery.

Perhaps I should go with a fable, telling a nice sweet story about marriage that has a moral to it that way the audience will get a twofer… a wedding and a learning opportunity.

Facing the Needle

Went to the doctor today to get a “fix” for what turned out to be bronchitis, fever, and a sore throat.  I have the greatest doctor in the world and he always offers me options.  Today the options were:

1. Take some samples to see if they help.
2. Take a Z-pak
3. Take a 3 in 1 steroid shot to give me that little boost to get me on the train to Wellsville.

I hate needles and would rather take a beating than to allow one to penetrate my body but this week is so full of important events and appointments that I looked him in the eye and…. whimpered “I’ll take the shot.”

The P.A. kept walking by the exam room and I would stiffen when she glanced inside.  No syringe in hand must mean that they had either forgotten or decided I didn’t need a shot after all.  I started to smile, feeling better by the moment and plotting the path to the quickest pharmacy when I saw the P.A. push a woman in a wheelchair into the adjoining room and then, horror of horrors, she glanced at me and exclaimed,

“Oh my sugar, I forgot to give you your shot.  Just a second honey and I’ll be right in.”  Sugar?  Honey?  Hey, words can’t sweeten the ordeal heading my way… the needle.  Sure enough she comes popping in, all bubbly and excited with a slew of “honeys and sugars” filling the room as the cap is popped off the syringe and she starts searching for an alcohol swab.

“Where are you going to put it?”

“The hip is the best.”

“Right or left?”

“Oh I prefer the right hip the best so drop them britches a bit and show me your right hip.”  I did as she ordered and before I knew it the syringe was in, the healing juice injected and absolutely no pain.  I was surprised.  I complimented her on her technique and told her she was the best.  She grinned and said,

“It gets better.”

She wasn’t lying.  Five minutes later and the butt is on fire, feeling like napalm had been injected and now I have a sore butt that no honey or sugar can fix.  Sigh.

The upside is I am feeling much better.  The cough is still there but my oh my, the cough syrup does give you a nice trip to the Bahamas.

Maybe needles aren’t so bad after all.  Sheesh, who am I kidding?  They are the IRS (Injections Raping the Skin) of the medical profession and I don’t think I’ll ever get over the fear.  Sigh.