Smokytown

HAPPY NEW YEAR – 2011

 

   Fare thee well,

   For I must leave thee.

   Do not let my parting

   Grieve thee.

 

         Why should it make you sad? After all,

         I’ve been blogging for

            TWENTY YEARS.

 

In addition to the longevity, two days before Christmas, that Old Black Macula delivered a devastating blow to what remained of my vision. So, regretfully, it’s time to bid adieu.

Before hitting the open road, I’d like to thank Brian, Lew, and Fairlie for technical help, and my contributors—Jim, Dave, Tom, Bill, Jan, Pedro, John, Mark, and Karl. And never to be forgotten, my loyal readers.

“As you travel the next ten thousand miles, may the road rise to meet you, may the wind be ever at your back, may the sunshine warm upon on your face, and the rains fall soft upon your fields.” 

                 --an Irish blessing             

Click, Click, Click December – 2010

   As faithful readers may remember, last month’s grandfather’s clock and its tick-tock played important roles. This time the sound is changed to click, click. To excite your curiosity, I will not reveal why the sound changed—until the very end of this piece. I hope you can bear the suspense.

   Retuning to last month’s blog for a few seconds, I’ll let you in on a secret--the grandfather was not as warm and cuddly as he is usually portrayed. He knew he was about to kick the bucket at age 90, so he wound the clock for a final time and threw away the key. He waited in bed until the last tick, sat up and blew out his light. He died with a smile, knowing that no one else would benefit from the clock that stopped short, never to go again. Now I ask you, would I pull your leg or pat you down?

    Had enough of the midterm elections? If not, you’re a glutton for punishment. To wrap up the GOP’s many victories, I’ve called on some professional writers to keep me from jumping off the nearest cliff.

   Before introducing the guest writers, let us consider what news has taken the place of those vile campaign ads. We can soak up the outpouring of news about Prince William’s wedding on April 29, the day he kisses his Kate and ties the Royal knot.     Holy smokes, am I ever captivated by all the chatter about the wedding dress and its designer. Allow me to make a suggestion. Take a marvelous cloth like that on a pool table, fasten to it images from a deck of cards. Attenuate the brightness of the faces of the kings, queens and Jacks with a million dollar lace covering. Perhaps this elegant gown would be more appropriate at the post-nuptial parties.

   The second major topic these days has to do with patting-down at airports and the nearly nude X-ray images. Tsk, tsk. What a bunch of prudes. Did you see the cartoon with the elderly lady at the ticket counter? She says, “Oh, I’m not flying anywhere. I’m just here for the pat-down.”

   If a little groping and peeking prevent a plane from being blown out of the sky, so be it. 

   Perhaps a more viable solution is to place a mark on the inside of the wrists to indicate trustworthy passengers. Held under a special light it will beam the certified passengers quickly through the gates. I’m also working on a radio ray to check passengers without any embarrassing exposure or groping. 

               ………………

 MEET THE FIRST GUEST -- James McEnteer, better known as Doc, is a columnist for CounterPunch, which carried a longer version of this article. Doc is a prolific author of three political books and The Rag Blog. He begins by asserting--

 Our national 2010 midterm elections demonstrated that many citizens of the United States now suffer a siege mentality: against the Islamic world and other perceived barbarians at our gates: socialists, homosexuals, minorities and recent immigrants, documented or not. That turns out to be most of the world, many of which reside among us. We are a house divided against itself. 

Such primitive behavior is not logical. But logic is not the point. When right-wing extremists opine that Barack Obama holds a “Kenyan, anti-colonial world view” it sounds nonsensical. It's a code phrase meant to signify that Obama is not one of “us” (right-thinking traditional Americans, white and Christian). The right tried to make the election about the non-Caucasian, perhaps socialistic, Islamic sympathizer, Barack Obama. He represents many nativist fears of change. His attempts to conciliate his enemies cannot succeed.

Not a single positive policy suggestion sullies the agenda of Obama's enemies. All they want, the country's welfare be damned, is to wrest control of the agenda for their corporate masters. The very hope Obama's election offered the rest of the world, that the United States might rejoin the global community of nations for the common good, is what worries conservatives most. The problem and paradox is that the harder and dirtier Obama's political enemies fight to exclude Obama and everything (and everyone) he stands for, the less of the republic there is to save. We must not allow the American democratic experiment to end in suicidal bigoted imperial rage. Those who would recreate the Alamo will share its fate.

 The second contributor is Peter McCone, a well-known economist. He passed along to me this shortened version by NY Times Columnist Kristof, who frequently travels to Central American Banana Republics. He writes:--     IN SOME OF THOSE PLUTOCRACIES THE RICHEST 1% OF THE POPULATION GOBBLES UP 20% OF THE NATIONAL PIE. NOW YOU DON'T HAVE TO TRAVEL TO DISTANT AND DANGEROUS PLACES TO OBSERVE SUCH RAPACIOUS INEQUALITY.  IN AMERICA THE RICHEST 1% NOW TAKE HOME 24% OF THE NATIONAL PIE--UP FROM 9% IN 1976.  NOT EVEN NICARAQUA AND GUYANA ARE THAT MUCH OUT OF WHACK.  FROM 1980 TO 2005 MORE THAN FOUR-FIFTH'S OF THE INCREASE IN AMERICAN INCOME WENT TO THE RICHEST 1%.  CLEARLY THIS DESERVING GROUP NEEDS TO HAVE THE BUSH TAX CUTS EXTENDED TO THEM AFTER THEY EXPIRE ON DECEMBER 31, 2010, TO CONTINUE TO DISTANCE THEMSELVES FROM THE LOWER 99% OF THE POPULATION.  ACCORDING TO THE NONPARISAN TAX POLICY CENTER, THE OBAMA PLAN WOULD GIVE THE SUPER RICH--THOSE IN THE TOP 0.1%--$61,000 AND THE REPUBLICAN PLAN WOULD PROVIDE A $370,000 HELPING HAND.  THOUGH THE NONPARISAN CONGRESSIONAL BUDGET OFFICE FOUND TAX CUTS FOR THE RICH TO BE THE LEAST EFFECTIVE WAY TO STIMULATE THE ECONOMY, OF ELEVEN WAYS STUDIED, THE NEW SPEAKER OF THE HOUSE, JOHN BOEHNER, ASSERTS WITH MOCK AUTHORITY THAT IT IS THE BEST STIMULAS THAT COULD BE APPLIED.  NO WORD FROM JOHN ON EXTENDING UNEMPLOYMENT BENEFITS.  HOW ABOUT A JOBS PROGRAM!  THE NEW REPUBLICAN LEADERSHIP TEAM FLAGELATES ITSELF WITH DEFICIT ANGST WHILE MERRILY PROPOSING AN INCREASE OF $800 BILLION IN THE LONG-TERM DEFICIT TO CONTINUE TAX CUTS TO THE RICH AND SUPER RICH.  CLEARLY WE ARE LIVING IN OUR OWN BANANA REPUBLIC.

             …………

   I am thankful for all my faithful blog readers and for those that pop in now and again to read the postings such as this person who commented on last month’s article, “I liked this post very much as it has helped me a lot in my research and is quite interesting as well. Thank you for sharing this information with us.” THANKS for GIVING me that encouraging comment.

 FINALLY

    What you’ve all been waiting for with bated breath. Why the title? You’ve all heard the song—

Up on the rooftop

 Click, Click, Click,

Down through the chimney

Is old Saint Nick.

 Merry Christmas to All! 

 

 

 

TICK-Tock, TICK-TOCK - Halloween – 2010

  

     I made the mistake of thinking that no month could surpass the miserable events of September. The first bright blue days of October were very promising as every country celebrated the rescue of 33 miners in Chile. It seemed as if we had discovered a brave new world. But then the stuff hit the fan.

   Near the end of the month, Mother Nature began to suffer from hot flashes that led to gigantic thunderstorms, tornadoes, and other monthly outbursts of horrendous disasters.

   A bit earlier, the human side of nature had turned the midterm election into a vicious smearing of opponents’ reputations. Another hope bit the dust when the ladies, instead of engaging in civilized behavior, turned on the males like Black Widow Spiders and ridiculed their manhood with nasty phrases--“man-up.” So help me, if that half-baked Alaskan Screech Owl is elected president, I’ll buy a one-way ticket to Devil’s Island. I regret this puts me on the same side as Karl Rove, the graviturd, who said Palin is not qualified to be the leader of this country.  

   Although not running for` office, thankfully, the wife of Coke-Can Clarence resurrected Anita Hill charges of his being a dirty old man. Judge Thomas had presided at Rush Limbaugh’s third or fourth wedding. Tea-bagger Rush was busy salivating over castration of Obama. His new bride had better sleep with one eye open. This topic is really too disgusting to pursue.

   To complete the dark side of recent times, I cold go on about the economy, joblessness, and foreclosures on homes. The behavior of the famous leaves much to be desired. A half-man trashing a hotel room. A cheating quarterback exposing himself in photos. I could go on and on, but this blog is supposed to be on the lighter side. I’m sorry that this time around I just can’t find any humorous side of life in America. Mentioning football reminds me of the dangerous helmet-to-helmet hits on the fields. Let the runners wear helmets with a steel claw embedded in the part of the helmet that protects the forehead. That way we can return to the days of the jousting knights.

 

    
   Ah yes, Halloween brought a touch of frivolity to the somber scene, along with a carload of birthdays, including my own.

   I’m not going to write about the Headless Horseman to avoid reminding you about the Texas lawman who was beheaded, while searching for the jet skier, the one who was shot on the lake. And I won’t discuss the brave, but foolish 20-year-old mother who has volunteered to be the police chief in a drug-ridden city.

    The cry of “Trick or Treat” goes back at least 3,000 years, making Halloween one of our oldest celebrations. The Celtics built huge bonfires on hilltops and burned crops and animals to frighten away evil spirits, demons, and witches, none of them running for office.

   Later, these ceremonies were mixed in with Roman Catholic commemorations of Saints. The tradition of bobbing for apples had its beginning when t pagans and Christians meshed their holidays to mark the beginning of winter.

   This year’s Halloween received a much-needed boost from John Steward and Colbert as they attempted to Restore Sanity and help America rediscover the potency of humor. The attempts to be funny in the presence of such a huge crowd often fell flat and drew mixed reviews. I must confess that Stephen Colbert’s waspish humor often escapes me.  

   Here is a funny one. I missed being born on the day the spooks descended on earth by one day.  Next year I’ll be as old as the protagonist in the song “My Grandfather’s Clock.”

   It was the grandfather’s treasure and pride, but it stopped short, never to go again, when the old man died.

Ninety years, without slumbering:  tick-tock, tick-tock.

   You may not believe this, but shortly before my 89^th birthday and Halloween, my talking wristwatch stopped short, never to talk again. By pressing buttons, it used to give me the time and date information. Now it has gone silent.

   When it stopped short

   And stopped talking,

   I didn’t die, but started 

   Squawking:

   “I know what I want for

   My Birthday.”

           Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock

WRETCHED SEPTEMBER - Oct. 2010

   I usually don’t wish away the few days that remain to me, but as the final days of September drew to a close, I began to pray for a quick ending. During the final moments of this miserable month, there was talk, or chatter, of another 9\11 to occur in our country or in Europe. Another terror attack with four planes crashing down was too much for a human mind to contemplate.

   Swirling around the ninth anniversary of 9\11 were strange events that belong in a novel about the end of the world—the madness of building a mosque, scorched Korans, ranting from the queer Iranian president delivered a few blocks from Ground Zero, where the Twin Towers and their hundreds of innocent occupants were compressed, burned and buried.

   Many Americans are disturbed by the building of a mosque so close to Ground Zero.  A location a bit more distant would have been more appropriate and saved us from much emotional turmoil.

   Personally, I don’t have strong objections to the location. That may be because I once lived among Moslems and found them to be friendly and a pleasure to be around. 

   I would take the Imam behind the mosque ahead of the arrogant Florida preacher who gained notoriety by planning to burn stacks of the Koran behind his Christian church. Did you know he was booted out of a church in Germany for being too demanding? No more publicity for that crazed firebug.

   Just when things were quieting down, along comes the president of Iran, who delivers a tirade about Americans planning terror attacks on 9/11.

  Mahmoud Ahmadinejad at previous sessions of the General Assembly claimed that the German extermination camps were Jewish fairy tales and that there were no gays in his country.

   All of these inane theories were disseminated at the UN, a few blocks from Ground Zero. I can’t understand why the cultivated citizens of Iran put up with this clown.

            More Sept. Wrongs

    Travel back with me almost ten years ago. I wrote:  “Just about the time we felt it was safe to smile, the bombardment of Afghanistan punched a hole in the peacefulness of Sunday, October 7, 2001, opening a Pandora’s Box loaded with thousands of potential martyrs and starting a lifelong war that will never pass away.” If interested to read more of this prophetic blog, scroll down to Oct. 2001.

      The current year and September were the deadliest since the war began under the Bush-Cheney administration, not President Obama’s. September had the dishonor of recording the worst helicopter crash in a long time. Nine members of the Nato-led forces were killed in the crash. In the mountains, among the poppy fields, and on borders, both sides are losing young fighters and civilians. A rogue element of American troops has been accused of using innocent civilians for target practice. Pakistan is complaining about border incursions and killings of noncombatants.

           OUR SCHOOLS

    In our own country, teaching at all levels has deteriorated. Other countries have moved ahead of us in turning out bright students. Often failure begins in the home.

    
 

Parental supervision is of paramount importance, including showing an interest in the offsprings’ assignments, of providing non-fattening food, and  lessons to prevent bullying. 

    Incidents of bullying at schools or over the Internet have led to a number of suicides. A Bucknell student jumped off a bridge into the Hudson River. Earlier, a young student from Ireland couldn’t tolerate the teasing and hanged herself. In between, there have been at least five more suicides. 

    Our politicians running for office are not being role models for our young people, putting on displays of how a democracy should not work. Sassy Lassies are getting into the act by riding broomsticks, making up false educational backgrounds, and campaigning in a wash of lies.

    Meantime, deep, deep down on the floor of the Gulf of Mexico wide patches of oil pollute what supports sea life. The oil you’ll soon be tasting won’t be healthful omega 3.

    Also reaching the surface is the Guatemalan scandal. In the l940s, some of our scientists misused street walks and prisoners by testing on them if penicillin could cure venereal diseases. Shades of Dr. Mengele.

    Good riddance to disastrous September.

    Welcome to October’s bright blue weather and floods across the face of the nation. Happy Birthdays in October to Sarah, Selah, Jake in South Africa, and me.

  

      #############

 

Dead-Eyes Dusty- Sept. 2010

   After two previous blogs about my hallucinations, I had planned to select other topics, but heavy feedback from readers encouraged me to devote at least one more blog to the vicious attack of macular degeneration on my eyes. I won’t bother to respond to the reader who wrote that it was obvious “I was coming down from such drugs as marijuana, LSD, crack, PCP, amphetamines, heroin, ketamine, or alcohol.”

From Christine D – I wrote to you some time ago I was diagnosed with WET macular degeneration. I’m one of the lucky ones because I’ve been getting injections of Avastin every three months. Although I can’t drive after dusk and I need a strong light in the house, the condition has not otherwise incapacitated me. At my last checkup in July it was established that the good eye was beginning to be affected, but so far I don’t notice much of a difference.

  

 NOTE FROM DUSTY -- I SUFFER FROM THE dry VERSION OF THE DISEASE. No injection available, but I’m hoping that a stem-cell discoveryh will soon provide a solution.

From Don-ard – I just glanced through your blog archive covering more than ten years and it occurs to me that you’ve been blogging since Argos was a pup. I’m sorry to read about the macular degeneration, as if your glaucoma was not enough for one man. I was fascinated to read about the nightmare illusions when going to sleep or awakening in the morning, hypnopompic and hypnagogic. In my case, the occlusion from glaucoma in the “bad eye,” I’m still strong enough in my right to drive. While I no longer have any depth perception (and so the current spate of 3-D movies is lost on me), I am able to close my good eye during scary scenes and blur the image just enough to not freak out when the ax murderer jumps out from behind the door.

   So that Don can go on writing his new TV family drama, he continues to use Cosopt and Lumigan, the latter arrives in a container the size of a dainty lady’s pinkie at a highway robbery price of one hundred and twenty-five dollars.

 

   Here am I ensconced on my throne, surrounded by my mechanical friends. All the glass is not exactly easy on my orbs.

  SOME Anecdotes

>>>Did you hear what happened to the New York Yankees most loyal fan? For many years, Jane Lang had made the arduous trip from her home to the park. Ask yourself whether you’d do this. Leave home. Walk 20 minutes to the train station. Take a 70-minute ride to Penn Station. Weave for 10 minutes over to the subway station. Take a half-hour D train ride to Yankee Stadium. Navigate the other fans, vendors, and chaos to get to your seat.

   Recently when the 67-year-old stepped outside to start out for the game, she was greeted by the Yankee manager and a number of players, who escorted her on her usual journey to the stadium, where she was greeted by other players, given a tour of the new facilities, and invited to run the bases.

   Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you—Jane is totally blind.

>>>Another Big Apple story. Mayor Bloomberg may be scalped by the Indians for suggesting that they stop selling cigarettes tax-free. He suggested that Governor David Patterson put on a cowboy hat, stand in the middle of the road with a shotgun to stop the Indians.

   This might be a challenging assignment for Gov. Patterson to hit the charging targets.

 He’s totally blind.

>>>Speaking of blind (Who? Me?), I’m beginning to think the whole justice system is blind. Conservative members of the High Court have paved the way for corporations to buy and sell lawmakers.

 

 >>>A gay judge in CA has ruled that same-sex marriage is legal.

>>>Another judge has stopped stem - cell research, probably ending my last chance to get my sight back.

    Is there any way to get the blindfold off the Lady?  SEE you next month…maybe.

 ######## 

  

 

  

Dead-Eyes Dusty- Sept. 2010

   After two previous blogs about my hallucinations, I had planned to select other topics, but heavy feedback from readers encouraged me to devote at least one more blog to the vicious attack of macular degeneration on my eyes. I won’t bother to respond to the reader who wrote that it was obvious “I was coming down from such drugs as marijuana, LSD, crack, PCP, amphetamines, heroin, ketamine, or alcohol.”

From Christine D – I wrote to you some time ago I was diagnosed with WET macular degeneration. I’m one of the lucky ones because I’ve been getting injections of Avastin every three months. Although I can’t drive after dusk and I need a strong light in the house, the condition has not otherwise incapacitated me. At my last checkup in July it was established that the good eye was beginning to be affected, but so far I don’t notice much of a difference.

  

 NOTE FROM DUSTY -- I SUFFER FROM THE dry VERSION OF THE DISEASE. No injection available, but I’m hoping that a stem-cell discoveryh will soon provide a solution.

From Don-ard – I just glanced through your blog archive covering more than ten years and it occurs to me that you’ve been blogging since Argos was a pup. I’m sorry to read about the macular degeneration, as if your glaucoma was not enough for one man. I was fascinated to read about the nightmare illusions when going to sleep or awakening in the morning, hypnopompic and hypnagogic. In my case, the occlusion from glaucoma in the “bad eye,” I’m still strong enough in my right to drive. While I no longer have any depth perception (and so the current spate of 3-D movies is lost on me), I am able to close my good eye during scary scenes and blur the image just enough to not freak out when the ax murderer jumps out from behind the door.

   So that Don can go on writing his new TV family drama, he continues to use Cosopt and Lumigan, the latter arrives in a container the size of a dainty lady’s pinkie at a highway robbery price of one hundred and twenty-five dollars.

 

   Here am I ensconced on my throne, surrounded by my mechanical friends. All the glass is not exactly easy on my orbs.

  SOME Anecdotes

>>>Did you hear what happened to the New York Yankees most loyal fan? For many years, Jane Lang had made the arduous trip from her home to the park. Ask yourself whether you’d do this. Leave home. Walk 20 minutes to the train station. Take a 70-minute ride to Penn Station. Weave for 10 minutes over to the subway station. Take a half-hour D train ride to Yankee Stadium. Navigate the other fans, vendors, and chaos to get to your seat.

   Recently when the 67-year-old stepped outside to start out for the game, she was greeted by the Yankee manager and a number of players, who escorted her on her usual journey to the stadium, where she was greeted by other players, given a tour of the new facilities, and invited to run the bases.

   Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you—Jane is totally blind.

>>>Another Big Apple story. Mayor Bloomberg may be scalped by the Indians for suggesting that they stop selling cigarettes tax-free. He suggested that Governor David Patterson put on a cowboy hat, stand in the middle of the road with a shotgun to stop the Indians.

   This might be a challenging assignment for Gov. Patterson to hit the charging targets.

 He’s totally blind.

>>>Speaking of blind (Who? Me?), I’m beginning to think the whole justice system is blind. Conservative members of the High Court have paved the way for corporations to buy and sell lawmakers.

 

 >>>A gay judge in CA has ruled that same-sex marriage is legal.

>>>Another judge has stopped stem - cell research, probably ending my last chance to get my sight back.

    Is there any way to get the blindfold off the Lady?  SEE you next month…maybe.

 ######## 

  

 

  

Dead-Eyes Dusty- Sept. 2010

   After two previous blogs about my hallucinations, I had planned to select other topics, but heavy feedback from readers encouraged me to devote at least one more blog to the vicious attack of macular degeneration on my eyes. I won’t bother to respond to the reader who wrote that it was obvious “I was coming down from such drugs as marijuana, LSD, crack, PCP, amphetamines, heroin, ketamine, or alcohol.”

From Christine D – I wrote to you some time ago I was diagnosed with WET macular degeneration. I’m one of the lucky ones because I’ve been getting injections of Avastin every three months. Although I can’t drive after dusk and I need a strong light in the house, the condition has not otherwise incapacitated me. At my last checkup in July it was established that the good eye was beginning to be affected, but so far I don’t notice much of a difference.

  

 NOTE FROM DUSTY -- I SUFFER FROM THE dry VERSION OF THE DISEASE. No injection available, but I’m hoping that a stem-cell discoveryh will soon provide a solution.

From Don-ard – I just glanced through your blog archive covering more than ten years and it occurs to me that you’ve been blogging since Argos was a pup. I’m sorry to read about the macular degeneration, as if your glaucoma was not enough for one man. I was fascinated to read about the nightmare illusions when going to sleep or awakening in the morning, hypnopompic and hypnagogic. In my case, the occlusion from glaucoma in the “bad eye,” I’m still strong enough in my right to drive. While I no longer have any depth perception (and so the current spate of 3-D movies is lost on me), I am able to close my good eye during scary scenes and blur the image just enough to not freak out when the ax murderer jumps out from behind the door.

   So that Don can go on writing his new TV family drama, he continues to use Cosopt and Lumigan, the latter arrives in a container the size of a dainty lady’s pinkie at a highway robbery price of one hundred and twenty-five dollars.

 

   Here am I ensconced on my throne, surrounded by my mechanical friends. All the glass is not exactly easy on my orbs.

  SOME Anecdotes

>>>Did you hear what happened to the New York Yankees most loyal fan? For many years, Jane Lang had made the arduous trip from her home to the park. Ask yourself whether you’d do this. Leave home. Walk 20 minutes to the train station. Take a 70-minute ride to Penn Station. Weave for 10 minutes over to the subway station. Take a half-hour D train ride to Yankee Stadium. Navigate the other fans, vendors, and chaos to get to your seat.

   Recently when the 67-year-old stepped outside to start out for the game, she was greeted by the Yankee manager and a number of players, who escorted her on her usual journey to the stadium, where she was greeted by other players, given a tour of the new facilities, and invited to run the bases.

   Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you—Jane is totally blind.

>>>Another Big Apple story. Mayor Bloomberg may be scalped by the Indians for suggesting that they stop selling cigarettes tax-free. He suggested that Governor David Patterson put on a cowboy hat, stand in the middle of the road with a shotgun to stop the Indians.

   This might be a challenging assignment for Gov. Patterson to hit the charging targets.

 He’s totally blind.

>>>Speaking of blind (Who? Me?), I’m beginning to think the whole justice system is blind. Conservative members of the High Court have paved the way for corporations to buy and sell lawmakers.

 

 >>>A gay judge in CA has ruled that same-sex marriage is legal.

>>>Another judge has stopped stem - cell research, probably ending my last chance to get my sight back.

    Is there any way to get the blindfold off the Lady?  SEE you next month…maybe.

 ######## 

  

 

  

Dead-Eyes Dusty- Sept. 2010

 

   After two previous blogs about my hallucinations, I had planned to select other topics, but heavy feedback from readers encouraged me to devote at least one more blog to the vicious attack of macular degeneration on my eyes. I won’t bother to respond to the reader who wrote that it was obvious “I was coming down from such drugs as marijuana, LSD, crack, PCP, amphetamines, heroin, ketamine, or alcohol.”

 

From Christine D – I wrote to you some time ago I was diagnosed with WET macular degeneration. I’m one of the lucky ones because I’ve been getting injections of Avastin every three months. Although I can’t drive after dusk and I need a strong light in the house, the condition has not otherwise incapacitated me. At my last checkup in July it was established that the good eye was beginning to be affected, but so far I don’t notice much of a difference.

  

NOTE FROM DUSTY -- I SUFFER FROM THE dry VERSION OF THE DISEASE. No injection available, but I’m hoping that a stem-cell discoveryh will soon provide a solution.

 

From Don-ard – I just glanced through your blog archive covering more than ten years and it occurs to me that you’ve been blogging since Argos was a pup. I’m sorry to read about the macular degeneration, as if your glaucoma was not enough for one man. I was fascinated to read about the nightmare illusions when going to sleep or awakening in the morning, hypnopompic and hypnagogic. In my case, the occlusion from glaucoma in the “bad eye,” I’m still strong enough in my right to drive. While I no longer have any depth perception (and so the current spate of 3-D movies is lost on me), I am able to close my good eye during scary scenes and blur the image just enough to not freak out when the ax murderer jumps out from behind the door.

   So that Don can go on writing his new TV family drama, he continues to use Cosopt and Lumigan, the latter arrives in a container the size of a dainty lady’s pinkie at a highway robbery price of one hundred and twenty-five dollars.

 

 

   Here am I ensconced on my throne, surrounded by my mechanical friends. All the glass is not exactly easy on my orbs.

 

  SOME Anecdotes

 

>>>Did you hear what happened to the New York Yankees most loyal fan? For many years, Jane Lang had made the arduous trip from her home to the park. Ask yourself whether you’d do this. Leave home. Walk 20 minutes to the train station. Take a 70-minute ride to Penn Station. Weave for 10 minutes over to the subway station. Take a half-hour D train ride to Yankee Stadium. Navigate the other fans, vendors, and chaos to get to your seat.

   Recently when the 67-year-old stepped outside to start out for the game, she was greeted by the Yankee manager and a number of players, who escorted her on her usual journey to the stadium, where she was greeted by other players, given a tour of the new facilities, and invited to run the bases.

   Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you—Jane is totally blind.

 

>>>Another Big Apple story. Mayor Bloomberg may be scalped by the Indians for suggesting that they stop selling cigarettes tax-free. He suggested that Governor David Patterson put on a cowboy hat, stand in the middle of the road with a shotgun to stop the Indians.

   This might be a challenging assignment for Gov. Patterson to hit the charging targets.

 He’s totally blind.

 

>>>Speaking of blind (Who? Me?), I’m beginning to think the whole justice system is blind. Conservative members of the High Court have paved the way for corporations to buy and sell lawmakers.

 

 >>>A gay judge in CA has ruled that same-sex marriage is legal.

>>>Another judge has stopped stem - cell research, probably ending my last chance to get my sight back.

    Is there any way to get the blindfold off the Lady?  SEE you next month…maybe.

 

######## 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SOMETHING WICKED - August 2010

    My last few blogs have devoted space to my eye problems, mainly Macular Degeneration, a vicious disease that has wiped out the vision in my right eye and is getting close to shutting down the left eye. If you think I’m looking for sympathy, you’re wrong. By broadcasting my plight, I’m hoping that a cure will be found.

   I’m not alone. The longevity of seniors these days is creating problems associated with Alzheimer’s—loss of memory and how it changes the lives of the victims, but also their family members. If you wonder which disease causes the most discomfort, check with Nancy Reagan and her husband’s final days. 

    MIXED FEEDBACK

   In last month’s blog, I described the nightmarish experience of opening my eyes in the morning. I found myself in the middle of a threatening garden with withered trees and bristling bushes. This morning the location changed to a house in Holland with a stone ireplace framed by two women dressed as the models on Old Dutch Cleanser.

   

   If the hallucination occurs as the sleeper is awakening, the technical word is hypnopomic, brought on in my case from the stress of going blind. If the nightmare occurs as the person is falling asleep, it is called hypnagogic. Would you believe that some readers didn’t trust me?

From Karl the Actor – Hmmm, can’t say I enjoyed the blog.  Your description of the terrors of macular degeneration were too powerful.  Oh, crap.  If only they made bionic eyes, or could grow you a new set.  You’ll have to take up a music career now, like Ray Charles.  Make sure they pay you in one-dollar bills so you know you got paid right.  And get some big sunglasses.  (And don’t forget the piano.)  Karl.

From Doc

Loved your latest wormhole surrealistic blog, but was saddened by your blindness.  Hope you’ve got good books on tape or disc.  We travel with them for the kids and us to enjoy & they’re great.  Also hope you can see these photos of our recent drive-about Africa.  Try to match these captions with the proper shots.  All very best to you, Doc & all the Holidays.

   That message from Doc came all the way from South Africa. Here’s another: A guy is looking to buy an expensive car, tests it out, and comes back to the dealer to complain, “This is an expensive car, but the radio doesn’t work.” The dealer explains, “No, no this is a high-tech state of the art car radio. All you have to do is say what you want to hear. Say ‘country music’ and country music comes on. Say ‘rock n’ roll’ and rock n’ roll comes on. The says, “Great, I’ll take it.” The guy is driving it off the lot and turns into the street when another motorist cuts him off. “Jerk!” he mutters – and Rush Limbaugh comes on.” Of course if you are on the right – you can substitute Chris Hardball Matthews who asks questions and then answers them himself making him the world’s greatest interuptist!

Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum – July 2010

   

   My guess is that almost all of my readers are too young to recognize the title is the opening line of JACK and the BEANSTALK, an English fairy tale. So, you might ask, what has the quote to do with current affairs?

   If you were fortunate enough to miss the Congressional hearing about the disastrous spill in the Gulf, you were spared the sight of Tony Hayward’s saying over and over that he couldn’t answer until the investigations were ended. Only one congressman with his pockets stuffed with oil money defended Tony’s baloney, providing comic relief from watching one man being ganged up on by the publicity-seeking bloodhounds. They smelled the blood of an Englishman and got it. Tony was replaced and spent Father’s Day on his yacht in the pristine waters off the coast of England, getting his life back, while the small people lost their livelihood in the Gulf

          Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum,

I smell the blood of an          

           Englishman,

Be he alive, or be he dead

I’ll have his bones to grind my

            bread.

   So the spill goes on, barrel after barrel, day after day, a disaster surpassing the Dust Bowl. I have suggested to a number of agencies that an electronic shield be placed over the spills. It might cause wildlife to leave the pollution and seek cleaner areas. I call the sound or vibration REPELICAN. But there has been no response. Perhaps some technician could amplify the annoying bumblebee buzzing at the World Cup and play it over the spills. 

              IN THE WORMHOLE

   Alice is one of the most famous underground travelers. Supposedly she fell down the rabbit hole, but if you want my opinion, I think it was like a slid, since she was able to think on the way down:  “I wonder if this hole goes on until it reaches the other end of the earth.”

     

  

   Once in Wonderland, Alice met some rather weird characters, like the Mad Hatter. You know, of course, his behavior was caused by making hats with glue. As a result of sniffing the glue, all workers in hat factories acted somewhat loony from suffering or enjoying hallucinations. As the Mad Hatter might say:  “Stick with me and you’ll learn lots of trivia.”

   If you don’t know by now that I’m legally blind, you haven’t been reading previous blogs. When I open my eyes in the morning, I find that my disintegrating macular has traveled my flawed sight down a wormhole into a Garden of Evil. In the center is a black tree, dead and menacing. Near the tree is a bush with twigs that slash like razor blades.

       

   The rest of the scene changes from morning to morning, but no matter what is there all is possessed of death—twin pirates’ pistol, a snake’s track, a decapitated head. I keep looking for a long tunnel with a light at the end, but it never appears.

   Gradually the Garden fades, leaving behind floating tar balls with Medusa hair around the rims.

   I wish I could say that I’m making this up, but it’s all true. Macula Disintegration has destroyed the sight in my right eye, and now it is attacking the   left. The fear of going blind has created the wormhole into the Garden of Evil when I awaken in the morning—Hypnopomic is the medical term, a visual hallucination leading my mind into a wormhole.   

   The wormhole is often used in science fiction, but it also has some validity in scientific circles. Imagining space as a curved, two-dimensional plane, wormholes could be formed by two masses applying enough force on time space to create a tunnel connecting distant points in the universe. Remember that wormholes have the most potential for time travel. When the tunnel appears in my Garden of Evil, I’ll let you know when I open my eyes in the morning, am I getting a taste of heaven or of hell?

        

To sleep, perhaps to dream,

Aye, there’s the rub.

What dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil. Thus conscience doth make

cowards of us all.”

      

                            Hamlet