Healing Creams

Nobody cares, but I want it documented.  I ran 3/4s of a mile on the treadmill yesterday without knee pain.  Thrilling. 

This morning, my back hurts. 

I want to be dipped in a vat of healing cream.  What the fuck kind of world is this?  I've been waiting for science too long now.  What is retarding the progress? 

Republicans.  In Germany and Italy I could have my stem cells taken to grow a piece of cartilage that surgeons would insert into my knee.  America doesn't allow the procedure.  Kobe Bryant had it done because he doesn't need insurance to pay for it.  My American insurance won't. 

I figure it is the same with a lot of things.  The medical industry makes more money with treatments than they would with healing. 

There is a vat of healing cream somewhere. 

But doctors know the game.  Q sent me an article from the Wall Street Journal last night about dying. He wants me to go before I get another girlfriend or get married to some young tartlet who will take all my money.  He wants my house, etc.  He wants me to give up on the idea of healing creams.  He says I am old and should hurry up and go.  Accept it, he says.  It is only natural. 

That's what doctors do, by and large, according to this article.  They know that the end of life save you for a month treatments are brutal.  They choose to forego all that.  But here's what the article doesn't tell you.  They get extra drugs and don't suffer the sort of pain the rest of us are forced to face. 

And most of them voted for republicans. 

These are the cruel ironies of existence.  They used to be more interesting when they were more abstract. 

It is time now for me to go to the factory.  Factory life.  It is thrilling.  I don't want to do anything else.  Life outside the factory is awful.  The institution--that's the thing for me.  Now. . . I'm off to Paradise.  Who needs healing creams?