Disabled Anonymous

Hi. My name is Eden and I am disabled. You see, almost four years ago I had a tumor the size of a twinkie removed from my head. If you thinking working with a cold is hard, try working with a big chunk of your brain missing.

I am a bad person though because being disabled entitles me to Social Security benefits, and government services. However, in the United States of America right now, the government isn't supposed to help you, but it is supposed to tell you how to conduct your personal life.

Just yesterday a bill passed that would give government more control over health care, and based on the negative comments I read on Facebook and the Internet, I'm a lazy thief and a Pinko Mutant Commie Traitor, because I am entitled to government help.

But let the record show, that when I could work, I worked long hours for little pay, relative to my co-workers. I have put in hard time, and I simply can't do that now. I mean I could, but I'd probably be fired in seconds.

So let the public flogging commence. I deserve it for being a Pinko Commie Mutant Traitor!

Shitstorm!

As a writer, of sorts, it would help if I could do a five-star rant about the rocks and garbage that have come our way of late, but I don't want to reveal too many details, so I'll make it a 2 1/2-star rant.

At least two family members that I know of are sick, and they may not get better. With sick family members comes the bickering over who will take charge, and what will be done to help said family member(s).

Speaking of sick, I just got the first post hubby layoff bill for an MRI--$942 bucks, and I feel so special, because no one can decide who's paying for it, United HealthCare or Medicare. We still have a nest egg, but more and more will be coming out of our pocket for healthcare, and my tumor may be growing. Smiles everyone Smiles!

My husband has now decided to take some classes to improve what's on his resume, a step in the right direction we hope.

I've been thinking about not going to the brain tumor support group for awhile. I believe that I have mentioned in previous posts that the support is great, but getting attached to the people there is hard, because they do die--they have brain tumors. One very dear friend of mine is recovering slowly from a second surgery, another is in hospice, and another just died. I once tried to go to all of the funerals, but I discovered that I can't do that. Some are too far away ( I have a brain tumor too, and try to avoid driving when I can). And there have been so many.

Anyway enough sad talk. I'm sure I'll weather the shitstorm.

Marry Me Jon (Stewart) aka The Jon Stewart Blues

Sing to the tune of Wedding Bell Blues by the Fifth Dimension--

You rock my world and always will.

Because you make me laugh at all the absurd things

that make the news.

But no you'll never get a show

on Fox News.

I've watched your show for a long time

since you had Steven.

Now Steven has his own show

and you don't seem to need him.

Your satire and wit won't carry me,

til you marry me Jon.

You rock my world and always will.

Like when you told the blowhards on Crossfire

they're partisan hacks.

And how you call out opinion shows for pretending

they use facts.

I think it's quite scary

you're the most trusted name in news.

I once worked in television

and it gives me the blues.

Still you're more fun than Sean Hannity.

Please marry me Jon.

Marry me Jon.

I've got the Jon Stewart blues....

The Cow With The Crown

A cow named daisy grazed in a pasture with other cows, about a dozen in all, all looking the same, all producing milk.

They all lived on a farm called Milky Way Farms, operated by Mr and Mrs. Jersey, and their daughter Bovine.

Bovine loved Daisy best. Daisy seemed to have the ability to talk to her--smart. And even though Daisy, more or less, had the same coloring as the others, and was after all, just a cow, Bovine found her prettier than the others--beautiful.

One day, Bovine decided to make Daisy a crown out of cardboard and tin foil. When she went to feed the other cows, she placed the crown on Daisy's head, and it seemed like Daisy's moo of response had a special note of appreciation.

But alas, when Daisy moved, so did the crown, into the cow pie she just created.

The Tale of Gordon T. Allen...The Video Cowboy

Back in the Stone Age, when I worked in TV news, I was surprised when I answered a call to the newsroom and a man speaking with a drawl said, "Hi. This is Gordon. I've got video of a shooting in Crack-of-my-ass County. Ya wannit?"

He was referring to Clackamas County. It was the weekend and we had no other big stories. I told him to bring it in. Gordon was a stringer--a freelance television news photographer, who primarily shoots breaking news that happens while the rest of us are sleeping.

What was so much fun about the Gordon videos was not the breaking news, but the b-roll, or extra video that they contained. It would not be unusual, for example, for him to bring in a video of a house fire, at which a marijuana grow operation was also discovered, and Gordon would crack a joke to the officials on the scene, "Hey, anybody got a pipe?" He also loved cats, so he had to get the obligatory shot of the pet that escaped.

And then there was Thelma.

Thelma was his rubber companion that went everywhere Gordon's specially- rigged video vehicle went.

One of the anchors I worked with used to say his worst fear was that at his passing, Gordon would be hovering overhead with his camera. That anchor remains alive.

Gordon shot video of the first babies of the new year. I can only imagine how the mother's felt, seeing Mr. Thelma getting video of their first moments with their newborns.

I've been wondering a lot lately what happened to Gordon T. Allen, roper-in of news, and one of the unforgettable figures in my life.