Happy Anniversary To Me!
Today marks the first anniversary of ‘Puter’s L4-L5 microdiscetomy. ‘Puter would like to take a moment from his usual ranty snark to give sincere thanks for the skill of his surgeon and his entire medical team.
‘Puter would also like to thank his family for their unconditional love, support and care through his five year struggle with increasingly debilitating back pain. At the end, ‘Puter was unable to get out of bed, even to relieve himself. Not a happy place to be in one’s early 40s.
‘Puter now considers himself relatively pain free. He no longer takes pain killers (prescription or otherwise) regularly. He has been able to resume most of his activities, though he no longer runs. He is able to exercise and do many chores without worry. In ‘Puter’s case, back surgery has thus far been the correct decision, and ‘Puter is glad he has made it.
One interesting thing ‘Puter discovered through his ordeal is that the only pain killer that truly worked (for him at least) was alcohol. Percoset and Vicodin numbed the brain, but not the pain. Only alcohol, which, on reflection, probably explains why there were a lot of inebriated manual laborers prior to back surgery’s advent. Perhaps our house physician Dr. J can explain the science behind ‘Puter’s findings. ‘Puter just knows that the booze worked best.
So, thanks to all who had a hand in ‘Puter’s recovery. He is now back (tee hee) and ready for the run up to the 2012 election debacle.
St. Gemma Galgani, patron saint of back pain, ora pro nobis.
Always right, unless he isn’t, the infallible Ghettoputer F. X. Gormogons claims to be an in-law of the Volgi, although no one really believes this.
’Puter carefully follows economic and financial trends, legal affairs, and serves as the Gormogons’ financial and legal advisor. He successfully defended us against a lawsuit from a liquor distributor worth hundreds of thousands of dollars in unpaid deliveries of bootleg shandies.
The Geep has an IQ so high it is untestable and attempts to measure it have resulted in dangerously unstable results as well as injuries to researchers. Coincidentally, he publishes intelligence tests as a side gig.
His sarcasm is so highly developed it borders on the psychic, and he is often able to insult a person even before meeting them. ’Puter enjoys hunting small game with 000 slugs and punt guns, correcting homilies in real time at Mass, and undermining unions. ’Puter likes to wear a hockey mask and carry an axe into public campgrounds, where he bursts into people’s tents and screams. As you might expect, he has been shot several times but remains completely undeterred.
He assures us that his obsessive fawning over news stories involving women teachers sleeping with young students is not Freudian in any way, although he admits something similar once happened to him. Uniquely, ’Puter is unable to speak, read, or write Russian, but he is able to sing it fluently.
Geep joined the order in the mid-1980s. He arrived at the Castle door with dozens of steamer trunks and an inarticulate hissing creature of astonishingly low intelligence he calls “Sleestak.” Ghettoputer appears to make his wishes known to Sleestak, although no one is sure whether this is the result of complex sign language, expert body posture reading, or simply beating Sleestak with a rubber mallet.
‘Puter suggests the Czar suck it.