Doctor My Eyes

There I was on another typical day, typing another typical blog post that no one ever typically reads when out of the corner of my left eye I caught sight of something decidedly atypical, something decidedly moving!

It appeared dark black, the size of a quarter, and was scampering rapidly all about the left side of me.  I realized that it was either a fly, a runaway proton, or a spider, and although I'm fine with the first two options, the prospect of the third caused me to give forth a high-pitched sound in the approximate nature of:

"AHHHHHHHHH!!!"

as I flayed wildly about with a rolled up newspaper, calling out "Sanctuary! Sanctuary!" 

You see, I really hate spiders. They are proof positive that there is either no God or the one we've got should have been forcibly bound and gagged before he finished the finer points of Creation.

But after routing about  a bit I discovered there was nothing there.  An optical illusion perhaps? A stain on my contact lens, to go along with the one on my character? Had the object vanished into a parallel universe, one in which I hopefully own better property?

I returned to typing, but before long so did the menacing dark moving object to my left.  And so did the high-pitched sound in the approximate nature of:

"AHHHHHHHHH!!!"

But after two or three more near pseudo arachnid-induced heart attacks, I finally began to catch on.  There was no spider, there was no fly, there was no errant proton anywhere to be seen. The dark black object was rather in my eye itself.  

This then would be a job for my eye doctor, Dr. Mervin Vertbaum.

"Better this way, Perry, or better this way?" asked Dr. Vertbaum. 

"What does that have to do with the dark spot in my eye, Doctor?" I asked.

"Nothing. We're required to say that by law."

"Oh, I see. But what do I have?"

"You have a floater,  a deposit within the eye's viteous humor."

"But I thought all floaters were small, kind of like Donald Trump's hands."

"No, they can be quite large as well. Yours is the size of a Buick, albeit one of their sportier models."

"Well, how long will it take until it goes away?"

"Oh, it doesn't go away, Perry. You'll have it for life."

Have it for life? It's amazing how casually doctors tell older people they'll have something for life assuming we're totally fine with that since life's not such a long term proposition anymore anyway!

"But ... but it's very annoying, Doctor."

"Oh, you'll get used to it, Perry.  That is, assuming the floater doesn't scatter into hundreds of multiple pieces in which case it will look like you're perpetually traveling through the Milky Way."

"What?!  Well, there must be some fix for that!"

"Oh, sure, there it."

"Thank goodness! What is it?"

"Keep your eyes shut, for God's sakes!"  

And so, let's add eye floaters to my current list of life maladies, which includes a spine shaped like the Gateway Arch in St. Louis, shrinkage in physical stature certain to one day surely render me the limbo champion of Havertown PA, and white blotches on my arms, face, and hands providing me the tony appearance as though someone were trying to bleach me and just ran out of clorox.

Well, at least the floater isn't really a spider.  Actually it's starting to look something more like a musical note dancing in front of my eyes the way musical notes sometime appear on screen in a movie to show that the protagonist composer is experiencing great inspiration.

So that's it. I'm to spend the rest of my life watching Amadeus.

"AHHHHHHHHH!!!"

Sanctuary!  Sanctuary!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Introducing: The Spider Police

By all accounts it is the No. 1 phobia among people who have phobias, and it's sure Number 1 with me too.

Noiseless patient? No, terrifying horrifying! And evil as well.

I don't like spiders. I don't like them so much I don't even like Spider-Man.  I would never touch a spider. If I have to take on a spider in hand-to-hand combat, I first wad up enough toilet paper to wipe an elephant's butt. Spiders are beneficial because they eat other bugs? Well, I'm rooting for the other bugs!

Now at long last there's hope for all of us who view spiders as nothing less than the Nazis of the Insect World! (and yes, I know they're not insects). Last week I dialed the new number 1 800 888-8888 and an official sounding voice answered:

Spider Police! 

 How may we help you?

"Thank God!" I cried into the phone. "I have a spider here, a great big one!"

"How big, sir?"

"This is a spider whose mother must have intermarried with a bear!"

"Is there more than one spider, sir?"

"Well, he...he may have an accomplice, I'm not sure.  They might have a getaway spider nearby too!"

"How many spiders are there, sir?

"Officer, I don't know! I've a feeling there are more legs in my house right now than on stage at the Christmas Show at Radio City Music Hall!"

"Calm down, sir! We know they're disgusting, but pull yourself together."

"I can't! I've got Aragog in the next room, and he's smelling fresh Jew meat!"

"Sir, one more question: are you absolutely sure you haven't mistaken sock lint on the carpet for a spider?"

"My sock lint doesn't lick its chops when it looks at me!"

"All right,sir, I'm dispatching a team of crack spider assassins to your house right now!"

"And they'll kill the spiders humanely?"

"Of course not! These are spiders. We make sure they suffer!"

"Good."

Within minutes, the Spider Police were at my door, one ex-marine and a former serial killer from Maine. They explained that depending on size, position, and how scared the two of them get when they see the spiders, they destroy the creatures through a combination of martial arts, tactical nuclear weapons, and showing the spiders pictures of how they (the spiders) actually look.  

That stops even their hearts too.

We prayed together, the Spider Police entered the room,  and I heard the sounds of scuffling and screams, then gunshots.  One of the men poked his head out of the door and asked me to wad up toilet paper thick enough to wipe an elephant's butt.

When it was over, the Spider Police emerged with a spider carcass the size of
a computer chip. Its reign of terror had ended at last.

Someone in our township had a great idea when they came up with the concept for the Spider Police. True, the township has had to cut back on some other services, but if you hate spiders as much as I do I hope someday soon you too will have Spider Police where you live.  

I may not speak for everyone, but I hardly even miss trash removal service and the regular police.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Tell it, Sister!

Man Up, Perry!

It's kind of hard for me to believe, but in slightly over a month I'll be in Costa Rica with my 17 year old son Brandon.

Ah, Costa Rica!  Land of  lush rain forests, beautiful beaches, exotic waterfalls,  ferocious alligators, venomous snakes, and spiders the size of Toby Maguire and Andrew Garfield!

Who am I kidding?  I wasn't designed for the gusto life.  I don't even watch the National Geographic Channel unless the lights are on.  And how am I going to keep up with a 17 year old? When I was 17 years old, Lyndon Johnson was in the White House and I was still wearing orthopedic shoes. 

One of the toughest people I know is writer Carrie Bailey (who tweets as @PeevishPenman),  so I decided to call her for some close-to-the-last minute inspiration and advice. 

"First thing you have to do is believe in yourself,"  said Carrie.

"What's the second thing?"

"The second thing is to stop thinking about yourself as a wimp!"

"But, Carrie, it's on my resume."

"You have to overcome this negativity!" said Carrie. "Build yourself up by focusing on something courageous you actually have done in your lifetime." 

That was easy for Carrie to say.  Less than half my age, Carrie had lived on three continents, single-handedly raised a child to near adulthood, and was now attending graduate school in New Zealand. Descended from a hardy Native American stock known as the Metis, Carrie was a'huntin' and a'fishin' and a'trappin' kind of person. 

By contrast, the only kind of person I am that begins with an apostrophe is a'kvetchin'. 

"I'm waiting," said Carrie. "Surely you've done one courageous thing in your life." 

"I'm flipping through my lifetime.  I'm up to where I'm getting beaten up by the fifth grade girls." 

"Aren't you forgetting something important?" 

"What?" 

"That time we were together in Paris,  you ... uh ... helped save the world." 

"Oh, that?  Everybody gets lucky once in a while."

"Perry, you can change your basic nature if you want to!  Haven't you ever read any existentialism?"

"Yes, but I was predestined not to believe in it." 

Carrie was clearly becoming a bit exasperated.

"Look, Perry," she went on, "I know there is more strength in you than you realize.  Whatever was in your past doesn't have to be your future.  Do one thing each day that scares you."

"I'll try," I said, "as long as it doesn't involve women with facial hair."  

"And don't tell me you're too old!  It's not too late.  It's never too late."

Carrie's words had finally gotten through.  It's good to have a friend who has faith in you even when you don't have it in yourself.  Maybe I can handle the gusto life.  Maybe --- given enough time and a bit of work on myself --- I can handle just about anything!

"Carrie ... thank you!"

"Don't mention it. It's what friends are for."

"Carrie?  One more thing?"

"Sure."

"If I truly do Man Up!, the next time the two of us get together, how 'bout you and me ...." 

"Then again maybe you are just a wimp!  Gotta go, enjoy your trip!"

 Y'know what?

 It's also good to have a friend who sees through your shit too!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Man Up, Perry!"
Carrie Bailey on the Beaches
 of New Zealand

You Can Drink All the Liquor Down in Costa Rica

Yeah,  I can probably get into that ....

My son Brandon and I are going on vacation together. Sometime next summer.

We figure an opportunity like this may never come again.  In a scant year and a half Bran will be off to college, and considering all the exciting things happening to me, I could be  --- who knows? --- yeah, probably pretty much where I am right now.

There's only one thing. The slight matter of where to go. 

"Well, Brandon,"  I said, "how about we head for that Magic Kingdom down in Orlando Florida?"

"Disneyworld?  But we've already been there."

"And we had a great time!  You and your brother got along fine,  and I think Cinderella took a shine to you ..."

"Dad, I was eight."

"So?  I know a family that goes to Disneyworld every year.  If you go there more than five times in a lifetime, I'm pretty sure you can get certified as an official Disney character."

"Dad, can we go someplace a bit more real this time?"

"Real?  Okay, well, let me .... I've got it!

"You've got what?" 

"Vegas! What happens there stays there!"

"Really? What's going to happen there?"

"Probably nothing that's worth staying there."

"Dad, I want to go to someplace real, not to an artificial adult theme park built on hype and illusion." 

"Yeah, but as artificial adult theme parks built on hype and illusion go, it's hard to beat Vegas!"

"Dad, I was thinking someplace south."

"Baltimore?"

"Even further."

"Miami Beach?   I never knew you wanted to visit our ancestral homeland." 

"No, Dad, I want to go to Costa Rica!  I've been reading up on it and talking to a few kids who've been there. It's got everything!" 

"Costa Rica!  Everything?!  Sure, there's revolutions, insurrection, dysentery!"

"Dad, Costa Rica is one of the safest countries in Latin America.  It has a long-standing stable democracy and even dissolved its army in 1948.  And you get a complete ecological experience because it has both a Pacific and a Caribbean coast."

"Half Caribbean, eh?  That's not totally unappealing.  In much of the Caribbean, they have  that really good ..."

"Dad, the purpose of the trip is for us to explore new things, not for you to make another lame attempt to relive the 60's."

"Do they have snakes there?"

"Maybe one or two, Dad."

"No snakes in Disneyworld." 

"Yeah, but on the whole ..."

"I see.  You know, Bran,  there's an old song that goes Candy is dandy but liquor is quicker...."

"'.... you can drink all the liquor down in Costa Rica, ain't nobody's business but my own.  That's Taj Mahal, Dad."

"So it is.  Okay.  Sounds all right by me." 

Can we afford it?

"Of course not!"  

"Oh."

"So let's get started planning already."

And so,  later this year Brandon and I are off to Costa Rica.  And  I'm good with it.  Just one question. 

Anybody know if they got spiders in Costa Rica?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

Hit it, Taj!

Thanks, Big Guy!

Yep! I'm counting these!

This time of year, many of us stop to say thanks for the good things in life and the manifold blessings we enjoy.

It’s a lovely practice, and one I’d appreciate a lot more if so many people did not stop to say thanks for the good things in life and the manifold blessings they enjoy when they’re driving right the hell in front of me on the expressway!

Nevertheless I have a few things to give thanks for myself, and I’d like to share them with you now --- as if you give a crap!

I am thankful:

1. That clothing was invented. Otherwise every novel ever written would include the words “he averted his eyes” five or six times per page.

2. That Life does not feature a large permanent dunk tank. Imagine being submerged in freezing cold water every time you leave the toilet seat up!

3. That the act of shaking hands does not emit a low farting noise. I have enough trouble meeting people as it is.

4. That even though I’m about as old as Sally Field and my health is generally lousy, I apparently have no need for and don’t even know WTF Boniva is!

5. For those happy times building sand castles on the beach with my son, especially on the days when a guy named Bruno from Building Trades Council No.87 doesn’t come by and flatten them because he’s pissed we use non-union labor!

6. That parking lots were invented, because if there were none --- with my parallel parking skills --- I’d be in the car 17-18 hours a day.

7. That when somebody around the dinner table says “hey, let’s all share together what each of us is most thankful for!” my immediate thoughts about what I’d like to have happen to that person are not acted upon by God.

8. For HBO, without which I would never see a naked woman.

9. That spiders have never developed the capability to enrich uranium.

10. That we are so fortunate to live in those precise time and space coordinates in the history of all of creation and of the entire universe when and where there is Meryl Streep.

And so, for all these wonderful blessings, I hereby tender my most tender and juicy thanks!

Here’s hoping you have similar reasons to give thanks during this festive season, and that you don’t royally screw them all up in 2011.

Happy Holidays, Everybody!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~