Let me see your Badge

 I'm not sure when suspicion for the disappearance of Lady C. fell on me.   It must have started because I was one of the last persons to have any contact with her before she fell off the face of the earth.

Lady C. and I go way back you see.   I even knew her before she was married.  In all that time, Lady C. always had this thing for Eastern Religions.  But it was always just a passing fancy.   Every now and then she would sign up for some seminar conducted by some guru.  It must have made her feel good about herself or something.    Then one day I get this call from her telling me she's going to India to live in an ashram.   I was completely blown away.   "What about your husband?", I asked.   "He's an asshole," she said.   Then she went on to tell me all sorts of boring stuff about how the marriage wasn't working out, blah blah blah.

The next thing I know, I was getting regular calls from Lady C. on Skype from India.  She always had some sort of towel on her head.  When I asked what the deal was with the turban, she said that her kundalini yoga master told her that her hair is alive and its energy must be conserved.  I told her she looked like a cancer patient.   She told me to fuck off.

Anyway, all of a sudden I stopped getting calls from Lady C.  I'm pretty sure it didn't have anything to do with my remarks about turban.   I was always given her shit about what a flake she was, so I didn't think that remark would have changed anything.   But as time when on, I began to worry.
But given that she was in India, its not like I could send out a search party or anything.  I didn't even know where she was.  I called my friend Max who lives in Mumbai and told her about the disappearance.   He told me, "Uge, my man, you ain't never going to find her.   There are as many ashrams in India as stars in the sky.   Its our national pastime--taking money from Westerners seeking enlightenment."

So what could I do?

Such was the state of events in my life until I get this knock on my door.   I look out and see this hot woman dressed in a black dress.  She looks just like that new woman side kick on Dr. Who.   You know, the one with the brown hair and big eyes?  Well I open the door and she barges in.  She looks me up and down and starts asking me about Lady C, when is the last time I saw her, if I know where she is, etc.   And that is when the interrogation started.

Putting Your Healing Abilities to the Test

Remember the Nancy Cruzan case that went up to the United States Supreme Court in 1990?

Nancy was in a car wreck, then a coma, and eventually in a persistent vegetative state.  Her parents wanted to pull the plug on her.   Much legal wrangling ensured.

While I was in law school in Missouri in the late 1980s, I met Nancy Cruzan--well sort of anyway.  I was in a house with Mary N.   Mary was a nice catholic girl I was strangely attracted to.  It never would have worked out, but that is another story.   Anyway, Mary and I went out on the back deck of this house and were sitting on a porch.  It was cold outside and the backyard was covered in snow.   But that wasn't all, Nancy Cruzan was also in the snow.  Naturally, in her condition, she couldn't make any sound so we didn't see her at first.

I was trying to get a reaction from Nancy.   First, I started with bad jokes.  Like:   Q:   How can you tell that there is a drummer at the door?  A:   He doesn't know when to come in.  The joke didn't seem to elicit any reaction from her, so I started with slapstick.   I started making faces at her.   I started pulling Mary's nose and pretending that I was Moe in the Three Stooges. That was when I noticed a slight smile creep across Nancy's face.  Finally, I pulled out my pocket watch and pretended to hypnotize Nancy.  I saw Nancy's eyes follow the arc of the watch.    I then dropped the watch on Nancy's chest and she sat up.   She hugged me and told me that I was funny.

Much later, when I was recounting the story to April F. at the Heidelberg Tavern, she told me that the story indicated that I had a bright future in either faith healing or necrophilia.   Needless to say, I didn't pursue either course as a career. 

You are what you work on.

I have noticed an alarming/refreshing correlation between situations at work and my health.

At 4 this afternoon, I'm going to be deposing a surgeon in a case involving a knee replacement.   I've been hobbling around on my right knee most of the morning.  My right hip also hurts.  And of course, the person with the knee replacement also hurt her hip.

My last trial involved back surgery.   I could have sworn at that time that I was suffering from L5/S1 radiculopathy.   But maybe I was wrong.  In any event, it cleared up after trial. 

Before then there was a neck surgery case.   And of course, my neck was killing me.  It feels fine now.

I have passed on several heart attack and stroke cases.  No sense tempting fate.  Let others in my office deal with those:-).

Then there was my appendix removal which occurred one week after my father had his removed.   Its probably the only documented case in medical history where appendicitis was ever contagious.    I still wonder about that.

But I think there are limits to this.   I had no problem with the suicide case.   I fact I've actually done several of them.   (I know what you are are thinking---I'm in denial...lol). 

I'm actually angling on getting a whole new book of business at work.   Instead of all the cases involving injuries, I was to start representing physicists, microbiologists, cosmologists, science fiction writers and zen monks.   That way, when I start having phantom systems consistent with my clients, at least I'll be getting somewhere.   Or will I?

I meet people from Carlinville and Wyoming.   They meet bike club people and professors.   Everyone is happy.   And by the way, what's the deal with Stonehenge?

If I Conspire Against Myself, Is it a Conspiracy?

Its surprising no one has yet blamed the failure of the Obama Care rollout on the vast right wing conspiracy.   If I had half a brain, I sure would.

The insurance and pharmaceutical companies must have hired some computer genius to introduce a new insidious version of the stux net virus into the otherwise reliable and state of the art government computers.  The government after all is always several generations ahead of private industry in computer technology.  I remember that part from my stint in the Air Force before the CIA put a radio inside my brain so that they could read my thoughts.   And I'm not unique.   The CIA has contracts with most American dentists and each and every filling they do on us contains a tiny radio receiver.   In order to be free, you've got to get off the grid my friend.   That, and you've got to lose some teeth.   Myself?  Well,  I've been living in a cave outside Moab, Utah for the past decade or so.

I'm glad the good folks at the Juab County Library have graciously allowed me to use their public computers to get the word out.  Otherwise, all we would hear is the constant barrage from FoxNews which is really a CIA covert op propaganda machine.   Myself?  Well, I don't watch any TV.  I just heard about all the crap on FoxNews.   Soon, all the dentists are going to be employed by WalMart anyway so it will make implanting the radio receivers more systematic and universal.

It could have also been the collaboration between Anonymous and Occupy that led to the failures.   They are also CIA operatives.   Think of all the Government money that was spent getting all those CIA trainees to camp out at Zuccotti Park.   It must have been millions. And all that make up spent to make them look homeless.   I haven't seen such an elaborate deception since the fake moon landings of the 1960s. 

And Obama is clearly being controlled by external forces.  I'm wondering if he's the new generation of cyborg that they were working on when I was in the service?  Otherwise, why would he have told everyone they could have kept their health insurance?

Pete and Don Miss the Perogies.  I miss the Sesshin.   I make my dad's 70th birthday celebration.  I find cool Arizona wineries.