Friday, November 5, 2021

"I'm Just Not Feelin' It Today"

A quotable quotes column

                                    The Pooteen, courtesy of PIXY#ORG


This is: A weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny. I write letters to my grandkids — the Stickies — eventual selves to advise them and haunt them after they've become grups and/or I'm deleted.   

Warning: This column is rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens — Perusal by kids, callowyutes, or grups may result in an intersectional meltdown. Intended for H. sapiens who are — in the words of the late, great bon vivant, polymath, and pic-a-nic basket expert, Professor Y. Bear — "Smarter than the av-er-age bear." 
Glossary 

Erratically Appearing Hallucinatory Guest Star: Dana — A Gentlereader  

"You must obey the law, always, not only when they grab you by your special place." - Vladimir Putin


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies and Great-Grandstickies (and Gentlereaders),

I'm just not feelin' it today is how I'm feeling today. I try to keep a certain minimum of columns in stock lest I'm the victim of an unforeseen catastroff like... 

{Catastroff? You mean catastrophe?}

I much prefer the Elbonian spelling and pronunciation. 

Anyways, just in case I'm struck but not killed by a meteorite or a rogue satellite, or a bus, I like to have a few completed columns ready to publish lest I be held responsible for a void in the lives of my legions of regular readers.

My inventory is currently running low. Due to the supply chain crisis, I'm suffering from both word and motivation shortages. 

Also, a writer must write. Not only to maintain inventory levels but also to stave off neurosis (or worse...) and if he/she/they would rather not be stranded on an ice flow by irritated members of their freakishly large household for being an all-around jagoff. 

{Well, some writers anyway.} 

But I'm not here to defend my delicate and refined artistic sensibilities. I'm here because I've stumbled across a really cool and surprising...

{And lengthy...} 

Quote from a speech by the Pooteen, aka Vladimir Putin, the Czar of all the Russias, at a meeting of the Valdai Discussion Club, a Russian think tank, that like most things in Russia, is securely under the thumb of the Pooteen. (A tip o' the hat to VDH, aka, Dr. Victor Davis Hanson.):

The advocates of so-called 'social progress' believe they are introducing humanity to some kind of a new and better consciousness. Godspeed, hoist the flags as we say, go right ahead.

It may come as a surprise to some people, but Russia has been there already. After the 1917 revolution, the Bolsheviks, relying on the dogmas of Marx and Engels, also said that they would change existing ways and customs and not just political and economic ones, but the very notion of human morality and the foundations of a healthy society. The destruction of age-old values, religion and relations between people, up to and including the total rejection of family (we had that, too), encouragement to inform on loved ones — all this was proclaimed progress and, by the way, was widely supported around the world back then and was quite fashionable, same as today.  


I found (and subsequently verified) this quote in an essay written by VDH titled Who Eventually Won the Cold War? The subtitle tells you everything you need to know about Wokies (well-meaning and otherwise) and the essay in question: 

There's nothing like an old Bolshevik grinning that ossified American wokesters are stuck circa 1920s in the old Bolshevik Russia.



When asked if he planned on attending the latest United Nations Climate change conference Svante Thunberg replied: 

"Hell no, I am certainly not going."

{Who?}

Greta Thunberg's dad. 

{Ain't she the cute little climate activist you called the Joan of Arc of the new millennium?}


Harumph, you're taking my words out of context again. 

{Is that the same conference where Uncle Joe took a nap and the image/video circumnavigated the globe at lightspeed?}

I called the White House and asked about that. Jan Psaki assured me that "he was just resting his eyes." 


Anyways, I wish to apologize to Mr. Thunberg. Although I never stated it publicly (fortunately) I may have mentioned, in private conversation, that I thought Ms. Thunberg's parents, given her age and some well-known "issues" (what used to be called problems), should be charged with child abuse. 

BIG BUT, 

A recent story in the Wall Street Journal, and some subsequent research, caused me to return my coveted World's Greatest Dad coffee cup.

Long story short, Greta became depressed at age 11, practically stopped eating, had to be taken out of school, and was later diagnosed with Asperger syndrome and obsessive-compulsive disorder. 

Her subsequent awokening and global fame started to turn her around.  

Mr. T. and Greta's mom, decidedly not climate activists, put their lives on hold for three years to become her personal support staff — to save Greta, not the world. 

Mom and dad went above and beyond but Greta's now 18, has moved out of the house, and her parents' lives are returning to normal. Money pours in and most of it's given away. Dad couldn't step down from running the foundation that dispenses it fast enough.

I hope she buys them coffee cups.

Poppa loves you,

Addendum: F.Y.I., lest you're unaware, the Pooteen had his eye on the prize early on. He joined the KGB (Russian secret police) right out of law school back in '75. I'm just guessing but I assume that's where he learned that killing your political opponents is the most efficient way to get them out of your way. 

{Is "lest" the word of the week? And don't 175 members of Congress have law degrees?}

Yes, and yes. Although I'm sure that the answer to your second question implies nothing of note. 


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Friday, October 29, 2021

Princes and Robber Barons

Lost in space


                             Image by Clker-Free-Vector-Images from Pixabay


This is: A weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny. I write letters to my grandkids — the Stickies — eventual selves to advise them and haunt them after they've become grups and/or I'm deleted.   

Warning: This column is rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens — Perusal by kids, callowyutes, or grups may result in an intersectional meltdown. Intended for H. sapiens who are — in the words of the late, great bon vivant, polymath, and pic-a-nic basket expert, Professor Y. Bear — "Smarter than the av-er-age bear." 
Glossary 

Erratically Appearing Hallucinatory Guest Star: Dana — A Gentlereader  

"Kings may be judges of the Earth, but wise men are the judges of kings."
                                                                        -Solomon Ibn Gabirol


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies and Great-Grandstickies (and Gentlereaders),


When I'm the King of America, Jeff Bezos, and his fellow high-tech robber barons will be summoned to visit the royal residence and have a beer with me. 

{Robber Barons?}

Selling us stuff we want is one thing; selling us (in the form of our stealthily accumulated data) without cutting us in while simultaneously "disrupting" entire industries (destroying jobs) while claiming to be social justice warriors is quite another.  

I have some problems with how Lord Jeffrey and his fellow barons conduct themselves, but I must admit that, unlike Prince William, the heir to the British throne, he did make his own fortune and wasn't born with a silver toothpick in his mouth.

He does sell titanium ones for less than ten bucks though.  

{You're incorrectly conflating Prince William and Prince Charles. Chuck sucks on a silver toothpick and is the heir to the throne. His son Billy is the next one in line.} 

Are you sure? Wait a sec', I'll be right back...

You got me. Chuck — world-class environmental activist — is still the official heir to the throne. And, he travels with a silver-plated porcupine quill toothpick (among other interesting things) when he zips around the globe in private jets saving us from ourselves. 

But Chuck is now 72 and his mum, who by now should be the Queen Mum, not the Queen, is 95. If not for the embarrassing Chuck and Di disaster she would've stepped aside long ago. 

She fantasizes about the good old days when she could've had him beheaded, or at least locked in the Tower along with Prince Harry the Hairy and Princess Meghan the Lowborn. Then she could hang out in the palace, maintain a discrete buzz, advise her preferred heir (Billy), and watch the servants play with her great-grandkids.

{How the hell do you...}     

We occasionally chat via burner phones and we text each other regularly. She's advising me on running for king in '24, although she thinks a coup d'état makes more sense. 



This brings us to Prince Billy and his recent gentlemanly smackdown of Lord Jeffrey as well as Sir Richard, Tony Stark, and Captain Kirk.

{Wait, what are you...} 

Sir Richard Branson, Elon Musk, and William Shatner. 

For the record, Mr. Richard Branson became Sir Richard Branson when Queen Lilibet made him a Knight Bachelor to honor him for amassing an unusually large pile of money and Prince Chuck performed the ceremony.

{Smackdown?}

Perhaps I should back up a bit.

Captain Kirk was recently in the news when he took a trip on Lord Jeffrey's rocket ship and became the oldest H. sapien to travel to space, well, as far as we know. 

{Is that the rocket ship that looks like the world's largest marital aid?}

That's the one. Anyways, according to an article on the BBCs website, Prince Billy thinks that "...entrepreneurs should focus on saving Earth rather than engaging in space tourism."

He's also worried about rising climate anxiety in young people whose futures are under threat 24x7x365: "It's very unnerving and it's very, you know, anxiety making," and there's a "fundamental question" about carbon emissions from rocket ships. 

Your tireless columnist looked into this and you'll be relieved to know that Lord Jeffrey's rocket is powered by liquid hydrogen and oxygen and according to a site called livescience.com: "...the main emissions will be water and some minor combustion products, and virtually no CO2." 

In the interest of full disclosure, I was referred to the LIVE SCI=NCE article by a snarky editorial in The Wall Street Journal: "That isn’t to claim no effects: Building the rocket and producing the flight creates carbon emissions, no doubt, but so does putting on a royal wedding with a crowd of global guests and a military flyover."  

Snark on! WSJ editorial board.  


The collective wealth of the British Royal family dubbed, The Firm by either Lilibet's dad or her late husband, constitutes a plethora of pounds sterling. There's a Wikipedia entry, Finances of the British royal family devoted to it that includes the following interesting passage:

"...the Queen is the only person in Scotland not required to facilitate the construction of pipelines to heat buildings using renewable energy."

If I was born rich, one of the heirs of a royal anachronism, I too would just smile and wave when necessary and find a cause to champion to distract the peasants and assuage my guilt.

I wouldn't jet around the world though, I'd stay home and write checks, smaller carbon footprint.   

Poppa loves you,


Scroll down to share this column or access previous ones. If you enjoy my work (and the fact I don't run advertisements or sell merchandise), please consider buying me a coffee via PayPal or a credit/debit card.    

Feel free to comment/like/follow/cancel/troll me on FacebookI post my latest column on Saturdays and Wednesdays, other stuff on other days.  
 

Friday, October 22, 2021

Big Pharma Sucks! Or, It Doesn't...

And tort lawyers Suck! Or, they don't...

Image by Jukka Niittymaa from Pixabay

This is: A weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny. I write letters to my grandkids — the Stickies — eventual selves to advise them and haunt them after they've become grups and/or I'm deleted.   

Warning: This column is rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens — Perusal by kids, callowyutes, or grups may result in an intersectional meltdown. Intended for H. sapiens who are — in the words of the late, great bon vivant, polymath, and pic-a-nic basket expert, Professor Y. Bear — "Smarter than the av-er-age bear." 
Glossary 

Erratically Appearing Hallucinatory Guest Star: Dana — A Gentlereader  

"I believe in prescription drugs. I believe in feeling better." -Denis Leary


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies and Great-Grandstickies (and Gentlereaders),

My late wife was a preemie born in 1952 whose underdeveloped lungs were treated by marinating them in pure oxygen which permanently damaged them. If not for a drug called prednisone created by big pharma that hit the market in 1955, we wouldn't have met in 1985.  

I wouldn't have a world-class daughter and son-in-law; I might not have okay-class grandkids (the Stickies) or at least the ones I've been blessed with.

{Okay-class?} 

Lame joke. Gotta make sure they're paying attention. 


In 1954, Dr. Arnall Patz figured out why, despite dramatic advances in the treatment of preemies, a lot of them were going blind. Simply reducing the oxygen levels in incubators solved the problem.

Ronnie's eyesight was damaged, but she wasn't blind when she was brought home from the hospital; she did arrive home with bronchopulmonary dysplasia (BPD). 

According to the American Lung Association, "Babies are not born with BPD; the condition results from damage to the lungs, usually caused by mechanical ventilation (respirator) and long-term use of oxygen."

Prednisone, which comes with a boatload of unpleasant side effects, to put it mildly (and an indomitable will) helped to keep her alive for 54 years in spite of her doctors predictions of a much shorter life.  


Recently, everyone's favorite class of legal eagles, tort lawyers...

{You mean ambulance chasers?}

Your epithet, not mine, Dana. Clearly, there are people and organizations that need suing. I just wish America followed the English Rule.

{The what?}  

Wikipedia: The English rule provides that the party who loses in court pays the other party's legal costs. Also: The English rule is followed by nearly every Western democracy other than the United States. 

See, under the English rule, if you sue someone and lose, you have to pay their legal costs. Lawyers won't agree to represent you for "free" (in reality a third of the payoff) if they know the suit is baseless.

{Wait-wait-wait. Why would they file a baseless suit regardless? Isn't that a waste of time?}  

Not if the mark has deep enough pockets. It's often cheaper for the mark to settle out of court than to go to court.


The columnist clears his throat and begins again. 

Recently, lawyers have joined battle in the thriving metropolis of Cleveland. A lawsuit filed against CVS, Walgreens, and Walmart, in 2018, has finally gone to trial. 

The plaintiffs are two Ohio counties seeking to recover the cost of dealing with the opioid epidemic — from firms that filled legal prescriptions, written by doctors.   

Several years ago, one of the many times Ronnie was in the hospital because of some illness related to her BPD and/or the side effects of using prednisone for many years (which caused her to be in pain all of the time), the weekend resident doc prescribed oxycontin to relieve what was obviously some intense pain. 

She told me she hadn't felt that "normal" in years, was up and walking around, and was as sharp as a tack. 

On Monday the weekday doc came back on duty and freaked out. The Drug Enforcement Administration had begun watching and there were lawyers staked out under gurneys.

No more of the good stuff (that is to say, actually effective) for you. Suck it up buttercup, too many people looking over my shoulder. 


I've developed a case of Un-huh!/Nuh-uh! syndrome. Is there a pill for that?  

I've read a bunch of articles from mainstream sources researching this column. I don't know if big pharma knew, or at what point, that they had created a monster when they created oxycontin and similar drugs. 

I've read a bunch of articles over the years about big pharma in general and I don't know if it is (they are?) as evil as some maintain, or a force for good as others maintain. I suspect they fall somewhere in between, just like everything and everyone else.

I do know that there are a lot of people that suffer from chronic, debilitating pain that need opioids for relief. I do know that only doctors can prescribe these drugs, which were/are approved by The Fedrl Gummit. 

I do know that statistically speaking, that most of the poor bastards that are overdosing in the streets nowadays die from heroin and fentanyl, not prescription drugs.  

I've gotta go, It's time to take my atorvastatin. Geesh, I can't remember if I took my tamsulosin last night or not...

Poppa loves you,
    
Addendum: My late wife Ronnie (not a nickname) wore glasses as soon as it was practicable and for the rest of her life. At a fairly young age, the docs announced that her eyesight would shortly, for all intents and purposes, be gone.

Her aunt Golden (also not a nickname) took her to a healing service held by evangelist Kathryn Kuhlman, a controversial figure who was famous enough in her day to have appeared on The Tonight Show in 1974. 

As the story goes, although she still needed thick glasses, the docs declared that she was no longer going blind, and they had no idea why. I wasn't there, being busy being a kid in Pittsburgh at the time, but...

{I don't believe in faith healing.}

Yeah, me neither, Dana.


Scroll down to share this column or access previous ones. If you enjoy my work (and the fact I don't run advertisements or sell merchandise), please consider buying me a coffee via PayPal or a credit/debit card.    

Feel free to comment/like/follow/cancel/troll me on FacebookI post my latest column on Saturdays and Wednesdays, other stuff on other days. 

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