Another reason to vote for Hillary. The Children’s Health Insurance Program.
Here, you’ll need this.
Societies are judged by what they do for their most vulnerable.
My thanks to Crooks and Liars.com who showed me this video.
We all knew it would be a shit storm when the GOP got together to nominate Donald Trump in Cleveland. But even I didn’t think it would actually turn into a a convention hall where folks would be running for the bathrooms instead of the exits.
Apparently, though, they are. Because the GOP doesn’t just have a shitty candidate, they have norovirus:
The virus can be caught through contact from infected people or surfaces, or through consuming contaminated food or water. Norovirus inflames the stomach, the intestines, or both. Symptoms include stomach pain, nausea, diarrhea and vomiting. (Washington Post)
Of course, their candidate has been producing shit from his mouth and making the rest of the world vomit and crap their pants in fear since he announced he was running last year. And then again each time he speaks.
But with the norovirus taking hold of the delegates, I’m wondering if Mr. Trump needs a new form of transportation to make sure those delegates fill the convention hall to listen to the crazy line up of misogynists, racists and fear mongers.
Don’t you think that they should be riding in this fine vehicle:
You’ve no doubt heard the news from last night.
The GOP voted down four different measures designed to protect you and me. Designed to keep folks on the terror watch list from getting assault weapons. They did this in spite of the fact that:
A new poll from CNN shows 92 percent of Americans support expanded background checks and 85 percent support preventing those on terror watch lists from buying guns. As we’ll explain in the post below, though, none of the below proposals aimed at these things are likely to pass. (Washington Post — https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/the-fix/wp/2016/06/20/the-senate-will-vote-on-4-gun-control-proposals-monday-heres-everything-you-need-to-know/) Emphasis added.
Senator Chris Murphy, who I am proud to say represents my home state of Connecticut in the Senate said the following:
“We’ve got to make this clear, constant case that Republicans have decided to sell weapons to ISIS,” [Senator Chris] Murphy said, using an alternative term for the Islamic State militant group. “That’s what they’ve decided to do. ISIS has decided that the assault weapon is the new airplane, and Republicans, in refusing to close the terror gap, refusing to pass bans on assault weapons, are allowing these weapons to get in the hands of potential lone-wolf attackers. We’ve got to make this connection and make it in very stark terms.” (Daily Kos — http://www.dailykos.com/stories/2016/6/21/1540914/–ISIS-has-decided-that-the-assault-weapon-is-the-new-airplane).
Senator Murphy made clear that he will look to November, to make sure that those opposed to gun sanity don’t return to the Senate. That’s just what I’m going to do. So here’s where to start:
All Democrats favored the Democratic version of a bill to restrict assault weapons from folks on the no fly list except the following: Joe Manchin of West Virginia, Jon Tester of Montana, and Sen. Heidi Heitkamp of North Dakota. ALL Republicans voted against sensible gun laws except Sen. Mark Kirk (R-Ill.) who backed it; he voted with Democrats on all four measures.
Like many Americans, I’m overweight. Mostly I’ve accepted what I look like. At least I do until someone pulls out a camera. Then I use my handy line:
“Do I have time for liposuction?”
Sadly, there’s never enough time for liposuction; they usually take the picture anyway. And when I see it I wish someone would suck away the extra bits and bobs.
Few things make me laugh harder than the idea of liposuction. I first learned of it in 1986. I was in the reception area of one of my then-clients, chatting with his secretary, Cindy, a constant dieter, when she announced:
“Did you know you can vacuum your fat away?” Cindy told me. “It’s a thing called Lip-O-Suction. They stick this little gizmo in your fat lumps and vacuum the fat out!”
“Why diet when you can vacuum!” I replied. Me and Cindy laughed and laughed. You just can’t tell me it isn’t a hilarious image: Women lining up in front of the Hoover before a date.
Now, though, there is a weight loss gadget that makes even liposuction pale in silliness. Because folks have been busily inventing even sillier ways to get folks thin. Or thinner. Or, to totally disrupt their GI tract.
Introducing The Aspire Assist. A personal stomach pump. Yeah, I thought they were making it up, too.
The Aspire Assist helps with weight loss because it empties up to 30% of the contents of your stomach into the toilet. Before it reaches the inside or the outside of your butt. Before that cherry pie becomes love handles. Before those abs look more like a case than a six-pack.
According to this article here’s how it works.
Patients have a tube inserted into their stomachs then threaded out through an incision in the abdomen and capped with a poker chip–sized “Skin Port” valve.[…] Twenty minutes after eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner, the patient attaches a handheld device to the Skin Port and empties 30 percent of the contents of his or her stomach into the toilet.
Twenty minutes is enough time for your brain to be convinced that you are full, but not enough time for your stomach to digest the food, the inventors say, and that means 30 percent of the calories from your meal magically disappear.
Sounds too good to be true, ammirite? You can have all the benefits of bulimia without puking! Whoo-hoo!
Of course, as a fake medical professional, I have questions:
Go ahead. I dare you to watch this. (I didn’t. Ewwwwww.)
I bet you didn’t play that video. I’ll also wager you’re not gonna get an Aspire Assist. anybody who has read this far is of above-average intelligence and has a seriously awesome sense of humor.
Some funny things should be enjoyed but definitely not be taken to heart. Or to stomach. Or drained into the toilet.
And some are just too weird to believe.
Well, it’s been a while since I discussed the topic that is near and dear to my, ummm, heart.
Poop transplants! — The ultimate solution to my Crohn’s disease woes.
OK, it’s nearer to my hiney, but you can’t claim you weren’t expecting that.
Earlier today I was discussing my future poop transplant with my boss. (It’s true, I have no pride what so ever.) She’s very interested in the idea. She wants me healthy, of course, but really, I think she wants to see what happens from a scientific perspective. And, frankly, I can’t blame her. I want to know what’ll happen from a scientific point of view, too. And from the perspective of a toilet paper consumer.
You may recall that I’ve mentioned that you have to be very choosy when choosing a poop donor. If the donor is fat, or depressed, or psychotic, well, the recipient can become fat, or depressed or psychotic. I haven’t researched what happens if you choose someone immature, though. Perhaps I should.
Anyway, the issue was on my mind tonight when I began reading the news. And I found my donor!
He is young and healthy, albeit a little younger than I was thinking of; he’s living in Florida with his mother. In fact, it was his mom who brought him to my attention. Well, and to the attention of people with a deep seated interest in poop.
One day Katy Vasquez discovered that the Lord moves in mysterious ways. And goes into mysterious places. Because, You see, one day when she was changing his diaper, she saw this sign that things were going to get better.:
It’s Holy Shit! What more could I ask for from a donor?
Dr. C wiped a tear from her eye, hugged me and laughed as she walked me out of the examination room after my semi-annual tune up the other day.
“I have never had this much fun during a consultation, Elyse,” she said.
I love this doctor, my gastroenterologist. She is bright, listens, figures out the best treatment for me, and incredibly importantly for me, she has a fabulous sense of humor. That’s incredibly rare for a gastroenterologist as I’ve mentioned before.
“I’ve been keeping up with all the research on poop transplants,” I told her.
“Yes! It’s fascinating, isn’t it?”
Even though they aren’t currently being used for IBDs like mine, well, I do keep up with the research. Obviously, you do too. Why else would you be reading this post about poop?
Did I lose you there?
Our discussion continued down that same hole …
“I read that you have to be very careful who you get one from,” I said, proud of the depth of my knowledge. “I read that if you get one from a grumpy person, or a depressed one, you can take on these traits. Or fat people (thanks, Carrie!)”
“I actually have a patient who had a poop transplant. She had c difficile, and the transplant came from a heavy person. She’s actually gained a lot of weight!”
“I used to think I’d get one from my husband. But he’s kind of a curmudgeon, and he has risks of a couple of other diseases that I don’t want to get.* But mostly it’s the curmudgeon thing. I don’t want to become a crank. Besides, he refuses to laugh at my jokes. Since I’m often the only one laughing, taking his shit might make my career as a humor blogger short-lived.”
“You’ll have to just tell him to keep his shit to himself!” Dr. C said, roaring with laughter. Suddenly she realized, oh shit! I’m talking to a patient!
“‘My doctor says you have to keep your shit to yourself!’ — That’s what I’ll tell him! –Maybe then, he’ll stop leaving his crap all over the kitchen counter!”
“Maybe you have to get your poop transplant from a model — a smart and beautiful one. You don’t want to get your poop transfer from somebody stupid, because we don’t yet know if it can impact your IQ. So you should choose somebody really smart — a scientist might be good.”
I looked over at her. She’s healthy. She’s slender. She’s smart. She has curly hair like mine.
“I want a poop transfer from you!” I announced.
She quieted her laugh for a moment.
Uh-oh, I though. I’ve gone too far.
“You know, that may be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
We both roared with laughter.
“Great. Lemme know when they figure out that poop transplants really do work on Crohn’s. I’ll bring the sterile cup.”
* Nobody can say I don’t protect my husband’s privacy. Ammirite?
While this blog was awaiting publication, I found this article in my inbox:
By Jef Akst
Commensal bacterial living in the gastrointestinal tracts of cockroaches lace the insects’ feces with chemical cues that mediate social behavior, according to a study.
Lord, why me?
Every day of my life, I thank my lucky stars when I get up, go into my clean bathroom, and take care of business.
Some days of my life, I’m less thankful when I am somewhere where the only “facilities” have no running water. No handle to push. No way to wash my hands.
Of course, with my potty problems, I guess I’m more in tune to toilet issues than most people.
Why am I telling you this? You see, Thursday, November 19, is World Toilet Day. And of course, I’m (1) telling you about it; and (2) celebrating it.
The point of World Toilet Day is actually pretty important. People without access to hygienic facilities risk illness, many women are preyed upon and attacked as they seek out a place to go. Diseases are transmitted, including infections, cholera, well, here’s a picture.
Hope you’re not eating.
World Toilet Day is to help the fortunate ones of us around the world realize that:
2.4 billion people around the world don’t have access to decent sanitation and more than a billion are forced to defecate in the open, risking disease and other dangers, according to the United Nations
We in the West are rather spoiled. And the reality of what some folks, many folks must deal with can be eye-opening.
About 25 years ago, my friend Ed got a grant and went to Africa to study something or other. It was his first experience visiting the Third World. When he came back, he talked only about poop.
It seemed that the city he had visited ran with raw sewage. Poop was in the gutters. Children played in those gutters. The sewage ran into the river that was used to irrigate crops.
Piles of poop were everywhere. In the street. Under trees. In the corners of buildings; everywhere, he said. Even inside. Ed described a memorable elevator in the middle of a hotel lobby, that he had seen. The decorative ironwork around the elevator shaft was delicate and beautiful. But the elevator didn’t run — in fact, the elevator itself had been removed. But people would stand with their backs to the elevator shaft, pull down their pants/up their skirts, hang their butts over the open elevator shaft. And they’d poop.
“I realized something incredibly important, “ said my horrified friend:
So when you’re thinking about the craziness in today’s world, maybe we all need to realize that part of our problem is that so very many people just don’t have a pot to piss in.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.