Dear BEAST Readers,
Over the past few months, you’ve likely noticed an unexplained dearth of the BEAST content you crave. My absence is inexcusable. But I do have a pretty good excuse.
With no districts reporting, we’re going to go ahead and call the 2012 election: Obama/Biden over Romney/Xenu. You’re welcome.
— The Beast (@BfloBEAST) December 22, 2011
Shortly after the election–an election I called way back in December, 2011, incidentally–I contracted a nasty case of flu. Well, and this is embarrassing to admit, during a particularly violent coughing fit, I managed to re-herniate a disc (or several?) in my upper spine. “Re-herniate” may not be accurate, as I never completely healed from the original injury. I’d initially herniated the disc(s) about a year ago while swimming–an exercise I’d chosen specifically to save my already crippled lower back. Go figure.
As a lifelong sufferer of back pain, due to a differential in leg length that came with my club foot (and a youthful defiance against my doctor’s orders to avoid sport), I can say without a doubt that this latest injury was, clinically speaking, a fat pile of debilitating bullshit. Very knifey. Very stabby. Very nerve-pinchy, down my entire left arm from shoulder to fingertips. It’s been only within the last fortnight or so that I’ve able to sit up in bed for any significant amount of time, lift anything heavier than five pounds, or even type for more than a few minutes with my left hand.
Basically, it sucked. But, barring the surgery I’ll likely need one day (because I’ve been bedridden 6 of the last 12 months, and I can’t live like that), I’m quasi-officially on the mend. And Obama willing, maybe the Kafkaesque dystopian bureaucracy known as Medicaid will actually process my application before I die, so I can properly join my comrades in the 47%. Seriously. Any fucking day now, guys.
So there. I do apologize for not writing this sooner, but when you’re pissing in bottles because you can’t stand up, the last thing on your mind is explaining yourself to a bunch of ungrateful bastards like yourselves. Speaking of which, I started the loathsome list in earnest a few days ago, so cool your goddamn jets, lower your goddamn expectations, and give me a fucking break. It’ll be done soon.
Btw, do I have to include Adam Lanza? Obviously he perpetrated a literally loathsome and horrific crime, but it feels weird criticizing a guy who was quite clearly out of his mind. And if he’s on the list some other deserving monster who’s sane and purportedly accountable for their actions will have to be bumped–like Jeanne Moos. Really, what is that lady doing? Why? Why does she exist? What is she doing? What the hell does she think she’s doing? Her delivery indicates that she might be aiming for levity (as if the gravitas Wolf Blitzer lends to CNN’s “serious” news coverage demands comic relief), yet she’s never said anything funny. Ever! No one’s ever said, “Oh, you know who makes me laugh? Jeanne Moos!” Not your dad, your aunt, your grandma, nor your uncle who was dropped on his head as an infant–and thinks the late Andy Rooney’s curmudgeon shtick was second in belly-laughs only to the piano stylings of political satirist Mark Russel–has even the remotest idea what in the hell that lady is trying to do! No one! Not even people who think Jay Leno is funny understand what the fucking fuck that fucking lady is fucking doing! “Oh, brother!” is not a punchline! What the fuck?! DIE! DIE! DIE!
So what I’m saying is that Jeanne Moos might be far worse than Adam Lanza. Thoughts?