Good Morning Victims of Self-Esteem,

This weekend provided some much needed rest to at last defeat the first malady of the 2012 rotation.  This one has been pretty aggressive.  Not only the congestion normally associated with a cold, but this one included the dreaded dry coughing fit at 2:00 AM.  I took ‘Zicam’ to supposedly lessen the cold’s severity, but it’s difficult to say whether or not it worked.  It’s taken most of a week, and the symptoms have diminished somewhat, but that’s about as long as I remember a cold lasting anyways!  I’m concerned I may have fallen victim to two things; letting hope overcome reason, and a slick marketing campaign.  But to be honest I didn’t follow the directions and was inconsistent at best.

I was walking to Blondies on Friday for Dawn’s (our tough as nails bartender) birthday/bon voyage party and noticed the wind to be howling through the breezeway my pathway to the bar.  It had to be near 80 mph!  Half-way I noticed a large garbage bag (empty) zigging and zagging its way toward me.  Every time I moved it would shift directions and again fling itself at me until unavoidably it hit me in the face and immediately wrapped around my head.  It smelled of burnt rubber but more importantly I was blind.  For reasons unknown to me I continued to walk while trying to extract myself and ran directly into a metal sculpture.  I don’t know the artist but ironically it was an abstract of a man hoisting what appears to be a beer.  I had knocked myself unconscious.

When I came to the first thing I saw was Cush holding a sandwich to my face telling me to eat it.  Words don’t begin to describe the horror of such a visual assault.  Besides all he could offer was a potato and baloney with Mayo; it was actually pretty good.  Cush helped me to my feet but I still felt a bit unsettled and found one of several benches and sat down.  Nurse Cush in his zeal to heal disappeared into Blondies and returned with a plastic cup of beer.  You must understand, drinking beer is Cush’s cure for everything!  Sipping my medicinal beer I was puzzled by his insistence that beer has mystical powers.  “What other maladies do you think beer cures?” I queried.  Cush puffing up his chest replied, “Oh shit there’s a ton of things beer can treat!”  He then began to list them.  “It cures phlebitis, jock itch, sausage fingers, constipation, dandruff, cock-eyed-ness, worts, pancake breath, dry mouth, and makes a damn fine colonic.”  I was stupefied!

I rubbed the rather large goose egg that had appeared after my collision and got to my feet.  Nurse Cush insisted that he pour the remainder of my beer directly over my wound guaranteeing me it would greatly reduce the swelling and ease the pain. Unfortunately, he also managed to spill beer down the front of my shirt.  I made a silent promise to kill him.

Still a bit unsteady I began to stagger toward Blondies and as luck would have it the Littlewood Police was parked in front.  Holding the few drops of beer left in the cup and smelling like a brewery I was arrested for public intoxication and taken straight to ‘De-tox’ for observation.  Jeez.

If the two or three of you reading this remora happen to see Cush please tell him his days among the living are numbered!!

zuki