OK dig.
I am reading Hunter S. Thompson. Haven't read his stuff in quite a while.
Feels like coming home.
Towards the end of his career/life he was writing a column for ESPN2. He began his career as a sports writer, why not end it so?
Just picked up a book titled "Hey Rube - Blood Sport, the Bush Doctrine, and the Downward Spiral of Dumbness".
It is a collection of the columns Hunter wrote for ESPN.
I have avoided this book up until now because I thought it would not satisfy my HST craving.
I was dead wrong. As I said it feels like coming home.
He had a style of writing that was combative, ballsy, funny, informed, enlightening and informative.
If I could pick one style to emulate, his would be it.
Of course if I did that I would be derivative. Unoriginal. And Hunter would come back from the grave, kick my ass from here to hell and back and tell me to write my own stuff or die trying.
An excerpt from a column titled: "The New Dumb":
"Autumn is always a time of Fear and Greed and Hoarding for the winter coming on. Debt collectors are active on old people and fleece the weak and helpless. They want to lay in enough cash to weather the known horrors of January and February. There is always a rash of kidnapping and abductions of schoolchildren in the football months. Preteens of both sexes are traditionally seized and grabbed off the streets by gangs of organized perverts who traditionally give them as Christmas gifts to each other to be personal sex slaves and playthings."
There are those of you who will take these words literally. Those who won't know what to do with them.
You might not laugh. You might call it gibberish.
If so I am guessing you fall into that large slice of the American population that has no sense of humor. And when I say sense of humor I am talking a finely tuned, subtly nuanced sense of humor. Not the black and white decidedly unfunny stuff that most people laugh at.
I'll give you an example.
We went out to breakfast recently on a Sunday morning with a group of society's rejects. Close friends of ours.
While standing around waiting for tables to be cleared, I turned to Jason (The Ring Leader) and said: "I predict THE PATS will beat the colts tonight 75 to 0."
A guy standing near us laughed. He said to me: "I'm pretty sure THE PATS will win the game but I don't think the score will be 75 to 0."
It was obvious to me in tone of voice and demeanor, that he was not joking.
That guy would never get Hunter S. Thompson.
People like that should be executed. They have no place on this planet.
Anyway I am re-united with HST and it feels like a breath of fresh air is blowing across my soul.
The timing is perfect.
My soul was beginning to look like a raisin.
Friday, November 6, 2015
Once, I Was Bill Belichick's Best Friend
Yesterday, I awoke at 4:00 a.m.
Had to visit the bathroom.
Crawled back into bed and drifted into that trance-like, dreamlike state of semi-awakeness and semi-sleep that bedevils me at times like that, resulting in me crawling out of bed exhausted at the alarm's shriek.
Makes me appreciate most other mornings when I crawl out of bed only tired.
The hallucination:
I was at a PATS game but it was not at Gillette. It was more like a high school field with high school bleachers and a high school sized crowd. Sitting half a field away from THE PATS bench.
At one point I got up and walked over to THE PATS bench. Sat down right next to Belichick, who turned to me, greeted me warmly, and shook my hand. Like we were old friends. Like he was very glad to see me.
We talked for a while and as we did a fight broke out in the stands in the section of the bleachers I had come from.
For some reason this disturbed Bill greatly and he wanted to know what the hell was going on. So we got up, walked over to that area and began asking questions in an effort to figure out what caused the disturbance.
We got contradictory stories and could not get at the truth.
Finally Bill said to me: "You were sitting in this section, why don't you know what the hell happened?"
I tried to explain to him that the fight broke out while I was sitting with him, but he would not listen. He would accept no excuses.
He asked me a couple of times, and when I could not provide the information he wanted, he walked away furious at me.
This is how my brain works.
Had to visit the bathroom.
Crawled back into bed and drifted into that trance-like, dreamlike state of semi-awakeness and semi-sleep that bedevils me at times like that, resulting in me crawling out of bed exhausted at the alarm's shriek.
Makes me appreciate most other mornings when I crawl out of bed only tired.
The hallucination:
I was at a PATS game but it was not at Gillette. It was more like a high school field with high school bleachers and a high school sized crowd. Sitting half a field away from THE PATS bench.
At one point I got up and walked over to THE PATS bench. Sat down right next to Belichick, who turned to me, greeted me warmly, and shook my hand. Like we were old friends. Like he was very glad to see me.
We talked for a while and as we did a fight broke out in the stands in the section of the bleachers I had come from.
For some reason this disturbed Bill greatly and he wanted to know what the hell was going on. So we got up, walked over to that area and began asking questions in an effort to figure out what caused the disturbance.
We got contradictory stories and could not get at the truth.
Finally Bill said to me: "You were sitting in this section, why don't you know what the hell happened?"
I tried to explain to him that the fight broke out while I was sitting with him, but he would not listen. He would accept no excuses.
He asked me a couple of times, and when I could not provide the information he wanted, he walked away furious at me.
This is how my brain works.
Tuesday, November 3, 2015
A Fresh Perspective On Religion
"Like the rest of the Ten Commandments, it was merely a reflection of man's fearful desire to protect himself by transferring to the supreme authority of an imagined God decrees against those things that man feared - being murdered; being robbed;..............and so on - that consigned them to the realm of "sin" and the punishment of eternal damnation...."
"There was no morality. There was no sin. There was only fear."
From "Me And The Devil" by Nick Tosches
"There was no morality. There was no sin. There was only fear."
From "Me And The Devil" by Nick Tosches
Something To Think About
"I must allow my own nature no longer to cast or to hide or abide in vague indications or dark hints. I must not betray myself."
From "Me And The Devil" by Nick Tosches
From "Me And The Devil" by Nick Tosches
A Declaration That Cannot Be Questioned
I love my family.
I love my family.
I love my family.
On Sunday, November 1, 2015 my sons and their women assembled at our home for dinner, conversation and celebration.
We were celebrating Craig's birthday and Emily's birthday.
Unbeknownst to the group, Carol and I were celebrating the fact that this is our family. That is always the secret part of the joy whenever we get to spend time with them.
On these days Carol is like a little kid. In fact, for weeks before the event she is like a little kid. So excited. So happy that we are getting together.
Me, I could take it or leave it. My sons are forever asking me for money. They never pay me back. They call me "Old Fart" to my face. They secretly replace my blood pressure medication with placebos. I'm not sure what the motivation is there.
Initially my joy comes from feeling Carol's joy. I love to listen to her talk about the impending gathering; I love the happiness in her voice, on her face and in her eyes.
The day arrives and the kids arrive.
I am overwhelmed.
I have been over this time and time again. I know you are bored. But I can never take these situations for granted because of the peace that they bring to our souls.
It is the unspoken stuff that knocks me out. There is a feeling, a sensation that permeates the day.
A sensation born of love and trust and respect, but it goes much deeper than that. It cannot be described but it is there, it has an almost physical presence.
There is laughter, there is catching up, there are questions and answers and we all end up knowing each other a little better.
A little deeper.
And there is the feeling. The sensation. The aura.
If I could feel that feeling every minute of my waking life I would live to be 235 years old.
Sunday was a spectacular day for Carol and me thanks to the precious nature of our sons and their women. Thanks to our relationships and our love.
A few weeks from now we get to do it all again on Thanksgiving. And it will be Carol's birthday, which ratchets up the meaning of the moment even higher.
I am exceptionally lucky to be married to the woman who shares my life, and exceptionally lucky to have the sons that I have, and exceptionally lucky that those sons brought women into this family who make it even better.
I love my family.
I love my family.
I love my family.
I love my family.
I love my family.
On Sunday, November 1, 2015 my sons and their women assembled at our home for dinner, conversation and celebration.
We were celebrating Craig's birthday and Emily's birthday.
Unbeknownst to the group, Carol and I were celebrating the fact that this is our family. That is always the secret part of the joy whenever we get to spend time with them.
On these days Carol is like a little kid. In fact, for weeks before the event she is like a little kid. So excited. So happy that we are getting together.
Me, I could take it or leave it. My sons are forever asking me for money. They never pay me back. They call me "Old Fart" to my face. They secretly replace my blood pressure medication with placebos. I'm not sure what the motivation is there.
Initially my joy comes from feeling Carol's joy. I love to listen to her talk about the impending gathering; I love the happiness in her voice, on her face and in her eyes.
The day arrives and the kids arrive.
I am overwhelmed.
I have been over this time and time again. I know you are bored. But I can never take these situations for granted because of the peace that they bring to our souls.
It is the unspoken stuff that knocks me out. There is a feeling, a sensation that permeates the day.
A sensation born of love and trust and respect, but it goes much deeper than that. It cannot be described but it is there, it has an almost physical presence.
There is laughter, there is catching up, there are questions and answers and we all end up knowing each other a little better.
A little deeper.
And there is the feeling. The sensation. The aura.
If I could feel that feeling every minute of my waking life I would live to be 235 years old.
Sunday was a spectacular day for Carol and me thanks to the precious nature of our sons and their women. Thanks to our relationships and our love.
A few weeks from now we get to do it all again on Thanksgiving. And it will be Carol's birthday, which ratchets up the meaning of the moment even higher.
I am exceptionally lucky to be married to the woman who shares my life, and exceptionally lucky to have the sons that I have, and exceptionally lucky that those sons brought women into this family who make it even better.
I love my family.
I love my family.
I love my family.
My Doctor Does Not Love Me
I had a camera stuck up my nose yesterday.
What did you do?
A little background.
On September 28 I suddenly began experiencing great difficulty and discomfort swallowing food. I also had a sore throat and my voice was two octaves lower and quite raspy. I visited Dr. Feelgood on October 1 because I was becoming concerned.
My idiot doctor was not available. I was seen by some version of a physician's assistant or junior medical mafia type.
We did nothing but talk. No look down the throat. This concerned me.
She hooked me up with the local GI guys who scheduled a November 19 appointment for an office consultation.
November 19. My troubles began on September 28. I was furious. I was not going to go two fucking months before somebody even came close to looking down my throat.
I raised holy hell and discovered the GI dudes could do nothing unless my primary care physician deemed the situation as urgent, which of course she had not done.
I called her. We had a contentious discussion. By this time, about a week after everything started, the difficulty with swallowing had subsided but I had a permanent sore throat and my voice was still quite sexy.
Her sage advice was to wait. Her reasoning was that the swallowing thing went away and there was a good chance the sore throat would as well and my voice would become boring again.
She refused to classify the situation as urgent and did not want to do anything at all. At one point she said "You know, you don't have anything that is going to kill you in two weeks."
What a piece of crap. I stopped her short there and she immediately back pedaled, trying to make it sound like she was only joking.
I pushed hard and she finally scheduled me to see an ear nose and throat guy. The guy with the camera. The guy I saw yesterday.
On November 2. Over a month since I experienced throat weirdness. And she still refused to classify the situation as urgent regarding the GI guys, scum bucket that she is.
Anyway this guy was great. He answered all my questions with respect and he had a sense of humor.
Then he whipped out this camera thingy. Long slender hose with a camera on the end and kind of a jewelers loupe on the other end for him to spy through.
Gently he snaked it up my right nostril, telling me exactly what was going on at every second.
It was a weird feeling but honestly it didn't make me want to rip the thing out of my nose. It wasn't horrendous.
It got weird when he said "OK you are about to feel this thing touch the back of your throat." Which it did one second later.
That freaked me out a little bit because it suddenly became clear exactly how deep this thing was penetrating.
Anyway it was all good news. No growths, nothing weird. He did tell me that he could only look at the upper part of my throat and that it was good that I was following this up with a visit to the GI guys.
So................this morning I called the office of my primary care physician with the intention of dumping the cold hearted jerk for a new pcp.
I was told that none of the doctors in the group were accepting new patients so I would have to go outside the practice to do it.
Sounded like bullshit to me. Sounded like a standard answer they give to everybody. Doctors circling the wagons to protect one of of their own.
She gave me a number to call at the hospital which I did. Got a recording telling me they would get back to me in 24 hours regarding the changing of physicians.
More waiting.
Generally the medical community in this country sucks. Patient health is not their primary concern and cash is king. Yesterday was a bright spot.
This is a long post.
You must be tired.
What did you do?
A little background.
On September 28 I suddenly began experiencing great difficulty and discomfort swallowing food. I also had a sore throat and my voice was two octaves lower and quite raspy. I visited Dr. Feelgood on October 1 because I was becoming concerned.
My idiot doctor was not available. I was seen by some version of a physician's assistant or junior medical mafia type.
We did nothing but talk. No look down the throat. This concerned me.
She hooked me up with the local GI guys who scheduled a November 19 appointment for an office consultation.
November 19. My troubles began on September 28. I was furious. I was not going to go two fucking months before somebody even came close to looking down my throat.
I raised holy hell and discovered the GI dudes could do nothing unless my primary care physician deemed the situation as urgent, which of course she had not done.
I called her. We had a contentious discussion. By this time, about a week after everything started, the difficulty with swallowing had subsided but I had a permanent sore throat and my voice was still quite sexy.
Her sage advice was to wait. Her reasoning was that the swallowing thing went away and there was a good chance the sore throat would as well and my voice would become boring again.
She refused to classify the situation as urgent and did not want to do anything at all. At one point she said "You know, you don't have anything that is going to kill you in two weeks."
What a piece of crap. I stopped her short there and she immediately back pedaled, trying to make it sound like she was only joking.
I pushed hard and she finally scheduled me to see an ear nose and throat guy. The guy with the camera. The guy I saw yesterday.
On November 2. Over a month since I experienced throat weirdness. And she still refused to classify the situation as urgent regarding the GI guys, scum bucket that she is.
Anyway this guy was great. He answered all my questions with respect and he had a sense of humor.
Then he whipped out this camera thingy. Long slender hose with a camera on the end and kind of a jewelers loupe on the other end for him to spy through.
Gently he snaked it up my right nostril, telling me exactly what was going on at every second.
It was a weird feeling but honestly it didn't make me want to rip the thing out of my nose. It wasn't horrendous.
It got weird when he said "OK you are about to feel this thing touch the back of your throat." Which it did one second later.
That freaked me out a little bit because it suddenly became clear exactly how deep this thing was penetrating.
Anyway it was all good news. No growths, nothing weird. He did tell me that he could only look at the upper part of my throat and that it was good that I was following this up with a visit to the GI guys.
So................this morning I called the office of my primary care physician with the intention of dumping the cold hearted jerk for a new pcp.
I was told that none of the doctors in the group were accepting new patients so I would have to go outside the practice to do it.
Sounded like bullshit to me. Sounded like a standard answer they give to everybody. Doctors circling the wagons to protect one of of their own.
She gave me a number to call at the hospital which I did. Got a recording telling me they would get back to me in 24 hours regarding the changing of physicians.
More waiting.
Generally the medical community in this country sucks. Patient health is not their primary concern and cash is king. Yesterday was a bright spot.
This is a long post.
You must be tired.
Monday, November 2, 2015
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)