Morning, Old Farts. Caffeine and nicotine levels are taken care of and the first bowl is frying as I type. Just chased a mud monkey off my back porch and getting ready for a nice hot shower in preparation for beer day.
All this talk about the white coats makes me nervous! I always try my best to stay away from 'em. The guy I go to is a decent enough guy, but he's still a white coat. Before I turned 50, he wanted to stick his finger in a spot that I consider exit only. Told me the evils of prostate cancer. Told him I'd just as soon die with dignity. Next year, he want's to stick a camera up my tail pipe. Told him he seemed to have an unnatural fascination with my arse. Twelve years ago, he tells me I've either got kidney or bladder cancer and wants to stick a camera up a spot that I didn't figure it would fit. Told him it wasn't happening. Still alive and well twelve years later. Wonder why? Five years ago, he tells me I'm a diabetic and I need to start taking insulin. Told him he was crazy as hell. This educated idiot didn't take into consideration that my breakfast/lunch consists of two or three Cokes. Made a morning appointment and didn't do breakfast. Blood work came back normal. Duh?
Ain't none of us getting out of this life alive. You just have to ask yourself how much indignity are you willing to suffer for the promise of another day? Like ole Hank Sr. said, "If a tree don't fall on me, I'll live 'til I die!"