Tuesday, August 26, 2014


(The Knick is the best show on television.)

Yesterday, the Dragon Lady made beef and rice for dinner.  The meal wasn't very good.  In fact, the rice was purple.  The purple stuff is supposed to be healthier than the white variety.  Nevertheless, the color didn't help my appetite.  I washed the vittles down with several glasses of generic cola.  But the sugar failed to mask the flavor.

I watched the latest episode of The Knick.  Clive Owen is an impressive actor, and his series is far and away the best on television.  Dr. Thackery's latest patient is a woman being eaten alive by syphillis.  She's even lost her nose to the illness.  He desperately tries to help.  Yet the technology to make her beautiful again simply doesn't exist.  So the poor creature is forced to spend the rest of her life with a gaping hole in the middle of her face.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  I'm not some filthy atheist.  I asked Jesus to help me through this endless recession.  I've got mouths to feed.  I just hope that I can keep working till I keel over and die. 

I went to bed at 10 p.m.  I didn't dream.  I woke up at 6 a.m. and drank several cups of coffee.  Then I read the paper while enjoying a bathroom break.  Korea won the Little League World Series.  The peninsula is screaming with joy.  Beating the snot out of an American team is icing on top of the cake.

I turned on Fox News.  James Foley was beheaded by a rapper from an affluent suburb of London.  Talk about adding insult to injury.  Radical Islam is a scourge facing the entire planet.  Nothing satisfies these devilish ragheads.  Mark my words. Eventually, they'll kill us all.

Anyway, it's time to don our tinfoil caps.  Here's Peter Schiff discussing the death of Mike Brown.

God bless.            


  1. Your account of face parts falling off reminded me of something I saw in Vancouver. There was a batch of crack going around that had been cut with a medication that was used to de-worm hogs. Why dealers would use THAT chemical to step on cocaine I don't know, but the ways of the narcotics market are varied and mysterious. Anyway, one of the side effects was that it killed off the circulation to peripheral capillaries. In layman's terms, that means no blood flow to the tip of the nose, the outer earlobes, fingertips and the ends of your toes. Our hospital had an influx of people with livid purple nose-ends, ears that went violet from the upper edges down, fingers that looked like they had been frostbitten... This was when I was still working on a medical ward at the hospital, and I recall one guy, a middle-aged, long-haired, semi-employed hippie-ish dude, who had to have the tip of his nose and part of his ears debrided (medical-ese for "cut off) because of the necrosis (medical-ese for "dead flesh"). It wasn't as drastic as what this TV plot featured, but it was still disfiguring.

    I frequently ask druggie patients on the psych ward whether they're scared of the shit they smoke and shoot. Many of the speed freaks are paranoid about signals from satellites, people following them, distrustful of medical staff, etc. But they'll buy chemicals from criminals and ingest them without a second thought. The usual answer is "I only buy from people I trust." So they choose to trust dope dealers but not doctors. People are so fucked in the head. But that's why they're mental patients, eh?

    I'd like to try Ecstasy. My X, who was an LSD-dropping hippie during her Grateful Dead days, took it many a time and described it as a warm, fuzzy glowing experience. That was in the era when such stuff was cooked up by labs in the U.S. by people who CARED about the quality of the chemicals they were making, dammit! Now it's all garbage from China, North Korea and doG knows where.

    In Canada, after I moved to the psych ward, one of my memorable patients was this nice young Indian bloke, university student, hard-working at a sales job he was doing to put himself through school, who went to a rave party and took 9 X tablets. (The recommended dose is one, but it wasn't working fast enough, so he gobbled them all, even though the price was $20-$25 a pop.) He went off his head for a month; went into full-blown hyperactive, no-sleeping mania, decided that he was going to be a rapper, was talking all ghetto and making up songs that were garbage as far as their meter and rhymes went... Imagine mild-mannered young Sanjay from the IT department posing like he was the baddest pimpin' muthafucka in the hood and you can see how ludicrous he was. Eventually we got him through it and he moved on to a more normal life pattern, mentally scarred but not destroyed. All it takes is for a few molecules to be out of place in a complicated chemical chain and your brain is scrambled. My paranoia about such things is one of the reasons why I'm still mostly sane.

    1. I'm with you. I was never a drug guy. I have a hard time trusting my very own mother. No way I'm gonna accept junk from a hippie.


  2. I live in a small town (5000). Last week, a 21 year old decided to give a 17 and 26 year old acid for a birthday party, and then then ended up getting his dads AR15 and killing them because they were acting "abnormal". I haven't been able to wrap my head around this one yet... best, Jay

    we did truckloads of acid, mescaline, psilicybin (sp) in the 70s and I never felt the need to shoot anyone.

  3. that's why legalization is the ONLY answer. Yeah I smoked pot and hash back in the day and you didn't know if there was paraquat, pcp or what else mixed in there. Now in Colorado or Washington it's legal so they don't mix anything in there, hopefully. In fact I might have to head to Colorado and check out the stoned hippie poontang inasmuch as Smith has failed to deliver on the frustrated Korean housewife scenario.


Thanks for stopping by. Smith.