Hearticulture
So today at 8:30am, I had an MRI. It wasn’t as bad as last time, 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. And that was with the questionable headphones which conveyed sound through some archaic, almost steam-punk technology literally involving tubes muffling some insignificant fraction of the inescapable din. I was done at 11:30am. Hey! Only 3 hours! I’ll be invariably pestering them daily for a disk containing these gruesome movies so I can inflict the misshapen horror thrumming in my chest upon my friends and family.