Thursday's Thoughts...

...As much as my heart goes out to the people in Minneapolis affected by this, it just reiterates the capriciousness we are subjected to every minute of everyday.

• We put our lives in the hands of the government, fellow drivers, our neighbors and our family members. And in an instant, through no fault of our own, something completely out of left field comes along and changes things forever. We've all seen it at one time or another, to varying degrees.
  
  But in the long run, in this instance anyways, it all comes down to money and convenience. The drivers whom traversed that section of the interstate probably wouldn't have had the patience to put up with repairs and the state and federal government probably didn't have the money to fix it. So it ended up the way it did. Which is why, I suppose, we have that built-in something, whatever it is, that convinces us that no matter what, everything will be OK. I'm sure no one crossing that bridge last night thought it would end up in the river. After all, they'd crossed it thousands of times. Which is why I always expect the unexpected and never really trust anyone. It wouldn't have helped my ass much had I been on the bridge. But it wouldn't have surprised me. The Grim Reaper loves capriciousness. And, of course, we will now have everyone questioning all bridges and people getting all paranoid and shit. And to just add fuel to that fire, a report came out today that said that 72,983 bridges in America had a worse rating than the one that collapsed. Give ya pause?
  
  But I must admit, in my perverse thinking, I kinda feel like George Carlin would when a tragedy occurs. Only 4 dead? Come on, this is supposed to be a disaster. Four dead doesn't qualify as a disaster. Let's up the body count.
  
  
• I have another bone to pick with the medical profession. I went to the GP this morning. He had no recollection and no record of my anaphylaxis, even though he saw me initially, no idea that he and I agreed that I not take two of the medications that he prescribed and wondered how I was doing on said BP medicine that triggered the event. I understand there are good and bad MD's, and that they see a lot of patients and don't have time to study the records of everyone, but when it reaches the point where I have to recommend the next course of drugs I should be on, then I have some serious issues. That's right, I recommended he put me on Norvasc for the BP and Zoloft for the anxiety. He heartily agreed. Can I send him a bill, ya reckon?
  
  
• I'm getting kind of sick of all these white teeth on TV. They are blinding!! Anyone that thinks those chiclets are anything other than a very expensive trip to the dentist are sorely delusional. I'm all for dental health, though I haven't been since my petite little dentist tried to pull a broken wisdom tooth which laid me up for a week after an oral surgeon had to clean up the mess and the ensuing infection that occurred. I now clean my own with purchased dental instruments, along with gargling with Listerine and Hydrogen Peroxide every day and brushing with a SoniCare and baking soda. I don't seem to offend anyone and I also brush my tongue for 30 seconds twice a day. I'll be the first to admit that those suckers ain't lily white, but for a smoker and red wine drinker, I've seen worse, by far.
  
  
• Ya see this wicked little bitch? I was anticipating my schedule this week so while at the market earlier I picked this up thinking it would be simple and healthy. I usually bring my own lunch but when I buy a boxed one I'll check fat content, etc. Not that I need to for weight reasons, but for the obvious other ones. I failed to do so with this one. I was floored when I went to put it in the microwave today. It contained 33% of the daily fat allowance. Now this little piece of shit ain't no bigger than my hand and only has a few pieces of chicken on some sort of bread. How in the hell can that be? The so-called bread must be made of some sort of mysterious fat laden product that was developed by the MD's that do gastric bypass surgery. And it tasted like, well, a few pieces of chicken on some cardboard. So I ordered a pizza tonight. If some dipshit company is gonna pull the wool over my eye and flood my system with fat I didn't ask for I'm going to contribute to my own demise by eating something I enjoy.