I'm back at the pharmacy for the 4th time in the last half hour to get two prescriptions filled. When I showed up back at the doctor's office a few minutes ago, the receptionist said, "You don't have much luck."
"I know," I said, "That's my Indian name."

The first time I came here today there were two pharmacy techs standing next to each other that I had always thought were the same person (played by Patty Duke, I guess). One of them, James, asked me for my ID. I said, "I can't tell you apart, but I'm the one that has to show ID?"
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This was a text, but I'm recycling it here

A certain nauseating despair is taking hold of my life as I stay home giving Karen 24 hour nursing care with no improvement in her pain even after a lumbar block yesterday, although that could be the bags of doritos and packs of cheese I've been medicating myself with

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I Could Have Done Worse

If I was looking for a cartoon role model, I could have done worse than Homer Simpson.

This Was A Very Hard Post To Type

Mostly because I have so much peanut butter on my fingers. Karen had a rough night last night. Nobody got much sleep; I stayed home today because she needed help. Tomorrow she's having a procedure. But tonight I had a little emotional inburst and ate a lot of things that would have been on my diet if I was Homer Simpson and I wanted to work from home.
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How Fallen Are The Mighty Part ll

The packet we got from New England Adventures said the tour would only be fun if we could ride 50 miles. They didn't say if they meant easily, or in our wildest dreams.  In my wildest dreams is starting to seem like a pretty good itinerary. Yesterday we went out and rode 50 miles, so yes, we can do it, and for what it's worth, I outlasted my iPhone battery which only made it 33 miles before it gave out. On the other hand, it wheezed a lot less, and had a lot more dignity. For one thing, it wasn't wearing bib shorts, which are designed primarily to add an extra burst of speed, as Emo Phillips says, to avoid the guys yelling "Kill the fairies!"
I was pretty blithe about being able to ride 50 miles, since as you may recall, because I've never stopped talking about it, I once rode 100 miles.  Of course, since then, I've had some interruptions to my training schedule; in fact,  I'm typing this instead of doing my push-ups, so at least I'm adhering pretty closely to the interruptions. After reading that last link that you probably didn't click on, I realized that pretty much nothing has changed since Karen is still in about the worst pain of her life,  and would use a walker if she could be helped to her feet which she can't.
When we were in England, we climbed the stairs at Warwick Castle. It was a narrow spiral stairway in the dark, but every few stairs they had small slits in the wall to allow a little light in. In that same manner, as we seem to spiral back down, there are tiny flickers in the gloom;  the Salvation Army stopped by on Friday and told us that once a month they can send someone over to vacuum and dust for us.

How Fallen Are The Mighty

"I will ascend to heaven;

I will raise my throne above the stars of God;

I will sit enthroned on the mount of assembly, on the utmost heights of the sacred mountain.

I will ascend above the tops of the clouds; 

I will make myself like the Most High."

But you are brought down to the grave, to the depths of the pit.

Believers are called to deny themselves and honor God, so that passage from Isaiah with its repetition of the word, "I" is used to show the fallen mindset, and its consequences. But that was all so long ago, we're not like that now. Except, I was listening to an alphabetical playlist the other day, waiting for the song Jailhouse Tears and it took forever to get to. From I Feel Fine to I'm on Fire took a lifetime, and looking at the titles, we see that it still always ends up the same. 

Hypertext Allows Bloggers to Quote Real Authors

Hypertext allows me to link to real authors, especially those that agree with me.

Trajan Langdon played basketball for East High School here in Anchorage at the same time that my daughter attended school there. She told someone that he went to her school and they corrected her, "You went to his school." So maybe, using that logic, I am linking to authors that I agree with rather than the other way around.

It doesn't pay to be poor. If it did, I guess we wouldn't be poor.
I don't even remember where I was going with that when I started this post earlier but I hate to waste a line as good as that.
I know it's been a little while since I last posted here, but it's not like I haven't been busy:

and not content to rest easy when there's more to be done:

The Worm Ouroboros Joins Project Greenlight

A few years ago, all the talk was about the imminent death of old media because new media, i.e. the internet, Youtube, and Twitter were stealing eyeballs with their sticky screens. Really, that's how we talked, eyeballs and sticky screens. Now, don't think less of me (as if you would, or even could) but I have subscribed to a Twitter feed, that's been turned into a book. The book's called Sh*t My Dad Says, and now that's being turned into a TV show called S#*! My Dad Says. So things have come full circle. They posted a video that was awful, and I should have blogged about it then. My idea was that if they take a Twitter feed, and they can't even repeat the name of the feed on TV, then the show is doomed. Since then, they've replaced that clip with one that's only average, which is a huge improvement, but I've got to tell you, that if they merely tried to read the tweets on network TV, it would sound like a test of the emergency broadcast system.

How Do You Know It Won't Work If We've Never Tried It?

Our new security booby trap has already been set aside. Our station manager said we didn't hear what we heard, they were just telling us to use common sense.

In other news, our good friend Rose Mary visited us last week. On her next to last day here before returning to the Russian River on the Kenai Peninsula, she hurt her hip. She's doing better, so at least she's not hors de combat fishing.

Can You Even Say Booby On The Internet?

Here at the post office, we have a new security measure. I believe the idea is that any would-be thief or terrorist will be completely disabled by laughing at our so-called booby-trap. How come we always have to be the booby?

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TMI Leads To An unfortunate Phrase In The Middle Of This Post

Yesterday a woman at work announced she was three months pregnant, but the congratulations died aborning on my lips when she went on to say three months to the day.

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No Need For You To Panic

I'll take care of that.  "Asian longhorned beetles, a much-feared invasive pest," have been found in Boston. I had a little more to say on that subject, but mostly I was just vamping until a plumber came to unplug our toilet. He's just left, and the water is flowing in, and much more importantly, out, of our toilet again.  He used a large, dare I say,  the manliest toilet auger I've ever seen. It made mine seem pathetically boyish, and boy howdy, I'm getting one of those.

If Karen Was In Charge Of The Revolution, We'd All Still Be Speaking English

As my long time reader (me) will remember, we've had some problems with snakes here. Some examples can be seen here, and here. Things seemed to calm down for awhile, but yesterday our snake failed us. I went over to Home Depot to buy a bigger snake, but it turned out that we already had the biggest toilet snake available. There were other snakes, but they all had specific habitats that didn't include toilets. I picked up a KleerDrain device , even though one reviewer said it blew her garbage disposal right off her sink.  That sounded like the kind of drain opener that was perfect for the 4th of July, but Karen was afraid to use it on a holiday in case we needed a plumber to restore order. What if Mrs. Revere had taken that attitude?
As soon as I finish here, and some coffee, I'm going to go see what a patriot exercising his 2nd and 10th amendment rights to be stupid can do with a plunger gun.

You've Always Loved The Red Sox, But Have They Ever Loved You Back?

Don't tell anyone in my family, but I sort of admire President Obama. I think he's accomplished a lot in a short time. Some of what he's done isn't as good as I'd hoped for, but a lot of the shortcomings are caused by Republicans who won't accept ideas they had a few years ago, if they come from Democrats.
I mean, I'm not blind to the fact that ridiculously high deficits will lead to inflation that will mean that if I ever retire my pension will just about pay for living in a cardboard box. Just one more reason not to recycle;  maybe if I save up enough boxes, I can rent them out to other retirees.
So that's (my admiration for Obama, it's a post about admiring Obama) why it was such a disappointment this morning to wake up from a dream in which Obama was my new supervisor and he was trying to dock my pay.

Because, Apparently, I'm Pathetic

I took another one of those pop psychology personality tests. Apparently I share personality traits with the fictional dog on Family Guy, and the slightly less fictional Mary-Kate Olsen.