cancer

Okay, first off: Tam, you're in my prayers, positive thoughts, and anything else I can think of that might help, or at least make you feel better a little bit.  Cancer can fuck the fuck off and die.  So can biopsies, and waiting for results.

We all love you, out here.  Here's hoping it's nothing serious.

miscellaneous

• Getting up to walk a puppy at four a.m. can fuck off.  With cheez.  

•  Not being able to get to sleep before midnight, for whatever reason, when I know I'm going to be getting up at 4:00, 6:30, and for the last time at 7:00 can take a flying leap off the purple people-eater from my nightmare between 6:30 and 7:00, and swan dive into an indigo fuck off.

•  Students who can't read a schedule of due dates, assignment sheets, or step-by-step instructions with pictures to fucking do something fucking right the first fucking time can fuck off--but they probably won't know how, and would want someone to do it for them.  

• Politicians and politics.  And people who are fervent true believers in a particular political ideology to the point that they're still campaigning for Toad Akin can fuck right the fucking fuckety fuck off.

• Cancer.  Cancer can fuck off and die.  

• Obamacare, its authors, and each and every fucktard fuckstick that fucking voted for it, as well as that traitorous fuck on the fucking Supreme Fucking Court can fuck off so hard that their ancestors and  descendants to the eighteenth generation can feel violated.  You fucking cockbiting fuckbaits just fucking insured that we won't fucking find a fucking cure for any-fucking-thing, much less fucking cancer.  

• Entitlement spending, and the proponents thereof, can fuck off with a copy of Dave Ramsey's collected works on how money works, how to create and maintain a budget, and how to get out (and stay out) of debt turned sideways, folded until it's all corners, and jammed up their collective ass, just like they've done with the debt to the rest of us.

• Meetings, bureaucrats, paperwork, and stupid hoops to make the bosses feel like their job is more important than the workers' jobs can fuck off.

Gibbering, incoherent rage-inducing FFOT, this week.

I read a story linked from TinCan Assassin's blog on Monday.  It's taken me this long for the shock to wear off, and to get past the incoherent, gibbering rage it caused.

Seems a WWII hero recently lost his wife to cancer.  They fought it, but ultimately lost.  She's buried next to their home, and he was planning to join her when he passed, but something happened.  The medical bills had spiraled so high that he wasn't able to pay them, and declared bankruptcy.

They want to take his house, because he didn't list his retirement fund (a collection of gold and silver coins) in his assets.  He didn't understand the explanations of what he was supposed to do, and now they want to force him to exhume his wife and go die in a ditch.

To heap more trouble on this poor old man's head, he's got prostate cancer, and likely won't live much longer, anyway.

To the lawyers trying to take this old man's home and life: You fucking slimy fucking extrusions from a fucking politician's soiled and diseased nether regions.  How fucking dare you fucking destroy what's left of this man's life.  How fucking dare you fucking try to fucking force this hero from the home he fucking fought for?  Every lawyer in this case--including the veteran's lawyers who fell down on their job protecting him and his rights--can fuck off so hard that eighteen generations in both directions feel violated.  They can all fuck off with a cricket bat coated in broken glass and rusty barbed wire, then soaked in hydrochloric acid. 

May every acquaintance in your life find out about your spiritual halitosis and abandon you right when you need them most.  May you lose your job, your home, and your family over this despicable fucking attempt.  May you contract brain rot, crotch rot, and die a slow, painful death. 

And may you all be deported to communist China to learn exactly why you should be kissing that man's feet instead of trying to exhume his wife and steal his home.

CCFTFO

It took my grandfather and uncle, but left my male genetic donor. Now it's taking loved ones from Ricki.

Cancer sucks worse than politicians.

Suck It, Cancer

Sorry we're late; with one exception, the year is going really well so far. At least better for me than last year. But cancer can still suck it for the man it stole from somebody I care dearly about a few short hours ago.

The floor is yours.