How to whup flu in the ass...

So I try to keep any sort of health info away from this blog. I do work in the health field, so I write lots of stuff about health anyways. But y'all gotta listen.

Yesterday morning came WAY too early. Driving to work felt like the proverbial Mack truck had slammed me. Took some of the morning off to hit the gym's sauna and steam room. For nearly two hours, people! Came back to see a few patients and discover my temperature was a nice 102. Called the rest of the day off, natch. Drove home, and spent the rest of the day either melting in hot baths or buried beneath blankets.

Yep, probably is the flu. No, I did not get the flu shot. I'll let my body fight it off itself, thank you very much. Despite the fact that I don't have the strongest immune system in the world, I've got weapons in my arsenal to help stave illnesses off, and now I know I've got great weapons to powerfully mitigate them when they hit.

Last night, I was in AGONY, and was in no shape to drive. But I drove a good hour round-trip to a health food store to get an extract of the black elderberry called Sambucol. (Or at least, that's the most official version of it; I've also seen it simply called Sambucus; that's from the taxonomic name Sambucus nigra). People, this shit WORKS. I've never seen any medicine eliminate flu symptoms faster. And I'm thrilled that it happens to be basically natural. But here's the cherry on top of the natural/effective ice cream sundae: it actually tastes delicious! Seriously. I went to a convention years ago where I sampled Sambucol for the first time. They didn't serve it on spoons. They didn't serve it in little plastic measuring cups. They served it on pancakes. Tasted like some of the yummiest raspberry pancake syrup I'd ever had. Granted, it isn't the cheapest stuff on the market, but it's not exorbitant.

Now, here's something new I hadn't heard of until late last week. Joe Mercola, he of the ubiquitous and reliably annoying health website Mercola.com, wrote an interesting article about baking soda. It goes back to the 1920s, before health claims on anything were effectively muzzled unless you were a drug company in bed with the FDA and with billions in pocket change. Apparently, baking soda back then was being touted - not as a cure, but as a treatment for colds and flu. No claim to 100% eradicate it. Just a claim that it would decrease symptoms and duration. (The theory behind baking soda is that it tends to alkalize the body, and viral/bacterial infections have a hard time thriving in an alkaline environment.) Here's the simple protocol:

Day 1: 6 doses of 1/2 teaspoon baking soda in water, all 2 hours apart.
Day 2: 4 doses, all 2 hours apart.
Day 3: 2 doses, morning and night.
Day 4 until end of illness: 1 dose in the morning.

I'm a huge fan of the saying "it can't hurt, and it might help." Small doses of baking soda certainly qualify. I'm also a huge fan of giving legitimacy to effective natural remedies that will never have the so-called legitimacy of quack drugs like statins and acid blockers, thanks to the FDA. So I gave the baking soda a try.

It's been about 24 hours since I started the Sambucol, and I began the baking soda protocol this morning. I can say with no question that I still have the flu. I can also say with no question that I have never rebounded so quickly after getting the flu. Headache? Yes. Sore throat? Yes. Muscle aches? Yes. But I also have energy, am in great spirits, and was hungry enough this evening to make some soup for myself, after having no appetite and fasting rather effortlessly for about 30 hours. Even went to a party tonight and ate a fair bit there, too. I've heard horror stories of people who have been dealing with the flu this season for weeks, bedridden for most of the time. If last night's feverish tossing and turning ends up being the extent of my problems, then I'm a convert...and I'll let patients know too, from here on through.

"Isn't there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?"

1) A Charlie Brown Christmas. As if I would EVER leave this one off. NO ONE should go through Christmas without seeing this. Every year, it seems the spirit of the season gets more and more lost in the shuffle, and this is always a wonderful reminder of why we celebrate Christmas in the first place. Linus's reading of the Nativity is simple, understated, poignant, and perfect. Originally, everyone working on this special back in 1965 was terribly pessimistic about it, thinking it was too depressing, poorly made, amateurish, and was doomed to failure. It gives me hope for the human race that this actually ended up succeeding far beyond anyone's expectations - and is still shown faithfully on prime time over 40 years later.

2) John Denver and the Muppets: A Christmas Together. Best. Christmas. Album. EVER. Equal parts wackiness and sappiness - and I mean that in the most complimentary way possible. John Denver singing "A Baby Just Like You" will bring you to tears, and his duet with Rowlf on "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas" is gorge. Meanwhile, the Muppets definitively skewer "The Twelve Days of Christmas" and rock out to the Beach Boys' "Little St. Nick"...well, as much as the Electric Mayhem can. Animal helps.

2.1) The Carpenters: Christmas Portrait. This one is just a hairsbreadth beneath A Christmas Together. Karen's silky, effortless contralto is one of pop music's greatest treasures, and it was practically made to grace Christmas carols. "Merry Christmas Darling" is, of course, the classic, but the guilty pleasures abide throughout. It also includes some light renditions of dances from The Nutcracker. Combine these two albums, and you're set.

3) Chocolate mousse pie. Hands down, the BEST dessert I have ever eaten. I was lucky enough to get the recipe from my mom a few years ago, and my partner now demands I make it every year. Decadent, rich slices of heaven, served on a cinnamon graham cracker crust and topped with heaps of whipped cream.

4) Creme brulee. Learned how to make this hummer about six years ago. Actually quite simple. Mix four ingredients (egg yolks, cream, sugar, vanilla). Put in ramekins. Put ramekins in a water bath. Bake for x amount of time. Pull out. Let cool, then refrigerate. Top with sugar and torch it. Eat slowly and savor something damn near a mouthgasm.

5) St. Olaf Christmas Festival. I have to see this every year on PBS, having sung in the Christmas festival a total of 12 times myself (4 times for 3 years running). Choral nirvana. Absolutely REQUIRED watching if you are a good Lu-the-ran.

6) Handel's Messiah, the singalong version. Because I lo-ove to sing, and really, the story of the Messiah is fascinating. Extra points for the one I go to in Boulder, since the conductor ends the whole shebang with the Hallelujah chorus sung a second time.

7) Egg nog. Duh.

8) The tree. Yes, the decorations are beautiful, but what really gets me is the smell of a (freshly-cut) pine tree. I dunno. Fresh, cool, natural, and masculine somehow...a killer combination.

9) Mandarin oranges. Nana and Papa from Bakersfield used to send us a whole crate of these every December, and their mandarin oranges were so tangy and juicy, and the peels practically fell off the fruit, they were so easy to peel. The cuties you see in the stores nowadays are a pale, sad imitation of what we used to enjoy years ago.

Yeah. About those apostrophes...

If you have difficulty trying to figure out how not to use apostrophes, here's a crash course. Especially recommended for car salesmen or people in charge of marquees, or for douchenozzles who actually write like this:

Srsly people your terrible if you dont know how to use an apostrophe!!! you make me loose my mind!!! LOLZ

Gaaaahhh...

I extend my middle finger to the middle name...

An entreaty to expectant or new parents:

I am one of those hapless people who has gone by his middle name since my parents dictated it so, far before I was ever able to raise my tiny voice or fists in objection. You'd think this would be just an interesting quirk, something to raise the eyebrows slightly and provide about 6.6 seconds of idle conversation. But no. To wit:

• Waiting in a doctor's or dentist's waiting room just sucks. When the clueless PA or nurse or DA or what-have-you calls your name, it's inevitably by your given first name, and not by the one you go by. (Not a rip on said PAs, nurses, or DAs...they're often just saying what's in front of them on the chart, and they don't know otherwise.) And if you don't expect it, you could end up sitting in the waiting room while the PA wonders why no one's responding.
• Filling out official paperwork, you have to - HAVE TO - write your first name. People who simply go by their first names don't even have to worry about this. But it makes those like me pause and have to think for a second.
• The above especially applies if you're trying to vote or sign a petition. Sign it with the name you go by and not by your first name, and your vote is as good as useless.

Minor issues, no? Perhaps for most people who go by their middle name. It's possible that most don't mind their first name. But I ABHOR mine. It's always sounded like a name given to a snooty British multimillionaire descended from royalty, esquire. So whenever I hear it, I cringe. Or if I'm forced to say it to some official person who can't find me in a database? Yecch.

So I say to you parents who are contemplating names for your children: Do NOT call your child using their middle name. If you like it so much, then switch it with what you originally planned as the first name. Oh yeah, the "but it doesn't sound good that way!" whining. Tough. If it really sounds that bad, then choose another name. Seriously.

Europe - The Final Countdown / Asia - Only Time Will Tell

Shut up. You love them too. I just have the balls to admit it openly.

It's been postulated that bands with place names make really crappy music, and the larger the place referenced, the worse. Boston. Kansas. America. Europe. Asia. (Hedwig said so...travel exhausts her.) For the most part, I agree, although most of these bands have come up with at least one ace up their sleeve. Most Boston fans adore "More Than A Feeling," but "Amanda" is much more my speed. Kansas...meh. America can turn over it its grave for all I care. But these last two? Yowzah.

Back in 1986, yours truly was just officially leaving childhood behind, finishing off 5th grade and becoming an official member of the Boy Scouts, Troop 457. And HO boy...impressionable? Just for starters. At that time, I just craved some sort of Meaningful Anthem to rock out to, and with which I could bond with my new comrades in khaki and olive drab. Enter Europe. And damn, did they deliver. "The Final Countdown" just hit me in the heart and the gut.

The opening synthesizer riff - all 20 notes of it - really could have been all of the song, and I would have loved it forevermore. The minor chords just screamed out valor, bravery, bonding, striving, strength, power. In a rather high and mighty Viking sort of manner. (Makes sense, since these guys hailed from Sweden, right?) And without saying a word.

But then the singer had to open his trap and begin yowling some of the most laughable lyrics imaginable - about leaving an apocalyptic, dying Earth behind and looking for a new planet to live on. In other words, absolutely perfect sci-fi source material for such a ponderous tune. "We're headed for Venus/And still we stand tall..." Let me stop right there. That striving? That bonding? That bravery? Right there, in full effect. "Cause maybe they've seen us/And welcome us all." Oh geez. Botched grammar, even. But you know? The song would be wrong without it, almost as if Elvis back in the day had sung "You aren't anything but a hound dog." It's the absurdity and pompousness that elevates this song to utter classic status.

"The Final Countdown" is among the guiltiest of pleasures ever created, but it owes quite the debt to Asia's "Only Time Will Tell," an insanely addictive slice of prog pop heaven. I mean, that song. That anthemic synth riff. The slamming cowbell. Those soaring, pealing guitars. Those powerful harmonies. And those overly serious lyrics about infidelity that verge on parody. As a kid, I had absolutely no idea what they meant. I just knew that the song resonated in me and turned me to mush - but not before I demanded that the radio be turned up louder. The video wasn't half-bad, either...for pre-Thriller 1982, at least.

Some consider Asia, the album that birthed "Only Time Will Tell," alongside "Heat of the Moment" and "Sole Survivor," the last dying gasp of the AOR movement. Not even close. Europe grabbed the torch from Asia's hands and carried it, if only for one more album. Whitesnake held down the trashy, slutty, but defiantly adult corner of the market; "Is This Love" and "Here I Go Again" were the two must-hears. Queensryche also soldiered on beyond that; Empire and Operation: Mindcrime were damned good albums, and if nothing else, the epic "Silent Lucidity" deserves to be heard by a new generation. I'd argue that any semblance of AOR was killed off - along with the rest of '80s hair metal and happy peppy pop - singlehandedly by Nirvana in late 1991. (Well, maybe not entirely - Rush is still kickin' around somewhere, right?) But man, it'd be great to hear a resurgence of AOR, hair metal, prog rock...whatever you want to call it. Guilty pleasures, all.

The Muppets - Bohemian Rhapsody

OMFUG. You, my audience of three, HAVE to see this one. Yeah, you'll have to slog past Gonzo and his chickens for the first minute. But. Any video where Gonzo's part is the most boring is brilliant. And Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem can rock my world any ol' time they want. (Killer band name, by the way.)

Like to died laughin'...

Duck Amuck

The funniest cartoon I've ever seen, this one was included in the original, brilliant Bugs Bunny/Road Runner Movie. Here it is in all its Merrie Melodies glory.

If you haven't seen this: You know how short a temper Daffy Duck has. Well, just imagine how nettled he gets when the cartoonist himself starts to play games with him. Damn near busts a spleen.

With no further ado...

Misplaced apostrophes or a misplaced blog title?

A little history about the name of this blog: I was never a fan of bad grammar, syntax, and punctuation. Call me a language snob. I own it proudly. Yet I also love turning language gaffes on their sides and using 'em subversively to mock those who can't master the English language. Granted, English is a very difficult language to master. Here's just one example, explained brilliantly by my former Russian professor:

"I have..." You have what?
"I have got..." You have got what?
"I have got to get..." You have got to get what?
(Selfish, grabby people, we Anglophones, right?)
"I have got to get going..." Ah.
"...if I am going to get..." Get WHAT?
"I have got to get going if I am going to get there." Yeesh! Well, go, then! And don't forget to get...um...whatever it is you were going to get.

You can understand why English is so tough for foreign speakers. But for those who grow up with English as their primary language, I have much less sympathy and much more mockery. Hence the title of this blog.

But skewering English maligners was never the main intent of this blog...or any intent of this blog in the first place. I just thought the title looked cool...post-cool, even. Joe Cool would appreciate it. I even wanted to form a college rock band called the Misplaced Apostrophe's. Most people would get the joke, some would scratch their heads, and some would be completely oblivious. But it would raise a lighthearted conversation, perhaps.

So get this. Click on the "Next Blog >>" link at the top of this page, and you will quite possibly be taken to some literary-based blog. Could be some excellent poetry, could be some boring ramblings about - yup - grammar. Whatever. Guess it comes with the blog title. (You should have seen the REALLY random results back in the day when I originally titled this screed "Po Diddikai.")

Anyhoo. Now that you've read through all this, I'm sure you'd like to know exactly how not to misplace an apostrophe, right? Here ya go. Don't say I didn't do nothin' for ya.

The best years of your life (or something...) (part 1)

For the fun of it, a few things I'd tell myself through 9th grade:

-- Seriously, I know it's so fresh in your mind and you're still soaring on endorphins, but move on to life after the bee, okay? The sooner, the better. And for GOD'S sake, do not write that letter to you-know-who!

-- So, um, if you're so against popularity contests, then why the hell are you running for freshman class president? Let stuco go.

-- I know you'd like to think you're all badass, but a single shot of Bailey's every afternoon does not a rebel make. Especially if you're concerned that your parents will find out once the bottle's empty.

-- You want that cashier job at Alfalfa's? Get it. Damn your parents. They just want you to get a job that's socially acceptable. Catering is sooo high society snooty Muffy Piddlewaters and Skippy McGillycuddy, Esq. Not your scene, right? And by the by: the whole Alfalfa's gig will be very influential in the future, in a tangential but awesome way.

-- Dunno what to say about that 2.9, ol' buddy. Let's head out to Perkins for some coffee and shoot the shit. Get away from the parents and let their heads stop spinning. I'll buy.

-- Don't do speech and debate. You’re destroying yourself for no reason and learning absolutely nothing in the process. Honestly. Find something else to do that won’t require you to wake up at oh-fuck-early on Saturday mornings and subject you to long, boring, useless days that aren’t doing jackshit for your speaking skills. Not doing speech and debate doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you’re respecting your health. And fuck how it looks on your transcript.

-- Speaking of respecting your health...so you hate these colds that last forever, right? Jeebus, where to start? You love sleep, right? Do it. REST. (See above about quitting speech and debate already.) Have lots of the herbal tea that you're gonna get at Alfalfa's with your employee discount (hint, hint). And, uh, notice how you feel after you eat those pork chops with tons of gravy and a full glass of milk for dinner, ok?

-- Get into the Who over the summer. As much as you are into Led Zeppelin, the Who may possibly rock your world even more. I haven't heard much, even at my age, and I think I'm too old now to totally appreciate 'em. Still, "Behind Blue Eyes" and "Won't Get Fooled Again" are pretty awesome, no? Oh, you haven't heard them. Hmm.

-- I know and you know the real reason you're staring at your girlfriend's big burly linebacker brother as you pass in the hall. (By the way...dating someone simply because she looks like Julia Roberts? Seriously?) And yes, you can tell yourself it's because you're afraid he'll squash you into a grease spot on the sidewalk. Which is a remote possibility. But that's all I'll say and your secret's safe with me. Until college. Then it's open season. (Just kidding.)

-- And for God’s sake, print out your journal! You know, the one that starts “Do you suppose anyone out there can hear me?” Save it. Put it in a safe deposit box if need be. You’ll want it.

Don't I wish...