It is what every 50 year old with health coverage has to experience. Granted, I am 51, but I finally went through with a colonoscopy. And you know what? They found 5 polyps. The pictures of them show no discoloration. Just bumps. Hell, not even bumps, really. Just swellings. Still, they were cut off and cauterized. Now I have to wait a week to find out if any of them were cancerous.

What amazes me is that I feel no pain from the removal. Actually, in some ways my gut feels better. I do not know if it is because of the 24 hours of emptying out my gut just removed whatever was causing the general feeling of swelling, or if it was the polyps. In either case, I am surprised at how much better I feel.

Now, if anyone is interested in seeing the inside of my colon, by all means leave a comment here on my blog.

What with being in a fog and all, when it came time for me to pick a sober date shortly after being admitted into the halfway house I racked my brain for what seemed like weeks (probably only 15 minutes really) and settled on January 30th, 1985 as the last day of use of any alcohol or drugs. Turns out that it was a Wednesday back than too.

Yeah, it’s been 28 years. Now, if you will all excuse me, I have to give the DNR fire watch who sits outside my door a cup of coffee. That’s right; I’m so dry I need my own fire watch.

Oh, okay, I’ll stop with the bad jokes.

In case any of you are too young to remember the show; here is a taste.

Traditions? I don’t need no stink’n traditions!

Yeah, ah….. I have the greatest dad ever!

Last night I invited them out for Friday night all you can eat fish fry at Peggy Sue’s (no web presence, sorry). Well, a few weeks ago my washing machine died. So, I mentioned it to dad earlier this week and asked if he had a line on a cheap used washing machine. He said he’d look; talked about how Menard’s sometimes have trade-ins they sell for $49, etc., etc., etc.

Well, yesterday when he showed up for the Fish Fry, he had a used washer in his van. My cost? NOTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Actually, I bought the fish.

Seriously: Greatest. Dad. Ever!

Oh, and laundry is agitating as I type this.

Seriously: Not Safe For Work!

Hat Tip to NTodd who posted it to Facebook. That means you won’t find this video on his blog.

Because I have been thinking Cinnamon has looked depressed lately, I decided to adopt a rescue kitten from Camp Companion to keep her company. They are a volunteer group in Rochester MN who take kittens born to feral cats or are in kitten mills/hording homes. His name is Kang. My girlfriend Norene – who volunteers with Camp Companion – nursed him from when he was first born. He became very ill in his first few months of life. 3 of his siblings did not survive their illness.

Anyway, he is very mellow and laid back. He is almost a Tuxedo cat. Not quite though. More white than usual. He will leave adults alone if they show any animosity towards him. In fact, he is making a wide berth of Cinnamon at the moment because she is obviously upset at a new addition to the household. But I trust her to make friends quickly.

He is named after a character in Star Trek played by Michael Ansara. Pictures to follow.

There is a national shift about gun safety. There is a national shift about how we take care of our own inside our own borders. The NRA still has yet to make an official announcement about the massacre. 31 pro-gun lobby Senators refuse to go on the air and discuss the implications of this latest tragedy.

This is the tipping point. After over 3 decades of crying “What about the children?” it has finally come home that the conservative approach to social issues has been wrong.

Had they been right 20 children would not now be dead.

Of all the shows to be classy, I would never have expected Saturday Night Live to get it right.

Note the girl right in the middle. Tell me she is not aware of the significance of this event.

Thanks to Raw Story for showing me this video.

You need to go read the whole post.

(Balloon Juice) All I can think right now is how many moms have Christmas present hidden all over their house and were told this morning that their child is dead. How many of them will now look at a Christmas tree, knowing their child will not be there on Christmas morning to open the presents lovingly purchased and wrapped and hidden? How many of these parents struggled for years to get pregnant, and now their kid, because of some lunatic with an easily accessible gun, is dead? How many grandparents who waited for 30 years to have a grandchild, have plane tickets booked for the Holidays, and now need to change those plans and come up earlier to bury their grandchild.

How the hell John can write a thoughtful, eloquent post like that at a time like this is beyond me. I am unable to get past being mad as hell right now. My only saving grace is the grief I have because of my own past experiences at loss.