Don’t bother to wake me up.

 

I'd hoped to have a fantastic blog entry for you on Monday, but you know what they say: Wife Happens. In this case my wife forbade me from getting on the computer on Sunday. Why? Because I normally do at least some work seven days a week, and I don't sleep well at night, and she thinks there's a connection. 

Besides, on Saturday (November 30th!) I had expressed my frustration with having no time to get any Christmas decorations up -- it seems like all my neighbors had theirs done by 12:01 on Thanksgiving afternoon -- and she suggested that rather than complaining I start doing. And stop judging the neighbors' outsides against my insides! 

(Feh. Like there's any other way I can judge them.)  

So, that's what happened to Sunday. 

We all know there are two types of insomniacs: those who can't get to sleep and those who can't stay asleep. I have become #1 of the #2 types, and I'm not referring to my bathroom breaks. I have zero trouble getting to sleep, but I am a champ at waking up at three and lying there like a lump, unable to return to sleep. Reading, prayer, meditation, nothing works. I'll give up around five, because if I get up the dog gets up, and he'll have to go out, and I imagine five is the earliest you can be out walking about the neighborhood and not look like a suspicious character. 

Can I use the extra time productively at least? Of course not, because by the time I get the dog back inside I am finally ready to sleep again, and so hit the sofa until eight... or nine... or... 

OTC sleeping aids don't help. Diphenhydramine and doxylamine can make me go to sleep even faster than I already do, but they're out of my system by three a.m. and HELLO I AM AWAKE AGAIN.

I'm not sure what's happening, but it's been going for a while. I'm going for a checkup in January so I will load it on the doctor's shoulders. I've tried everything, doc; now it's your turn. 

Have any of you out in Blog Land had experience with some of the new prescription sleep drugs? I neither drink nor take any Fun Drugs anymore, so I am not interested in anything that could be sold on a street corner. Do the prescription sleep aids really help you get to sleep and stay that way for the expected eight hours, without feeling like an extra on Dawn of the Dead?

My luck, I'll get a perfect solution to the problem, and then the dog will become insomniac, dragging me out in the dead of night. Maybe it would be my just desserts. 

Dope fiends!

I have a couple of friends who are pharmacists, and I would not like to do that job. 

Under ideal conditions, it's still difficult. There are about a million drugs you have to know about -- the names (trade and generic), the prescribable uses, the off-label uses, the side effects, the doses, the dosing, the cost, the content, the special warnings for particular populations (pregnant women, kids, diabetics, and on and on) -- and about two million drug laws you have to know about -- the rules for dispensing, your responsibilities (and career-ruining culpabilities), the permissions needed, the requirements for dealing with doctors' offices, and on and on. Then add all the health insurance variations. It might drive you to drink -- and if it does, you'd better have teenage George Bailey working for you or you'll kill some kid by accident. 

And most pharmacists work under less than ideal conditions. Once upon a time a pharmacist might be a drugstore owner, running his own respectable business, a well-regarded figure in town. Now you're far more likely to be a cog in some corporate chain. And in some neighborhoods your CVS or Walgreens will be overrun with crime (especially if your town has a Soros-funded prosecutor); but in any neighborhood you'll probably have to deal with thugs and scammers and no-account losers trying to get at the sweet, sweet opioids in your drug safe. 

Maybe you work in a nice town with a functioning judiciary and constabulary, for a pharmacy that doesn't even stock the really hot stuff (our nearest supermarket has a pharmacy that warns in LARGE LETTERS that they do not dispense opioids). Well, you still have to deal with the public. And the public can be dumb. Also rude and really bad about taking their pills. The medical journals used to complain about patient compliance, meaning patients not following the instructions on their prescriptions, but the term "compliance" was thought to be too authoritative, too patriarchical. So now they call it "adherence," and it's totally different. Now the medical journals complain about patient adherence. 

And if even THAT is not enough to make you want to sample the drugs yourself, Joe Pharmacist, you're now expected to administer shots to the rubes who roll up, because the doctors' offices can't be bothered, or because your customers would rather die than go to the doctor for a routine physical. So you're stocked with vaccines for flu and COVID and shingles and tetanus and RSV and HPV and hepatitis and freaking monkeypox and yellow fever and everything else, and now you are poking around arms, and you don't even have an MD or a heroin addiction. 

It's an important job but maybe not a fun one. You may say "It beats diggin' ditches," but few ditches are dug by hand anymore. And if they are, remember: people pay good money for gym memberships to get that kind of exercise. Of course, they don't actually show up at the gym, but they pay for it. (Is that "gym compliance"? Or "gym adherence"? I give up.)

Stay out of jail with Fredcoin!

As CEO of the world's finest crytocurrency, Fredcoin, I get a lot of questions from customers and prospective customers. (Everyone falls into one of those two camps, when you think about it.) They say, "Fred, how can you and your company be so awesome every single day?" And I just smile and pat them on the shoulder. 

Or not, since no one's asked me that. 

YET.

A more likely question is, "Fred, now that Sam Bankman-Fried is looking at a jail sentence longer than the expected life of the sun, doesn't that make you a little nervous?"

Well, first I chuckle and mansplain that the sun is going to last longer than the 110 years he might get. Then they remind me that unless some really hot anti-agathics come along, 110 years and five billion years are effectively the same to a thirty-one-year-old like him. 

I guess Sam still has some fans.

But don't worry about me. I've taken important -- dare I say Key -- steps to make certain I won't wind up in jail. The first is I don't have a wacky girlfriend who will turn state's evidence on me. That's crucial. For another, I don't do drugs and crunch the keyboard for days at a time. Anyone doing that is going to make a big mistake eventually, whether he's honest or not. Third, I haven't tacked on fake companies and charities to steal from. And fourth, I haven't bothered trying to buy any politicians. It's a bad investment. They break down, they violate their own warranties, they throw you under the bus at the first smell of trouble. It's a waste of money. And fifth -- 

There was a fifth reason -- can't recall offhand. Maybe not important.

Oh, wait! That's right! I've done nothing illegal! Ha ha! Totally forgot! No illegality here! No sir! Just honest Fred!

I also haven't set up any weird offshore locations. I wanted to, but other countries looked at my company and said, Meh, why don't you just stay over there and out of here. 

So you needn't worry at all about ol' Fred and his ol' Fredcoin. Just send me money, and I'll invest it in Fredcoin, and you can watch your crypto value stay the same while the US government does its best to ruin its own currency. 

And if the government does come for me -- no doubt out of jealousy -- I have an insider within the court system to help me look good. 

Superpuff!

I'm overarmed and overprepared for Halloween, because I don't want to have a repeat of years before -- dashing out the door as the candy supplies dwindle and the dog is going nuts and my wife frantically holds down the fort while I rush to the supermarket where only Christmas candy is available on Halloween night.

I've never had a kid with a teal pumpkin, but I respect that some of our plucky urchins have food allergies, and always try to have verified safe nut- and peanut-free treats available. Which is one of the reasons I bought the Justice League Candy Sticks. 

The sack holds forty little boxes, each one with pictures of the heroes of DC's Justice League -- Superman, Wonder Woman, Flash, Batman, Cyborg, Aquaman. That is, only the ones who appeared in the movie. Traditional members like Green Lantern and Martian Manhunter did not make the cut. 

Each box contains two little "candy sticks." But what are those? If you're an adult and you've been one for a while, these should look familiar. 

You got it -- candy cigarettes. Basically nothing but sugar with a little flavoring, not that the kids mind. They used to put a little red dye on one end for your "light." My wife actually called it before I even opened the little box: "That sounds just like candy cigarettes." She could tell by the rattle in the box.

We're counting on the kids to have no knowledge of history and just eat them, instead of walking around holding them in their fingers, pretending to be smoking. But who knows? These things are still sold as candy cigs, mostly in foreign countries where no one cares if you smoke, unlike in this Great Land of Liberty. You can buy them in the "cigarette" packs from Old Time Candy. 

These days, with governments frowning on tobacco but greedy for marijuana money, the kids would more likely puff them while pinching the candy to their lips, toking away like Mommy and Daddy. 

It's just weird, though, to see superhero-themed packages with candy cigarettes inside. I am old enough to remember when many of the adults around me smoked cigs, but even then, it was not something you'd see anyone in the comics doing except the bad guys. Well, maybe a few guys like Punisher or Wolverine or Constantine, but they were not particularly good guys. You'd certainly never associate smoking with Superman. 

...usually. 

The memeing of life.

It's Monday! Of course I'm relying on memes to see me through the blog this morning. They're part of a complete breakfast! 

Not one of mine, but sadly, true

Thanks for the pic, Stiiv!

De-meme-ing! Part 1.

A friend of mine (let's call him Philbin) wanted to post my super-hilarious and super-dated meme about Tommy Chong and Foster Brooks on Facebook. Much to our mutual surprise, Facebook's idiot censors rejected the post, saying it was offensive (violating "community standards," which would imply that the "community" is made up of drooling morons).

So, as a public service, I thought I had better explain this joke. I figured that they didn't get it. I have often said that dissecting a joke is like dissecting a frog, in that you can do it, but don't expect the frog to jump afterward. Nevertheless, since our Social Betters are A) stupid and B) ten years old and "literally know nothing," I thought I had better explain it from top to bottom. 

Don't worry, Facebook censors -- I am typing this slowly because I know you don't read very fast. Okay, here goes:

1) Tommy Chong:

Tommy Chong is a comedian and comic actor, best known as part of the duo Cheech & Chong with Cheech Marin. Chong was born in 1938, so he's not exactly some brash newcomer of whom Facebook could not be aware. Cheech & Chong were famous for drug-centered humor, as witnessed in their first comedy album, 1971's Big Bambu. They later made the most marijuana-soaked film ever, 1978's Up in Smoke. The movie was well-regarded among connoisseurs (my elder cousins) for gags like the pot-smuggling van made entirely of compressed marijuana and the drug-sniffing dog that gets killed just smelling it. Chong wasn't just kidding around -- he became a marijuana activist and longtime fighter for legalization. So Chong's connection to marijuana has been pretty well established for more than fifty years. 

2) CBD:

As has been recounted on this blog, CBD, or cannabidiol, is the magic compound in marijuana that doesn't get you high (that's Delta-9-tetrahydrocannabinol, or THC) but supposedly cures everything. Maybe some people really have found relief from these CBD products, but the few people I know who tried them thought they were disappointing. I begin to suspect it was just a means of promoting the agriculture of marijuana, as George Washington Carver developed more than 300 uses for peanuts to help peanut agriculture. The difference is, most of Carver's inventions were useful. Be that as it may, Tommy Chong went all in on this, promoting his line of hemp-based products, notably those containing the magic ingredient CBD. So it's no offense to anyone that this former star stoner is promoting CBD; it's exactly the truth.

3) Foster Brooks:

Foster Brooks (1912-2001) was a comedian who had one schtick, but he was exceptionally good at it: He was a drunk. He had the knack for coming across as a cheerful, befuddled drunken man trying very hard not to appear drunk, and would stumble over words and make unusual statements in a way much funnier than any real drunk. In reality, Brooks was not a drinker, or had not been for many years when he became famous doing this bit. 

4) O'Doul's:

O'Doul's is one of the first successful U.S. brands of nonalcoholic beer, or rather beer with trace amounts of alcohol in it. This Anheuser Busch product has an alcohol content of .4%; a regular Budweiser has an alcohol content of 5%. So to get the buzz from one lousy can of Bud, you'd have to drink 12.5 cans of O'Doul's. It's still not recommended for people in recovery from alcohol addiction, but you can imagine how insanely difficult it would be to get loaded on O'Doul's. 

5) The Punch Line:

The comparison, then, is a simple one, that of a famous stoner who sells marijuana products that don't contain THC to a famous drunk selling beer that doesn't contain alcohol. Both guys were comedians who made a lot of comic hay playing people whose addictions were way out of control but were still funny to watch. So the meme is challenging others to disprove that this is a valid comparison. (This could be done by pointing out that Chong is still using pot while Brooks was not using alcohol, for one thing.)

6) Facebook:

So what's the problem? Does Facebook just not have a sense of humor? Well, no, it doesn't, because it's run by SJWs, but is that the whole problem?

Well, Philbin continued to investigate, and what he turned up is shocking! Tune in tomorrow for the revelation -- it's amazing! And if you disagree, change my mind! 

Rejected from the Roses.

Today is the Tournament of Roses and the Rose Parade, which has mostly been going on since 1890, barring a few interruptions like World War II and the Chinese Death Virus. Normally it's held on January 1, but not if New Year's Day falls on a Sunday; in that case it's moved to Monday -- today! And here we are.

Many fraternal, professional, and business groups organize the popular floats for the parade, which are generally festooned with flowers and must be covered with organic materials. Equestrian groups also ride, marching bands march, and some dignitaries wave from flower-bedecked automobiles. What's not known is that over the years, the parade has refused entry from a few groups for various reasons. Here are six interesting cases.

1901: The Mighty Cowmalazoo Marching Society

A combination marching band / bovine act had hoped to be featured in the parade -- a large group from Kalamazoo, Michigan, who played their instruments while riding cattle. Of especial interest was the cow-mounted pianos played by the 88 Keys Joy Squad. Officials ultimately deemed the act too messy, too disruptive, possibly dangerous, and not nice to the cows.

1939: The German American Bund

The pro-Nazi German American Bund asked to appear in the parade, sending some of its bigwigs in one of those newfangled "people's cars" that the Germans had introduced, a vehicle they called the Liebe Käfer. Parade officials said no, that only their own officials were allowed to ride in cars. Oh, and also: Nazis.

It would take almost thirty years for this type of "Love Bug" to be seen on American streets.

1955: The Potrzebie Special 

A float called the Potrzebie Special was registered with the parade by one A. E. Neuman. When asked to explain the theme of the float and who would be constructing it, a return telegram from Mr. Neuman in New York replied "please buy this magazine" and "the usual gang of idiots." When pressed about the design for the Potrzebie Special, Neuman would only say it would be "completely covered in nuts." Suspicious, officials declined to allow the Potzebie to participate.

1979: Disco Demolition Float

A group from Chicago asked to construct a float made in the likeness of popular disco records of the day, and blow it up as it completed the parade route on Paloma Street. Officials determined that the group was serious about using explosives and denied entry. The Chicago group ultimately decided to host a disco demo event in their home city later that year. 

2000: The Last Float Ever

The Y2K Last Float Ever was proposed by a group from Silicon Valley who anticipated that with the end of the world coming on 1/1/00, thanks to the Y2K bug, we all might as well go out with a bang and have the parade as the world fell into chaos. The parade officials informed them that in the event of Apocalypse, the parade would be canceled or at least postponed. 

2021: The High & the Mighty

A float completely made of pot was the theme of the High & the Mighty, sponsored by the California Marijuana Association Dudes. Officials bickered over whether a recreational drug themed float would conform to or contradict the parade's theme that year of "The Power of Hope." With the COVID outbreak, the decision was made to cancel the event anyway. By the time the parade returned in 2022, the Dudes had lost interest, deciding instead to sit on the sofa and play World of Tanks. 

Monday go to memein' time!

Some Thanksgiving memes go get you sparked up for the Thanksgiving week. Clip, share, throw away, I don't care. Hope you laugh.

I have my doubts about some of those dishwasher commercials. And how much water do they think we're using to rinse a few dishes, a 55-gallon drum?

Okay, this last one's not Thanksgiving, but I've been hoping to put this together for a long time.

heh

Pour one for the big guy.

Readers of a certain age will remember President Jimmy Carter's beloved but somewhat bumbling kid brother Billy Carter. Billy seemed much more like a good ol' boy than his big brother, and that in an era that honored rural down-home working folks.

Typical of Billy, though, he got in trouble. He once peed on an airport runway in full view of the press; worse, he got a $220,000 loan from Libya after registering as a representative of the country. That led to a Congressional investigation into Billy's influence peddling, which kind of ruined his good-ol'-boy-ness. It's not a good look for American small business owners and sons of the soil to represent OPEC nations. 

But while Billy's star was in the firmament, he inspired and recommended a beer called Billy Beer, sold in fine stores everywhere. 

Sure, the Secretary of the Treasury signs the money, but does he get to sign beer cans? No way.

Anyway, I've come up with a real winner of an idea. There's a little-known relative of the president, a son named Hunter, and I hear he likes to have a drink or two himself. I think we can make a deal to get him to endorse something like Billy Beer, maybe a malt liquor. Maybe a "fortified" malt liquor, you know? The way some delicious wines like M/D 2020 and Wild Irish Rose are fortified. And of course he would be paid in Fredcoin, the world's most Fred-like crytocurrency. 

Here's a mock-up of the label:

Trying to think of a good slogan, like "It'll Get You There" or "Throw Away Your Laptop and Forget Your Troubles" or "It's Like Kissing Your Sister-in-Law." I'm sure we can come up with something better. 

I'll be reaching out to the younger Biden soon to see what we can work out. Apparently Congress is just great with influence peddling now, so I doubt anyone will give him a problem on that end. And you know, they tell me that this Hunter fellow is a successful painter, which is great. My bathroom could use a fresh coat -- maybe we can add that to the deal.

Heath-22.

I went to the doctor's office yesterday to discuss the results of my MRI. My appointment was at 11, and true to form, I had to nap for an hour after getting up so I could make the trip because the drug I take to prevent neuropathic pain from spinal stenosis makes me drowsy. 

It's a forty-minute drive from here, but the guy is one gnarly pain specialist and very good.

As it turned out, I didn't see him, but another doctor in the office. Neither of them look at all like this guy.

So, the test results: Severe stenosis. Nothing had changed in almost three years. I don't know why it would, but it was worth a look. Soooo.... what now?

As I discussed it with the doctor, we seemed to be going round and round in circles, and I didn't know why. I couldn't seem to get us past the idea that my pain was currently manageable but my life was not. She mentioned that there were other options up to and including surgery, but if my pain was manageable then we needn't do them at this time. So, I left. The whole appointment took ten minutes. 

I realized as I went home that I am caught in a classic catch-22 here. Because my pain is manageable on the drug (duloxetine), the doctor is not inclined (and no doubt my insurance company is very disinclined) to make any changes. If I go off the drug, my pain may become unmanageable, and then we may have to opt for something else. I do not want unmanageable pain; the memory of being helpless in agony on the floor will stay with me for life. But if I do not get off the drug, there's no way to know if my pain is unmanageable now. So we must stick with the drug that is making my life unmanageable. 

I came home, did some work, had some lunch, and slept for two hours. 

Now I don't know what to do. This is all a little depressing. Ironically, duloxetine is supposed to be an antidepressant that just happens to help with nerve pain, but it has done nothing for depressed mood for me. Maybe because being sleepy so much of the time is discouraging. 

Oh, well. At least when I can function, I can function, if you know what I mean. And if you do, please explain it to me.

CBD!

I'm seeing places that promote CBD everywhere in New York these days. CBD apparently can cure every single problem you might have. Neuralgia, sinus trouble, lumbago, chilblains, Igor's hump, macular degeneration, inflammation, handmaid's knee, you name it, this modern medical miracle does everything but the dishes. So why is it usually promoted in storefronts where burnouts and vapers hang around?

For the record, a friend of mine was told to try CBD (cannabidiol) for tinnitus. He'd tried everything else. Once when drunk he'd even tried putting a screwdriver in his ear. So now that he doesn't drink anymore, he was a little nervous about taking something that came from marijuana. He was assured that it wouldn't get him stoned. He was also concerned that it would make him look stoned on a pee test -- he was driving a school bus part-time. 

Well, none of the three happened -- he didn't get stoned, he didn't give a dirty urine, and CBD did nothing for his tinnitus. 

Since CBD is advertised all over the place, over the 'Net, in magazines, and so on, I hope people going to it for relief have found what they wanted, but I'm pretty certain it's been oversold. Harvard is pretty skeptical about it. So is the FDA. In fact, the Food and Drug Administration has only approved a small number of drugs that use marijuana in any way:   

• Epidiolex, which contains a purified form of CBD derived from cannabis, was approved for the treatment of seizures associated with Lennox-Gastaut syndrome or Dravet syndrome, two rare and severe forms of epilepsy.
• Marinol and Syndros, which contain dronabinol (synthetic THC), and Cesamet, which contains nabilone (a synthetic substance similar to THC), are approved by the FDA. Dronabinol and nabilone are used to treat nausea and vomiting caused by cancer chemotherapy. Dronabinol is also used to treat loss of appetite and weight loss in people with HIV/AIDS.

I always thought that medical marijuana was just a stalking horse to promote the legalization of marijuana, and I think time has proved me right. After all, if THC -- the fun ingredient -- was so helpful for glaucoma and whatnot, why not have a pill form that could be dispensed by prescription? But no, the fight was always about letting Grandma take a bong hit for her chemo nausea because reasons. And the reasons were, people wanted to get stoned, and the state wanted us to be able to sedate ourselves while taking a big fat cut. Of course, it hasn't worked out that way. Freelance (shall we say) marijuana sellers can undercut the government by a large amount, and states like California are not seeing nearly the tax revenues they expected. Meanwhile, the government has put its stamp of approval on pot, like it does on booze, and more people are using both.

Who could have foreseen all that, except anyone?

In my wayward youth I was pretty much just a drinker, and that was bad enough, but I wanted to use it to have fun on the go or pound beer with my pals while conversing into the night. I didn't want to sit around and stare at lava lamps. But to each his own, I guess. 

Still, I'm not a fan, and I'm not happy to see even more burnouts around in the kids than we had when I was in high school, and we had a lot of burnouts in my high school. It just seems to make people into wasteoids (another term of art in my youth) at an earlier age. Plus, in my large and overcrowded city high school, not one kid died from drugs in the four years I was there; now it's a common tragedy. 

What things have changed since 1999?

Enabled-bodied citizens.

This is a complete disgrace. (h/t Instapundit)

Everything about it is disgusting, from the smug can-do look of the woman in the picture to the exhortation not to be ashamed that you are using heroin. "Let's Prevent Overdose" is the intention, and yes, it is a real New York City Department of Health program. They want you to be careful with the needles you use to inject illegal drugs into your veins (which can be in interesting places like your bumhole and your eyeball when other veins are not available). They want you to be able to get free Narcan on the taxpayer's dime while you render yourself useless. They act like fentanyl is the problem, not the fucking heroin.

There's so very much here to hate, and for such very good reasons, that it's hard to know where to start. So I'll just focus on the main thing: 

DON'T BE ASHAMED THAT YOU ARE USING.

Why not? Heroin is the most awful drug out there. Drunks, stoners, pill poppers, crackheads, and methmouths all look down on heroin junkies. Compared to someone using heroin, the others are models of functional addiction. By taking heroin, you are guaranteed to be supporting the enemies of your country, the beasts that ravage Mexico, the creeps whipping up fentanyl, the punks that turn poor neighborhoods into no-fly zones and shoot up block parties -- in short, every kind of evil human being on the face of the planet. 

KEEP YOURSELF AND YOUR COMMUNITY SAFE.

If there is anyone in your life who gives the slightest damn for you, heroin ensures that you will wring that person dry as a twenty-year-old lemon. No stone will be unturned in the quest to take everything from that person and transfer it to the people I described in the previous paragraph. 

If you shouldn't be ashamed that you are using this monster of a drug, what in this world can you actually be ashamed of? On the list of things for which one may be ashamed, it is above genocide and school shootings and rape and below pretty much everything else.

BE EMPOWERED THAT YOU ARE USING SAFELY.

I have seen the low cunning in the eyes of the Big H user, the look that keeps asking itself "Is he buying it? Is he buying it?" And I can say without reservation that no one is safe around the heroin addict.

Municipal morons who put together campaigns like this will tell you they're saving lives. Sure, until the next time. Addicts are the greatest liars on this earth, and there is no point in coddling them in any form. It just makes it easier for them to skip along that road to hell. It does them no favors.

Don't be ashamed that you are using. Yes, be very, very, ashamed, so ashamed that you can't even look in the mirror, and then go do something about it and win back your self-respect. No one has to die from this garbage. And no one should be lying about what it is, either. 

Maybe that smug "can-do" woman should have had her arm up like the woman in the famous World War II poster. With a needle sticking out of it. 

Fictional Planet or Brand-Name Prescription Drug--Round Two!

 

Ming the Merciless, Ruler of Planet Mongo, Invites You to Play Another Round of ... 

Fictional Planet or Brand-Name Prescription Drug!

Did you pass the last test? Well, you had best do well this time, or it's the ice mines for you! 

1. Lenvima

2. Felina

3. Aloxi

4. Quadritop

5. ZR-3

6. Durla

7. Skaro

8. Altabax

9. Priplanus 

10. Carillon

11. Wera

12. Felbatol

13. Mometamax

14. Arianus

15. Druidia

16. Thra

17. Altair IV

18. Xudar

19. Brodo Asogi

20. Duetact

💊🚀💊🚀💊🚀

MERCILESS ANSWERS

1. Lenvima: Drug -- kinase inhibitor (lenvatinib)

2. Felina: Planet -- ruled by the villainous Overcat in Underdog

3. Aloxi: Drug -- injectable anti-nausea drug (palonosetron)

4. Quadritop: Drug -- topical antibiotic with four ingredients, for dogs and cats 

5. ZR-3: Planet -- home of the bickering androids (played by Ruth Buzzi and Jim Nabors) in the Krofft show The Lost Saucer

6. Durla: Planet -- home of Chameleon Boy from DC's Legion of Super Heroes

7. Skaro: Planet -- original home of the Daleks from Dr. Who

8. Altabax: Drug -- retapamulin, an ointment for impetigo

9. Priplanus: Planet -- home of the Robinsons in the first season of Lost in Space

10. Carillon: Planet -- in the original Battlestar Gallactica, home of the buglike Ovions

11. Wera: Drug -- oral contraceptive

12. Felbatol: Drug -- a potent antiepileptic (felbamate)

13. Mometamax: Drug -- combination therapy; canine use only, for ear infections

14. Arianus: Planet -- from everyone's favorite Star Trek (original) episode, "Let That Be Your Last Battlefield" (or, "Half a Frank Gorshin Is Better Than None")

15. Druidia: Planet -- the nice one from Spaceballs, led by King Roland

16. Thra: Planet -- from The Dark Crystal, the weirdest Muppet movie of them all, including the one with Bowie

17. Altair IV: Planet -- the planet that is forbidden in Forbidden Planet. Kudos if you weren't taken in by thinking IV was intravenous rather than 4.

18. Xudar: Planet -- home of Tomar-Re, a member of the Green Lantern Corps in DC comics

19. Brodo Asogi: Planet -- the home of E.T., not mentioned in the film E.T.: The Extra Terrestrial, but used in a novel based on the movie and elsewhere 

20. Duetact: Drug -- combo drug for type 2 diabetes (pioglitazone and glimepiride)


MING CALCULATES YOUR SNIVELING SCORE:

20 -- You're either a huge drug addict or a huge nerd; either way, get help, minion!

15-19 -- Ming admires your knowledge and offers you a place in his oppressive organization. You will learn to wreck planetary economies with viruses and inflation while you cause chaos by letting violent criminals run in the streets. Ha! Ha ha! HA HA HA HA HA!

10-14 -- Ming tells you to study more and has you flung out into the space dumpster.

6-9 -- Ming scoffs and tells you to go back to school. He also calls you a blockhead and a nincompoop, which makes you cry a little. Then he has you thrown into the space dumpster.

1-5 -- Ming sends you to work in the ice mines. Ming likes his frozen daquiris, and he drinks a lot of them, so you'll be very busy mining ice for him. HA HA HA HA HA!

Now ear this.

I'm afraid I was completely tangled up in deadlines yesterday, and still not totally out of the trap, so I don't have much to offer today. 

However, I thought I'd note yet another sign of the apocalypse for you.

I wonder if Evander Holyfield is getting a piece of this?

[rim shot]

I mentioned to a friend that I'm about ready to give up on 2022 now. She said she's going to throw in 2023 for good measure. 

Kvetch and release.

Just in case you were wondering, I thought I'd fill you in on my latest peeves. Not my mass peeves, the things that are driving everybody crazy, like government and stupid ideas and cancel culture and whatnot. You look on social media and everyone is running around with his hair on fire. They all know how to run the world, but not one of them can run his own life.

Well, I don't know how to run the world, but I also admit I don't know how to run my life. So here are...

The Peeves

Missing Gloves

Where did all the gloves go? When the stupid Chinese Death Virus was inflicted on the world by the government of China, mask mandates started to pop up quickly, but people were also told to wear latex or similar gloves for safety. The glove issue became so big that news stories on glove litter in shopping center lots were seen throughout the land. Satirical videos on how to throw away latex gloves were found on the Internet. A few months later, poof -- all the gloves had disappeared. No one was wearing them in stores anymore. Why was this? What happened? No one seems to even know. One day a sign went up demanding masks but not mentioning gloves, and then no one was wearing gloves. Was this a mistake? Were gloves the key all along? No one knows, no one cares, just keep moving and hope that the virus goes away. 

Dog Stick Addiction

I'm starting to think my younger dog, Nipper, has a stick issue. He can't pass one by. He stashes sticks all over the yard. I check to see if he's peeing and find him chewing a stick. "What the -- Where the hell did that come from?" He can't just stop at one stick, no; he has to keep looking for more until he's pulled inside, and even then he'll try to sneak a small one in by hiding it in his mouth. "Whatcha got there?" "Nrfng." There's always splinters in his fuzz. He may need stick rehab. It's not just a bad habit -- it's a stickness. 

Guys Blowing Past Stop Signs

No one with little kids or dopey dogs prefers to live on a major thoroughfare, where guys drive like crazy, but living on a side street that parallels a major thoroughfare is almost as bad. Guys trying to avoid the cops go on your street, blow through stop signs, and double the speed limit. I think they've all seen the Fast and Furious movies too many times. They should stick to a film series closer to their own selves -- Dumb and Dumber.

Old Man Winter and Stupid Governor Ruining Plans

I was supposed to meet some friends Thursday morning for an outdoor socially-distant kaffeeklatsch, but I was running a little late because I had called in Tralfaz's thyroid prescription to the vet (on Tuesday) and when I got there was told no one had filled it. I texted my chums to say I might be late, and they said that it was so cold they decided to move to the McDonald's. When I got there they were standing around inside -- because New York's Governor Dumbwad still has the no-indoor-dining rule in place that he imposed in December. Never mind that transmission rates on indoor dining are minuscule, or that the holidays are over. No matter what the data are, I suspect Cuomo will not lift restrictions until Biden bribes him to make things look good in New York. Which, by the way, they are not -- I'm told the hospitals in the Hudson Valley are as bad as they were last April. It's not the restaurants that caused it. But now I'm back on the larger mass peeves. 

Speaking of my dog's unfilled prescription....

Unfilled Prescriptions

I called my own prescription for my back medication to the doctor on Wednesday. This is for the crippling pain I suffered almost a year ago; the doctor has me on duloxetine, an antidepressant that obviously isn't working for me as an antidepressant but has worked wonders for my neuropathic pain. The problem was, the doctor only wanted to give me a 30-day supply with one refill; the insurance company insisted that I get a 90-day supply at least, and the pharmacist was caught in the middle -- and no one told me this was going on. I found out Friday, when I was out of meds and went to get them. The doctor's office was closed when I called. And duloxetine can have significant withdrawal effects. Finally the pharmacist sold me a four-day supply for a sawbuck to get through the weekend, like a pusher. Has this ever happened to you?

And on top of all this...

Someone Used the name The Peeves

I thought that the Peeves would be a perfect name for a band of middle-aged suburban grumps, and guess what -- apparently a band in Chicago is already using the name. There goes my chance to cash in on my bad temper by starting a middle-class MOR rage-punk band. 

Oh, well -- must find gratitude, adjust attitude, and not throw punches. In the words of the philosophic band Yes, release all! Or abandon all hope for your brother! 

Doggie drugs.

I mentioned the other day that large club-size dog Tralfaz has a hot spot, poor guy. A hot spot is an area on the skin of inflammation and bacterial infection, and this is the first one he's gotten that we know of. The vet gave him a thorough look-over on Tuesday and sent me home with instructions -- keep it dry and clean, don't bandage it or cover it or put any ointments or anything on it. And give him these pills. And these are some pills.

First, the corticosteroid, prednisolone, which is meant to control the inflammation and ease the discomfort. He gets 1 1/2 of them a day, tapering down over 12 days to 1/2.

The second, cephalexin, is an antibiotic. Ten days of that, three pills twice a day.

These are big pills. Granted, he's a big dog, but how to get them into him? Fortunately he will eat anything if it's in a treat, and the greatest treat in the world is cheese. So, these seemed like a no-brainer.

Smaller dog Nipper has a tendency to work the pill out of treats, and eat the treat and leave the pill, but fortunately he will let me shove a pill down his throat without too much grief. Even more fortunately, he has not had to have any pills in a while. Even more fortunately, neither dog has needed any treatments that have to be administered in the buttular area. That's a bridge too far for me.

One further pharmaceutical note: Readers of the Great Lileks's feature on Chain Store Age may have recalled learning this fact about medicine bottles:

As I noted at the time, nowadays Plastainers for human drugs are orange and animal drugs a bright emerald green.

Cheery, huh?

(Now I'm wondering if the modern pill bottle is a Plastainer or some other trademarked name. The original Plastainer had no childproof cap. I can barely keep up with my own business, let alone the varieties of materials science in the prescription drug trade.)

BONUS DOG-RELATED PIC! The local robins made an unprecedented second nest under the deck this year, and Nipper sort of helped:

He often gets brushed outside, leaving fur around, and the white fuzz on the right side looks like some of his. Further, the yellow streak on the left side looks like a piece he has torn off one of his tennis balls. Way to go, Nipper! It's the Circle of Liiiiiiiiife!

Back to the present.

Correspondent and non-commenter Mr. Philbin wonders how my back is doing. This may come from the goodness of his heart, or indeed it may come from his desire to inherit my vast collection of Precious Moments figurines upon my passing. As I have drawn up no will, at this time no non-family member can expect to get anything. Sorry, Philbin old boy.

As for the question, though, regular readers of this site (you handsome devils, you) will recall that last February some spinal issues landed me in the hospital in absolute agony. I haven't mentioned  much about my medical progress since, only my financial progress, as bill after bill keeps coming in from my two-night stay. Just FYI: Business Insider says the most expensive hotel in Manhattan is the Central Park Ritz-Carlton, whose rooms start at $4,000 less per night than my hospital bed (not including doctors or treatments or drugs or tests, which are billed separately).

Anyhoo, what about the back itself? When I left the hospital, in grave fear of a relapse, I could not walk more than a hundred feet without shooting pain in my back and/or my leg. Follow-up care with a pain specialist and another spinal injection barely made it scarcely better at all. I was forced to order groceries for pickup and abandon walking the dogs. I wondered if this was going to be as good as I would get for the rest of my life.

The problem is
in here somewhere.

By the time I was due for a follow-up to the follow-up, my pain doc was doing virtual appointments because of the Wuhan Death Virus. I figured he would suggest trying more shots, or maybe go straight to surgery, but to my surprise he recommended... an antidepressant.

What the hey...?

Yep, duloxetine (known as Cymbalta to its friends) is an SNRI drug that for some reason treats chronic musculoskeletal pain (also diabetic peripheral neuropathic pain). I have taken antidepressants in the past, for (duh) depression, and was not eager to go back on one. But I was sick of debilitating pain and was willing to try almost anything.

And what do you know: It works.

I've been able to do normal supermarket runs now, and have walked the dogs for a mile or so at a time without having to stop and wait for the pain to subside. I do have some weird leg and foot cramps and the odd shot of pain, and sometimes a cold feeling in my back where the disks went flooie, but it's almost normal. I am not advised to do very strenuous things, like tossing cabers, but the fact that I'm able to do normal things without suffering is almost a miracle compared to how I felt that night I came home from the hospital.

Now, duloxetine does not actually change the situation; it doesn't put slipped disks back in place or heal bone or anything. I am mindful that the whole spine issue could come crashing down on me again. The doctor said these things can improve on their own, so I have hope. But it's definitely improved the pain situation, so thumbs-up for that.

The funny thing is, I don't think the drug has improved my mood at all. It ranges from kind of average to bleak, depending on my worried fixation on money and quarantining and things, probably like everyone else. I think it makes me drowsier, and certainly the naps have been more frequent. But we have plenty of coffee, so I'll get through.

Thanks to everyone but Mr. Philbin for the kind wishes. You're not getting my Precious Moments, pal.

The paper chase.

The whole world's going batty, and we don't even know if it's appropriate or not.

I'm not even talking about the bizarre and audacious lies of the Chinese, that the so-obvious-it's-painful Chinese Wuhan flu did not originate in CHINA, WHERE IT ORIGINATED, as they have lied about everything else regarding this thing. Nor do I mean the wacky attempt by China's Western bootlickers to back them up. That stuff is beyond gaslighting and into sad little comedy, like the toddler who lies about taking your Perugina when he's holding the chocolate in his hand and is covered with the stuff, except instead of Perugina he's holding a loaded gun, and instead of chocolate it's blood.

Do not let them fool you.

No, I'm talking about weird and/or surprising choices by the people in our own country.

Here's a couple of things that have struck me in the last few days, and have probably struck you as well, summed up briefly:

1) It's kind of crazy that sports leagues, Broadway shows, science and medical conferences, comic cons, and concerts have all shut down. That pretty much covers all the kids I knew in high school. The one that made me smile was Celine Dion putting the "Courage World Tour" on hold -- whether it's smart or not, it doesn't look good to cancel something called "Courage" out of "Fear."

2) This TP buying has turned into a cascade of crazy. First it was the panic buyers, who always run for toilet paper when a storm is coming. But it was so bad this time that less high-strung types were thinking, I have enough Angel Soft for the week, but with all these crazy people clearing the shelves, by the time I need more there will be none. Better get some! Not like it goes stale. And thus, the Great Toilet Paper Buy of 2020, which makes us look like lunatics, because toilet paper cannot protect anyone against the coronavirus.

I wish I had come up with this one; I salute the person who did.

3) Our schools hardly got any snow days this winter, but they're about to make up for it in spades. They closed yesterday, events are being canceled, and they will probably close down for at least a couple of weeks. It's been easier to shut off the colleges, whose spring break seems to come earlier, and whose students can all be expected to have computers and Internet access for remote learning.

4) Even worse, churches are closing, and here we are in Lent. The Catholic churches here have not thrown in the towel, unlike the churches in Rome (!!!!!) and France, but our local Methodist and Presbyterian churches have closed down for a couple of weeks. Not sure about the local Temples and the Lutherans.

5) Offices closing -- this is not as big a deal as it once was, again because so many people in office jobs can work from home now. I sat in remotely on a meeting for a company, a publisher for whom I do freelance stuff. It was all instructions on how to log in to the system from home -- which I do anyway, so it wasn't useful to me, but I figured I'd check in and make sure there was nothing new. The funny thing is, I've been their lurker, the unseen sweatpants guy in the cave, proofing copy, and now they'll all be joining my sweatpants cave cult. Ha ha!

🏥🔬🔕⚠😷💀

What does this all mean? We hope nothing. We hope that there are no, or at least very few, more people getting sick from the coronavirus pandemic, and in a few weeks we look around at our piles of TP and laugh and say, "What were we thinking?"

Or maybe, "Thank God, this shows that our plague preparations work in some areas but could use help in others. We'll tune up the system and be in better shape if it happens again. Next time could be really bad."

Maybe the worst outcome would be, "What a load of crap! What a big nothingburger! What a waste of time and effort!"

I hope that doesn't happen. If people think this was never a big deal, no worse than a bad cold, then whole governments and the entire media become the shepherd boy who cried wolf.

It might be cynical fun to look at it that way, but think of this: In the original Aesop fable. after the shepherd boy is established as a liar, the wolf gets to pick off the sheep at his leisure. In this story, though, the sheep will be us.

Smell like the King.

A few years back I told you how you can smell like the Boss. And I've even told you how you can smell like the President. But now we're going far beyond that -- how to smell like the King.

Today is the last Sunday of Ordinary Time in the Catholic church, the end of the Liturgical Year, and on this day we celebrate the Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe. And today I have his soap. Sort of. Not really.

Indigo Wild sells a variety of goat milk soaps in the Zum Bar line, in weird scents that include Juniper-Fir, Clove-Orange, and the inevitable Patchouli-Ylang Ylang. But they also sell this, the Frankincense-Myrrh.

Myrrh is mentioned several times in the Bible, sixteen times in the New American Bible (rev. ed.), reflecting its importance as a valuable resin, used for medicinal purposes and also as incense and a means of anointing the dead. Frankincense is similarly used for incense. Matthew 2:11, relating Jesus's birth, states

and on entering the house they saw the child with Mary his mother. They prostrated themselves and did him homage. Then they opened their treasures and offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

Thus, the gifts of the Magi are forever joined with the narrative of the Nativity.

Now, I've been curious about these gifts since I was a boy and learned all five verses to "We Three Kings." I knew what gold was, but what were these other substances? The verses explain their threefold purpose in the threefold purpose of Jesus, as king (gold), deity (frankincense), and sacrifice (myrrh). But what did these two weird nouns refer to? And how did they smell? You can't get that out of an encyclopedia.

Well, I still can't tell you how they smell individually, although I wanted to at least get a clue. I winced and paid the price to buy the Zum Bar, which cost more than a bundle of Zest bars. And before I got home, I can tell you this: As substances refined for burial of the dead, who famously do not smell like a bed of roses, they work pretty darn good.

Not that I had any dead with me, but that little bar of soap, way in the hatch of the car, could be detected from the driver's seat. It's not unpleasant, but it is powerful. Pungent is one word. "Deep, sweet, and woodsy aromas" is how Indigo Wild describes it. I'd say it is a woodsy, peppery scent, spicy, sugary the way maple is, but rich and fruity. It put me in mind of the resin in logs when Dad and I would cut up the ol' firewood, but a billion times stronger. As I write it is wrapped in the plastic bag from the store, and you can still smell it when you walk by. Try that with a bar of Yardley.

Frankly, I'm afraid to use it. I don't think people would smell me go by and think, There's one biblical dude! I think they might think I was dead. Or that I'm a serious dead head, trying to cover up the Mary Jane stink. When I was a teenager, that's the only thing I ever saw incense used for. The Zum Bar Web site doesn't really assure me that potheads with money are not their primary customers.

So maybe I'll actually try a shower with it one day that I'm not leaving the house. Even then I'm afraid the dogs will not recognize my smell under all that and go for my throat. Then I might be dead! And I'd be pre-anointed, so I'd have that going for me.

One last note: Jesus did not use myrrh as soap, or perhaps at all. It's suggested by some that the gifts Mary and Joseph received from the Magi were used for money, for the years in which they hid from Herod in Egypt, but we don't know. Also, there's not a lot of descriptions of bathing in the New Testament (not counting baptism), but the one time we see Jesus anointed with expensive oil during his ministry, it contains nard (according to Mark 14); nard, or spikenard, is said to come from the plant Nardostachys jatamansi, not Commiphora abyssinica like myrrh or Boswellia like frankincense. When Jesus had died, the Synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke) say nothing about his body being anointed, and in fact that's why the women who found the empty tomb on Sunday were going there. But John 19 says "Nicodemus, the one who had first come to him at night, also came bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes weighing about one hundred pounds," and Jesus was bound "with burial cloths along with the spices, according to the Jewish burial custom." Just FYI.

Puffing away.

A friend of mine is trying to cut down on the smoking. It's become very hard to enjoy a cigarette these days, when you can’t smoke anywhere. She didn't want to go cold turkey or use Chantix or something, so she got one of those E-cigs. Here it is charging up, making the wall look like it's taking a relaxing nicotine break.

Of course, this made me think of my all-time favorite Tweet:

The E-cig shouldn't be confused with vaping, which has everyone across all political spectra running around with their dresses up over their heads. Vaping uses a small tank of liquid, and is essentially more like a small, handheld hookah than a cigarette; E-cigs or "cigalikes" look more typical cigarettes, have a tiny disposable cartridge or are entirely disposable, and more closely resemble cigarette smoking. Neither is good for you, but they have to be better than cigarettes.

Of course, the political class, following the lead of the health crowd, thinks you should not do any of this stuff. Don't stick anything in your lungs unless we tell you to! Such as that nice, soothing marijuana, which our state governments are generally slavering to legalize.

But this is the schizophrenic nature of modern society. When penalties for drunk driving were low, no liquor ads could be seen on TV. Now two DWIs are hard time and booze ads are everywhere. I'm not saying who's right, and it's never right to drink and drive (nor do I think people drive drunk more than they used to), but isn't there a sort of disconnect here?

Likewise with the vape thing. The CDC reports deaths and injuries attributed to vaping, but the news media seem to leave out the part that says:

Most patients report a history of using tetrahydrocannabinol (THC)-containing products. The latest national and state findings suggest products containing THC, particularly those obtained off the street or from other informal sources (e.g. friends, family members, illicit dealers), are linked to most of the cases and play a major role in the outbreak. 

(emphasis and rolling eyes added)

And suddenly any kind of vaping or e-smoking is a national crisis. So they all should be outlawed. (See above paragraph on pot, and note that 33 states and DC have legalized pot for fun and profit. Here in the Hudson Valley, farms formerly known for onions and sweet corn are growing weed like, well, weeds. But we should be frantic over E-cigarettes.)

All I can tell you is my friend is smoking fewer cigarettes thanks to her E-cig, which only contains one naughty ingredient (nicotine) that does not get you high or impair your ability to drive. If my friend goes over to only E-cig use, as planned, I know it will be easier for her to quit nicotine all together. Sounds like a social good to me.

But no, let's ban all the things! Except soma, of course.