TV Doctor! Paging TV Doctor!

On a recent episode of a TV show, a doctor in 19th century New York had a man arrive on his doorstep who was obviously in some sort of distress.  The doctor had no way of knowing, but the man had lost quite a few of his toes after an interlude with a rather sadistic shoe salesman.  The diagnosis didn’t matter as the doctor knew just what to do.

The man of medicine turned to his wife and yelled,  Get me plenty of clean towels and hot water!”

"We don't have much time!  Get in your AMC Gremlin and drive to the laundramat - I've got a load of whites in  the dryer - they should be done by now!"  (Image from museum dot tv)
“We don’t have much time, Sally! Get in your AMC Gremlin and drive to the laundromat – I’ve got a load of whites in the dryer – they should be done by now!” (Image from museum dot tv)

Viewers like myself were amazed that despite the patient’s having no outward sign of having endured a nasty bunch of amputations, the doctor inherently knew the treatment would require clean towels and hot water.  Viewers unlike myself probably didn’t notice and just wished they could enjoy the show without my constant piping up and taking issue with the dialogue and continuity.

There’s an interesting fact: TV doctors only have one of two choices when it comes to addressing any medical emergency.  The first and most popular choice is the old standby of clean towels and hot water, or as it’s also known, the shave-and-a-haircut treatment option.  Even the worst doctor would not treat a patient with dirty laundry and cold water, (there were exceptions made during the Tide epidemic of the late 1950’s).

The second treatment choice for TV doctors is a more recent development.  TV physicians turn to whoever is helping them and urgently ask for something really technical, including a couple of medical abbreviations to jazz it up.  Any modern TV doctor worth his salt will assess a situation and quickly demand something along the lines of “100 cc’s of epi and a goniometer, stat!”.  Viewers will instantly recognize the authenticity of the dialogue because it was filled with stuff they don’t understand.

"You!  Get me a doo-hickey and a whatsis, stat!  Also, you got to stop letting your family tell you how to live your laff - you're a grown woman and it's tamm to stop bein pushed around by these people to satisfahh their own twisted ideas!"   (Image from dr-phil-blog.newsok.com)
“You! Get me a doo-hickey and a whatsis, stat! Also, you got to stop lettin your family tell you how to live your laff – you’re a grown woman and it’s tamm to stop bein pushed around by these people to satisfahh their own twisted ideas!” (Image from dr-phil-blog dot newsok dot com)

The last mandatory ingredient for successful treatment in TV medical emergencies then, is the third person.  When clean towels and hot water are all that’s needed, the third party can be almost anyone, even a child or a well trained collie.  In the case of more technical orders, the third person needs to have enough medical training to know what the doctor’s talking about, but not enough expertise to question he’s going to do with two speculums, an enema bag and a syringe full of morphine when the patient appears to be suffering from nothing more than a really bad hair day.

If no third party is available, the patient will most certainly die.  Lacking clean towels and hot water, the doctor’s only choice is to reach out and gently close the eyelids of the deceased.  In the event of a closed-eye death, he or she can pull a sheet over the face.  In either case, it’s then time to say something really meaningful.

Roll credits.

A Quick Note About Tonight’s Programming

I hope her scene doesn't get cut (Image from ovguide dot com)
I hope her scene doesn’t get cut (Image from ovguide dot com)

I don’t usually do this, but…what the hell.  Tonight’s episode of “How I Met Your Mother” on CBS will feature an actress who some of you may recognize as my mother.  She’ll be playing the part of an older lady.  If there are multiple older ladies in tonight’s episode, I promise to post something later to describe which one she played.   This is relevant to my blog because:

A)  She’s my mom – Duh!

B) She’s been featured in a few of my posts and will likely be featured in a few more – so your having a visual of her will enhance the reading experience, right?

C) CBS needs the ratings so maybe they’ll appreciate my efforts.  This may lead to their creative people taking a look at my idea for “America’s Next Top Mortician”.

Enjoy the show!

What’s In A Name?

Eddie liked to unwind when the cmeras were off, have a smoke and kick his paws up.  (Image from jackrusseldog dot net)
Eddie liked to unwind when the cameras were off, have a smoke and kick his paws up. (Image from jackrusseldog dot net)

It’s day five of this never-ending bloggy dog-themed death march. I know you’re tired of reading them, but it’s half done, so buck up. Skippy!  Today’s pooch is Frasier’s father’s dog, Eddie.

Here’s a little something to think about: There’s a guy. A regular working stiff, a cop actually. Somehow he has two brainiac intellectual snobs for sons, maybe because he gave them snooty, Ivy League names. He named one “Frasier” and the other one “Niles”. Niles?! Fer Chrissakes! You named a kid Niles?! How did you expect he’d turn out?

Makes me wonder who it really was who shot you in your ass, old timer.

The years proved maybe it’s possible to teach an old dog new tricks.

He got himself a hot British physical therapist and an adorable Jack Russell terrier. He had the good sense to name the dog “Eddie”.

At least I’m not the only knucklehead doing this.  Having the rest of these folks along for the ride makes me feel a little less self conscious:

Blogdramedy

Steve Betz

Joe’s Musings

MC’s Whispers

Shouts From The Abyss

H. E. Ellis

Lenore Diane

Fix It Or Deal

1 Point Perspective – You’re clearly on the fence as to whether or not to christen me a creative genius.  This old post will help tip the scales either way.

Speak Lassie!

Well, here we are on day three already of this Dog Days of Summer  grindstone.  Sick of dogs yet?  Well, tough chew toys, because we’ve got another one coming your way right now.  Goes by the name of Lassie.  Enjoy it or keep off the furniture.

I thought I was just helping to keep him warm, I didn't realize I was spooning him and giving him a false sense of security.  (Image from texas fishing forum dot com)
I thought I was just helping to keep him warm, I didn’t realize that my spooning with him was giving Timmy a false sense of security. (Image from texas fishing forum dot com)

Timmy fell down a well” – Really? That crap again?

I’ve been working with a therapist for some time now. Spent a ton of money I really couldn’t afford. Don’t go thinking they let dogs in the Screen Actors Guild back in the golden age of television – ’cause they didn’t.

Anyway my therapist says I’m what you call an “enabler”. She says that me saving Timmy all those times just enabled him to keep living life like a reckless jerk-off; getting lost in the woods, kidnapped by escaped convicts or trapped in an abusive relationship with a gay biker named Otis.

I’m dealing with my own issues. Timmy is Otis’ problem now.

I’m not the only one writing about dogs, these folks are working hard at it too.  Don’t get emotional, it’s not like they’re pulling a sled across the Alaskan wilderness and sleeping out in the snow.  Click on them and see if I’m lying – my guess is that they’re probably up on the sofa again.

Blogdramedy

Steve Betz

Joes Musings

Jtailele’s Blog

MC’s Whispers

Shouts From The Abyss

H. E. Ellis

Lenore Diane

Fix It Or Deal

1 Point Perspective – You just read my version of Lassie, but why not click here and look at something else – my attempt at scoring a lucrative book deal by writing porn in my own version of 50 Shades.

I’ll Have a Venti Mocha Latte Where The Sun Don’t Shine

The upcoming season of TLC’s “My Strange Addiction” will be featuring a husband and wife who are addicted to coffee enemas.   The couple each average four of the 32 ounce enemas every day.  Personally, I limit my daily coffee intake to one 20 ounce cup, and to date, I have never poured it up my butt, not even by accident.

That TLC show just RUINED my favorite coffee mug for me!  Thanks, you A-Holes! (Image from like cool dot com)
That TLC show just RUINED my favorite coffee mug for me! Thanks, you A-Holes! (Image from like cool dot com)

To answer your logical question as to whether Mr. and Mrs. Coffee are located in Florida or California, it’s Florida.  If these Arabica-enema junkies strike you as especially odd, the show will also be profiling a woman who enjoys eating her cat’s hair.  While the micro-fiber sofa usually has a good snack-sized supply of Mr. Whiskers’ sheddings, she prefers licking it directly off of his disgusting pelt.  In the event that this lady ever teams up with the one from “Hoarders” who has 37 cats, they might form a sort of Jack Sprat-style alliance.

Mr. Whiskers (Not his real name)  (Image from free fresh wallpapers dot com)
Mr. Whiskers – not his real name – requested anonymity as he was concerned about Morris and Tony the Tiger finding out.  He was so upset about the show airing that he dropped a deuce in the potted palm out in the foyer.  (Image from free fresh wallpapers dot com – black eye bar courtesy of the author’s mad Microsoft paint skills)

The coffee enema woman declined to give her last name but had no problem showing the cameras her face and discrete self-applications of back-door caffeine.  She reported killing time during enemas by doing sudoko puzzles and catching up on Tweets.  Inquiring minds need to know if she is only reading the Tweets or if she’s espresso-ing herself.

As both a huge fan of coffee and a world-class avoider of enemas, I’m troubled by the java smuggler story.  I’m more than a little concerned that my personal love of a good cup of joe might now be misinterpreted by others.  A case in point; I was just over at the local doughnut joint asking the man in the turban for a caramel latte and an extra large black coffee to go.  He made a face which may have been due to my limited mastery of the Hindi-Urdu dialect, or it could have been something else.  Was it possible that he’d presumed I had some dark purpose in mind for these two hot beverages?  I left the store, making a show out of taking a big sip out of the scalding extra large.

“Mmm-mmm!  That’s good coffee!” I called out to no one in particular.

Still, I sensed that there may have been a few people there who didn’t fully believe me.

With no place left to turn, I came to you, my loyal readers to purge my soul, if not my colon, with my thoughts on the world being Chock Full o’ Nuts.  It’s a sad day when one dopey TV show taints the identity of us coffee lovers.

  • This disturbing practice gives the phrase “Something’s brewing” a whole new meaning.
  • It’s just one more thing to make tea drinkers feel superior.
  • Those people put the “uck!” in Starbucks.
  • There’s no truth to the rumor that they’re considering changing the slogan to “Good to the last plop
  • Care for a cup of demi-ass?
  • Constipation may require a French Press
  • Leaving yourself without sufficient access to a toilet after your coffee enema could result in latte in your culottes – also known as cu-lattes
  • This could also lead to cappucino in your chinos
  • Aficionados are known to spend a few bucks extra for Jamaican Poo Mountain coffee
  • That’s funny!  Jim NEVER has a second cup of coffee at home – I wonder if it’s because I use my lower G.I. system as a decanter

I could go on and on, but I’ve got to get cracking on my post about the cat-lady with the eating disorder.  It’s only a matter of time before she hacks up a hairball and then everybody will be writing about it.

Please enjoy the oh-so-topical video clip I’ve entered from Youtube below.  It’s my very first attempt at a video link – let’s hope it works as effectively as a quart of decaf going the wrong way up the exit ramp.

Follow Me On Twitter N C My Nu Bangs!

{I was recently Freshly Pressed here on WordPress.  For those of you who aren’t WordPress bloggers, just know it’s a big deal, with the most important by-product being the wholesale harvesting of new followers.  Lord knows, I grabbed my fair share of new disciples.

The big challenge now is not writing some disappointing piece of crap for my next offering.  After slaving like a dog for months to finally get a bunch of new followers, I don’t want to scare them away this soon.  Be that as it may, I’m going to write about the following topic anyway.}

When I was a kid, a hundred years ago, the news was not fun viewing.  The screen featured a very serious looking man, wearing a suit, sitting at a desk with some papers in front of him.  He’d tilt his head slightly at the camera, cock an eyebrow above the frame of his horn-rimmed glasses and tell America what had happened that day.

No screaming like a Banshee when these guys were on.  They were giving America the news, not yabbering about Ruth Buzzi and giving birthday shout outs. (Image from anchoringamerica.com)
No screaming like a Banshee when Huntley and Brinkley were on. They were giving America the news, not yabbering about Ruth Buzzi and giving birthday shout-outs. (Image from anchoringamerica.com)

My brothers and I seldom stuck around to see what the anchorman had to say, as it wasn’t very entertaining in our estimation.  Our Dad would yell at us to “stop screaming like Banshees” so he could hear it.  Maybe if the news featured them, we would have sat down quietly and found out what the hell a Banshee was in the first place.  Instead, the only visual breaks in the action were usually maps of Southeast Asia or stock market graphs.

Of course, time changes ones tastes, and now I occasionally want to watch the news.  This was the case the other day.  The house was devoid of  Banshees, and the wife and I sat on our respective ends of the couch and watched Diane Sawyer on ABC.

Diane Sawyer is an attractive woman, not necessarily by TV standards, but certainly by news standards.  She also presents the news like a kinda-foxy aunt telling bedtime stories.  As the newscast wound down, a picture of Michelle Obama flashed on the screen behind her.

Can you see anything different about Michelle Obama?” Diane asked us viewers, her voice lilting and mischevious.  Then they cut to commercial.  Some guy in a khaki shirt was telling America about a quick and easy way to manage the tartar build-up on the teeth of our dogs.  I glanced over at my wife and made a wrinkled kind of face, as if to ask her about what had happened to Michelle Obama.  I got no reply to my non-verbal query.  My wife had looked back down at her Kindle as soon as the commercials started.  For the record, the non-verbal communication between my wife and me will be the focus of an upcoming post, in case you think I can’t top this one for dull topics.

I was annoyed at Diane Sawyer for teasing me and the rest of America with this First Lady topic.  I’m not worried about Mrs. Obama.  She seems like a strong woman and I’m certain there are plenty of staff eager to make sure she comes up with great healthy snack ideas for the kids and always has an outfit to wear that looks sassy yet refined.  Still, as the commercials for reverse mortgages and erectile dysfunction medications droned on, I wondered what it could be.  It’s funny that bullying is illegal in America, but teasing has been allowed to escalate into an art form.

Diane Sawyer doesn't mess around when it comes to the news.   Here she is interviewing Michael Jackson.  She was so glad that she thought better of wearing her own gold-plated catcher's shin guards - that would have been SO embarrassing!  (Image from bet.com)
Diane Sawyer doesn’t mess around when it comes to the news. Here she is interviewing Michael Jackson and Elvis’ daughter. She was glad that she thought better of wearing her own gold-plated catcher’s shin guards – that would have been SO embarrassing! (Image from bet.com)

After what seemed like an eternity, Diane Sawyer was back, smiling patiently, as if it were my idea to wait 4 minutes before finding out the answer.

She briefly recapped the question for those sleepy audience members in the back of the classroom who didn’t hear it the first time.  Then she dropped the bombshell.  Apparently there were two things different about Mrs. Obama.  The first was that she had started her own Twitter account and the second was that she had changed her hairstyle to one with bangs.  The first lady had bangs!

That’s NOT news!!” I screamed.

My wife’s attention was startled away from her Kindle and the dog quickly got up and slunked from the room, not sure if she was in trouble.  I could hear a low rumbling sound as Walter Cronkite and David Brinkley spun in their graves like rotisserie chickens.  I turned to my wife to expound further on this travesty of news reporting only to discover that she had already found where she had left off and resumed reading her electronic romance novel.

I looked back at the screen as Diane gushed about the exciting topic of the wife of the leader of the free world having a Twitter account.  For the record, if my dog could type a little better, she’d have a Twitter account too.  If she did, she may well have left the room earlier to “follow” Mrs. Obama on Twitter and not because of her assumed guilt.  As for the guilt, I didn’t find that chewed up pair of boxer briefs behind the recliner for several more days.

I let it all sink in.  As if changing ones hairstyle isn’t upheaval enough, Michelle had started Tweeting at the same time.  Talk about a busy day!  Before I could wrap my big, bald head around it all, Diane moved onto the next story.  There was a scratchy recording of a little girl being interviewed on an old time radio show.

Do you recognize that voice?” Diane cooed.  Another question?  One tease after another!  This wasn’t the news, it was pop-culture trivia torture.  If she kept this up, Sawyer would make Pat Sajak look like a Nobel Prize laureate.  This time, she was kind enough to give us the answer without going to commercial first.  It turned out the little girl in the recording was none other than actress Betty White, who had turned 91 years old that day.

Betty White is in an American treasure (not to mention the last “Golden Girl” still standing).  Every birthday is a milestone, and the closer she gets to triple digits, the more newsworthy it becomes.

The standard format of any news show is that you start with the biggest story first, then work your way down to the filler and fluff.  By this framework we can deduce that Michelle Obama’s hairstyle/Twitter account story ranked higher than Betty White getting older.  I’m embarrassed to admit that I even took the time to consider this.

I guess I should be thankful that my kids are too old to have been in the house interupting my time watching the news.  What kind of father would I have been if I had shushed them so that I could properly hear this drivel?  Truthfully, I think I would have preferred screaming Banshees to listening to what Diane Sawyer had to say.  Oh well, at least she’s nice to look at.

Walking Dead While Talking Logic

Let’s make this clear: I enjoy “The Walking Dead”.  You can’t beat the dramatic interactions, the plot twists, and the extreme nature of a life in a zombie-filled world, where hope is all you have.

Who doesn’t love zombies? Can we have a show of hands – assuming zombies haven’t eaten your hands yet (Image from podcast.teachercast.net)

My love of the show is predicated on my having to be able to accept the premise that the world is largely populated with zombies, and that if you let your guard down, even for a minute, one of them might just sneak up and take a bite out of you.  Before long, you’ll either be eaten by a horde of them, or turn into one yourself.  Without the acceptance of the premise, the show is totally silly.  Modern medical science tells us that there is no such thing as a virus or disease which turns people into mindless, flesh-eating zombies.  The nightly news tells us that bath salts will do the trick.

I’m okay with embracing the premise, but I have my limits.  Anyone who’s ever gone to a horror movie will tell you that you have to accept certain things to be able to enjoy the experience.  For example, no one in their right mind would ever go into the haunted house at the end of Creepy Lane, and certainly not at the stroke of midnight on Friday the 13th.  No sane person would open that door at the end of the hall when there’s all that scary sound-track music playing.  People in horror movies are notoriously stupid when it comes to their choices.  If you’re going to enjoy a movie or TV series of this ilk, you simply need to surrender your logic for a few minutes and enjoy the ride.

Fans of the show will tell you that the story isn’t really about the zombies.  After all, zombies, or “walkers” as they are also called, are mindless carnivores.  There’s no real opportunity for character development when it comes to these hungry guys and gals – it’s just lurch, attack, hiss, and re-lurch.  The meat of the Walking Dead story is the interactions between the survivors as they try to stay alive.  For the most part, the very human emotions and difficult decisions they are faced with are what make the show compelling.  Luckily for the cynical viewer, there are so many zombies that the survivors don’t have to make the typically foolish decisions we’ve grown accustomed to in the horror genre.

Be that as it may, I need to point out a few things about the show which are sticking in my craw like a poorly chewed piece of Hershel’s calf.

Premise:  Once infected, every zombie develops incredibly sharp teeth and jaw muscles which allow them to have the destructive biting power of saber toothed tigers.

Bullcrap:  Despite hyper-trophic jaws and a disregard for pre-existing dental shortcomings, we are expected to believe that a weak spot has developed in the front of the skull of each zombie, allowing survivors to kill them with the poke of a stick to the middle of the forehead.

In the spirit of writing a “green” blog, I’m re-purposing images from previous posts whenever possible. This guy may have been infected with the zombie virus, but his teeth still look like he just came from the orthodontist. (Image from zombiecombatcommand.com)

Premise: Wild animals don’t run away from people now that most of them are zombies.

Bullcrap:  Wild animals are wild, and having the majority of mankind turn into killer-jawed eating machines will not likely make an owl or a deer any less afraid of a human.

Fer Chrissakes Bambi! Didn’t you see season one when the zombies attacked and ate a horse?! You need to stay away from humans! (Image from jnace.net)

Premise:  Without an infrastructure, things like gasoline delivery don’t happen anymore.  Early episodes showed characters dodging zombies while looking for gas.

Bullcrap:  Now that the show appears to have landed a sweet little product placement promotion with Hyundai, the days of looking for fuel are gone.  As a bonus, the responsive handling of the Sonata is great for dodging the undead in the middle of the road.

This Hyundai Veracruz will outrun even the fastest zombie and there’s plenty of storage for pointed sticks and flashlights! (Image from cargurus.com)

Premise:  In the first two seasons, survivors had to be frugal with battery use, as new Duracels were even rarer than gasoline.

Bullcrap:  I can’t keep the flashlight in the kitchen from being dead every time there’s a blackout, but in the catacombs of the prison, these guys suddenly have tons of working flashlights.

The great thing about this baby is that you can also use the back end of it to pierce the egg-shell thin zombie skull just above the bridge of the nose (Image from dansdata.com)

Premise:  Hillbilly Daryl has three arrows in his quiver, and almost always has one loaded and ready to fire in the crossbow.

Bullcrap:  He never runs out.

Daryl has three arrows, and the same number of shirt sleeves as Larry the Cable Guy. (Image from walkingdead.wikia.com)

Premise:  Zombies are slow, lumbering creatures and are easy to shoot.

Bullcrap:  No one with a gun ever misses, except for the one lady, who missed so badly she almost hit Rick in the foot – but after that, she didn’t miss again.  Oh and Otis missed the tame deer and shot Carl at the end of season 1.

You’ll never get a good head-shot on that zombie if you keep looking at her ass! Focus, Carl, F-O-C-U-S !! (Image from tacticalfanboy.com)

Premise:  Bullets are getting scarce, especially after the survivors shot up the prison grounds killing zombies who could have been dispatched with sharp sticks.

Bullcrap:  Bullets won’t be in short supply for long, rumor has it the producers are currently in negotiations with Remmington brand ammunition for a product placement deal for hollow points starting next season.

I used this before for another post. It was a pain in the ass to draw, so using it a second time eases the painful memories of struggling with badly drawn thumbs.  (Illustration by the author)

Premise:  Lori is conflicted by her situation.  She’s going to be bringing what appears to be Shane’s baby into a hellish world filled with flesh eating ghouls and very few quality daycare centers.

Bullcrap:  She’s got a big bun in the oven!  Between the swollen ankles and the hemorrhoids, she shouldn’t be able to escape the zombies.  Even a mindless walker will be able to identify her as the weakest member of the tribe as well as a two-for-one in the eating department.  Can’t she get eaten, please?

While Mexican beer is off-limits to pregnant gals, Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia with a few dill pickles is still a favorite for those late-night cravings. Lack of refrigeration pretty much kills that option though – no wonder Lori is so bitchy! (Image from knowyourmemes.com)