Club Random

Bill Maher has a podcast.

He calls it Club Random because that is what he calls his bar at home and that is where the podcast is filmed. You can watch it on YouTube.

The only rule - no politics. I love the idea of this. He is talking to his guests as human beings and totally avoiding the topic of politics which, of course, is the main focus of Real Time with Bill Maher on HBO. Plus he is drinking and smoking, so he is very loose.

Episode 1 features William Shatner, which Carol and I watched yesterday.

Shatner is 91 years old, so naturally he brought thoughts of death into the conversation. Like if his appetite is failing him he wonders "Am I dying?" Maher talked about how life forces you to think about mortality as you age. Like the fact that he just mailed off his shit to be analyzed.

Patsy and Emmy Lou have taken up every inch of space in my heart and my soul. I did not think it possible for me to love another cat more than I loved Lakota and Maka but it has happened. I love them more than I thought it was possible for a heart to love.

When I look at them I think they will be the last pets I ever love. 

That is how I look at everything now.

My body is failing me.

I have prostate cancer. I am fat. Knee surgery coming up. And now it's my teeth.

While I was having an errant crown re-glued to a tooth, I mentioned that another tooth was bothering me. Dr. Feelgood checked it out and said "Oh, yeah - that's the tooth we identified two years ago as needing a crown."

I never had it done because old people are not allowed to have dental or vision insurance. Which makes perfect sense - teeth and sight are two areas that the elderly never have to worry about.

But there are always consequences to procrastinating about dental work. His revelation led to a round of x-rays and an appointment on Wednesday to have another crown installed. Total financial commitment - $2,000. 

They can patch me up, fix this, replace that - but the ultimate message here is that I am in decline.

Nothing can change that. It is a sobering thought.

And I am wasting my time with a part time job that devours time. I worked 36 hours this week. 4 days in the box office plus three shows. I'm supposed to work 20 hours/week. Eternal Disclaimer: My fault. I created this situation. No one to blame but me.

Thinking optimistically, if the job continues to eat up all my time, I will be distracted from the harsh reality of my failing health.

An annoying customer will say something stupid to me, I will respond "Fuck You", and then keel over and die.

Unfortunately, this will be sad for Patsy and Emmy Lou. 

When a pet dies, it is heartwrenching. It takes months to recover, along with liberal doses of whiskey. But humans move on and snatch up new pets.

When I die, Emmy Lou and Patsy will have no clue what the hell happened. They don't understand death. Thank god. They will just know that I am not around. These two cats who sleep in my lap every night, will be bewildered. They will be lost.

I wish I could shield them from this but I can't.

Patsy is lying in my lap right now as I write. She keeps looking up at me with the cutest cat face in history.

She is so precious to me.

It breaks my heart.