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I have gotten to the age where I have a medical specialist for every part of my body. My heart apparently became jealous and thought it was being left out, so now I also have a cardiologist. My “condition” appears to stem from birth (that’s when it all began to go downhill for me).
In lay terms, my heart beats prematurely, which if you think about it is better than not bothering to beat at all. My mother had the same condition and lived well into her 80s, never losing her ability to insult people without them realizing they were being insulted. An EKG showed that my heart was uncertain whether it liked a salsa beat or plain old 2-4 time. That led to an echocardiogram.
If you’re not familiar with an echocardiogram, that’s the one where the medical technician places you in the most ridiculous pose he or she can think of. In my case, he favored one where I looked like Nick Foles after getting hit by all four members of the opposing defensive line. After you are carefully situated, the technician proceeds to rub this gel — which must have been kept in a deep freeze for at least two years — all over your chest. It was the first time in my 75 plus years on earth that I ever thought about my nipples. If you are not uncomfortable yet, the technician then presses down as hard as he can on the various areas of your chest with a plastic instrument. The test ends only one of two ways — your chest caves in or you blab your name, rank and serial number. Luckily, the test showed no problems with my heart, but the cardiologist did commend me on the state of my nipples. Now all I have to do is wear a heart monitor for 48 hours and I won’t have to go through this again for six months.
While I was going through an affair of the heart as I call it, the news never stopped. It might not have been the biggest story last week, but the idea that a few of Gov. Tom Corbett’s men shared racy e-mails did pique my prurient interest. The governor wants his favorite State’s Attorney General, Kathleen Kane, to share the e-mails with him — perhaps over candlelight with a nice dry burgundy.
Corbett is having trouble getting “traction,” as they say in political consulting circles. His biggest concern is that too many voters actually remember what the last eight years have been like in Pennsylvania, always a problem for an incumbent. Corbett has responded with numerous ads trying to induce amnesia in the electorate, but he did hit a home run during his recent debate with Democratic challenger Tom Wolfe when he asked for the specifics of Wolfe’s pledge to increase funding for the State’s public schools. It turns out that Wolfe’s only plan is to read up on the figures and continue to remind us that his biggest virtue is that he isn’t Corbett. Rumor has it that Corbett is planning to run a series of ads where he claims that Wolfe IS Corbett.
Is it my imagination or has the U.S. Secret Service become a punch line for almost any joke you care to make? Its latest fiasco is allowing an armed felon to get into the east wing of the White House. Since when did the Secret Service let go of Clint Eastwood and hire Paul Blart: Mall Cop? The NRA is suggesting that if only the president and first lady would start packing heat, this kind of crap would never be a threat.
I don’t know about you, but lately my e-mails are crammed with messages from folks such as Nancy Pelosi and James Carville “begging” for my financial support for Democrats. There is nothing subtle about these e-mails. The subject line reads BEGGING. It’s one thing to get hit on by beggars on Chestnut Street, but it’s a little undignified for Pelosi, whom I picture dressed in Ralph Lauren, sitting on a sidewalk outside a McDonald’s, a cute Pomeranian by her side, while she waves a sign asking for money to get back home to D.C. Doesn’t Pelosi know those Prada shoes she’s wearing tend to get scuffed up when one sits on a sidewalk?
George Shuba, a member of the old Brooklyn Dodgers, recently passed away. Shuba is deservedly best known for extending a welcoming hand to Jackie Robinson when the latter first made an appearance in the minors with the Montreal Royals. Shuba’s nickname was “Shotgun,” which likely would have caused talk show controversy and an ESPN documentary if he played today. The moniker actually referred to his ability to spray line drives to the outfield, which he no doubt would have been forced to explain to Rosie O’Donnell in an appearance on “The View.”
The first case of Ebola in America has been diagnosed in Texas. A passenger from Liberia contracted the disease, but we’re being assured there is no danger of it spreading. When it comes to Texas, my real worry is when they allow Gov. Rick Perry to leave the state. Perry compared homosexuality to alcoholism. Being Texas and all, many of Perry’s constituents are probably gay.
Summarizing — there’s a case of Ebola in Texas. Perry runs Texas. What’s to worry?
Contact the South Philly Review at editor@southphillyreview.com.
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