Originally Posted on Role/Reboot
I can’t believe he’s gone. As horrific and unlikely as the election of Donald Trump, the demise of Bill O’Reilly is almost as unbelievable but also wonderful and far, far overdue.
Bill’s life is a parade of continuous insult and cruelty, piped in the houses of old men who share the sentiment. It’s a safe space for curmudgeons to gather and dissect the many problems with “kids these days” and to throw around outdated terms for women and minorities. Continue reading
The price of a drug I need for a chronic condition was raised for no reason, but I paid because I was in pain.
I have gout and it hurts like hell whenever I have a flareup. It’s mostly under control these days, but a few months ago it wasn’t and my left toe was red, inflamed and in serious fucking pain. I have a few normal, proven techniques to deal with an attack, like diet and inflammatories, but this last attack could not be controlled. I limped off to the doctor, and she prescribed something I hadn’t taken since my first outbreak five years before—a drug called Colchicine.
In my vague memory, the drug costed a few bucks, perhaps no more than $20. Yet when I got to the pharmacy, the cost to fill the prescription was more than $150 for a few pills. The pharmacist was embarrassed and apologetic. I didn’t care. I was in pain and shelled out the money, and my very painful symptoms were gone in one day. Continue reading
Caution: Do no read this, unless you have the sense of humor of a 12-year-old. Also, every word of this is true:
I had to get my butthole snaked and probed. I had some gut issues, and they wanted to make sure everything was okay. Spoiler: It’s all fine. But one of the gifts of middle age is that your asshole is no longer a private matter. The doctor is always, “how’s the asshole Mr. Lyngar? Is your cock working okay?” and “why are you so fat?” I am paraphrasing, but these are the questions one must answer as routine after hitting 40 or so. Continue reading
On my vacation to Roatan, Honduras, almost no one wore life jackets and few boats even carried them. This fellow (below) had zero life jackets aboard. When I tried to talk to him about it, he just kept pointing out that this boat was named “Trust Me.” He was almost insulted that I asked.
When I insisted on putting life jackets on my children on the water taxis there, they were only ill-fitting type two jackets. Continue reading