Monday, June 27, 2005


Armageddon, Schmarmageddon

I finally broke down and bought an air conditioner yesterday. I have long resisted them, trying to do my humble part to avoid further emissions from this little corner of the world. However, since moving to the third floor of my partner’s house, Maddie-dog and I have been reduced to panting lumps of animal-pulp. Hence the air conditioner.

It was so nice of the Bushies to own up to the reality of global warming, was it only last year? Their response: adjust to it. Gosh. Why didn’t I think of that? The leadership! The insight!

I often think that Bush’s complacency on the environment has a lot to do with his evangelical worldview. After all, if the whole planet is set to explode due to humanity’s fundamentally evil nature, visuals and sound effects courtesy of Rapture, Inc., why worry about little things like deformed froggies and the disappearance of entire species? Who cares about the interdependence of nature’s eco-webs? Seeing as how we're all basically evil, we can't expect to assume stewardship of this planet, anyway. Why not gun our engines at every stoplight, trade up for the next big-ass Humvee? It’ll all be over soon! If we just utter a few magic words and hate the right people, we get to go to heaven, anyway!

When you consider the end of the world (how many books are in the Left Behind series now?), there’s no reason to take care of anything. What the hell. Eat your Happy Meal. Toss the styros out the car window. Belch all the methane you can.

We’re going to see Jesus any day now. And He hates those faggot tree huggers.


Thursday, June 16, 2005


Life in the Grunt Lane

I ran into a neighbor while walking the dog the other night. "So how do you like retirement?" she asked.

I told her about my two jobs--managing a medical practice and the recent addition, a foray into the world of retail, at the coolest of big box stores.

"I thought you said you were retired."

So did I. But life goes on, the pension is pathetic, and I still haven't sold my goddam house. So I muddle on, still not sure of what I want to be when I grow up.
The medical practice is the best, but I work for a man who takes lots of vacations, as well he should at 78. He's a regular at the local Club Chemo, as his wife has dubbed it, getting zapped for prostate cancer. He comes back, denies that the chemo bothers him, rubs his hands together and says, "Oboyoboyoboy... where are the patients?" And away he goes, healing the halt and the lame, till several days later, when he is suddenly wiped out. His wife takes him off on trips from time to time, and they take in as much of this wide world as they can while they are still able. They are two of the best people I know.

So I needed a little more coming in, the aforementioned coolest of b.b.s. (about which more later) was opening in our area, and I got some hours in the garden department. I love plants. Now I am ensconsed in retail, hard physical work to offset the more contemplative life of medical coding and submitting claims to an increasingly irascible Medicare.

I thought I was retired.

Still, I am grateful for the change. I don't miss dumb principals, scheming department heads, and piles of papers. I do miss kids, though the doc has grandkids who are around a lot and provide me with my minimum daily requirement.

Ironically, I can work six days a week in retirement, that is, if Doc isn't on one of his adventures.

Anyway, I'll have me a corporate experience, and this will no doubt feed my jaundiced vision del mundo.

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