World News This Morning
The RRR presents once more the little items you may have missed:
The Supreme Court Decided on the Bulldozer issue. From now on local municipalities will be able to condemn and seize private property not just for public works, or because the property is run down and dangerous, but if they consider taking it would serve the greater public good. In other words, if the county or municipality would realize more tax revenue from someone else owning your property, you're out. Family farms can go under the ax for corporate ones. Clean, well maintained neighborhoods can be bulldozed to build Sprawl Marts. Like the Big Fish said in Arthur, “It's power, it's all in the end about power.”
Armadillos have made it to Iowa! The first road kill was spotted on a highway just over the border from Missouri. Old Texas joke: Why did the chicken cross the road? To show the armadillos it could be done.
Wednesday the RRR went straight from work on the Kiddie Psych unit over the the VA to stand in line. I actually arrived early enough to get into the tiny outpatient parking area by the front entrance. Wandering into the maw of the labyrinth, I eventually found the x ray department, as the new politically correct name for it is “Electronic Imaging”. I'd drunk the nasty barium (coconut flavored) [500 ml., made in Canada]. I came prepared with a paperback to read, some cheesy western, no one has written a western since the deaths of Zane Grey and Louis L'Amour. Eventually the nurse called my name. And I walked into... the Chamber of Horrors. To my readers, a simple Cat Scan room, to me, who lay there unmedicated once as a Dr. with a strong South East Asian accent did a liver biopsy, a high stress environment. The nurse tried to start an IV in my left hand. I could have patiently explained that you DON'T start an IV in an ex-junky's left hand if he's right handed. The veins are the consistency of silicone tubing and roll like skateboard wheels. But I've long since learned that telling a nurse she isn't starting an IV correctly is like telling a cop who's stopped you he isn't writing out the ticket right, you're giving someone with the power to hurt you an excuse to do so. She quickly discovered her error and apologized, then went for the left antecubital space as she should have to begin with. The slide in and out of the radioactive donut was without incident. She refused to let me look at the pictures of my own body and I left.
Out in the parking lot, latecomers were now circling, waiting for someone to leave so they could have the prime parking in the shade, close to the door. I considered walking up to the first in line and explaining that I had worked all night and was going to nap in the car now for a half hour, but would do it somewhere else for say... $10? I did not. But drove home with the anxiety of not knowing the extent of my liver damage nor the presence or absence of “masses” (hospital code for cancer) until my specialist returns from vacation next week and deigns to tell me about my own body.
Wednesday evening was Bible Study at the chapel. Elder James led us through another chapter in the New Testament a verse at a time. How I love expository preaching. Not invented till after the Civil War, by the way, by the personal chaplain to Stonewall Jackson and Robert E. Lee who started Southern Baptist Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky. His instruction manual on preaching is still in print and still one of the best. After chapel, Mrs. RRR and I went to George's Steak House in Pella, Iowa for a late supper. Wednesday is pork chop special night. Elder and Mrs. James and Elder and Mrs. Raymond joined us. Amazingly, the best pork chops and pizza in Iowa are at a Greek steakhouse in a Dutch tourist trap. Life is interesting, if never benign.
Thursday morning I got up at 0445 with Mrs. RRR and fixed her coffee and tea and homemade juice and sent her off to open the pool for the obsessive-compulsive lap swimmers. Then I busied my self about the homestead, my major accomplishment being the construction of a new trash burner from concrete slabs. We now can burn trash in a bunker that would stand up to a cruise missile. Then I showered, changed into uniform and went for deputy training at the court house. Last night was handcuff night. This old man limped home groaning and still ache this morning. People being arrested should just stand quietly and let themselves be cuffed. Resisting arrest is too tough on elderly part time cops.
Have a great Friday, Ranger Readers.
The Supreme Court Decided on the Bulldozer issue. From now on local municipalities will be able to condemn and seize private property not just for public works, or because the property is run down and dangerous, but if they consider taking it would serve the greater public good. In other words, if the county or municipality would realize more tax revenue from someone else owning your property, you're out. Family farms can go under the ax for corporate ones. Clean, well maintained neighborhoods can be bulldozed to build Sprawl Marts. Like the Big Fish said in Arthur, “It's power, it's all in the end about power.”
Armadillos have made it to Iowa! The first road kill was spotted on a highway just over the border from Missouri. Old Texas joke: Why did the chicken cross the road? To show the armadillos it could be done.
Wednesday the RRR went straight from work on the Kiddie Psych unit over the the VA to stand in line. I actually arrived early enough to get into the tiny outpatient parking area by the front entrance. Wandering into the maw of the labyrinth, I eventually found the x ray department, as the new politically correct name for it is “Electronic Imaging”. I'd drunk the nasty barium (coconut flavored) [500 ml., made in Canada]. I came prepared with a paperback to read, some cheesy western, no one has written a western since the deaths of Zane Grey and Louis L'Amour. Eventually the nurse called my name. And I walked into... the Chamber of Horrors. To my readers, a simple Cat Scan room, to me, who lay there unmedicated once as a Dr. with a strong South East Asian accent did a liver biopsy, a high stress environment. The nurse tried to start an IV in my left hand. I could have patiently explained that you DON'T start an IV in an ex-junky's left hand if he's right handed. The veins are the consistency of silicone tubing and roll like skateboard wheels. But I've long since learned that telling a nurse she isn't starting an IV correctly is like telling a cop who's stopped you he isn't writing out the ticket right, you're giving someone with the power to hurt you an excuse to do so. She quickly discovered her error and apologized, then went for the left antecubital space as she should have to begin with. The slide in and out of the radioactive donut was without incident. She refused to let me look at the pictures of my own body and I left.
Out in the parking lot, latecomers were now circling, waiting for someone to leave so they could have the prime parking in the shade, close to the door. I considered walking up to the first in line and explaining that I had worked all night and was going to nap in the car now for a half hour, but would do it somewhere else for say... $10? I did not. But drove home with the anxiety of not knowing the extent of my liver damage nor the presence or absence of “masses” (hospital code for cancer) until my specialist returns from vacation next week and deigns to tell me about my own body.
Wednesday evening was Bible Study at the chapel. Elder James led us through another chapter in the New Testament a verse at a time. How I love expository preaching. Not invented till after the Civil War, by the way, by the personal chaplain to Stonewall Jackson and Robert E. Lee who started Southern Baptist Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky. His instruction manual on preaching is still in print and still one of the best. After chapel, Mrs. RRR and I went to George's Steak House in Pella, Iowa for a late supper. Wednesday is pork chop special night. Elder and Mrs. James and Elder and Mrs. Raymond joined us. Amazingly, the best pork chops and pizza in Iowa are at a Greek steakhouse in a Dutch tourist trap. Life is interesting, if never benign.
Thursday morning I got up at 0445 with Mrs. RRR and fixed her coffee and tea and homemade juice and sent her off to open the pool for the obsessive-compulsive lap swimmers. Then I busied my self about the homestead, my major accomplishment being the construction of a new trash burner from concrete slabs. We now can burn trash in a bunker that would stand up to a cruise missile. Then I showered, changed into uniform and went for deputy training at the court house. Last night was handcuff night. This old man limped home groaning and still ache this morning. People being arrested should just stand quietly and let themselves be cuffed. Resisting arrest is too tough on elderly part time cops.
Have a great Friday, Ranger Readers.
posted by Shamgar | 7:18 AM
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