Posts Tagged ‘odd’


The Kitties Want Attention

December 11th, 2003 by Oskar Kennedy

  Our cats are both on the youngish side of rambunctious, nearly a year and not quite two years old, respectively. Every once in a while, they go into what Amy and I affectionately refer to as “psycho-kitty” mode. Their pupils get very wide, their tails start to twitch madly, and they start tearing ass around the apartment, killing anything that moves and, for good measure, assaulting anything that looks like it might move sometime in the future.
  This morning, when I dragged my lazy butt out of bed, I discovered that they had taken the latest round of p-k to new heights. They de-arranged the couch cushions and knocked most of the stuff off of the coffee table, entertainment center, and Amy’s desk. That is all per the usual madness. This time, though, they somehow managed to pull the tablecloth completely off, despite it being weighed down by a good sized book of coupons and a ceramic snack dish. The dish only happened to not smash because Amy and I have been leaving our snow-covered shoes near the table, and it seems to have bounced off of them before hitting the floor. If we’d been less concerned about tracking dirty wetness about the house, we’d be short one slightly adorable snowman-shaped snack dish. Talk about your close calls.

  Remember that joke that kids used to play on each other? “Say ‘I’, then spell ‘cup!’” Boy, that was the height of hilarity when you were six, wasn’t it? Well, all of a sudden, Charlatan likes to (spell cup). Unless I shut the bathroom door firmly enough to latch it, she comes barging in as soon as she hears the clank of the toilet lid against the tank. She’ll climb up and perch on the side of the tub, and watch the goings on in the bowl. I can’t even reach over to put her on the floor, for fear of anointing every surface in the bathroom. I’m sure it says something about me that I’m slightly embarrassed about urinating in front of my cat. What it says, I’m not sure.

  As I was typing this revealing look into the feline life forms residing here, Barrymoore decided to investigate. Sensing, somehow that I was passing on secrets that might jeopardize national kitty security. In an effort to thwart me, he climbed into my lap, inserting himself betwixt myself and the keyboard. He then proceeded to lick and nibble on the back of my hands. It was very sweet and affectionate, but it made it impossible to hit the correct keys in sequence. Fortunately, he’s much smaller than me, so I was able to remove him, after pausing to love him up for a few minutes.
  God help us if they ever evolve thumbs.

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Did you know?

February 24th, 2006 by Oskar Kennedy

The state of Massachusetts has an Official Donut.

… I want to have an official donut.

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Huh.

March 20th, 2006 by Oskar Kennedy

  It turns out that Isaac Hayes probably didn’t quit South Park. Instead, his church quit for him.

  Curiouser and curiouser.

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Odd Things Pop Into My Head When I Walk The Dogs

May 15th, 2006 by Oskar Kennedy

No, not like those creepy brain-worm things from Wrath Of Khan. I’m guess it’s more accurate to say pop up in my head, like some damned existential toaster. For instance, this little gem, which welled up so fast and hard that I recited most of it out load before I realized I was talking to my dogs, and they were ignoring me. Anyway, here it is for posterity, with minimal editing.

  You know what I like? Things that have their own time. How cool is that? Like “go time.” It’s go time! Action is immediately happening! It’s time, and you’re gonna go. Granted, you don’t know where you’re going, or what you’ll be doing when you get there, but you’re a man of action! Silly details like that don’t bother you.
  Or Miller time. It’s Miller time! That sounds like a great time. I think there’s something sort of cool about a beer so crappy, it can alter the very fabric of the Universe. The only thing better than Miller time would be “good beer time,” but if that time ever appeared on my clock, I think my liver would leap right out of my body and crawl away under its own power. Like a rat from a sinking ship, my liver.
  And then, there’s the big daddy of them all, the time that makes all other times pale by comparison. That’s right, I’m talking about Hammer time. Man, do you remember when it used to be Hammer time about four dozen times a day? Now it’s only Hammer time when you’re drunk and looking through your old cassettes, or in the last half-hour of a wedding DJ’s set, or on one of those new radio stations with no announcers that only plays the most mortifying hit singles of your childhood.
  Here’s a question? What would happen if it was Miller time and Hammer time at the same time? I don’t know the answer, but I suspect it’s something horrifying. Maybe the producers of Fear Factor will try it one of these days, as long as they can find an approriate testicle for the contestants to eat while it happens.

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I Was Not Aware Of That

April 24th, 2008 by Oskar Kennedy

Three things I did not know:

1. Dr. Henry Heimlich, purported inventor of the famed and (I shit you not) registered trademark “maneuver” for rescuing choking victims is still alive.

I don’t know why, but I always assumed that such a simple procedure must have been invented in the 19th century. Based on the last name, I pictured a humble Bavarian physician, decked out in lederhosen and suspenders. While knocking back a pint at a rural ale house, he rushed to the aid of one of the town volk who was choking on a bit of bratwurst. Thanks to his quick thinking, his technique became the namesake maneuver, and his improvised flailings (and maybe the bit of horked-up sausage) were preserved for posterity.

As it turns out, the maneuver was first described in the mid-70s. Although it is still taught as a remedy for choking, it isn’t the recommended first treatment. Dr. Heimlich was born in Delaware in 1920, and doesn’t seem to be particularly humble. Or Bavarian.

2. Dr. Heimlich has been dogged by allegations of fraud.

One of Dr. Heimlich’s most persistent critics is his son, Peter Heimlich. Among the allegations he levels against his father is the charge that the famous technique was appropriated from Dr. Heimlich’s long time colleague, Dr. Edward Patrick.

3. Dr. Heimlich may be completely, dangerously, batshit insane.

Dr. Heimlich advocates the use of his system of abdominal thrusts to treat drowning victims, despite much evidence that such use is dangerous and potentially fatal. Most obviously crazy, though, is his insistence that he can cure HIV/AIDS with an injection. Of malaria.

Dr. Heimlich, who has no training as an immunologist, seriously believes that he can cure AIDS, as well as cancer and Lyme disease, by injecting patients with malaria. In support of this hypothesis, he’s conducted ethically suspect trials with HIV patients in China and Africa. One of the conditions of those trials was that participants couldn’t receive any other treatment, either for their HIV or the symptoms of their malaria infections.

This is what I get for relying on Eddie Izzard for information about a public figure.

I’m not about to say that my hour of casual reading amounts to a definitive case, but there is a good bit of evidence of a disconnect between Dr. Heimlich’s self-promoted legacy and the details of his actual career in public health. If you think I’m wrong, feel free to argue.

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