I realize I'm getting older, just as I realize we're ALL getting older.  I just didn't think I was getting, you know, OLD.


So I'm sitting in front of the television, not watching.  A commercial is on.  I am not watching the commercial, and, considering how my mind works, I am not hearing it, because I am not watching it.  My mind is not stupid, however, so when My Darling Wife calls to me from the other room, her particular frequency is detected, identified, and a response quickly prepared.


"Hey is that a commercial?"


"Yes"


"What commercial is that?  That's the Buzzcocks."  She's a fan. 


"Hold on." 


Now I focused my attention on the commercial.  Now it was a problem to be solved.  Only, once I solved it, I didn't want the answer I found.  I knew she wouldn't want to hear the answer either.


That's right.  I couldn't believe it.  And you know who was on the first page of their website?  (well, probably, since you should have just clicked on it)


THIS guy:




Do you remember when he was cool?  Yeah, it was a while ago.  That was when the Buzzcocks released that song.  So, for those of you playing at home,  which of these guys represented a musical revolution, kicking the dust of the Sixties and the glitter of disco off their pointy shoes?  Which one wrote songs to make young girls cry?  Which ones look like they could be friends with your dad?    ONE  TWO  THREE or FOUR? 


Discuss.



Best,


Mr. P.

I try not to believe anything as outlandish as this until sources are confirmed, but: 

PORTLAND, Ore. (AP) -- An 84-year-old woman accused of attempted rape involving an 11-year-old boy in her foster care has pleaded guilty to a lesser charge after confessing to having sex with the child, prosecutors said Thursday.

Geez.  Would anyone care to give this story a punchline? 

Best,
Mr. P.

  A story I stumbled across today surprised even the cynical Mr. P.  Hypocritical arrogance is boundless it seems.  J'Accuse!:

OFFICIALS from the Government agency championing the fight against climate chaos have taken 60 gas-guzzling domestic flights in the last year.

Environment Agency Wales (EAW) have been sending its staff on an air trip less than every two weeks - at the same time as urging everyone else to use other means of transport.

and later in the same article:

But short-haul flights are the most polluting way to travel, emitting three times more carbon dioxide than trains. Every one of the eight known destinations EAW's staff have flown to since September 2005 can be easily reached by rail.

There's no limit to what behaviors people who think they know more than you will forgive themselves for. 

I've done a few more 100words, too.  Here's the most recent.  The theme is optimist.

Okay, a conference call on paperwork is calling me.

Happy Friday.

Best,
Mr. P.

We will not be hosting a New Year's Eve party this year.  With the Mrs. out of town for so long just recently, we just don't have it in us.  I can hear the livers weeping all over this fair city.  Sorry. 

My Darling Wife has sent her book off to the copyright place, which means the re-writes are done.  Please congratulate her on two-plus years of effort.  As good as it is, I don't expect to retire until we sell the movie rights.  First novels don't pay too much, I hear.  Keep those fingers crossed, though, as there's a lot of sitting around I have planned for the future.

She's at the airport now, picking up Superspy Nick Ryan, and we'll be off to Moon River shortly.  I've written the End-of-the-Year toast, which I'll post after it's delivered.  Or not at all.  Who knows.

Best to you and yours.  Stay off the streets this weekend.  Ooh, she's home.  See you at the bar.

Best,
Mr. P.

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: His Most Serene Highness Lord Parx the Abstemious of London by the Bow Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

Abstemious is not a word generally associated with me. 

Had some big fun last night with the brother-in-law and Doc Holloway.  After a few tipples at Moon River, we sallied forth to the Rail for darts, Guinness, and free peanuts.  Home before midnight, Mr. Holloway didn't trust himself to drive, and elected to recuperate in our spare room.  However, he was still full of joy from his eight Beam-and-Gingers, and kept the Mrs. up with the chatting and the music making until 3:00am, while I dozed on the couch, awaiting the end of the evening.  Now it's 11:00, he's still asleep, My Darling Wife arose an hour ago, but is now snoozing on the same couch.  I have some Christmas shopping to do, so I wish he'd wake up.

Best,
Mr. P.

Good news, My Darling Wife's grandfather is home and well.  He lasted lying around on the couch for about half a day before he got stir crazy and started in on the errands and projects. 

Better news, the Mrs. will be home tomorrow night, and will be off work all next week.  Hopefully, I will too, but I may have to go in at least one day.

Worser news, I have to clean the house.  It has been a holiday season full of social engagements I forgot about until the last minute, and have kept putting things off to go to them. 

Worst news - I will be taking call for at least part of Christmas day.  I'm sure no one will become suicidal on Christmas, right? 

Other news:  My 100words entry from the previous post was selected and moved to the front page.  That's an honor I hadn't achieved before, but now I've had it bestowed upon me twice in a week.

Could just be due to fewer overall submissions.  Or, maybe these two were really coooooool. 

Work has been delightfully calm this week, but we will very likely be increasing business two or three-fold in the upcoming year.  That's. Just. Great.  I have new addition to my men's group this afternoon, who I guess is hoping to learn how not to punch and choke his girlfriend. I wonder what I'll come up with. 

Happiest of holiday wishes, to my eight readers.  We'll get the cult up and running next year, I promise.  Get your sandals polished.

Best,
Mr. P.

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been 172 days since my last posting. As I type this, I am awaiting six developmentally disabled, schizophrenic people to come in for assessments. They should have been here nine minutes ago, so they're probably not coming. That gives me quite a bit of free time, today.

Speaking of which, one of my favorite websites has returned. 100 Words or Les Nessman is now 100WordStories. This is my first submission since the resurrection. Today's theme is

"There is a fat man in your bathtub."

In other news, My Darling Wife is out of town, visiting her Grandfather, drinking his homemade hooch, and sharing the last few smokes before his surgery. He is the living proof of that old adage, "If you smoke cigarettes every day for seventy years, you'll live to a ripe old age." Send him some good thoughts, as he is a total badass. The Mrs. was telling me yesterday how he was driving her to the liquor store, showing her how fast his car could go. Eighty three years young, in a tight white T-shirt, jeans, and mechanic's jacket.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I have another doctor's appointment this afternoon, wherein I expect to be admonished for gaining weight and still getting no exercise.

A lot has happened in 172 days. To me and to the world. So much so, that I think I'll skip most of it, and start with today (or thereabouts).  For your viewing pleasure, here is a heartwarming video of an enormous shark playing with his friend, a seal.


Best,
Mr. P.

Some gems here.  All need jokes or headlines to go with them. 

Marezy Doats, Demoted Goats

Just a quote for this one:

The driver was not hurt. The pelican needed surgery for a broken foot, and also had a gash on its pouch.


And finally, "Artificial External Abdominal Incubation?  Well I'll Be!"

Oh, wait.  This one, too:

PETALUMA, Calif. - Animal control officers confiscated about 1,000 rats from the home of a 67-year-old man who they said was living in filthy conditions with the animals.

and the article closes with

In 2001, police arrested the Petaluma "cat woman," a former San Francisco real estate agent who was found with hundreds of cats crowded into a house she owned.

That sounds like a match made in heaven.  They should rename that town to Pet-A-Rama.  Or PetaLoona

Actually, there are even MORE weird animal stories.

There's a reason the trees are not full of cat skeletons.  You don't have to rescue 'em.  Although that guy should thank his lucky stars he wasn't rescued by this guy.

Here's the one I need some help with.  What's the joke?  And is there a better headline than:

Canine, Craving Crullers, Creates Costly Catastrophe.

This one's only about hot dogs.  We'll never catch the Japanese at this rate.

And another weiner tale.  In the interest of taste, or, uh, decorum, I wil leave the MANY jokes here to your imagination.  I already thought of 20 or so. 


That's probably plenty.  Let's stop there.

Best,
Mr. P.

Blogging the play-by-play of the PokerStars blogger Tournament - If you don't want to read about my poker exploits, skip this post.

Oh, the ironey!

But wait, there's more.  Be sure to read the last paragraph.

Uh, apple, peach, blueberry, coconut cream, chocolate cream, banana cream, mud, shoo-fly, um, that's about it.

Jeeps are tricky to break in to, unless you know how to work a zipper.  Keeping valuables inside is ill-advised.

This one needs a better headline.

But let's make this one a contest:

Junker told the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel he volunteered to join the German Waffen-SS, Hitler's feared special police, in 1940 and served in Russia. He came to the United States in 1955 and worked as a janitor in Chicago. He bought 120 acres in Walworth County 43 years ago to farm.

He set up the shrine to correct what he called inaccuracies about the war and Hitler's role in it. He told the newspaper he doesn't believe Hitler was to blame for starting the global conflict, in which 50 million people died, including some 6 million Jews in the Holocaust.

What's funny about this to me is that he isn't a holocaust denier, he just differs as to WHO STARTED IT.  Write the perfect headline or punchline, and I'll send you a fabulous prize Once Owned By, But No Longer Desired By, Mr. Parx.  All entries become the property of MiMoPiCloInc.

Okay, poker and boxing tonight at the Parxes.  Stop on by.

Best,
Mr. P.

Some poker content:

First - a shill:

Free Money

Second:

Dear MrParx, 

PokerStars Tournament #25837697, No Limit Hold'em
Buy-In: $0.10
2258 players
$50.00 added to the prize pool by PokerStars.com
Total Prize Pool: $275.80 
Tournament started - 2006/06/05 - 21:07:00 (ET)
You finished the tournament in 47th place.
A $0.45 award has been credited to your Real Money account.


Congratulations!
Thank you for participating.

I'm freakin' rollin' in it.  

We now return to your regularly scheduled non-blogging.

Best,
Mr. P.

UPDATE:  My little thoughts are much better reasoned and explained by no less than BUCKLEY and LIMBAUGH. 

Dennis Hastert's op-ed in USA Today got under my skin, not for what he said, but for his lack of saying anything at all.  First, he notes that he's all for the prosecution of Rep. Jefferson, then,

The issue that has concerned me, as Speaker, since Saturday night is not if the FBI should be able to search a member of Congress' office, but rather how to do it within the boundaries of the Constitution.

Okay, Mr. Speaker, we're listening.  How was it done outside the Constitution?  What was this breach of constitutionality?  Well, he doesn't say.  He notes that President Bush found cause to place papers in the Solicitor General's office for 45 days to sort some things out.  What could the big secrets be?  

Then,

In more than 219 years, the Justice Department has never found it necessary to use a search warrant to obtain documents from a congressional office. These issues have always been resolved without the necessity of a search warrant, and prosecutions have gone forward.

Okay.  That's completely irrelevant.  There WAS a search warrant, and then there WAS a search.  What's your point, Mr. Speaker?

Justice Department officials now insist that this specific case required them, for the first time, to conduct a search. I regret that when they reached this conclusion, they did not work with us to figure out a way to do it consistently with the Constitution. But that is behind us now. I am confident that in the next 45 days, the lawyers will figure out how to do it right.

Perhaps this is just to get the public interested in the case.  I know I am certainly anticipating finding out what was in those papers that required them to be secured.  Dollars to doughnuts says other representatives will be implicated.   Or, he's just planting the seed that "Things were done unconstitutionally!  Mistrial!  Throw the case out!" before his name comes up.  

Something fishy this way comes.

Best,
Mr. P.

 

Just a little something for me.  Top 7th last time.  I'm sure I'm ready to take down the whole thing.  Well, I'm sure I'm ready to play, anyway.  Regular blogging to continue soon.  Our connection was down most of today. 

Be well, all.

Best,
Mr. P.

Let's see - on Friday I saw a woman in the ER whose erratic, rageful behavior drove her husband to shoot himself, but he lived and took out a restraining order.  Worst case of menopause I've ever seen.  Then, I saw a man who has been drinking a liter of bourbon daily for years, and he set the new record for blood alcohol level (for people assessed by me) at .427.  On Thursday, I saw a woman who left the bar where she had been drinking for several hours to sleep in the truck.  Her boyfriend made her get out of the truck and drove away, after an argument ending their relationship.  Distraught, she tried to re-enter the bar, but was prohibited by the bartendress, so she took  a broken bottle and slashed her wrist, requiring vascular surgery.  Plus a few other, less interesting cases.  All in all, an exhausting week. 


In the news, I see that Ray Nagin was re-elected mayor of New Orleans.  With leadership like this, the re-emergence of The Big Easy is inevitable:


"It's time for us to stop the bickering," he said. "It's time for us to stop measuring things in black and white and yellow and Asian. It's time for us to be one New Orleans."



In nearby Waldron, Arkansas, the mayor there was arrested for trading public works services for sex. 


Another woman told investigators that she'd been having sex with Anderson for money for the past eight to 10 years. She said Anderson paid her $25 per encounter and that he allowed her to change the name on her overdue water bill, which kept her water turned on, the affidavit said.


The mayor in question is 72 years old.


No such options for the woman in Flint, Michigan, whose power was turned off because her payment was short by one cent. 

Jacqueline Williams, 41, of Flint had an electricity bill of $1,662.08 and paid all of it, except for one cent.

"All of this for one penny," said Williams, who went to the state Department of Human Services for help in April and was told the agency would pay most of the bill. But she was still short more than $500. Williams, a Social Security recipient, went to the Salvation Army, where she received $430.67, and Consumers agreed to match $430.66 toward the bill.

So, Michigan taxpayers paid most of it.  She was still short more than $500, but received $861.23 from charity agencies?  Something's fishy, I think.  Though not as fishy as this:


A homeless Orange County man who allegedly licked the feet of five boys after promising to cast them in a television commercial has been charged with lewd conduct, officials said Tuesday. 

Sheriff's deputies arrested Jones April 14 near the shore in San Clemente. Witnesses told authorities Jones was wearing a suit the day before when he approached three boys sitting on a bench, Sheriff's Department Spokesman Jim Amormino said.

"It's unusual for someone to wear a suit to the beach," Amormino said.

How he ever thought he would escape crack detective work like that, I have no idea. 



Okay, that's enough weird news.  In the chess world, Veselin Topalov has long been my (and My Darling Wife's) favorite player. He was in the top 10 for years, but recently dramatically improved, and is now the number one player, by rank and by winning the recent world championship tournament.  He's currently in a tournament with five of the strongest grandmasters in the world, and had been playing poorly during the first half, getting one win, three draws and two losses.   He regrouped, though, and won his last three games in daring fashion to move into first.  Very exciting. 

And on the poker front, this morning I received the following e-mail:

PokerStars Tournament #24673744, No Limit Hold'em
Buy-In: $0.10
2411 players
$50.00 added to the prize pool by PokerStars.com
Total Prize Pool: $291.10 
Tournament started - 2006/05/20 - 21:07:00 (ET)

Dear MrParx, 

You finished the tournament in 30th place.
A $0.53 award has been credited to your Real Money account.

Congratulations!
Thank you for participating.

So, first round is on me.  At the, uh, water fountain, I guess.

Best,
Mr. P.

First, thank you all for the kind words.  I hope Mrs. P. does make a few entries here.  I repeatedly get disappointed with myself for not updating in a week or two.  So, that's the last time I'll mention hiatus, discontinuation, or paucity of posting.  I'll post when there's something worth writing.  There just hasn't been.  And today there was.

I couldn't pass this up, and since I'm still waiting for two intakes to complete paperwork.

Iowa Deputies Seek Serial Vomit Dumper

There are an estimated 34 million blogs right now, according to Technorati. Many of them must be defunct. I think this is now one of them. Otherwise, I'm on an indefinite hiatus, awaiting inspiration.

Best,
Mr. P.

I've been overwhelmed at work recently, and today was not just "no exception," but an absolute pinnacle. I had a case in the ER, a 13 year-old boy, moderate mental retardation, autistic, paranoid schizophrenia, post-traumatic stress disorder, who was smearing feces (which he did not eliminate, but rather, um, extracted), eating non-food objects (clumps of grass, strands of carpet fiber, furniture), and assaulting others. No hospital could take him. The psychiatric beds wouldn't accept persons with developmental disabilities, and the developmental disability facilities required approval for admission by the "Community Evaluation Team" which doesn't exist in this region.  I have been working on this case since 2:00pm, and finally got that kid placed at 9:45.  Whew.  What a day. 

So I come home to find this story.  Research has shown that "goth" kids are far more likely to participate in "self-harm" behaviors, like cutting, burning, and punching themselves.   Have you ever spoken to a goth kid?  That's pretty much a defining factor. 

I should have more to say about that, but I'm mentally exhausted.  Perhaps you have thoughts.  Comments especially welcome on this subject.



Best,

Mr. P.

What would you like to talk about today? I have been shy of ideas, bored by most political issues, and disinterested in posting the few amusing news stories I've strolled across. Work has been very busy, but I've just about caught up from the week and a half awaiting the arrival of my computer.

So, unless a lot of ER calls come in, I'm open for discussion. One topic I'd like to write a bit about is the "victim as hero" and "actual hero just doing his/her job" problem with societal perspective. Jill Carroll is a ready example. A victim who survived her trauma, she apparently did nothing heroic but survive. Plenty of respect for the trauma experienced, but that doesn't make her a heroine. Does it?

Happy Friday,
Mr. P.

PS - Seth won the contest for, "I guess our girls are just naturally good at spelling," said head nun Mother Australopithecus"

Honorable mention to Mr. O. for Librarians win 403.122.35 to nun because who doesn't love a Dewey Decimal System joke?

Seth, you have my email address. I need an address where you would like your Fabulous Prize, Once Owned By But No Longer Desired By Mr. Parx, And Chosen Just For You sent. If you want to know what it is, this is the only mention of it I found (in the first three pages of my Googling.)

...I'll have some time to post. My office was moved, and I don't have a computer at the new one yet. And I've been on call. Some bizarre cases in the ER. Please check back soon.


Best,
Mr. P.

Just some random bits:

Our preparations for St. Patrick's Day in Savannah are nearly complete.  We didn't have much to do this year.  Cleaned the house and purchased the fixings for "Shambled Eggs," the traditional breakfast fare we bring to Brother Spencer's drunken brunch each year.  Now enjoying a Jameson's while My Darling Wife finishes cutting Young Ryan's hair.   He's 26, but she's taken him under her wing. [Mrs. P. interjects - "Because he's 26! You canna take in a lad who's passed the thirty!"]

Some fine info passed on from my mother-in-law:  Apparently, you're only at risk for cirrhosis if you don't eat when you drink.  My experience certainly agrees with that.  The alcoholics I work with are in for a much more difficult detoxification if they have recently been unable to stomach food and can only digest alcohol.  They always shake and vomit the worst.  [Mrs. P. interjects "it's more along da lines of 'don't substitute booze for allaya meals!'"}

My Darling Wife had to call me when she saw the following bumper sticker:  Jesus helps me trick people.  That mde me laugh out loud.  [Mrs. P. interjected before the story, so she had nothing to say here. For once. For once!!]

I received a call from the little big man, Jason (who foolishly moved away, and is already regretting it), with a request to write a toast for a ladyfriend of his.  It's a Guinness-related toast of some sort.  Here were my efforts:

A toast to the Guinness and the glass in our hand
And a toast to our forebears in old Ireland
For we've taken this day as our own in this nation
To celebrate life without moderation
So rejoice in this day,
For it's yours to embrace,
But keep your feet grounded,
Lest you land on your face!

and

Here's to the bar, that holds up our glasses
And one to the chairs, which cradle our Lasses,
And let's toast the glasses, that keep Guinness from spillin'
And here's to the Guinness that keeps us all willin'
And a toast to the day which brought us all here,
St. Patrick be praised, Now Shut Up and Drink Your Beer!

[Mrs. P. interjects - loverly toasts, my Darling!! And we certainly miss you, Mr. Jason.]

Should be quite a time tomorrow.  Expected weather, high of 78 degrees, 0% chance of precipitation.  Expected crowd of 400,000.  Expected BAL of Mr. P:  .321 [Mrs. P. interjects - once upon a time, she wanted to be a meterologist. And she would have made the prediction so much better for Friday. Because gracious, does she care!]

[Mrs. P. interjects - again?!?! This woman can't keep her yap shut...And don't forget the biggest thing, my love, The Ray Davies on Saturday, because if this book doesn't get published, this is the only chance we'll ever have. Or dis is da o'ly chaynce we'rd eved hayd ta see da Rrrray. Oh, Ray! See you Saturday!!]
Best, [Mrs. P. interjects - a couple of whiskeys in but still ready to tackle the laundry - Best, also! From me, too.]
Mr. Parx

PS - My Darling Wife will no longer be invited to preview the postings.  That's a lot of interjections, that is.
[Mrs. P. interjects - darn!]