Tag Archives: Health

April 17, 2012

BlaK Dan Reviews Ketchup

By Keith Spillett

My brother-in-law, BlaK Dan, is at it again.  If you’ve been following his saga here at Tyranny, you already know that he lost all his money investing in Amway products and is sleeping on my couch until he “gets on his feet again”.  He was living in a cave until a park ranger kicked him and his pet ferret out and now we are stuck with him.  He does nothing but parade around our house wearing a Burzum tee-shirt and eating cornflakes out of a Qwik Rabbit mug he’s had since he was 8.  

The man has no dreams, no goals other than one day managing a metal message board and playing one note black metal songs “whilst alone in a forest”.  In order to keep him busy, my wife has asked me to let him write an occasional metal album review for the blog.   Here’s where it gets tricky…he’s now refusing to listen to any metal.  He’s decided that he will only write reviews of inanimate objects, because metal music is “unworthy of his talents”.  So…here’s another in the endless, intolerable and ever-changing series now known as “BlaK Dan Reviews Ordinary Household Items”.

 

BlaK Dan Coming Upstairs After A Late Night Cornflake Binge

People who put ketchup on food are idiots.  They have no idea of what food in its purest form tastes like.  They are animals.  They do not have the right to exist.  When I am at a diner and a see one of these “people” consuming food with ketchup on it, I know they are sub-humans unworthy of the oxygen that Odin and I provide them with.

This blood-colored ooze spews out of disgustingly shaped bottles and pollutes our food with its hideous sweetness.  If you are ever curious as to which amongst you are inferior, here’s a simple test.  If they have defiled a perfectly good and pure  lump of meat with this syrup of sickness, then you can rest assured that they are degenerate parasites who are wasting the flesh, bone and will that they were born with.

If you use ketchup, it is because you are weak.  I refuse to tolerate your weakness.  If I had my way, they’d bring back the guillotine and behead each and every one of you cowards.  You violate all that is decent in our world then have the temerity to call me intolerant or unclean or in violation of local health code standards or someone who can’t live within 500 yards of an elementary school.  It is you that are a pox upon our world, Ketchup-eater.  And it is you that should pay the ultimate price for your life of decadence.

You befoul our forests and streams with your civilized blandishments and then wonder why your world is repulsive and depraved.  The essence of life is being destroyed by an endless flow of ketchup.  Ketchup in the mountains.  Ketchup in the valleys.  Ketchup in our seas.  Ketchup in our forests. Ketchup in our oceans.  Ketchup everywhere you look.  Ketchup in the name of progress.   You have contaminated the world and destroyed all that is sacred.

You think you are so clever.  You eat your ketchup and you laugh and laugh and laugh.  Ha, Ha, Ha….look at civilized me with my ketchup and my Italian leather shoes.  Aren’t I something else?    Look at my fancy ketchup eating wife and my two well-dressed ketchup-eating children.  Aren’t I unique?

You think because you eat ketchup you have the right to judge me.  I am above your judgments.  You are slime.  Like Zarathustra, I am surrounded by fools and idiots spewing a ridiculous ketchup-soaked morality that is meaningless.  MEANINGLESS!   I hear your snickers, I see your scorn, but it is you that are vile and you that are impure.  If you hadn’t allowed ketchup to taint your world, you would know me and understand that you are unworthy to be in my presence.  Instead, I am stuck here in moron hell watching you wallow in ketchup and despising every minute of it.  I hate all of you.

FILTH!!!!!!

3 comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | posted in Articles I Probably Shouldn't Have Bothered Writing

October 13, 2011

Acute Post-Operative Complications

By Keith Spillett

About six months ago, I had surgery done on my foot to remove a bone spur.  During the surgery I was given a dose of anesthesia to knock me out and numb the pain.  Since the surgery I have noticed many inconsistencies in the fabric of the universe.  I have come to the conclusion that one of two things took place.  The first possibility is that I am still under anesthesia and currently on the operating table.  For this to be true, the anesthesia would have to have distorted my sense of time and what has felt to me to be two months is actually less than an hour.  The other possibility is that I died on the operating table and this is either a very strange afterlife or I am experiencing an early stage of death in which the images and ideas in my head slowly become distorted as I lose my connection to what we know as reality.

I know this sounds a bit far fetched, but things have been really strange since the anesthesia went into me.  When I was first injected I began to feel extremely sleepy.  I tried to talk but it felt like my mouth was filled with peanut butter.  My eyes closed and all I could hear were the doctor and one of the nurses talking and that dumb song “Life is a Highway” (the surgery center pumped bad pop music into all the operating rooms to “relax” the patients).  I was completely conscious and totally immobile.  The song was making me angry.  Why couldn’t they have anesthetized my ears?  It’s a preposterously stupid metaphor.  What the heck does it mean?  Life goes on for a long time?  Life has exits?  If you stay on life for thirty minutes you can get to the airport?

I’m not certain of how I got home.  It was late in the day.  For the next week I flowed in and out of awareness.  Pain and pain medicine shaped my reality.  I watched the entire first season of the TV show the old CBS show “Wiseguy” on DVD (mercifully, I only remember about ten minutes of it), I ate pizza, I stared at the painting of a woman on the wall and imagined another head growing out of her neck.  I could not shake the feeling that something was wrong.  I chalked the whole thing up to oxycodone-induced weirdness and figured I’d feel normal once I got the stuff out of my system.

Time passed.  My foot began to heal, I started driving again, I went back to work, and I shed my crutches for a boot.  Life resumed, but I could not shake the feeling that the things around me were somehow less real then they had been.  It’s not something I can put accurately into words, but it feels quite real.  The world seemed similar but not the same.

My first visit to the gym was when things started to get really weird.  I slowly moved my way through a few machines and went into the locker room to get the stink off of me.  As I walked past the lockers there was a guy in a speedo who looked almost exactly like the guy who played Father Damien Karass in the Exorcist films.  I had never seen him at the gym before.  He was staring into his open locker and shouting.  Most of what was coming out of his mouth was impossible to understand.  He was raving.  I understood the occasional curse word, but most of it seemed like it was in some weird language that he was making up as he went along.  I averted my eyes away from him and sprinted into the shower.  When I had gotten out, he was quietly staring with this horrible empty expression on his face.  Suddenly, I heard him say in a monotone, semi-possessed voice “Life isn’t a highway, is it Keith?  Is it Keith?  Is it Keith?”

I felt my stomach leap into my throat.   “Excuse me?!?!?!”

He just continued staring blankly into the locker.

“What did you say???”  I repeated in a panic.

He did not respond.

I did not tell the thing about “Life is a Highway” to anyone except my wife.  I strongly doubt that my wife has launched into a criminal conspiracy with some lunatic at the YMCA to drive me crazy so she’ll be able to drive our Saturn more often, so I have to imagine there are strange forces at work here.  But what?  Why?

Every time I see this guy, he hums a bar from it and smiles at me.  He has a sickly, menacing smile.  The type that bankers usually reserve for customers with no hope of getting a loan.  He jogs next to me on the treadmill sometimes.  Humming.  Smiling.  Laughing to himself.

The other day, he walked out of the gym at the same time as me.  He started repeating the phrase “Do you know where we are?  Do you know where we are?  Do YOU know WHERE we ARE?” in strange intonations about five feet away from me.  At first, I sped up, but when he didn’t stop and continued to follow me I knew I had to take some kind of action.  I turned to him and shouted “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?  Why are you bothering me?!?!?!?!”

He looked perplexed.  The man stared blankly into my eyes and began to speak with a voice that betrayed no emotion whatsoever, “Don’t you know where we are?”  He reached slowly into his pocket.  I was terrified.  What was happening?  He grabbed my wrist and shoved a piece of paper in my hand.  With a coy smile, he turned on his heels and stumbled back towards the gym.

Maybe it was some explanation of everything.  Maybe it was a threat. I needed something to make it all make sense.  I swallowed deeply and looked at the piece of paper.  This had to be the answer.  It had to be.  It was a ten percent off coupon for the frozen yogurt store about a mile from my house.  The orange rain began to pour down from the sky, washing away the beautiful blue sunset.  I sat down on the curb next to my car, put my head in my hands and wept.

26 comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , , | posted in Existential Rambings

September 13, 2011

I Am A King Diamond’s Disease Survivor

By Keith Spillett

A Picture of Me Getting Ready To Go To My Daughter's Piano Recital

Have you ever found yourself singing the chorus from a King Diamond song at an inappropriate time like in church or at a funeral?  Do you ever wake up with your face covered with strange painted designs without knowing how they got there?  Do you ever find yourself having bizarre urges, like making furniture out of the leg bone of your neighbor?  If you answered yes to any of these questions, you may be one of the nearly 2 million Americans who suffer from King Diamond’s disease.  You are not alone.

King Diamond’s Disease, known to doctors as Bendixitis, claims nearly a thousand new victims a week.  You may see many of these poor souls on the streets, covered in backwards crosses, wandering aimlessly while singing the falsetto chorus to Abigail.  They often struggle to maintain normal lives.  They are your doctors, your teachers, your lawyers and your children’s crossing guards.  I know their pain, because, you see, I am one of them.

My story isn’t different from most KDD survivors.  It started innocently enough.  I’d be in the car on my way to pick up the children from their Tae-Bo class and catch myself howling “Sleeeeeeeplesssss Niiiiiiiightssss” for no reason in particular.  I’d find myself thinking about the King more and more each day.  When I was eating dinner, I wondered what The King might be eating.  When picking out clothing at a shopping mall, my mind would drift to what The King might think about the sweater I was trying on.

Then, one day, I woke up for a critical job interview for the position of Chief Tagalog Translator at The United Nations.  As I was putting the finishing touches on my outfit, I looked in the mirror and staring back at me was a 6 foot 2 stranger in a suit and tie with his face painted just like King Diamond on the Conspiracy album.  I know that I hadn’t painted it myself!  The paint would not wash off no matter what I tried.  Imagine my pain and sadness, sitting in the most important job interview in my entire life, knowing that no employer in their right mind would hire a guy who showed up for a job interview dressed like a demented ghoul.  They laughed at me.  “Don’t call us, we’ll call you,” they sneered.  They simply didn’t understand.

The face paint has never come off.   It’s been three years now.  I’m still unemployed, although I had a brief part time job as a greeter at Wal-Mart until I was fired for supposedly causing the store to be attacked by evil spirits.  My children try their best to understand, but when the other kids make fun of them because their daddy is dressed up for Halloween everyday it hurts their feelings.  The community has shunned me.  I stopped going to church because they kept dousing me with holy water.  Everywhere I go I am an outcast.

There is no known cure for King Diamond’s Disease.  A diet low in orange sherbet can lessen many of the symptoms, but Bendixitis is a lifetime ailment that will never leave you once you have it.  I have found strength in my support group Survivors of An Unmercyful Fate.  We meet once a week and discuss how to live life one day at a time.  I have met a lot of great people in the Atlanta area who suffer like me including my sponsor Joann, a kindergarten teacher who has lived with King Diamond’s disease since she saw the King on The Spider’s Lullabye Tour back in 1995.  Her strength in going through her day trying to teach the alphabet to screaming, crying, terrified children is an inspiration to us all.

With research and time, a cure might be found.  Until that day comes, I will wear my face paint proudly knowing that my “disorder” allows me to have something in common with the greatest vocalist ever to walk the earth.  But still, I long for a day when I can walk down the street without old women cringing and middle aged men asking me to sing them a song about my grandmother.

6 comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | posted in General Weirdness, King Diamond For President in 2012

May 21, 2011

Glossophobia and The Fugitive Mind

By Keith Spillett

Stage fright is a truly terrible feeling.  Many people confront it, but usually they manifest their experience in different ways.  Some people cry, some talk louder, some simply feel a vague sense of dread as they move through the speech.  What I’ve noticed in talking to people about it over the years is that the experience of it changes dramatically from person to person, but it is always quite miserable if you feel it.

I have an awful fear of speaking on stage.  As a teacher, I never feel nervous speaking to a roomful of high school students, but once a year in May I am asked to speak in front of a large audience on a stage with a microphone.  The speech itself is something I’m honored to give, but the fear I feel starts around January and becomes nearly debilitating by the end of April.  It is only a three-minute speech but my fear of it consumes months of my life.

People are always very supportive and try to be compassionate but usually the advice I get doesn’t help all that much.  If you mention you have this fear you will get a lot of guidance, but often I’m not sure if the people who give it really understand the parts of it that make it so terrifying.  It is an irrational feeling and most rational suggestions fail to address it in a way that is practical.  You get advice like “Try to imagine them all naked”.  If everyone in the audience were naked I’m sure I’d be even more terrified!  How could the thought of hundreds of naked humans staring at you be even remotely comforting?  Other people ask you “What’s the worst that can happen?”  They have no idea of the circus that your brain becomes for three minutes.  The worst that can happen is that you’ll be on stage giving the speech.  People simply can’t comprehend why a relatively simple act like this can cause such suffering.  I don’t really understand it myself.

The following is an attempt to describe the experience in real time.  Some of this will sound silly, but every single thought written down has gone through my mind on stage.  The goal of this piece is to create a running record of what stage fright actually feels like for me.

Alright, here we go.  Need another sip of water.  If you act confident, the fear won’t come.  Okay, time to stand up.  They just called me.  Fix my jacket.  Three buttons…how many should I button?  I need to keep it buttoned cause my tie is too short.  I look like Oliver Hardy.  Someone once told me leave the bottom unbuttoned.  Okay.  Here we go.  Don’t look up.  Don’t look up.  Just read.  You should make some arm gestures.  Just hold the podium.  Don’t fall.  Hands sweating.  The podium is see through.  Are the spots around my hand fogging up?  Do they see me sweating? Act confident.  Here it comes.  Here it comes.  I should have left them all unbuttoned.  I should have acted more confident.  Now IT is HERE. 

Hot.  What if I pass out?  Falling, hitting my head.  Would someone catch me?  I’m too big.  Where am I?  Did I just miss a line…no, no, I’m okay….page one is over.  Don’t look up.  They are all looking at you.  They are all looking at you.  Is my fly zipped?  Don’t look up.  Fast.  Dizzy when I look up.  Falling, hitting my head.  IT IS HERE.

Does what I’m saying make any sense?  Do they hear me?  I didn’t practice enough.  I practiced wrong.  Fast. I practiced too much.  What if I forget how to read?  Sweating.  Pain in the top of my head.  Antler pain.  I feel like antlers are going to sprout out of the top of my head.  Stay focused.  Where am I?  I am reading, but I don’t know how.  There is another me reading.   I don’t even know what the other me is saying.  Why are they laughing?  Did I say something funny?  Did I do something embarrassing?  I didn’t write that to be funny…what’s happening???

FOCUS!!!!  Antlers.  Sharp, sharp pain in the top of my head.  Halfway done.  Sweating.  What if I can’t breathe?  Slow down your breathing.  What if I can’t?  I don’t control my breathing.  Long way to go in this speech.  Lots of words left.  What if I start saying weird things?  What if I start shouting random nonsense?  NO CONTROL. What if I burp?  What if I start cursing?  What if I lose control of my body?  Sharp pain in my head.  Antlers are growing inside.  Will they pop out?

One page left.  Downhill, downhill, breathe, another minute…..breathe.  If I can just get one more page.  What am I talking about?  Where am I?  DON’T LOOK UP!!!!  THEY are watching you….breathe….breathe….you are going to fast…..no one understands….breathe….one paragraph now…..look up once…try it…..try it….dizzy….FOCUS….DON’T LOOK UP…..clapping…no more words….handshake….get to the chair….don’t fall….don’t pass out…get to the chair…..sit down…..breathe….

22 comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | posted in Articles I Probably Shouldn't Have Bothered Writing, Health Tips for An Early Death

May 2, 2011

Guided Meditation For Conservatives

By Keith Spillett

We, at The Tyranny of Tradition, are proud to present today’s guest writer, Jonathan Winthrop.  Winthrop is a conservative columnist, syndicated talk radio host, all-around great American and a personal friend of mine.  He is the founder of the The Conserva-zen Institute for Self-Enlightenment and Lower Taxes.  He has published a series of  New York Times best-sellers including “Visualize Liberty”, “Visualize a City On The Hill Without Liberals” and “Visualize, Then Fire”.

Visualize Reagan:  Guided Meditation For Conservatives

By Jonathan Winthrop

Guided meditation is an important component on the path to spiritual enlightenment.  Today, I present to you a short exercise to help you free your mind of some of its stress and strain.  I recommend you sit down in a cool and comfortable place, dim the lights and play some soothing music.  Close your eyes and let a feeling of safety wash over you.  Have someone with a calming voice (preferably not someone with a foreign accent) read you the following words.

Envision Reagan.  He stands straight and proud.  Look closely at his face.  It is a calm face.  It projects strength.  Liberty.  Freedom.  Look closely at his mouth.  The confident smile.  Like the Duke.  Poised.  Look into his eyes.  Steel Blue.  Knowing.  Like a wise Grandfather.

Reagan is at the podium.  He stands in front of a room full of proud Americans.  Good Americans.  People like you and me.  They are singing.  He raises his hands and they fall silent.  He speaks of freedom.  He speaks of joy.  He promises to lower the marginal tax rates for earners making over 250,000 dollars a year to below ten percent.  You gaze at him.  He begins to glow.

You and Reagan are transported to a beautiful serene valley.  Reagan stands in a meadow surrounded by happy animals.  Playing.  Sheep and lambs run around him in a circle.  Reagan smiles.  Angels dance around him.  They lift him upward.  Slowly.  He levitates towards the clouds.  Gentle white wings appear in his back.  Reagan begins to soar faster until he disappears in a white blur.

You are in a nursery surrounded by beautiful newborn babies.  All the babies gently coo.  You see a beautiful boy.  You pick him up and look closely at his face.  The baby’s face morphs into the face of Reagan.  He smiles.  You feel warm.  His eyes lock with yours and you feel a perfect inner peace.  Those same knowing eyes look back at you.  The eyes of Reagan.

Bad people appear.  Communists, 60’s radicals, liberals, mass murderers.  The baby Reagan becomes the strong, grandfatherly Reagan.  His eyes grow red.  A beam shoots out of them and kills all of the bad people.  He stomps on each of their bad faces.  He looks at you and smiles.  The babies are safe.  All of the babies are in Reagan’s arms.  He comforts them.  Like a Grandfather.

Reagan does not take.  He gives to those who deserve and shows a firm hand to those who don’t.  He is peace through strength.  He sees the part of us that is rejected, that is lonely, that has been weakened by government programs like affirmative action and Planned Parenthood.  He reaches out his glowing finger and he heals us.  He heals us.  He heals us.

Audio copies of this meditation read by Charlton Heston or Ann Coulter are available through City on The Hill Publishing for $19.99 plus shipping and handling.

5 comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | posted in Political Babble

April 18, 2011

5 Reasons Men Should Go To The Doctor

By Keith Spillett

You probably saw the article last week on Yahoo that “Men Often Don’t Go To The Doctor Because They Secretly Long To Die”.  The story was based on a survey that 90 percent of men would rather spend their time watching re-runs of “Two And A Half Men”, eating enormous plates of fried foods and harassing female bartenders than going to the doctor.  According to a study done by a guy I know from work, most American men have cholesterol rates over 2,300 and nearly 3,000 on weekends.  This wouldn’t be such a bad thing, except for the fact that some doctors have recently linked high cholesterol with heart problems.

According to the American Academy of People With Stethoscopes and BMWs, 56 percent of men between the ages of 25 and 34 don’t even know what the word “doctor” means.  What gives?

Simple.  “Men are pretty freakin’ stupid,” says I.P. Knightly, a contributing editor to Urologist Weekly and writer of best-selling books “Urine Trouble” and “You Gotta Be Kid-ney”.  “Men avoid doctors, mostly because they are scardey cats and also because their co-pays are around 80 bucks a visit.  Therefore, many men at some point in their life will die, in some cases without warning.”

Here are 5 warning signs that should tell you to go to a doctor immediately:

Profuse bleeding

Many American men see bleeding as a sign of weakness.  They think it shows that they are too emotional.  They worry that women will not be attracted to them because they are hemorrhaging out of their face, neck and chest.  So, they try to pretend they aren’t bleeding.

The first major symptom of bleeding is blood loss.  This is often followed by a red substance staining their clothes.  Men often ignore these signs until it is too late and they have ruined the nice white carpet in their office.

“Bleeding is a really bad sign,” says Dr. Marvin Obvious, a noted PhD who has spent most of his career studying the history of adhesive tape.  “Exercise and diet can help, but major loss of blood can overcome these things and lead to, well, something bad.”

Growth of Additional Limbs

I know, I know, you find that additional arm a big help in your job at the local copy shop.  Maybe you’ve gotten some complements on those extra toes that appeared at the end of your chin.  But beware, these seemingly innocuous appendages could be a sign of a deeper problem.

9 out of 10 Americans who have grown extra legs may be morphing into giant human spiders said a survey in the Upper Alabama Journal of Medicine and Other Forms of Witchcraft.  Sure, they look cool, but at what cost!

Stoppage of Breathing That Lasts More Than A Week

What do all dead people have in common?  If you guessed, “they are not breathing” you are exactly right.  If you haven’t drawn breath in more than a week there is a good chance that you may, in fact, be dead.  A visit to the doctor could help delay the onset of early rigor mortis and severe bad breath.  Please, do not drive to your doctor if you have this symptom.  You may be lucky and just be one of the legions of undead zombies that walk the earth, but why risk an accident.

Spontaneous Combustion

A silent killer ends the lives of nearly 1.8 million Americans every month. Four thousand humans accidentally burst into flame every ten seconds around the world.  This horrible affliction turns average, normal people into human blowtorches at a moments notice. It often goes unrecognized, but people all around us are exploding all the time.  If you notice profuse sweating, overwhelming thirst and flames shooting from your chest your body may be telling you something.Americans who have been diagnosed with pyrokinesis are especially susceptible to this ailment.

An Overwhelming Urge To Eat Someone You Know

Some cultures practice ritual cannibalism.  We, unfortunately, are not one of them.  Besides the risk of social embarrassment that acting on this fantasy could create, there is the issue of indigestion and potential consequences from improperly prepared human remains.  If you are looking greedily at a friend or family member thinking of eating them…DON’T.  It’s unhealthy, dangerous and just plain gross.

So, the moral of the story is see your doctor.  The American Doctors In Need Of Pensions Because They Invested In Tech Stocks Association recommend visiting your doctor at least 3 times a week.  American men who visit their doctors regularly, don’t smoke, avoid ingesting large amounts of heroin or arsenic and eat more than once a week are four times as likely to live into their 70s.  And as everyone knows, the most important thing is not being dead.

13 comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | posted in Health Tips for An Early Death

April 10, 2011

Philip Morris Corporation Purchases Exclusive Naming Rights to Emphysema

By Keith Spillett

In a move to reestablish itself as a force in the cigarette industry, tobacco giant Philip Morris today purchased exclusive naming rights to emphysema.  They will pay the World Health Organization (WHO) 900 million dollars over the next 10 years in order to own the right to name the disease whatever they want to.  Initially, Phillip Morris simply wanted the words “Philip Morris, Official Sponsor of Emphysema” to be spoken each time the crippling illness was mentioned, but for an additional 100 million per year they have been given the ability to give the disease an entirely new name.  In order to get rid of the negative connotations people have with the word “emphysema” the disease will now be referred to by doctors and health care professionals as “Skippy”.  “We felt that emphysema strikes a gloomy chord with the public and that there was no harm in brightening the name up a bit,” said Philip Morris Public Relations Director Henry Haldeman.

The corporate re-naming of diseases is part of a larger privatization trend that includes selling formerly public property to corporations.  It started with the privatization of water supplies and other formerly public resources, but has now moved to more abstract concepts like disease names.  The bidding war has already started for the rights to name rhumetoid arthritis and diabetes, the next two ailments that will be on the block.  There have been rumors that the right to name several body parts is the next frontier.  Last year, The Disney Corporation offered 400 million dollars for the rights to name the human pancreas, but a serious bidding war has yet to develop.

Part of Philip Morris’ deal with the WHO is to pledge 10 million dollars a year to emphysema research.  According to “We are not trying to convince people that emphysema, uh, excuse me, Skippy, is a good disease.  We are just trying to remind people that Philip Morris is an important member of the global community.  Therefore, we will continue to maintain our commitment to eradicating Skippy from the planet,” said Philip Morris CEO James Erlichman in a press conference to announce the deal.

4 comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | posted in Health Tips for An Early Death, Pointyheaded Highbrow Stuff

March 6, 2011

We Are Bones, We Are Dust

By Keith Spillett

This thing that I think that I am, sometimes, I am not.  Looking at an X-Ray of my right foot has twisted my mind into knots for the past few weeks.  It’s not that they found anything that disturbing. My doctor discovered a bone spur, which I was pretty sure that I had.  No surprise there.  I am having surgery tomorrow.  Again, not a surprise.  The thing that got in my head was the X-ray itself.  If I am what’s in that picture…what am i?

There was this picture of the bones in my foot staring at me.  The doctor was pointing to things and saying a bunch of words, but I was transfixed on the picture.  There I am?  There I AM!  There I am?!?!?!?  This picture is of the inside of me.  Underneath all of this skin and blood are a set of bones. These bones have been with me all of my life.  They were at my high school graduation, they were there when I got married, they attended the births of my two beautiful children, they have seen me laugh, they have seen me cry, they have been there when I thought I was alone.  I couldn’t process it. These bones are actually me!

The me that I think I am is the thing that experiences the world consciously.  I am aware of feelings and ideas.  I make plans and I remember experiences.  I see, I smell, I touch, I taste, I hear.  I have no problem associating these things with me.  Then, there are these bones. They are in me, they are part of me, but I can’t believe that they are me. This picture wasn’t some random x-ray they keep in the back and show everybody.  These were my bones!  Seeing them really sucked the magic out of everything.  I tend to think of myself as more than the sum of my parts, but maybe I am nothing more than my parts. Maybe, I am just bones and skin and blood with a few organs floating around.

There are parts of myself I have never seen.  I don’t know what my hip bone looks like.  I don’t know what my liver looks like.  My heart, my brain, my lungs…all highly valuable parts, but I couldn’t tell mine from my neighbors.  The me that I know seems so special, so unique.  My memories seem so important, as if they are part of some great mystery that I have a lifetime to solve.  My thoughts, my ideas, my identity all seem to be pieces in the great “who am I?” puzzle.  They all conspire to make me believe that I am an enigmatic character whose mythology is terribly important.  And then, there is this picture of the inside of my foot.  It is not special.  It is not unique.  It is simply mineralized osseous tissue housed in a pile of skin that is called “foot”.  There are somewhere in the range of 14 billion of them and they all pretty much look and act the same.  Sure, there are minor subtleties and nuances, but for the most part, what is the difference?

My foot does not find itself unique.  It pushes against surfaces over and over throughout a day.  It works, it rests.  It does not feel loneliness or claustrophobia if it is trapped in a shoe for too long.  It does not become jealous that I am favoring my other foot.  It does not make plans to meet with my spleen for coffee.  It does not become romantically involved with my esophagus.  It does not ponder the mysteries of the universe and wonder what will happen to it when it dies.  It is material and material has no time for enchantment.  It simply is.  When it ceases to work, it will waste away along with the rest of this thing that is me.

There is a part of me that cannot imagine that this is possible.  There must be something else, there must be something more.  I am more than that picture.  I am not just bones.  I am not just flesh.  I am something mystical.  I am more than those parts.  I am more than words on a page saying “healthy, well-developed 35 year old male suffering from Hallux rigidus“. Right?  Right?!?!?!

Maybe this identity of mine that I find so fascinating is just a bunch of electrical impulses.  Maybe we are just piles of material walking around among other piles of material, thinking that thoughts and memories and ideas make us more.  These self-important piles of material spend much of their time avoiding damage so that they can one day be part of creating new piles of material.  And on and on with no direction, no meaning and no end.  Thousands of them are created each day and thousands disintegrate. It does not matter…it is only matter.

2 comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | posted in Articles I Probably Shouldn't Have Bothered Writing, Existential Rambings, Health Tips for An Early Death, Pointyheaded Highbrow Stuff

February 1, 2011

Paul Pierce’s Rasputin-like Performance Leads the Celtics Past the Heat 121-119

By Keith Spillett

Paul Pierce Being Carried Off The Floor After His 9th First Quarter Injury

Last night, Paul Pierce put together a game that will certainly go down in the annals of the Boston Celtics as one of the most warrior-esque performances in that franchise’s history.  After receiving numerous injuries, Pierce returned to the game against the Miami Heat and scored 37 points and grabbed 14 rebounds to lead the Celtics to a 121-119 overtime victory.  What made the game special was not just Pierce’s fabulous numbers, but the amazing series of setbacks that Pierce overcame to lead his team to victory.  In the postgame press conference Ray Allen called Pierce’s performance “amazing” and said that he was “a true warrior”

About 3 minutes into the game, Ray Allen stole the ball from LeBron James and threw the ball the length of the court to Pierce.  Pierce went up for a layup and was hammered to the floor by Udonis Haslem.  The team doctor brought Pierce back to the dressing room and after a series of x-rays determined that he had a fractured orbital bone in his face.  Grasping the importance of the game, Pierce put on a plastic, Rip Hamilton mask and returned to action with 3 minutes left to go in the quarter.

Upon his return to the floor, Pierce scored 6 quick points.   He threw in a great slashing layup to tie the game up at 27.  Unfortunately for Pierce, he landed off balance on his right ankle causing a severe sprain.  Pierce was carried off the floor to the locker room by several teammates and it looked like he would be lost for the game.  Three minutes after Pierce went to the locker room he miraculously ran out of the tunnel and on to the court just in time for the beginning of the second quarter.

Pierce faced more suffering in the second quarter.  While taking a jump shot, Pierce was shot in the back by a deranged Heat fan in the 8th row.  The shooter, Karl Lee Wiley, was arrested immediately by security.  Pierce, who was lying on the court in a pool of blood, was carried on a stretcher to an ambulance.  As the ambulance was driving away, Pierce burst out of the back and ran towards the court.  With 2 minutes left in the second quarter, Pierce checked back into the game.  Coach Doc Rivers was truly impressed.  “I’ve had players play through injuries before, but I’ve never seen a player overcome a gunshot wound and go back in the game.  Paul is a true warrior.”

The second half was also quite difficult for Pierce.  While drinking contaminated Gatorade before the half begun he contracted a severe case of dysentery.  Pierce spent much of the next 10 minutes shaking and running to the bathroom.  He became delirious when he was in the locker room and claimed that he saw Larry Bird, Robert Parrish and Kevin McHale walking through the door.   Yet somehow, Pierce was able to get his symptoms under control and return with 6 minutes left in the third quarter.

Pierce continued to play an inspired game.  He went up for a monstrous dunk to cut the Heat’s lead to 9 with 7:22 left in the fourth quarter.  Unfortunately, his fingers got hooked on the webbing of the net and he was stuck, hanging by one arm in the air.  Doctors, worried that Pierce could die from being suspended in mid-air for too long, immediately amputated the arm allowing Pierce to be freed.  Pierce was again rushed to the locker room by the medical staff.  But, it a moment reminiscent of Willis Reed’s injured return to the court during the Knicks championship game in the 70s, Pierce came out of the tunnel with only one arm and checked back into the game with 2 minutes remaining.  Showing no effects from the terrible, arm amputation surgery he had only moments earlier, Pierce quickly fired in two three pointers to tie the game at 107 and send it to overtime.  “He’s simply a warrior,” said Celtics Forward Kevin Garnett, “and this was the most warrior-like performance I’ve ever seen.”

During overtime, Pierce suffered a severe concussion, a brain aneurysm, a broken leg, was diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes and a contracted a severe staph infection.  With 3 minutes remaining, Pierce’s heart stopped and he collapsed on the court.  Medics pronounced him dead on the scene and began to cart him off the floor, but somehow his heart began beating again and he returned to action.  On a night where nothing could stop him, Pierce threw in a jumper from the corner with 2 seconds remaining giving the Celtics the victory.  Shaquille O’Neal added 19 points and 12 rebounds as the Celtics pulled ahead of the Heat for the best record in the NBA’s Eastern Division.  Pierce expects to play tomorrow night when the Celtics travel to Sacramento to face the Kings.

5 comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | posted in Articles I Probably Shouldn't Have Bothered Writing, Basketball Coaching Nonsense, Blithering Sports Fan Prattle

January 30, 2011

I Lost 30 Pounds in 30 Days…Without Amputation!!!

By Keith Spillett

Picture of a James Sullivan BEFORE he started the Nine and FINE Diet

Picture of James Sullivan JUST 30 DAYS AFTER starting the Nine and FINE Diet!!!!!!!!

Hello!!!!!!!  Today, I am here to talk to you about a diet that changed my life.  For years, I have struggled with my weight.  I have tried every diet on the market, but after a few days I am unable to keep to the diet because I am hungry all the time.  The most recent studies have said that eating 5 small meals a day will result in significant loss of pounds.  I heard this and thought it was impossible but it seems to be very effective.  Unfortunately, I have been unable to make this system work quickly enough and I still find myself hungry at night.  It seemed like there was no hope for me, and then I found out about the Nine and FINE Diet.  Are you sitting down?  I am about to tell you something that may sound too good to be true, but rest assured, this diet is one hundred and twelve percent effective for everyone.  According to scientists*, eating NINE large meals a day will help you lose significant amounts of weight overnight.

What?!?!  Eat nine large meals and lose weight!  How could it be true?  Well, according to scientists, the human body has some pretty amazing properties.  There is a certain point that the body hits where it is so overwhelmed by fat, carbohydrates and proteins that it begins to secrete a substance recently discovered by scientists called Jimbobwe.  Jimbobwe is a substance that eats fat.  If you have ever had a night where you ate to the point of near sickness and woke up a pound or two lighter it is because you tripped your Jimbobwe receptors.  If you think about it, the human body is kind of like the card game hearts.  In hearts, if you have the best cards you get a lot of points.  But, if you have the worst possible hand, you get even more points.  The body works in the same way.  Impossible, you say!?!?!  Scientists have proven it!!!  Ever see a 98 year old who ate badly all of her life and is still in great health?  How, you ask?!?!  Jimbobwe!!!!

Let me give you a personal example.  I started the Nine and FINE Diet on a Monday morning.  For breakfast, I had a full plate of eggs, bacon, pancakes, French toast and grits.  At about 9 o’clock, I ate a large ham sandwich, two plates full of mashed potatoes, and macaroni and cheese.  At 10:30, I ate three large hamburger patties wedged between two grilled cheese sandwiches, fries and 6 cokes.  At noon, I ate a rack of ribs, twelve dinner roles covered in butter, a side of lobster bisque soup and a plate of fried plantains.  At 1:30, I ate half of a medium cooked turkey, a large vanilla milkshake, two plates of collard greens, a hot fudge sundae and 4 peanut butter sandwiches.  At 4, I ate a large porterhouse steak, a baked potato covered in sour cream, a plate of braised pig’s knuckles, 4 slices of pizza dipped in bleu cheese and 4 cans of A and W root beer.  At 6, I ate another steak, fried onions, a Cinnabon, an entire bag of cool ranch Doritos, a Meximelt from Taco Bell, and a large vat of cookie dough ice cream.  At 6:45, I ate six fried Snicker Bars, a Whopper from Burger King and fries from Checkers.  Then, as I was getting ready for bed at 8 o’clock, I ate a bag of caramel corn, 4 turkey legs, cotton candy, a dish of funnel cake covered in ice cream, 7 pieces of chicken fried in Crisco, another Cinnabon, nine bagels covered in cream cheese, a Big Mac and 3 more milkshakes.  In total, I consumed close to 40,000 calories that day.  I also lost 5 pounds.  After 30 days of the diet, I had lost 56 pounds**.

Maybe I’m just lucky, you say.  Well, then how do you explain Marvin Altcheck?  Marvin followed the Nine and FINE for thirty days and lost 37 pounds***.  Or Jane Smith?  Jane lost 67 pounds in 30 days on the Nine and FINE Diet****.  What about Julia Marshall?  Julia began the diet at 883 pounds.  After thirty days on the diet, she was 938 pounds.  Now that’s progress!!!

Picture of Kate Johnson BEFORE the Nine and FINE Diet

Here's Kate Johnson AFTER JUST 2 MONTHS of the Nine and FINE Diet

I often hear people say things about Americans eating too much.  Maybe, these so-called “doctors” and “dieticians” are wrong.  Maybe the problem is we don’t eat enough!!!!!!!

Let’s say you have the problem that many overweight, patriotic Americans have.  You simply don’t like to eat.  Well, for just 19.99 I can offer you a thirty-day supply of Jimbobwe supplements.  Or, eat nine large meals a day AND take the supplements.  Hey…every little bit helps…Right?!?!?!?  Simply send your credit card/bank account information the address given below in the Cayman Islands and expect your supplements in the mail any day.  If you send your information in the next 12 hours, I will include a book called “The Mysteries of Jimbobwe”, a 98-page book with pictures of some of our success stories along with 47 brand new Crisco based recipes for weight loss.

So, if anyone asks you what you weigh…go ahead and finish that ice cream sundae, that box of Oreos and that stick of butter, look them in the eyes and tell them “I’m Nine and FINE” and let the results speak for themselves.

*  When using the term scientists, I am referring to several friends of mine who have taken at least 3 college level science classes.

**  Results of the diet are not typical.  Many people lose only thirty pounds in a month while other gain large amounts of weight.

***Marvin credits the Nine and FINE Diet (coupled with liposuction surgery) with his dramatic weight loss

****Jane died from congestive heart failure on the seventh day of the diet, but for the sake of the study, scientists continued to track her progress after her death

11 comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | posted in Health Tips for An Early Death

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