On health care

"People who feel safer with a gun than with guaranteed medical insurance don't yet have a fully adult concept of scary. Most of the scariest things that are liable to try to get you, as an adult, you can't shoot 'em. At all."

-- William Gibson

"God is Good"

As I paged through social media today, I came across a post with the accompanying photo, and the caption "God is good".  Of course such a statement could be debated to a stalemate for any number of reasons.   According to the Bible, God has quite a temper.   He killed every human on earth, save a few family members of Noah.  Yet, supposedly he created us, and is somehow responsible for every good thing that happens in our lives.   And apparently he answers prayers. Sometimes.

Forget good or bad.   I'd rather debate such an existence at all.

Millions are starving and dying every year, in rich and poor countries.  That fact alone flies in the face of such an existence, to say nothing of disease.  To assign credit for the before/after difference in the lives of the humans in the photo, one would also need to ascribe blame for the starvation of tens of millions, both in the past and today.

It's all hard to imagine for those of us who depend on evidence for guidance.

On the other hand, it requires no imagination at all to believe that our species has evolved a very unique and special feature - a conscience.  We are social.   Communal.   We care about each other in a way few other species have shown to be capable of.   We even live in cities, just to make it easier to help each other and to be helped.   We invent and create for the many, not the few.

Today, we are making great strides toward feeding the hungry.  Transporting food is becoming cheaper and easier.  Advances in agriculture have given us the ability to grow more food on the same acreage.

Further, more people are exposed to the atrocities of starvation and disease today than ever before, via the prolific Internet.  Today, those who care enough to act are exposed regularly to the information they need to motivate them.  And they act.

God isn't good.   Humans are.

What a great thing.   Finally, people are starting to realize that the message "let go and let God" is an excuse to do nothing.   "Praise God" robs credit from those who are due.   Our advancement has nothing to do with a God.   It has everything to do with the proliferation of Humanism.  It's all on us.

This is not a diet blog, only a diet post

It's going really well in the "O'Fallon's Biggest Loser" contest. Oh sure, it helps when you go to Melting Pot and consume 3 pounds of fondue cheese the night of the weigh-in, but I've already lost six pounds.

Only 24 more to go.

O'Fallon's Biggest Loser

Arguably I could win this one hands down.

But this is a weight-loss contest. I must say I'm completely prepared... considering I am a fat bastard that could exist totally on undigestible materials.*

Last night was weigh-in and measurement time, and today was Day One. My diet today?

Breakfast - I cut a fart and ate it. Then I choked down a spider web and chased it with a shotglass of diet tonic water. (which was actually vodka but why does Emily have to know?)

Lunch - Marmoset jerkey and a soup of toenails 'n barley.

Dinner - Considering the stock market freefall today, I had to fight the urge to eat an entire skillet of Hamburger Helper, which is great depression food. Instead, I had rubber bands in (low sodium) teriyaki sauce. (and much more "tonic")

Dessert - distilled water. (Gilbey's brand)

Day one wasn't so bad. I'm feeling a little weak.


*I wonder why nobody's thought of the idea. Eat nothing but marbles for twelve weeks. You get a full feeling while subsisting on the ugly brown fat.

Oh that makes me feel better...

I had a procedure yesterday in which they removed two "curious" moles from my back. When I returned home I told Violet that I might have to depend on her to change the dressings on them, considering they are well outside my reach. Sure, she said, no problem.

I hate to ask her to do that kind of thing - nobody wants to look at someone's oozing, laced-up incisions. Her reply: "Eh, I'll probably have to change your diaper some day, so what's the difference?"

Sometimes Vi can be quite the beyotch.

And now on the health beat...

At age 44, I'm more in-tune with health studies, stories and issues than ever. I'd like to live to at least age 200, and knowledge will be my catalyst. (and scotch, but that's another story) Here are a few news stories that have floated to the top lately:

They will soon be able to use nanoparticles to direct chemicals to cancerous tumors.

"Cancer researchers have been trying to figure out a way to better deliver drugs, such as those used in chemotherapy, to cancer cells without blasting surrounding cells as well. Last week, scientists at Stanford University in Palo Alto, Calif., devised a way to use single-walled carbon nanotubes as targeted medicinal delivery vehicles."

This is an exciting development. I predict that in only a matter of ten to twenty years, as data and research capabilities increase exponentially, we will have cures for many or most diseases - including aging.

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Is that red plastic foreign material in your Hot Pocket or are you just happy to see me?

"Nestle Prepared Foods Company is recalling about 215,660 pounds of frozen stuffed pepperoni pizza sandwich products, known as Hot Pockets Pepperoni Pizza, because the product might contain small pieces of hard red plastic and other foreign material, which pose a risk of serious injury to consumers."

Part of my health regimen has always been to avoid Hot Pockets at all costs.

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Is there a fairly simple surgical procedure that can cure diabetes? One doctor thinks so, but he's met with skepticism from his peers.

"In one experiment, he rerouted the upper part of the small intestine of animals that were diabetic (but not obese) so that food did not enter that part of the gut. Sure enough, those rats were cured of diabetes. Next, he compared gastric bypass in obese rats with a "draconian diet" to see whether the operation's effect on diabetes was solely linked to the animals' weight loss. "The operation was more powerful than the diet," he says. Finally, he did a similar comparison between surgery and insulin-boosting meds. Again, the operation won out."

Does this mean I can eat Laffy Taffy by the pound again?

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Ever wonder how men think of their age? This guy hits it pretty much on the head.

"I have this theory about men and aging. We have two ages: the age we really are, and the age we are in our heads. Most men are almost always about 31 or 32 in their heads — just ask them. Even Mr. Burns from “The Simpsons” is 31 in his head. One of the most universal adult male experiences is of standing before a mirror and saying, "I'm sorry, but there's been a horrible mistake. You see, that's not really me in the mirror there. The real me is tanned, throws Frisbees, and kayaks the Columbia River estuary without cracking a sweat."

I look about three or four years younger than I am. I'm OK with that, but I seriously hate how the sun damages us over the years. I would look another five years younger without Sol's toll.

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It's possible we've found an HIV cure.



What an incredibly complex and daunting task. If this works, it could be the most phenomenal medical accomplishment yet. I hope these guys find their financing.

I am also fascinated by the idea that miniature robots, nanobots mere microns across, will soon propel themselves through our bloodstream with a programmed destination and set of orders to kill specific viruses, diseases and mutant cells.

Extra saturated fat, please

Where fast food is concerned, my favorite restaurant is Wendy's. Tonight as I watched a commercial for the new "Baconator," I wondered why they couldn't have come out with this sandwich back when I didn't give a shit about my health.

Two huge beef patties, cheese, more cheese and 6 slices of bacon. That's probably 1/3 pound of hog. They don't even bother to offer healthy toppings like lettuce or tomato. Hell no.

Just the name Baconator brings to mind arterial clogs, hypertension, stents and other such things. I'm pretty sure you'd need to pop statins like they were Skittles prior to consumption.

Steady, Dave. Steady...

New stock footage, maybe?

MSNBC ran a piece this morning about a study that concluded cell phone usage does cause cancer. Concern for that study's findings notwithstanding, couldn't MSNBC find better cell phone 'B roll' than this?

Watermelon natural viagra?

Let me get this straight. (Wink, nudge) Watermelon appears to contain an amino acid that dilates the blood vessels, an effect similar to Viagra.

According to the story, it's not clear how much you have to eat in order to achieve the desired erect... er, effect.

Let the jokes begin. I'll start: this gives new meaning to "melon balls."

Your turn.

St. Valentine must have owned Hallmark stock

So I've been sick with the flu this week and bat-shit busy last week, so I haven't blogged for a month of Sundays. (thanks Grandma) I can only imagine you've been depressed and borderline suicidal without my unique, entertaining perspective.

Emily and I are only about seven weeks away from Child Launch 2008, when Sparky will enter the world with a list of demands: Diapers, boobs and naps. I can help him with the diapers and naps, but my nipples tend to chap like a bitch.



At any rate, the baby's room is nearly ready! Ahead of schedule, I might add... the paint is on, a wallpaper border added. Furniture is assembled and in place, and we have somewhere around 1,200 diapers standing by to catch all the Sparky colon jetsam.

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We paid our annual Valentine's visit to The Melting Pot last night. Do you have any idea what that much freakin' cheese does to your system?

Fondue is always fun, but I wouldn't want to do it more than once a year. First, it would give me flashbacks to the 70's and way too much evil shit went on in my life back then; but moreover, I would gain about two hundred pounds.

Anyway, we had fun despite the waiter's very dry, almost mumbly persona.

Hey, somebody got Em roses!

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There's a city in the St. Louis area that has banned baggy pants. Pine Lawn has decided that it would legislate dignity and self respect.

Now, I understand that some people hate those baggy pants with legs that drag the ground (not to mention the occasional showing-of-the-ass-crack) but what's next? You going to tell me what color lederhosen I can wear?

And what about plumbers? Are you willing to crack down on that crack?

I'll bet they haven't found a solution to their crime problems, but damned if they are going to let these ingracious little mall-monkeys wear loose pants.

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When you're having a baby, you tend to plan his/her future even prior to birth. Such is the case with Sparky, who will attend UCLA and major in biochemistry with minors in psychology and history.

But occasionally Emily and I will stumble across something we don't agree on. For instance, will Sparky be allowed to have a kitchen set?

You're probably thinking, "gee, I wonder which side Dave's on..."

I'm not much into sexual stereotypes, and many (if not most) great chefs are male. (except the lovelies, Em, Paula and Blogarita) I have no problem with the Sparkster being the next Wolfgang Puck, but what does it say to your friends when they peek into a boy's room and instead of a Tonka road grader and one of those orange Matchbox car tracks with the loop-de-loop, they see an Easy Bake Oven?

"Hey Sparky, put away the football because it's time to whip up a nice quiche!"

I'm afraid if we get him a kitchen set, he'll never make quarterback at UCLA. Thoughts?

Apply directly to the forehead

If you're a consumer who has actually purchased the product Head On, you deserve a headache.

No offense, of course. It's not like you're stupid or anything, it's just... no wait. Yeah, it is like you're stupid.

Ironically the head-bone is the reason that using Head On is a bone-headed idea. If you apply it to your forehead, there is a huge barrier between the medicine and the pain... it's called the skull. Ironically, using Head On makes you a real numb-skull.

Ah, so much irony in such a stupid product.

The funniest line of the commercial (besides the annoying "apply directly to the forehead" crap) is "no prescription necessary."

No shit? Look, if your doctor tries to give you a prescription for this product, you should open your network provider booklet immediately.

End rant.

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I was listening to a song from Buffett's album "Barometer Soup" this morning. Is it just me, or do the words "barometer soup" give you wanderlust?

I love the fact that Em and I have a baby on the way. I can't wait. But it's bittersweet because I'm coming to terms with the fact that I'm 43, and have lost the ability to do some of the things I've always wanted to do.

Such as selling all my stuff (except a few pieces of equipment I'd need to do my job) and hopping a plane to Mexico to live on the beach for a year or two. A sunset every night, low rent, a blender with a limitless supply of limes and tequila, a hammock strung between two palm trees. I'd stroll inside a few times a day to do voiceover sessions, then spend the rest of my time swimming in the ocean, making friends with the locals and relaxing with my best friend.

Another dream was to live in Manhattan for a year. I love the bustle of the city. I love the food, the atmosphere, the lifestyle. I could store my vehicles in a warehouse and rent an apartment on the lower west side. I'd go to the diner on the corner every morning for breakfast, (a la Seinfeld) catch some shows on Broadway, hit all the museums, walk in Central Park...

I always wanted to live in a cabin about 9,000 feet high in the Rocky Mountains. I love the idea of spending a couple of quiet years writing, with a snow-covered mountain view for inspiration. I'd keep a fire burning almost constantly, and drive my Hummer into town during a snowstorm for supplies.

I wanted to live in France for a year or two, in a chalet somewhere in the Champagne province, among the rolling hills. From there I would take weekend trips to Normandy, Paris and the Riviera. I'd drink fine French wines, sleep in every morning and maybe invest in a winery.

Among all of it, I wanted to travel to Australia to hike the Outback (the steakhouse is a poor substitute) and experience a concert at the Sydney Opera House. I wanted to see the pyramids in Egypt. I wanted to camp in Yellowstone.

Plans change. Life's strange that way. Some of these things Em and I can still do, but much of it is permanently "on hold."

And it's all worth it.

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I forgot to mention that our friend Mikey and I won a contest for funniest Halloween costume!

We dressed up like the guys from the "dick in a box" video. (click the link, if you've never seen it - it's hilarious)


The costumes involved quite a bit of preparation. We actually put fake "junk" in the boxes and equipped them with a hinge mechanism so people could open them and peek inside.

Purchasing our rubber "junk" was quite an experience. Let me give you some advice: if you ever go into a dildo shop with another dude looking to buy something, take along a female chaperone. Thanks again, Violet.

To save money, we purchased a huge double-dong and cut it in "half." My part was about 1.5 inches long, and Mikey took the rest. (about 12 inches) We attached them to the inside of the box with drywall screws and adhesive. It's funny how women enjoyed looking in HIS box more than MINE! I thought size didn't matter.


Violet was a pregnant trailer-trash chick with a missing tooth, a pack of Virginia Slims and a Milwaukee's Best Light "tall boy." And still, quite hot.


After our victorious result, we're already working on next year's costume. If you have any ideas, please let me know.

Wilt thou?

Over 100-degree highs for the forseeable future. Oh, sure - they say by next Thursday we may dip down into the low 90's, but weather guys are about as reliable as coal mine operators.

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On the weekend schedule, we're headed to a St. Louis Cardinals game tomorrow, where game-time temperatures will be around 100 and humidity will make it feel like 110. If our seats are in the sun, we might just head down the street to Mike Shannon's restaurant, sit at the bar and watch the game in high def. Three or four dirty martinis with bleu cheese olives will make me think I'm still at the game.

Plus, they are about the same price as a small beer at the ball park. I'd make that trade all day, every day!

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I love painting. And when I say "love," I'm really saying "never ending hate." This Sunday I will be painting my office. That is, if the searing pain in my lower back subsides.

I can lift 50 pound bags of potting soil, dog food or whatever all day, then lean over to pick up a sandwich and be out of commission for a friggin' week. Back problems are a recurring thing for me... much like marriage, only less expensive and I don't end up hating my back and thinking of ways to exact revenge upon it.

Oddly enough, I originally injured my back loading my stereo up when I got divorced the first time. I find that kind of funny!

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Irony: Writing your final child support check on July 19, and finding out you are having a new baby exactly one week later.

My favorite thing in life is being a father. I've gotten more satisfaction and enjoyment from it than everything else in my life combined. I can't wait for April 6th!

But it's still ironic.

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Tivo is an amazing tool. It has done more for television than anything else I can think of for the past 30 years. We are definitely a Tivo household... we have four. Tivo is my crack.

Do you have Tivo? If so, do you ever find yourself catching a glimpse of a chick in a bikini as you fast-forward through a commercial break, then actually scan back through the commercials to get a look?

Yeah, me neither.

Monday Mojo

I admire people who can do things for themselves.


My Grandfather gave me some good working knowledge of things like plumbing, carpentry, wood-working, electricity, roofing and mechanics. The thing he couldn't give me was the long-term confidence to tackle those things today.

I can do simple plumbing, wire switches and outlets, change oil, replace auto parts like alternators, plugs/wires, battery, even car windows (right, Dr. Mike?) but today I lack the tools to do many of those things, and I've lost some Mojo.

There is no spot for it on the periodic table of elements, but Mojo is real. For guys (also some women and of course Austin Powers) Mojo gives us the confidence to have great sex, lay some pipe (I'm talking literally here) and roof a house.

For me, most of my pending projects are well within my ability. I just have to find the Mojo to start them. It's hardly ever a lack of energy...

Or take the easy way out and hire them done.

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When we were on the road to Florida, I noticed a lot of "adult cafes" along the interstate that promised good food and naked women. I've never heard of a strip club that combined food and nudity - is this a new thing?

If not, there are NONE in Missouri. I might have to jump on this bandwagon and open a chain of "breastaurants" around here.

I smell opportunity (one dollar bill at a time) and chicken fried steak.

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We're headed to the post office this afternoon to get our passports, which we'll need in June to travel to Mexico.

If you plan on traveling anywhere outside the US, you'll need one too... and they are a PAIN in the ASS to get, especially if you're a woman who has been divorced. You have to show documentation for each marriage, each divorce, your birth certificate, photo ID and proof of residency. For guys it's only birth certificate, photo ID and proof of residency.

Thanks terrorists. You sons of bitches.

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I began the process of cleaning out my garage yesterday and it's unbelievable what guys save. For instance, I've never thrown away a screw. Sometimes after assembly of furniture, electronics or whatever, there are extra parts. I've never thrown any of them away... in case I need them someday. I have about 20 small, partial bottles of white glue, 12,000 single screws, 32 dowel pins and hundreds of washers.

I've NEVER needed any of it. And yet I keep them... just in case.

Well, screw that! (pardon the pun) I'm cleaning out all the BS. It's a work in progress, but soon my garage will be the most organized and clean part of the house. If only I had taken a "before" picture for comparison.

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I received confirmation of my medical condition last week. After running an exhaustive panel of blood tests, my doctor confirms what I feared.

It's the big MSD.

MSD is Medical Student's Disease. Apparently, when studying symptoms of ailments, medical students develop a tendency to believe they are experiencing many of them. I'm no med student, but I AM fascinated with medicine and consume health information ravenously. Apparently, that is a problem. Everything I read about, I imagine I have.

My doctor has prescribed avoiding websites such as WebMD, the New England Journal of Medicine and others.

Damn. That means it's back to porn.

Pardon me while I spew mucus

So my head is completely stopped up. I sound like freakin' Droopy Dog in my voice over sessions, and sleep is irregular at best. I feel somewhat better today though... we'll see.

The new bedroom furniture was delivered yesterday (Violet's coverage here) and it looks great. The room is freshly painted and I transferred my underwear to the proper drawers.

Anybody else have a sorting routine for your clothes? Some might think I take it too far... I have one drawer for v-neck t-shirts, another for crew-necks, another one for colored t-shirts, still a separate drawer for t-shirts with words or art on them. Then I have separate drawers for white and colored socks, and separate drawers for boxers and boxer/briefs. I am a very organized person.

My closet is separated into different sections - one for plaid short-sleeve shirts, one for hawaiian vacation shirts, still another for long-sleeved shirts of all colors, another for only white long-sleeved shirts. A section for jeans, a section for black pants, and yet another section for khaki pants. I take from the right, put back to the left, and when the item has been worn twice (or once if I've been to Chevy's) I put it in the dry-clean or dirty clothes hamper. (those are separate too)

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I generally try to pay bills twice a month. Today's bills include mortgage, credit card, child support, electricity, car, Hummer, Sam's Club, condo fee, phone bill. Jeezus, I need to learn moderation...

Speaking of, it's time to turn in my leased BMW. When I first got it, I needed two cars. For the past 6 months, I've barely driven it. I totally love this car - it's a 745Li with every option known to man. It goes zero to sixty in 4-point-something, has the greatest sound system I've ever heard, and has been the car I wanted for most of my life. I'm glad I got it.

Having said that, being rid of it will result in massive extra money per month, which I'm fairly sure Violet will want me to spend on bling. (she's not really that type)

I really want a two-seat convertible for the summer, maybe I'll make a move when it gets warm. I just need a fun warm-weather car of some kind... and it doesn't look like we're getting the VW Microbus I wanted.

It's 3 am, I must be ... awake

"I was licking jelly off my boyfriend's penis, and all of a sudden... I'm thinking 'Oh my God, I'm turning into my mother!'" - Sarah Silverman

I'm watching her Showtime stand-up special and it's pretty funny, but I'd totally rather be punching my pillow into just the right shape and then drooling on it... or drinking insane amounts of Captain and Cokes... because those are the types of things you do at 3 am.

Three of the last five nights have been the same. I wake up at 3, usually from a really weird dream. I lay there in the dark, listening to the train pass about 2 miles away and wonder how the people who buy a condo right by the tracks (an entire complex is currently being built) will ever sleep. That goddamn train goes through three times between 1 and 5 am.

Then I think about how I feel right now, checking for pain anywhere in my body - and if I find a few pains, wonder what they mean. I am a borderline hypochondriac. Yes, there MUST be something wrong if I have symptoms.

By now I'm comletely awake, so I open my laptop and start worrying.

WebMD is the satan of the online experience. It makes a hypochondriac like me completely ape-shit. (click) Lupus. (click) Lymphoma. I start reading, and suddenly I'm having every symptom that points to Lymphoma. The power of suggestion is strong with hypochondriacs. So I start reading about survival rates, thinking about what to do with my life insurance payout, who I should trust to distribute it... shit, I wonder if I can get some of it before I die. I have a million in life insurance coverage - I could do some major vacationing before I kick it.

This thought pattern starts a panic attack. My stomach hurts and I start sweating a little. OMG, both 'stomach ache' and 'sweating' are on the symptoms page! (click) (click) (click) click) Soon, I am also dying of a brain tumor, with a side of gout.

Screw you, WebMD. I feel like Al Pacino in Insomnia.

The Ambien is starting to work. I'm now seeing double, my eyelids are drooping and I'm now slouched over my machine. Don't get me wrong, I'm still convinced I have some disease, but soon I will be able to sleep on it.

Oh great, here comes another train.

EDIT: in the light of morning, I realized I had rambled on and on about disease as if I really thought I have something. I do not, of course. Those kinds of things tend to sneak in your mind when it's 3 am and you're sleep deprived and sitting in a quiet living room, just you, a lamp and your laptop. So Mom, I know you're reading this - I'm fine!
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One more thing before I drift back to sleep - apparently American Idol's Antonella Barba, the one I thought would be voted out in the first week, might be pushed out in another way.

I believe she can get expelled by this sort of picture, and there are others to see here. I'd look for some sort of shake-up this week. At least it will be interesting. Thanks to Steve Mays, who pointed me to the pics.