Went to the doctor on Friday, part of my yearly check up and planned maintenance schedule. You see life doesn’t begin after forty, maintenance begins after forty. Recently my sister said “that sixty was the new forty” and I love my sister, but she has that wrong, she isn’t even close … Sixty is the new Sixty and that is the name of that tune.
My doctor says my blood pressure is high, I am winning the lottery on my cholesterol and all in all, I should not be here, but I am. Another mystery of medical science.
He says that my weight is perfect if I was seven feet tall! He cannot do a thing about this fungus on my thumb and I should be encased in something that they make pickles out of.
So I am sitting there and I tell him (the doctor) that I am somewhat depressed with all this government crap, Obammer not willing to show his birth certificate to anyone, McSame not remembering where it is he lives, Sarah Palin and her views on loading your own ammo. So I ask him about some anti-depressants and what could he give me.
He said he could give me this stuff that would alleviate a lot of my anxiety, but that he would have to schedule checkup’s for at least 84 days to check on me. I suggested that perhaps he could pass on that, and instead, just listen to the Police Scanner.
But he said no dice.
So I am back to my own reality, not a good week for government, business, and doctor appointments. I suppose we are onto another four years of pretending that the Global Warming issue is NOT an issue and we are going to burn freight-train loads of “Clean Coal.” Which like the Easter Bunny, Santa Claus, Big Foot and UFO’s, the Republican Flat Earth theory, all of which do not exist.
Bush did promise, exactly like McSame has promised, that he would impose mandatory emission controls not only on carbon dioxide but also on three other dangerous pollutants. Unfortunately in Bush’s case, that quickly took a back burner position in the government kitchen, and he went back to sitting in the oval office popping bubble wrap and playing video games.
With all this current rounds of check kiting schemes and far fetched financial programs going on, I have forgotten if we are going to drill the tundra or not? We are going to punch holes in this theory too. Welcome to the wonderful world of Washington Fuzzy Thinking.
What, you wonder, does drilling for oil in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge have to do with solving the energy problem in California? Absolutely, nothing. Less than one percent of California’s electricity comes from oil. So it pretty apparent that dog isn’t gonna hunt.
Wind power, Mr. T. Boone Pickens plan is currently being tossed about, take a look at that. He wants to be the Saudi Arabia of wind-power on the American plains. Take a gander at how much land it would take to accomplish this lofty goal, it boggles the mind. To get the United States off foreign energy, we would need 41,767,850 turbines, which would over an area of 10,441,962.5 acres of land. This is also 16,316 square miles or nearly the size of Vermont and New Hampshire combined.
The complete article can be found here ….
Perhaps after one solid week of “bad news” this is why this morning I find myself disgruntled. I always loved that word “disgruntled” my boss used it quite a lot. It has that “Metamucil” (laxative) sound to it. I am a bit disgruntled; I ate too much cheese last night on my pizza. You get disgruntled when you see that the amount of gas you used last year at this time was $54.54 and this year, the same amount of gas, is $110.47.
And then there is Joe Biden who this week is quoted as saying …. “It is your patriotic duty to pay higher taxes.”
That will make you disgruntled for sure.
Finding myself debilitated by a series of bad news announcements, I have sank into a truly pitiable senescence attitude, surrounded by newspapers I no longer can stand to read, and once again bitching about the moron’s in our government this morning.What the hey? It beats mowing the lawn or finding yourself on the wrong-end of weed whacker.
Bad news just has that effect on me. I just naturally find myself bent out of shape. And after the week I have had … It is no small wonder I feel yucky.
Parting Shot: “Cheer up. Do you realize that in about 40 years, we’ll have thousands of old ladies running around with tattoos? And Rap Music will be considered Golden Oldies!”