Ranting. Must be on trauma call or something

Sick of human stupidity on this Sunday evening, waiting for my third facial fracture case to start. MAFAT going on: Mandatory Anesthesia Fuck Around Time.

Don't try to stop the trajectory of a swinging tire iron by interposing your face in its path. And why try to break up a fight between drunks? Why not just let them beat the piss out of each other, even if they're your friends? Anyone who's ever tried to break up a fight between their drunken buddies can appreciate this. The guys are writhing on the ground in a life-or-deathgrip, all muscles knotted hard, eyeballs and neck veins bulging. Fuck 'em; don't get in the way.

Like Yassir Arafat. Fuck him, too. He wanted violence and now he's trapped in a lightless cesspool. To get light he has to peek outside & squint between the barrels of multiple Merkava tanks. Nails bitten to a quick, he squanders the rapidly diminishing battery power of his Nokia 8290 to berate Christianne Ammanpour for the "inaccuracy" of her questions. Human stupidity.

Meanwhile, Bill Clinton gives an interview to Newsweek where he whines about his tarnished reputation. He is upset that he got "mugged one more time on the way out" of the White House when he pardoned Marc Rich. He conveniently omits the fact that he was caught trying to steal the silverware before he turned the light out. Our most pathetic Victim in Chief.

Elsewhere, Slavery Reparations Activists swallow a handful of blood pressure pills and prepare to ratchet up the rhetoric. Twelve Fleet Boston V.P.'s living in twelve mansions along the Charles River simultaneously awaken with pounding hearts in the middle of the night. Their jaw muscles are sore because they've been grinding their teeth in their sleep. Money means nothing to bankers like them & surely the nice activists have their price....

Hopped up on strong coffee, healing the ill, educating the ignorant, and listening to a Sci-Clone remix on Bassdrive that sounds like everything else by Sci-Clone, with dat sax...

I am on Trauma Call and I am irritable. When the pager goes off, it feels like a 500 Joule hit off the defibrillator and I snarl at the paging operator. They connect me to an incredibly stupid emergency room doctor who wants to transfer a most unfortunate but still incredibly stupid patient to me. It is clear that the doctor has tried to get local M.D.'s to take care of his patient, but because the patient is "unfunded" he couldn't generate much interest. Because Boss Hog Memorial Hospital (here in the Deep South) is a Level III Trauma Center, I have to accept this "dump".

Trauma patients are always looking to sue someone. Usually they sue the drunk driver who hit them, but sometimes the lawyers try to drag in doctors and hospitals just for good measure. This sounds like a good idea to the type of person who finds himself a victim of trauma. Nice people like you, who read blogs, do not often become victims of trauma. Correction, you do not become a "survivor" of trauma, as something about nice people renders them incredibly vulnerable to all manner of physical damage, such that they are either found dead in the field or last long enough to be declared dead on arrival. This is constantly on my mind as I ride my motorcycle on these Deep South interstates.

So on this date, as I initiate my own blog to clear my heart and head of hateful thoughts that would be inappropriate content for personal e-mails, I am waiting to take an octogenarian and a nonagenarian to the operating room for facial fractures. The 87-year old fell and bumped her eye in her Assisted Living Care Facility, and the 91 year-old was assaulted and battered by some form of human degenerate offal. At times like these I hear all kinds of stories from the emergency room, and lately they've been having a "run" of people stuffing strange things into their rectums. It's a known fact that diseases & injuries occur in "runs" but no one quite knows why. Or for that matter, what would motivate two unacquainted strangers in two different locations to decide within days of each other to shove a can of Barbasol shave cream and a vibrator stuck in the "on" position, respectively, into their respective sigmoid colons? Likewise, why two extremely elderly people would elect to get their faces bashed in within 24 hours of each other?

Although I came to the Deep South from the Midwest by way of the Northeast, I'm not saying the people here are more inclined to shove weird stuff up their ass. I have plenty of observations about life down here which I suppose I'll post as the need arises. Right now I'm happy as a clam with the 8 months of excellent motorcycle weather and the cheap real estate. Ample parking day or night, people shouting "howdy neighbor". Also, if you are a medical student or pre-med with idealistic illusions about what kind of people go in to medicine, I apologize, but soon you will become a jaded & cynical bastard like me, I guarantee it. The ones who maintain their idealism longer than about 5 years are not taking care of any sick people, and most people who go to the doctor are not sick. I'll share more wisdom with you later, kids.