The Dyspeptic Tank
Friday, November 21, 2003
 
According to the eye surgeon, I'm not going to have to throw away my books just yet. I am still going to need some laser treatments to clear up some of the new blood vessels that have grown in, but I'm not going blind any time soon. This is a great relief, certainly--I spent a week in real turmoil. Having more information, modern medical procedures, and (especially) health insurance at my disposal help considerably. Still, I was in such a state of emotional exhaustion when I got home after the appointment (and a nice dinner) that I sat in a chair immediately and fell asleep for three and a half hours.

For diabetics, the passing of time is palpable. There is no chance of complacency when you actually feel yourself falling apart, however gradually. I still don't have any time for horseshit, not in this life. None of us do.
 
Tuesday, November 18, 2003
 
Speaking of horseshit that one doesn't have time for, that sociopathic turd Rush Limbaugh was back spouting his hooey today. Out of the basest sort of curiousity I tuned in to the first hour of his marathon, and he at least spared everyone a Jimmy Swaggart-style meltdown--his "treatment" apparently consisted of amplifying his selfishness beyond endurance. (He intimated that he turned to opiates because he was too worried about what other people thought of him!) So much for the hope he might have discovered some humility while in rehab. His robotic listeners heaped praise and (unrequited) affection on him, blessing the Lord that Rush was back to save them from "liberals" like Hillary and Ted Kennedy. It was just the same old phony misdirection and bluster. Hillary is hardly a "liberal" and Rush is hardly a "conservative." The battle between "liberals" and "conservatives," Republicans and Democrats (DLC Democrats, at any rate), is little more than a jockeying for position among opportunists. It's as theatrical as Professional Wrestling--and just as fixed. The fun part is getting the hoi polloi to take it seriously--and that's what glorified disc jockeys like Rush are hired for. That he and his ilk are regarded as anything other than hack polemicists and vapid clowns is what is most disturbing about American politics. What surprised me most about Rush was that he didn't just IMPLODE once the drugs were out of his system. As far as egomaniacs go, he must be cast iron.
 
Sunday, November 16, 2003
 
There's blood in my eye. Literally. When I was at the eye doctor last week, I started hemorrhaging in my right eye as I was being examined. I don't know if it was as a RESULT of being examined, but it happened there. I've had a nasty floater ever since. In four days I'm going in to see a laser surgeon to learn the extent of my problem and to ascertain whether there is anything that can be done to correct the situation. So much for the illusion of invulnerability. I've had Diabetes since 1974, and this is the first real inkling I've had that I'm deteriorating. Well, I've had a good run. I obviously don't have any more time for horseshit--nor do I have the patience for it. "Horseshit" is listening to my middle-aged friends talk about their cocks, and wondering if any of them will ever grow up enough to settle down and get married. One friend keeps chasing after some little 22-year-old slut who openly laughs at him, but gives him just enough tail to keep him interested. Another saves his pennies so he can go up to Canada a few times a year "where the hookers are really nice." I can't bear to hear about their pathetic adventures when I have a house full of books that I probably won't be able to read in a couple of years.
 
Opinions, observations, predilictions. prejudices, rants, satires, non-sequiturs, and panegyrics concerning politics, life, culture (that old thing), America in general and Upstate New York in particular, early jazz, Pilsener, and what-have-you by Andy Senior--ball-breaker, autodidact, scribbler, piano-pounder, sorehead, and fugitive from the Planet of Manual Typewriters.

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