You learn things waking up in the middle of the nightshift.
Some hard-drinking guy in
Scandanavia on dialysis got a kidney from a woman donor. Suddenly he's
doing housework and learning to knit. He's thankful for the kidney, but
he wishes they had warned him about the side effects. His wife is fine
with his new feminine side, but hopes he doesn't start checking out
Does that mean if a criminal dies
and his organs are donated there might be a risk of the recipients
descending into lives of crime? Is it possible to be overcome by an
uncontrollable urge to embezzle funds with a new, but criminal heart? Or write rap music with a gangbanger's liver?
For years people have complained
that the recycled air on planes is what makes passengers sick after a long
flight. Except now the airlines have created better circulation in the
cabins to include outside air as well as a filter or something that
kills germs. Apparently the real reason people get sick from riding in
airplanes these days is that there are sick people on the plane with you. What a shocking discovery.
I remember waiting for a flight and noticing some woman hacking like
she had TB, in between leaning on her husband's shoulder in the throes
of terrible illness. Geez, I thought, too bad for the person sitting next to
her. [You're getting ahead of me].
We board the plane. I walk back to
my seat and there she is in the seat next to mine. Ever the sympathetic
fellow passenger. I
looked at her husband. I looked at her. And I said very loudly, "Are
YOU SICK?" It sounded like I had accused her of fornicating in
public. She looked at me in horror and leaned as far away from
me as she could. She never replied to my question.
Even better, she didn't cough, sniffle, speak or breathe for the entire two hour ride.
Ironically, at the end of the
flight, there was an announcement. Would we all please remain in our
seats so that someone who was deathly ill could deplane first. At that
point, I assumed they were talking about the woman next to me. Instead,
the guy seated right behind me got up and left the plane.
Somehow, by some miracle, I didn't get sick.
Today, January 17th, is Ben Franklin's birthday. He would be 300. My
dad would be ninety. Muhammed Ali is 64. Jim Carrey is forty-something.
Sixty per cent of African Americans said they celebrated MLK's birthday. Fifteen per cent of white Americans did also.
Oh look, there's Fred and Ethel Mertz from I Love Lucy shilling for the
Medicare prescription drug plan, which according to the news is so
f**ked up that most seniors can't get their drugs because they've been
lost in the system.
Finally, football and the Golden Globes. Am I the only person who
wasn't impressed with the high ranking of the Bears' defense? BEFORE
the game? Sheesh. They built their reputation on the backs of losing
teams. Nevermind, I can't talk about it.
The Golden Globes. Hmmm. Did you love Pam Anderson with her
two biggest assets COVERED UP? Remind me to find out what kind of
software they used on Joaquin Phoenix and Reese Witherspoon to make it
sound like they could sing. They can do that you know. In fact, I think
I want to sing love songs with Barry Manilow.