Amnesia VS Bugfuck

Tuesday, Sept. 25, 2007 - 12:23 a.m.

Ronn Owens was back on the air yesterday morning.

He described last Monday as him going to work like any other day, and the last thing he remembers is sitting down at the mic, and then the NEXT thing he remembers is waking up at the hospital with his program director and his wife hovering over him.

It wasn't drugs, good or evil, and it wasn't booze and it wasn't epilepsy and it wasn't a stroke.

The diagnosis was something called 'transient global amnesia.' It's a disorder in the hippocampus that basically produces a handful of symptoms similar to a stroke, but without actually being a stroke. It's extremely rare, and affects only about 3-10 people per 100,000.

Well, I guess if that's what the doctors concluded, that will have to do. Sure sounded like a mini-stroke to me, though.

I've had a couple of jump-cuts in my life, not having to do with regular sleep. In the middle of a multi-week stay at the hospital for my car accident and subsequent surgery and recuperation, there was one morning I woke up extremely late for me, and found my parents there, along with my grandmother and Uncle Joe, who never panicked about anything. I'd had a roll the eyes back in the head seizure of some kind, and it was corrected by actually paying the fuck attention to what the fuck the staff had done to me and replacing the WRONG fucking type of blood they were putting into me with the RIGHT type.

And of course, there's always that wonderful sodium pentathol jump cut that comes with exstensive dental surgery.

So I sympathize with Ronn. And I'm glad he's better.

And I hope it never happens to him again.

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I was kind of in two minds as to whether or not I wanted Iran's president to visit the USA.

But now I'm glad the peaceniks at Columbia got to see for themselves how nutty this man is.

Yup. As the saying goes, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad is nuttier than rat shit in a pistachio factory.

He almost got laughed off the stage when he said that there were no homosexuals in Iran.

You know, though, what WOULD have been kinda FUN is to have taken his papers, along with those of his entourage, and insisted he stay here in the USA.

For four hundred and forty-four days.

Somewhere sparkly and purple and fashionable over here in my fair city's Castro District.

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Okay, there you go. Have a good Tuesday.

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