Quite A Handful

Every night, before I lie down to rest, I have to swallow this delicious assortment of Chemical Jellybeans. The Doctor must really love me since he (okay, they) give me so many little gifts. They treat a variety of ills, syndromes, complexes and conditions. Some of them treat side-effects that are caused by some of the other ones. Now that's insane. Sadly, none of them make me taller, wealthier, thinner or more tan. In fact, I have to pay for the privelege of taking them. That's insane too.

I'll tell you a secret about chronic illness that no one ever warns you about. Treatable incurable diseases have an element of MONOTONY to them that can catch you by surprise. I will say 'goodnight' to this beautiful handful of pills for the rest of my life. I say 'good day' to their equally colorful counterparts each morning...for the rest of my life. Of course I'm happy that I will live a long full life with medical support but I sometimes see a line of pills that stretches until it disappears from view.

Pills. Infinity. I win.

DUH.

Precious Little "FUN" in Fundamentalists

APOCALYPTIC POLYGAMISTS - try saying that three time fast. Ten thousand followers, twenty-odd wives, the power of life, death and exile to those who call him "Prophet." It's definitely not his looks. At least with David Koresh there was a certain Jim Morrison hippie rocker handsome you could follow into the flames of eternity. But this guy looks like a giant "Barney Fife" (sorry Don Knotts, funny you are - pretty you aren't.)

You know, if you glued a bad beard on the "Prophet" and threw him in a dress, he'd look a little like everybody's favorite Fundamental Islamist Terrorist - Osama (Who's Yo Mama?) Bin Laden. Bad skin and all.

Maybe they had to become crazy evil deluded devil men because acne made them lonely? Hmmm. The World may never know.