...woke up feeling like 3.6 Roentgens*--not good, not terrible--and got to work about the usual time. But I felt fuzzy-headed and thick almost the entire day. The gut pain has changed a bit, moved a little bit south. I couldn't really concentrate.
Still, my semi-random flailing managed to accomplish a few small things, and one of the last things I did before leaving work was to make a list of things I want to accomplish this week. So at least I've got that much going for me.
* Chernobyl mini-series joke.
* * *
This explains why the book was "de-published" anyway. Remember the idiot Naomi Wolf trying to show that homosexuals were persecuted in 19th century England, but it was fail because she misunderstood how legal terminology was applied at that time?
"The gist of the argument in the book was that 19th Century England executed people for engaging in consensual male homosexual sex," says Karl Denninger in the post. Except that wasn't so; those found guilty weren't subjected to capital punishment.
Well, it also develops that the "consensual sex" may not have been all that consensual. It might, in fact, have been homosexual rape that was taking place. That's probably why the book was recycled into firelighters; it showed something no one on the left wants to make known.
* * *
Hillary Clinton running for President in 2020 would be one of the grandest spectacles we've ever seen in American politics because I don't think the electoral college map has ever been monochromatic before. I mean, heck, even when Nixon thrashed McGovern and Reagan eradicated Mondale there were still a couple of lefty holdouts.
Hint: it would be red.
* * *
The American news media is beclowning itself in an effort not to say anything positive about President Trump. To the point that the obit for a dead terrorist conveniently doesn't mention the fact that he was the head man of (or at least a major leader in) ISIS.
* * *
I always thought that was horseshit. I always inspected my candy after getting home but I--like everyone else--never found any needles or razor blades or poison or anything.
And in the 1970s, hackers hadn't even been invented yet, let alone USB drives (with or without malicious payloads in them).
* * *
Just go ahead and keep fucking that chicken, Democrats. It's a waste of time to impeach Trump, and your constant harping on your invented non-scandals will only drive more voters away from you.
* * *
I no longer know what the hell is going on in my abdomen. The pain moved, as I said, a bit further south. I still have mild to moderate pain where it was hurting me before, but mostly now the pain is closer to my groin. That would/should/IDK mean "kidney stone" but why only a trace of blood in the urine, then?
And when I get up or sit down, my back yells at me from the same place it has yelled many times in the past. Not always, though. Just "usually".
I think the latter is happening because I strained something trying to avoid pain from the affected diverticulum, but I don't really know.
When it does hurt, it's about the same magnitude as before. No real change there. Except, of course, that it's easier to get it to go away. Sit down, relax, gone. May or may not take a few minutes, but it'll go away once I'm not standing any longer.
Still have a healthy appetite, though. Had another one of those huge Schoop's double cheeseburgers for lunch--no fries this time--and ate it all without trouble. Six hours later and I'm hungry again. In general, my abdomen feels fine, too. Above the navel I'm right as rain.
Last week at this time I was suffering the aftereffects of two McRib sandwiches, and I think they are why my gut felt so crappy. I do know I never want another one of those things, not after last week's experience. It should have been fine--everything but the pickles and onions were low-residue--but evidently there was something wrong with those particular sandwiches.
Trichinosis--wouldn't that be a party? But that's really rare, and McRibs are so highly processed I doubt it. I've given some thought to parasitic infections but none of them make sense, either. And anyway, all this started before McRib season did.
Tomorrow's the next follow-up appointment. I've got a fiver that says they're still stumped. I wonder if a plain old cheap X-ray would show anything useful?
* * *
Anyway, daylight savings time is about to end. (Sunday morning, 2 AM.) That means that the sun will be rising at 6:30-ish instead of 7:30-ish, but it'll be setting at 6-ish instead of 7-ish. Before too much longer I'll be driving to work in the predawn and driving home at dusk.
And the snows will come. And the ice. "And what do you, child of summer, know of winter?"
I've been thinking about the stories, and realized that AV is turning into the big introduction to my SF universe. And I was thinking about the story I still want to write--an actually good SF version of the first novel I ever wrote--and what a good way to begin it would be.
And so I decided on a first sentence:
For as long as I can remember, I have always wanted to fly.The main character of the story is the scion of a long line of politicians, and is the first in three generations not to enter politics right out of graduate school; and the first in...several...to avoid the field entirely. Instead, he defies his parents' wishes and joins the Naval academy, and becomes an aviator.
Well--what they call an "aviator". He flies attack fighters in space, and has many bold adventures, and it's going to be incredibly different from what the original story looks like. Especially since that original story has been under lock and key (and lock) for at least thirty years. FFS, I started writing that thing forty years ago.
Anyway--that's a tale for another time.