The Real Victims

WARNING: THIS POST IS NOT CHILD-FRIENDLY. REALLY.


Maybe I'm wrong, but I think I'm seeing a pattern. Turns out that Tiger Woods and Jesse James (guys with those names have to become celebrities, don't they?) are junkies. They're addicts. Now they qualify for rehab. And it's a good thing, too. Because it looks like the REAL victims of Tiger's and Jesse's "indiscretions" aren't Elin and Sandra. Oh sure, we all thought they were the victims when the stories first hit the news. We all understand why Elin went after the Big Cat with a golf club, and none of us believed his assurances that there was no club. We have all wept, at least metaphorically, for Sandra when Biker Boy's trysts began to come to light AFTER she made those heart-breaking statements from different awards platforms about how much she loves him and relies on him.
But, folks, it looks like we rushed to our conclusions. It looks like the real victims were Big Cat and Biker Boy. Why, you may reasonably ask? Because, for crying out loud (and they've both done nearly everything but that), NOBODY TOLD THEM that if they weren't careful about where they put their wee-wees and how many times they put them there, they might become junkies!! And that's exactly what happened!
They both have WANDERING WEE-WEE DISEASE. Well, they might have several diseases--that's not been made public . . . yet. Anyway, the point is that because nobody informed them of the potential risks involved in philandering, they contracted Wandering Wee-Wee Disease and they are now junkies, addicts, stricken with an illness. They are the real victims!
Fortunately, our celebrity-obsessed culture and it's unscrupulous media outlets will make sure that we hear about every friggin' step each of them takes as they recover from their illnesses and reclaim the lives that, really, were taken from them by the people--whoever they are--that should have told them about the risks they were taking. Oh, and the women who made junkies of them. It's their fault, too. 
The poor boys. Tiger and Jesse--they're the victims in their situations. They're sick.
I have a cure for their addictive illnesses--it involves a rusty sardine can lid and no anesthesia, but I probably shouldn't lay out the specifics in this venue.

You might be a Taoseno if . . . (continued, again and again)

 You might be a Taoseno if the Police Blotter section of your local newspaper includes the following entries (and, yes, these are real):


"Caller reported that his trash was stolen." (Really, is that bad? It's TRASH.)


"Caller reported that her son was throwing snowballs at her and refused to go with her in the car." 


"Caller reported three dogs running at large together." 


"Caller reported that there were two people drinking in a car 'full of mud.'" (You are certainly a Taoseno if you understand what that means. Our road isn't paved, ese, and my truck is full of mud right now.)


"Caller reported that she was arrested on a DWI during a traffic stop." (I bet they already knew that back at the station.)


"Caller reported a man telling someone off and getting into a car. Officers found the man was not a criminal but 'just being rude.'"

National Colonoscopy Day

I've been checking. It seems there is no "official" National Colonoscopy Day. You can Google it and get hits, but it seems there actually isn't one. Which means the federal government hasn't yet designated any particular day as National Colonoscopy Day.
SO . . . I have a suggestion. We should lobby Congress to make April 15 National Colonoscopy Day.
I have two simple reasons for this idea. First, after several years of putting it off -- for what should be REALLY  obvious reasons (don't make me tell you about the sewer snake with a camera on the end) -- I finally went to the doctor and scheduled my "screening colonoscopy." That's the procedure we're all supposed to have when the number of our years reaches 50, which happened to me a little over four years ago. It will provide "baseline data" on the health and condition of my large intestine, ideally before some nasty stuff grows in there that has the potential to decrease the number of my total accumulated years. That's important because I have promised my kids that I fully intend to live long enough to become a serious burden to them; I won't go into the diaper talk here, but I think it could make a nice blog topic for another day. It's also important because I am a pain-and-illness weenie.
So, after getting an introduction to the functional responsibilities of the various parts of my digestive tract, the doc took me to the check-out desk where a young woman looked at the doc's schedule and gave me options for the date of the upcoming procedure. April 8, the soonest, was out for me, so we settled on April 15.
Then it hit me -- THAT'S TAX DAY!! 
Then it hit me again -- I won't be the only one getting a colonoscopy that day. What irony! 
There's my second reason: As it turns out, we will ALL be getting a colonoscopy that day. Oh c'mon, don't fake righteous indignation -- you know paying taxes is a pain in the ___ and you know you have said so many times. And with all our taxes going up AGAIN this year, you know our various governments are switching to bigger cables with bigger collection snippers -- it's a completely appropriate metaphor.
Oh, sure, I'll be getting two colonoscopies on the same day this year, but you will all be joining me for one of them. That may not do much for you but you have no idea how comforting it is for me. Fortunately for you, you won't have to watch me go through either of them -- don't let that mental image linger any longer than you have to. Just know that we all feel each other's pain every April 15 anyway, and this year you can sympathize (some of you can probably empathize) with me during my second procedure on National Colonoscopy Day.
Ha ha -- you'll never think of April 15 the same way again, will you?