Eight Feet Deep

This is not an X-ray of my cervical spine. I just found the facial expression, grimace if you will, interesting. It seems you can’t really make out the facial expressions in most X-rays but I’d be willing to bet that a vast majority of those people having X-rays are not smiling. It’s just a guess. I don’t have scientific proof.

I am waiting to hear back from the VA clinic as to when I might get to see my doctor for this horrific neck and back pain. I don’t know what the doc will be able to do for me since putting me out of my misery doesn’t seem a viable option. Sorry to bum you out. Pain doesn’t put me in the brightest of mindsets.

If I was working in an office I’d probably start a treatment pool. Each person pays a couple of bucks and gets to guess what course of treatment my VA doctor will prescribe. A shot of cortisone? Morphine? Muscle relaxers? Cervical collar? X-rays? MRI? Physical therapy? Referral to a neurosurgeon? I’ve been through all of this before so I know all the options. But I don’t know what’s in my doctor’s mind and even if I did I probably would have a difficult time processing a lot of what he was thinking because I imagine he thinks in the Tagalog language.

Oh well, so much for painful musings. I’m starting to bum ME out and that won’t do. So I’ll just see what happens and let you know, even if you don’t really want to know. How’s that for a deal?

Quite a game UT Austin pulled off in the Rose Bowl with a 41-38 nail-biter against USC to win the national championship. I didn’t know how it was all going to come out, which means it was a good football game. That’s something you don’t always see these days.

I’ve been in severe pain all day and eating Vicodin like it was Lifesavers to little effect, so it’s nice to have something positive at the end of a long, painful day. Oh that, and the cable guy came out and may have come up with a semi-permanent solution to my Roadrunner problems. I’d elaborate but I just don’t have it in me right now and I want to lay down my weary head and neck both of which feel as if someone has been beating it with a two-by-four. Perhaps I’ll go to the doctor tomorrow if I feel the same. Right now, I’ve got to see if I can sleep. Ta.

It is dry here in the Southeast edge of Texas. But it isn’t as dry as areas to the north and west of here where wildfires are doing some serious damage. I hope it stays that way.

Almost a quarter-million acres of land have been scorched in Texas since Dec. 26, 2005, according to the Governor’s Office of Emergency Management. Some 238 homes have burned since that time and the fires have caused several fatalities.

More than 20 years ago I worked as a municipal firefighter in a town of about 30,000 people. Primarily we fought structure fires — houses and buildings — but we also battled our share of grass and woods fires. Grass fires can be downright scary. I mean, you wouldn’t think of grass burning as particularly scary compared, say to a huge warehouse or home on fire. But they are deceptively frightening.

I remember this fire one time in a pasture. It was on a spring day with extremely low humidity and gusty winds. My acting lieutenant and I drove our fire engine out in the pasture and the big vehicle got stuck. I can’t remember if I was driving or if Ron was. It didn’t matter.

Very quickly the small fire we were fighting turned bigger and we soon were out of water. I remember using pine tops and even my bunker coat in a feeble attempt to beat out the flames which soon became head high. Luckily, our lieutenant (who was off duty that day) happened to be at our station and heard our radio call for help. He drove out a reserve engine we had at the station which had a hose on a front bumper platform. Unlike our motionless pumper, which was in danger of being torched, this reserve truck could be driven while water was being pumped through the hoses. It saved old Engine 318 and may have saved me. That experience gave me a new, healthy respect for grass fires.

Hopefully the firefighters battling these blazes in Texas, Oklahoma and elsewhere will get a handle on all the blazes. I also hope they stay safe doing it.

Once upon a time something existed called monopolies. Then anti-trust laws were enacted and enforced to break up monopolies. Remember Ma Bell? Well, apparently no one remembers this anymore. Big companies, big gigantic, enormous, all consuming humongus, freaking companies now rule the world. Forget the Red Scare, we all have been made subservient to large corporations. Time Warner is a good example. Now I have always liked Time magazine and Warner Bros. films and CNN but the company is just out of control. And my cable and Internet company, Time Warner Cable, does have a monopoly in my city.

As I mentioned yesterday I have had problems with my so-called “high-speed” Internet Roadrunner service. It’s not high-speed and it just quits working for large portions of the day. And the company says they will send a repair person out 1) when hell freezes over 2)whenever they like 3)never, may you rot in hell 4)when you decide you no longer want the company’s services. Take your pick.

Well, I guess I don’t need Internet service anyway, huh? I’m just a writer. I can get out that old Smith-Corona and pound out hard copy draft after hard copy draft and send it by the U.S. Mail. I’ll surely be competing in the market place that way.

It is funny when politicians talk about the importance of small businesses. It’s funny sad, not funny ha, ha. Actually, it’s not funny at all. The politicians are all talking through their asses because they don’t give a s**t about small businesses. They care about the meglacorps like Time Warner. Who can’t get off their asses and make my Internet service work like it should. I suppose they are too busy raising funds for their PACs. Oh well. It’s not like I’m cynical.

The guy who lives in the apartment next to me violated his parole. He was only five months away from finishing his parole when, on New Year’s Eve, he took off his electronic monitoring bracelet and was apparently on his way to Mississippi when he was caught.

I don’t feel sorry for him. He’s a convicted child molester, one of two who live in my small apartment complex. Some great company, huh? I had no say over their moving in here.

This neighbor who violated his parole spent about 10 years in prison for indecency with an 11-year-old child. I looked up his record on PublicData the other day and found it was his second time in the joint. The first time was 7 years for burglary in Mississippi.

I only mention the episode because it raises the whole can of worms that is deviant behavior. I guess the question can be asked: Why do people commit acts that can land them years in prison? Then the second question: Why do people get themselves in trouble all over again?

Perhaps incarceration is a deterrent to some and not to others. It’s certainly a deterrent to me. When I had to interview someone in jail or in prison, just hearing those hard steel doors clang shut behind me sent a shiver up my spine. It said: “Be good.” Or at least, be legal. Human beings are some weird creatures aren’t they?