The EP looked through all the event monitor charts I’ve transmitted so far, and didn’t see anything particularly unusual. But he was looking for fast palpitations—basically tachycardia—where I flag anything that “feels weird.” If he’s not alarmed, I can only assume everything is “normal for me,” and move on, right?
So today at 8:30am, I had an MRI. It wasn’t as bad as [intlink id="masochistic-resonance-imaging"]last time[/intlink], but it sure seemed louder somehow. The machine was much more recent–sporting a fancy LCD embedded into its doughnut badness–yet in the advancements it contained, apparently none of the engineers considered integrating sound dampening to avoid permanently deafening patents enclosed entirely within its grasping confines after repeated exposure to proximal squeals resembling a drunken hobo occasionally plucking the same frayed string on a “sweet” electric guitar he found jacked into a defective amp incapable of any setting below 100 decibels.
Hey Congress? Fuck every last one of you worthless shit-eating cock-mongers and the crippled, tumor-riddled horse you raped to the tune of Let the Good Times Roll while simultaneously flipping off a bus of nuns with a composite hand constructed entirely from freshly butchered kitten heads.
A conundrum espies an infinite wake, bereft of solace, robbed of succor. Instead, splendor and convoluted mirages ripple and entreaty fealty or some semblance of instrumentality beyond obvious and unrepentant madness.
Ugh! Fine, I’ll write something! Geez. So the post-hurricane monsoon eventually hit Illinois and dumped copious amounts of fluid upon our hapless suburbs, and a friend of ours has an aunt and uncle living in dangerous proximity to a lake.…