Friday, June 19, 2015


(Dylaan Roof has a lot of demons.)

Last night, the Dragon Lady went to Dunkin Donuts.  Thursday evening is always pastry night in our humble abode.  I stuffed those chocolate goodies into my face until I nearly exploded.  Then I washed them down with several glasses of generic cola.  The experience was heavenly.  All that sugar sent me straight to the moon.

I watched the Samsung Lions get their asses kicked by the Doonsan Bears.  The final score was 6 to 3.  The losing pitcher is named Tyler Cloyd.  He's an American who makes $600,000 a year.  That's great money.  The Lions have dropped eight of their last ten games.  Nevertheless, they remain near the top of the standings.  Most people believe that Samsung will win the championship yet again.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  I'm not some dirty pagan.  I asked Jesus to help my mother with her cancer scare.  Nobody gets to live forever on this planet.  But we can--if we're lucky--experience some semblance of peace while we still draw breath.  To her credit, the old lady seems quite placid.  We'll just have to wait and see what the doctor says.

I went to bed at 10 p.m.  I didn't dream.  I woke up at 6 a.m. and turned on Fox News.  A young man named Dylann Roof killed nine people in a South Carolina church.  His motive for the murders was racial.  Mr. Roof believes that black men are taking over the earth by fornicating with too many white girls.  He'll probably get the death penalty for his crimes.  Oh well.  Serves him right.

I read the paper while enjoying a bathroom break.  A young Korean actress died from jumping out of an airplane.  Her parachute opened, but she landed in the sea.  The poor woman drowned.  She was only 35-years-old.

Anyway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's I Am the Walrus by The Beatles.  God bless.     


  1. Breast cancer seems to have a particularly visceral emotional fearfulness for women. Other types of cancer -- namely lung -- kill more of them. Reproductive organ cancers such as uterine and cervical are harder to detect/treat, they cause more pain because they involve tumours on internal organs that extend tentacles into other organs, and they're a nasty way to go. I've seen a couple patients (real old ones) who basically rotted from the inside out when their wimmin's bits got full of cancer. Heart disease and stroke are way ahead of breast CA too. But the horror of "pink ribbon disease" (do they have that PR campaign in S.K. Mr. Smith?) is uppermost in women's minds.

    I reckon that's because women define themselves by their boobs the way guys do with our dicks. If they have big 'uns they're proud (unless they're so big they cause back pain) and if they're small, they feel the same shame micro-penis guys do. Only women have to pay more attention to their tits than we do to our schlongs, what with bra sizes and clothing choices based on how the ta-tas are displayed. Can you imagine what a drag it would be if we had to buy an assortment of jock straps for every occasion, and different pants depending on whether we wanted to show a minimum bulge for work, but other pants that would reveal all the but the tip of the cock when we were going out at night?

    Anyway, with all the mindfulness women have for their gazongas, my misogynistic take on it is that they believe they are what their hooters are. Hence the special shudder with anything going wrong with them.

    Good luck to your mom, Mr. Smith. Most lumps and irregularities turn out to be something other than cancer. There are lots of treatments available if she does have something bad, and he five-year survival rate is good. Who amongst us knows if we've got five years anyway? There might always be that bus out there with our name on it when we're crossing the street.

    1. The survival rate is only five years? Crap. I thought it was longer.

      I don't want to be an orphan.

      On the bright side, she has no cancer in the family. Things should work out for her.


    2. The "five year survival rate" figure is a term the medical industry uses for a benchmark, not that people only live that long. The idea is that if someone gets a shitty disease and they can carry on for half a decade, they're doing as well as can be expected. When people get to the age of having cancer, other body systems are also starting to break down -- kidney failure, lung disease, heart malfunction -- and those might come along to kill them first. Or in combination -- comorbidities. As the singing philosopher James Morrison said in 1968, "No one here gets out alive." It's not about how we exit, it's about how much joy we have along the road to the Final Turnoff (and being conscious of the fact while we're driving that "Isn't this some good times?")

    3. The thought of being an orphan makes me shiver.

    4. When your parents go, that means you're next in the "die-ring" line.

  2. I was surprised yesterday when my sister told me in a FB message that she has Breast Cancer, we haven't been close in years but I think it will shake her pretty bad. She has no God in her life to help get her through it.


    1. That's a tough break for such a young woman. I'll keep her in my prayers.


Thanks for stopping by. Smith.