For a change, good news! Well, mostly...

Yesterday afternoon, during a break from resting on the divan, I noticed that my sister had sent me an instant message advising me that my dad's new employer had let him go with no real reason given.

My immediate thought (and that of my sister as well) was that the employer had somehow gotten wind of my dad's cancer and gave him the sack to avoid insurance premiums down the road when he became eligible. Naturally, this did very little to improve my mood.

Sometimes words just don't suffice and one needs to start saying things with brickbats and broken bottles...

Fortunately (for them), some good news came along — which, I must say, was a welcome change. It's very tiring being perpetually screwed up in anticipation of something awful popping out at you when there's absolutely nothing at all that you can do to make things better. But, I digress.

Dad had an appointment today to have a bone marrow biopsy after which he met with the doctor who went over the results of the CT scan from yesterday and today's biopsy.

The CT scan and biopsy were both very, very good.

It turns out that the cancer has NOT spread like they initially thought. In fact, the cancer is localized in his skin on the spot on his leg. If I recall correctly, Mom said the doctors called it cutaneous large cell lymphoma. Or something. Regardless, it can be treated with Prednisone and localized radiation therapy. Mom also said that the doctor said that he (Dad) would die of other causes long before the cancer would carry him off — which, of course, is very, very good news.

Maybe I'll finally get a relatively decent night's sleep for a change instead of lying awake and worrying about my folks and being angry about the fucked up health care system (or lack thereof) in this country. Well, no, I'm still angry about the ghastliness of the American health care system. Clearly (as one political cartoonist put it), the President thinks it is better that we're sick than socialist.

Meditating on Being and Not Being... Or 'Look, Alex, a post!'

Have you ever had moments where you contemplate being and not being? F'rinstance, thinking about how and who you are (and why). Conversely, I find it makes me wonder about not being and how it would effect things and people and why — how have I effected my friends and colleagues. Would they be any different by not knowing me if I didn't exist? Why would it? Do we (or I) really have that much of an impact on anyone that it'd matter a jot if I were to disappear into nothing tomorrow ? Would anyone notice? Would anyone give a faint half damn?

Anyway.

Dad went into the oncologist yesterday. My mom was a trifle distrait — between my nephew M. having an accident and knocking out two permanent teeth and damaging four others and having to get him to the dentist and the oncologist, it's no wonder... — but sent me a link to some information on what the doctor thinks is what the guv'nor has: click here.

From what I understood my mother to say, dad has Stage IV of this stuff. For years, he's had problems with dry skin and whatnot that dermatologists just prescribed various ointments and creams. No one thought anything about it as his job has him creeping about in buildings pulling wire and whatnot and everyone just figured that it was owing to contact with unpleasant chemicals or substances and whatnot. I dunno.

At any rate, he's schedule to go in for a bone marrow biopsy on Friday afternoon.

In other (more pleasant news), I'm finally buying my new Docs on Friday. I decided that I needed to splurge and give myself something I will enjoy for my birthday. Besides, a little retail therapy always helps brace one up.

Alex sent me this link.

I have to say it. I know people will be shocked, appalled, horrified and take me to task; but, the murderers need to be hanged. Yes, they're teen-agers. Does that matter? No. They murdered someone and viciously attacked someone else. No amount of remorse, snivelling, 'they came from broken homes, drinking parents, etc.' will change the fact that these monsters (and monsters they are) killed an innocent woman and viciously attacked her boyfriend. Like rabid animals, they should be put down - both as an example to others that this sort of behaviour will not be tolerated and as a measure to protect society from any further actions on their part. Besides, a length of rope, a scaffold, and an executioner are far less expensive than maintaining them in prison and teaching them how to make tapestry drink coasters for the remainder of their natural days.

On a much brighter note: clickeh.

I'd like to go give her a pat, too. :)

Marcus Brigstocke Takes On The Abrahamic Faiths

I think this sums up my position quite nicely.

Enjoy!

These Boots Were Made for Stomping and Why I Hate Push-Cyclists

The above is a picture of the wonderful Doctor Marten Triumph 1914 fourteen eye Black Boot of Doom that I have decided that I Simply Must Have.

They are, as Dr. Echidna said, 'sexeh.' Best of all, they're only $150.00. I can't wait to get 'em. Next month, I'll be sporting the above boots and so will be prepared to kick people in the face or neck as the situation warrants.

Oh, and I hate push cyclists with a passion.

After work, I occasionally ankle my way across a bridge to go catch the No. 15 or 18 Downtown rather than take the ghastly 31 over to the University District where I transfer to another bus after an interminable wait and then transfer to yet another one at Jefferson and 23rd. It's an irksome commute that way.

Anyway, there is a narrow little flywalk for pedestrians across the bridge. Every evening, without fail, as I'm beetling along I hear a faint 'on your right' or 'on your left' or 'garble garble guh' from behind as some fucktard push-cyclist is riding along ON THE PEDESTRIAN PATH IN DIRECT CONTRAVENTION OF THE LAW.

Now, I don't claim to be overly concerned with whether or not people obey the laws. What they choose to do is their own concern and as long as it doesn't interfere with my day-to-day existence I couldn't give a faint half damn what they do.

Yet when some health nut decides to ride his push-cycle along the narrow pedestrian walkway rather than slither through traffic, I become irritable. It's not just there, either. You see them swerving in and out of pedestrians on sidewalks all over the bloody place. I've taken a Schwinn amidships because I hadn't an earthly that the fucktard was behind me.

And it isn't just them riding on the sidewalks that irks me. They irk me when they zoom along in their obnoxious swarms behaving like menaces to pedestrians and traffic. May their differential gears all rust and send them flying head over handlebars into a drainage ditch!

A pox upon their houses!

Enter the Critics Followed By A Disclaimer

On Friday, my friend Brent will be arriving at the Seattle-Tacoma Aerodrome for a weekend visit. His brother, Kyle, is here in Seattle for the summer and they are both very entertaining people with whom it is always a pleasure to biff around.

We have plans to go to The Mercury on Friday night after Brent arrives in town. For those who haven't an earthly what The Mercury is, I'll explain. The Mercury is a private goth/industrial nightclub on Capitol Hill in Seattle. In order to gain admittance, you must be accompanied by a current member and after going a number of times (roughly three to five - it depends on whether the doorkeeper remembers you), you pay ten dollars as a subscription and you're given right of entry. It's a great nightclub and I enjoy going there. It is blessedly free from such filth as Aberzombie and Fitch wearing meatheads and their poseur pseudo-Goth girlfriends. It is, in short, an oasis in the desert of ghastliness. Besides, the music is great.

Anyway, it should be an enjoyable time. On Saturday, we've discussed going to see Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. I have yet to see the movie and am looking forward to doing so. I enjoyed the book immensely and while I know that for the movie to be successful, parts will need to be excised owing to the massive length of the tome, I hope that the director will handle the story well.

Several of my friends and co-workers have seen the movie already and while I respect their right to form an opinion of the work, I can do without the unsolicited asseverations that 'the movie sucked!' or 'the movie was great!' that have been proferred. I'd like to develop my own judgement based on the merits of the movie without undue influence from others. I think that I am quite capable of forming an opinion of my own without input from anyone else. While I'm sure that it is well meant, please spare me the benefit of your wisdom until I, too, have seen the movie and am able to judge accordingly or unless I ask you directly for your opinion.

My apologies if I sound a trifle liverish, but there it is. If you think I'm directing this at you, you're most likely mistaken. However, should this assertion on my part fail to assuage your wounded breast, I'm sorry.