Oh I dont know, Nine ten a big fat hen, okay

Yahoo! It’s the weekend. A warning though I’m feeling very introspective, so if you don’t need to hear me indulging myself even more than usual stop reading now and get on with your important business. Health matters are going to be the dominant issue here, I’m nearly sure of that. You all saw me at Christmas in the grip of bronchitis, well you’ll all be very glad to hear that by new year, why new year’s eve even I was well and able to celebrate successfully the festivities. Unfortunately with sobriety the virus returned and lurks yet, never making the mistake of presenting as full blown ,hospitalisable illness but ever present in its light dry hack, sore throat and mellow yellow mucus expectoration. I warned you, just stop reading if you’re that squeamish.
This morning I awoke without hearing in my left ear, a most undesirable experience, believe me. As a true blue Aussie hero bloke I set off in mono for work where my new condition soon became apparent to work mates who I ignored if they did not approach from the right Chris, mostly deaf himself and aided by an electronic device, sympathized and conjectured that it could have a connection to two plus weeks of bronchitis. Now this theory had already occurred to this poor victim, er, Aussie Hero, so was comforting to get a second opinion. By nine the torture, though not as great as the pins under the finger nails of Sadam’s days or even the tooth drilling without an injection endured by poor Dunstan Hoffman in Marathon Man, was sufficient to have me seek medical attention. Those of you sympathetic to the medical profession or I should say Institutionalized Medicine should leave now if you have not wisely done so already. My first choice of succor, The Enmore Medical Center was closed till January 7 (tomorrow, Sunday?) The second, Marrickville Metro Medical, (M3) at Marrickville Metro, the local shopping center was open for business just like Bunnings. Unfortunately in this lottery based system I drew the tart – skin tight jeans and denim shirt with matching hangover and attitude – who without introduction or inquiry thrust a Medicare document in front of me for signature. Signed document in hand she inquires“what is it?” or words to that effect. “I’m deaf in the left ear” I plead. She grabs the torch, magnifier, inspection gadget thrusts it into delinquent ear and declares “Lots o wax, too hard to move, get some Wax Out from the chemist” “Cant you do anything” I plead, “Too hard she says” but I’m not sure she means the wax or the job. “Alright but I don’t know where anything is around here” she wavers obviously fearing a medical malpractice suit, “come in here” In the so called surgery during the next twenty odd minutes I experience a situation not unlike my own at Bunnings and begin to warm to my Doc’s situation. Equipment can not be found, responsibility is shirked, long range solutions are proposed. Eventually an over sized syringe is procured and as I hold a basin the ear is sluiced. “I told you it was too hard” she glories as I leave still half deaf.
We Baby Boomers or in my case Pre Boomers, by a few months maybe, but I have not yet heard my birth date included in any B-Boomer tally, are not disinclined to thinking beyond the square, and so it was at this point that I began to recall my exs’s , as I always do in times of stress, (and I mean this in the most sympathetic way) beliefs in medical alternatives. What came to mind ,and fortunately before leaving The Magnificent Marrickville Metro Marketplace MMMM., was the legendary Hopi Candles. Said candles were purported to be able to remove wax from ears just as Dr.Tart had declared impossible. I sought and found the local Health Food Store as it once was known which in this case turned out to be an Athletes Lets Build Em’ Store or some such, where I purchased a pair of Hopis receiving little change from thirteen unsubsidized dollars but I’m not complaining. Back home I proceeded to treat my head as if it were a two year olds birthday cake, one candle after the other in the left ear only. Not a great deal was achieved during these candle lit performances, indeed I was just as deaf as before, however there was a distinct liquidity in the left ear now which when probed with the pinkie produced an increasingly viscous shit colored, oose, and just as if I had touched the shroud of the saint of hearing the miracle of hearing returned. Oose ran for the next day. Enough I’m sure to have packaged and sold at Bunnings as some “ultra organic wax, polish, finish, filler” guaranteed to preserve even when we all go under the rising tide.
If having read thus far you are of the opinion that this is more than you needed to know then I am indemnified by my previous warnings, just as Bunnings in their; WEAR SAFTEY GOGGLES WHEN USING THIS TOOL - disclaimer attached to a hammer - is in theirs. I might just take advantage here to sound off against the world in which I find myself and if you, Bunnings, choose to take this as personal criticism then for the first time, you’r listening.
During the week I spent a day at the gate where like Cerberus I vigilantly defended my master from those who would take advantage of her generosity. On the same day a painting team, two to three off bodies suitably splattered turned up to paint the additional gates that had been added to the recently enlarged gateway. As I observed they applied a prime and two top coats in about five hours in complete disregard to the notices on all cans of paint to allow twenty four hours drying time between all coats. The net result of course is a single thick coat of paint that will never properly dry and can be removed with a finger nail. Who should we here find at fault? Would the painting contractor have been congratulated and rewarded for taking three days instead of five hours to complete the job properly? I don’t think so. Would his company’s share holders notice and approve this nuance in the annual report? I think not. So it is that we are all doomed to a future of shoddy crap. Indeed I’ll not be surprised the day I walk into Bunnings and see the side stack with the day glo label, SHODDY CRAP – Six Pack – only $9:99
As I Speak, type , The Godfather of Soul who shall henceforth have to be known as the Saint of soul, is socking it to me, Yeah Sock it to me one time, that feels good, look at them hot pants, it is indeed a mans, mans, mans (that would be a gay couples butler wouldn’t it) world.
TH T T TH TH THAT’S ALL FOLKS
Robert