Gotta...do...that...thing

Friends, I am sick. In fact, this is my fourth full day being sick.

So sick I can barely think about beads. (Now that's sick.)

I must have had a fever for the past few days, because I've spent several hours each night suffering from twitches, repetitive and bothersome dream fragments, and general sleep disruptions.

For your thank-Gods-it's-not-me reading pleasure, I present –
The Dr. Beads (alias) Fever Experience!

{twitch}

gotta do that

gotta

do

do

that

that

gotta...do...

that...

what's it called...

that...

gotta

do

{twitch}

COUGH

whimper

ah, Gods, why does everything hurt? it shouldn't hurt when my arm hairs rise

whimper

{twitch}

get up to get pain and fever medication?

whimper

no...can't figure out how to get out of bed

whimper

{twitch}

not feeling feverish, so why having hallucinations?

large fairy sitting on top shelf and fanning his wings is a good one for sure

wings the product of an adjustable lamp's body

plus semi-darkness

plus bad eyesight

{twitch}

no, that's not a hallucination, that's an illusion...that's...

that's…

COUGH

{twitch/scratch/twitch/scratch}

jeez, am I allergic to echinacea?

{scratch/twitch/scratch/twitch/scratch}

spent too much time yesterday watching Black Adder over David’s (alias) shoulder

same actor...played Dr. Samuel Johnson and Russian villain in James Bond movie?

Hagrid is Jewish?!? wtf?! where did that come from?

COUGH

get up and take cough medicine?

COUGH

no

COUGH

too much work

COUGH

coughing will stop soon

COUGH

{twitch}

COUGH

COUGH

COUGH

Will someone please put the cap back on the stupid, please

Scene: Parking lot during the ho-ho-holiday season. Lot is occupied by many cars and one glowering person who is dressed like a member of the RCMP and holding a clipboard.

Action: Mr. Martin (alias) parks car, goes to ATM (leaving Dr. Beads [alias] and young 'uns in vehicle), and returns within two minutes.

Dialogue (implied): Parking lot monitor approaches as Mr. Martin re-enters car, and asks him whether a car several parking spaces over is his.

Mr. Martin responds in the negative.

Dr. Beads is rendered nearly speechless.

Got Whiteboard?

Dr. Littlebro (alias) sent me an e-mail thread about a work metric.
The e-mail included a variety of equations.
The terms of the equations required text definitions.
The text definitions involved Boolean logic.

Not only were different equations being used, but different text definitions and different logical operators were being juggled by several contributors (?) to the e-mail thread.

I couldn't make sense of it.

I replied:

"Dude. This is too complex in text form for my poor, beadraggled brain.

It's like one of those puzzles in which you have to assign seats at the dinner table for Sally, Terri, Billy, Chester, Irma, and Raul:

Sally and Terri won't sit together because each suspects the other of cheating with Irma.

Billy wants to sit next to Sally because he likes to look down her shirt.

Chester has to sit at the corner of the table so he can bolt for the door in case he has a panic attack.

Irma must not under any circumstances sit next to Billy because she'll attack him with the salad fork if she catches him looking down her shirt again.

Raul wants to sit next to either Chester or Billy so he can talk about his new sports car and pick up macho points.

This type of puzzle can only be solved visually, e.g. by using a chart.
Got a white board handy?"

Check Your Calendars

Happy Pearl Harbor Day!


Love,

Neocon Fascists

Make Mine Marionberry

It's the first snowcone day of the season! I had to scrape a goodly amount of frost off my car glass before I could head out into the world of commerce this morning.