Balls and Walnuts
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Better living through drugs
I’m better today. Really, I am. Last night, I tanked up on meds (all strictly legal) and got the first decent night’s sleep I’ve had in a week — at least six hours, give or take. Had the ER called me to see a patient, I would have called 911 so that the ambulance would bring me in. “I’m here!” I would have told the shocked ER staff. “But you’ll have to fix me first!”
But I knew what I needed. Heal thyself, yatta yatta. I forced myself to drink 2.5 liters of water and felt MUCH better for it. I can’t emphasize this enough to my patients (and to y’all): with upper respiratory tract infections, and especially with sore throats, push fluids like crazy. Last night, it was all that kept me from a trip to the ER.
Forcing down 2.5 liters was a bitch, however. It would have been easier to admit myself to the hospital and write my own orders: IV fluids, steroids, antibiotics, and a nice walloping dose of narcotics to suppress the cough. It would have been more fun — some of those ER nurses are damned cute.
Karen’s a bit better, too; these new opiate patches are doing wonders for her pain. Now if only we could do something for the nausea which accompanies the patches. Or, at least we think the nausea is a medication side effect. I bought a home pregnancy test kit today to play it safe. (No, it would not be a good thing if Karen were pregnant. You don’t want to know all the weird meds she takes. And, believe me, I have the clinical background to know what this stuff does to fetuses. Not cool.)
To all you proofreaders out there (um, SHAINA!) sorry if there are errors here. My eyes are half-lidded. I’m going to take a nap before tonight’s Medical Executive Committee meeting; if I don’t nap now, I’ll probably do it during the meeting.
D.
On behalf of all men with latex allergies . . .
I would like to register a complaint.
Would I want to be a condom-tester? Would I ever! (That would be my first choice of dream jobs, followed shortly by Gynecologist Specializing in the Age 18-24 Demographic, or the ever popular Purveyor of Moustache Rides.) But there’s one small problem: we’re not talking about just any condom.
Our team is developing a type of spray can into which the man inserts his penis first. At the push of a button it is then coated in a rubber condom. It works by spraying on latex from nozzles on all sides. We call it the ‘360 degree procedure’ — once round and from top to bottom. It’s a bit like a car wash.
Damn it, I’m allergic to latex. Spray this sh!t on me and my groin will become a giant welt. Nevertheless, I’m intrigued, and I can imagine dozens of gorgeous female UC Berkeley engineering students clamoring to be the first to see this device in action, crying, Oh, Walnut, pick me! Pick me! and, Omigod! New technology is SUCH a turn-on.
The manufacturer, Vinico (the people who brought you the Multi-Orgasmus-Kondum, 2 Kondome+penisring), wants men:
We are looking for 30 Condom-Testers. Your job is testing the new condom. We are looking for men with a penislengh* from 9 until 12 cm and 15 until 20 cm. Men between 13 to 14 cm are welcome, too**. You should have experience with condoms and beeing almost 18 years old. Your data will be kept very safe. If you have any questions, please contact us.
I have experience with condoms and I beeing almost 18 years old, or at any rate I beeing more 18 years old than 99 years old. But that latex business, oooh. Ouch. Hives are such a buzz kill.
Hat tip to the lovely May, who discovered the spray-on Kondome at Tim Worstall’s place.
Porno Gingerbread Men (see post below) and spray-on condoms. Any more holiday gift ideas?
D.
*Oh, those clever Germans and their made-to-order compound nouns . . . but I’m pretty sure the word is Shvanzelangen.
**Karen, quick! Where’s our metric ruler!Â
Five millimeters, cut
Or is Mr. Gingerbread Man uncircumcised?
No matter. A little nibble will fix that foreskin problem! (Click photo if you would like your very own Gingerbread Man . . . or anatomically correct G-Woman.)
Hat tip to Blue Gal for pointing me towards this “controversy.” Religious Floridians are all astir over the six naughty “pornaments” marketed by Spencer’s. Says Hillcrest Baptist Church Rev. Jim Patterson,
“It is just sad they have to stoop to this kind of thing to defame Christmas. It says we are nothing more than sexual acts or psychical being and we are much more than that. We are spiritual beings and this is a spiritual holiday. And, why bring it to that level. It makes no sense to me.”
Proving yet again that these dopes lack a sense of humor. When I think how I nearly pissed myself laughing over what South Park did to Judaism (Jews worship Moses, a spirit inhabiting a giant spinning dreidel, by coercing their children to make macaroni art projects at Jewbilee Camp), a reindeer with a boner is the least the religious right could endure. Hey, guys: Spencer’s didn’t even mess with Santa Claus, let alone Jesus. I call that respect.
These guys hate sex. Hate it hate it hate it. Will someone with a better understanding of the history of Christian sex-hatred please explain this to me? I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with Jesus, and I seem to recall St. Augustine was an ex-libertine turned prude. Was it Augie’s fault?
D.
‘Tis the season
‘Tis the season for runny-nosed Tiny Tims to cough tuberculous fomites into my dumbstruck mouth. My head feels like a helium balloon, my throat full of thorns. When I finish this post, I’m dosing up on cold remedies and with any luck I’ll be comatose by midnight.
‘Tis the season for well-meaning patients to shower our office with fudge and cookies and See’s Candy. I love you. I hate you. Don’t you realize I have no self-control?
‘Tis the season for other well-meaning patients to ask, “Are you ready for Christmas?” or “Get all your Christmas shopping done yet?” I know this shouldn’t bother me, but it does. It makes me long for those patients who, with one glance at my swarthy, Semitic good looks, assume I’m tribe. NO, I’m not ready for Christmas, and neither are my atheist son and wife. I’m not even ready for Hanukkah! (You try finding candles here in the boonies.) Something about those questions rankle. They remind me I’m an outsider, a poor bastard who has to rub his fist against frosty windows to view scenes from Norman Rockwell’s wet dreams.
‘Tis the season that gives me the blues.
D.
P.S.: Sorry about the downer post. Sex tomorrow, I promise — thanks to Blue Gal and May for a couple o’ hot tips.
Butt cleavage bonanza
Recently, I received the following email from Chester Langgröd, CEO of Flickr:
Dear Mr. Walnut,
We were dismayed by the recent poor showing of Flickr versus our competitor, Google (Flickr and Google Go Toe to Toe), vis a vis cameltoe images. Indeed, we hold your competition largely responsible for last quarter’s shortfall in Flickr’s page views. We at Flickr consider it our solemn responsibility to become the internet’s slickest entry portal for viewers of salacious images, and have in recent weeks provided numerous incentives to our patrons, encouraging them to upload a wide range of unique and stimulating graphic content (see the recent Wall Street Journal article entitled Eager to Capture Soft Core Market, Flickr Pitches Big Tent).
Accordingly, we would like to encourage you to host a rematch, possibly using one of the following search terms:
ass bandit
ass crack
ass master
Seven pages of suggestions follow, concluding with:
well hung
wet beaver
X-rated.
I’m sure you will be pleased by our upgraded content.
Yours in faith,
Chester Langgröd, CEO
Okay, Mr. Langgröd, you’re on. However, since some of my readers are underage, I’m going to go with the somewhat tamer search term (which you did not suggest), butt cleavage. Let’s see how you and Google stack up.
Friends, some of these images may not be work safe.
In production: My Name is Bruce
Lego Ash from The Evil Dead — from Diantological
An IMDB search for movie versions of Conrad’s Heart of Darkness led me to Heart of Dorkness: Behind the Scenes of ‘My Name is Bruce’ . . . featuring one of my favorite guys, Bruce Campbell. You mean there’s gonna be a new Bruce Campbell movie? You betcha.
From IMDB, My Name is Bruce (2007):
B Movie Legend Bruce Campbell is mistaken for his character Ash from the Evil Dead trilogy and forced to fight a real monster in a small town in Oregon.
A small town in Oregon? Oh please oh please oh please let it be Brookings. We’re a small town. We don’t even have a Walmart! I can play a zombie, really!
As for my original search, I found it. Karen was right (isn’t she always?) Boris Karloff did play Kurtz in the Playhouse 90 version of Heart of Darkness (1958). And Roddy McDowell played Marlowe, and Eartha Kitt played “Queen” (whaaaa?)
I wonder if it’s available on DVD.
D.
Spreading my Krugys across the globe
Edited to add: See special challenge in the comments!
Dean has found another way of exhibiting Krugy to good advantage, courtesy of the lovely SxKitten. And such an appropriate photo, too, considering what I have planned for y’all. (Soon, soon.)
Kris, Rella, those Krugys of yours aren’t getting any younger. And the rest of you: I still have three Krugys ready to mail and I know where to buy a whole lot more. The offer stands.
D.
It could happen here
And it did, of course. See: Japanese internment camps. The Canadians did it, too.
Big snip from a superb Daily Kos diary by Rock Strongo:
On Sunday afternoon, Washington, DC radio host Jerry Klein of WMAL was commenting on the Muslim Imams kicked off a flight. Klein suggested that all Muslims in the United States should be identified with a crescent-shape tattoo or a distinctive arm band, the phone lines jammed instantly.
Among the callers:
“Not only do you tattoo them in the middle of their forehead but you ship them out of this country … they are here to kill us.”
and:
Another said that tattoos, armbands and other identifying markers such as crescent marks on driver’s licenses, passports and birth certificates did not go far enough. “What good is identifying them?” he asked. “You have to set up encampments like during World War Two with the Japanese and Germans.”
Finally a half hour into his show, Klien revealed the game:
“I can’t believe any of you are sick enough to have agreed for one second with anything I said. For me to suggest to tattoo marks on people’s bodies, have them wear armbands, put a crescent moon on their driver’s license on their passport or birth certificate is disgusting. It’s beyond disgusting.
Because basically what you just did was show me how the German people allowed what happened to the Jews to happen … We need to separate them, we need to tattoo their arms, we need to make them wear the yellow Star of David, we need to put them in concentration camps, we basically just need to kill them all because they are dangerous.”
Recently, I asked one of our docs if he had to fend off any prejudice. His response (paraphrasing): “Hey, I’m Syrian. So few Americans even know where Syria is.” While I’m delighted he doesn’t have to deal with racist BS — he’s a helluva nice guy and a top-notch doctor, and he really doesn’t deserve any BS — I know that our government knows where Syria is, and they doubtless know where he is. My friend may be safe from local prejudice, but is he safe from our government?
It could happen here. It could happen again. Based on Jerry Klein’s callers, lots of folks are itching to see it happen again. And all it would take is another 9/11.
Sorry . . . but I’m in a pensive mood, thanks to booboo’s hate mail. See comments to the Hanukkah meme, below.
D.
The Hanukkah meme
Holiday spirit? Fvck yeah, why not? But Christmas isn’t precisely my holiday. If you want the original Christmasy version of this meme, you’ll have to check Tam’s blog.
This is my version, such as it is.
1. Manischewitz or Kolobarra Hills Shiraz Cabernet 2004? Vintage, man. You kidding me?
2. Does the Hanukkah Lobster wrap presents or just sit them under the Hannukah Shrub? Hanukkah Lobster has claws, so he tends to tear the wrapping. He prefers to guide the presents under the shrub with his blessedly strong tail.
3. Colored lights on tree/house or white? Huh? We still have the (nonfunctional) Xmas lights from our house’s last owner, the Imelda Marcos of Brookings. They’re colored. I’m the only one here who could take them down, and I’m too lazy. So . . . colored.
Heh heh. Yer kinda cute fer a Christ-killer.
4. Do you hang mistletoe? I prefer to kill it by lethal injection.
5. When do you set out your menorah? Usually on the second or third night of Hanukkah, accompanied by that famous Hanukkah Carol, Kids, I Missed The First Night AGAIN. Damned lunar calendar.
6. What is your favorite holiday dish? Oooh, that’s easy. Latkes (potato pancakes).
7. Favorite holiday memory as a child: My mother giving me all my presents weeks ahead of time, so that when Hanukkah finally arrived, my only presents were socks and shirts. THANKS, Mom.
8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa? The very first time I saw a department store Santa Claus and asked my mom if I could meet him. Mom’s reply was something like: Yeah, right. You believe that?
9. Do you open a gift on Hanukkah Eve? Yes, you poor I-only-get-to-open-presents-on-one-day goy. We open gifts EVERY night of Hanukkah. (Not strictly true. By the time I hit my tenth birthday, my family had left the Hanukkah gift-exchange behind. Nowadays, we throw a few presents around. No biggy.)
10. How do you decorate your Hanukkah Shrub? With decorative gefilte fish balls. Our cats love us.
11. Snow! Love it or Dread it? Outside of a paper cone, I fear it.
12. Can you ice skate? With rare exception, Jews don’t ice skate. We’ve been known to kvetch to the rink manager, “Can’t you warm it up a bit in here? I’ll catch the double pneumonia.”
13. Do you remember your favorite gift? No. I really don’t.
14. What’s the most important thing about the Holidays for you? I get lots and lots of time off from work — mostly to keep my employees happy, but to keep me sane, too.
15. What is your favorite Holiday Dessert? Poppy seed hamentashen. So what if it’s a dessert for Purim. You didn’t say which holiday.
16. What is your favorite holiday tradition? “But it’s my birthday” sex. Again, you didn’t say which holiday.
17. What tops your tree? Sorry, ladies, only Karen gets to top my tree.
18. Which do you prefer giving or receiving? As I’ve said before, GIVING. I can receive myself two or three times a day, but it takes a partner to do some righteous giving.
Okay, okay, enough with the double entendre . . .
19. What is your favorite Christmas Song? Invader ZIM’s Christmas Carol, of course!
20. Candy Canes! Yuck or Yum? Yuck. Yuuuuuck. Does anyone like these abominations?
Anyone can play this meme. Trust me, it’s much more fun if you monkey with the questions first.
D.
“I do love kittens”
From my favorite Guerilla Woman, Women: Know Your Limits (a video concerning the dangers of mixing women and higher education).
*giggle*
D.