Good Morning Campers,
Okay, I am worn the hell out. Mrs. Dragon is still really sick and I’m working on negative sleep. I’m so glad that Christmas is over. Not that it was much of anything around here, but just for the fact that things can start to go back to normal around here. I’m so ready for normalcy. I don’t think I even know what that word means. But, I’m ready for it. But, I do know that I need some laughter in my life and I’m counting on you guys to deliver. So come on. send that stuff in. Now, on Christmas, I gave you my version of this lovely old poem and about the same time, Dave sent me this one:
Word press wouldn’t recognize my comment so, here it is in long form.
Politically Correct Version of “Twas the Night Before Christmas”
Twas the night before a non-denominational or denominational celebratory day, when all through the residential dwelling, either rented or owned,
not a creature was stirring, not even an evolution-advanced, sentient, small furry species that must be respected.
The hosiery which may be worn by any person regardless of gender (or gender identity) was hung (in a gentle manner using recyclable materials) by the chimney with care,
in hopes that a follically gifted person of enhanced girth soon would be there.
The younger but equally valuable members of the family who may or may not be biologically related to the head of household were nestled (most respectfully and without the possibility of physical discipline) all snug in their beds,
while non-drug induced and age-appropriate visions of organic fruit danced in the most non-suggestive manner in their heads.
And the female, male or transgendered head of household in his/her kerchief/cap/headwear of choice, and I in my kerchief/cap/headwear of choice,
had just settled down for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the lawn/sidewalk/street/space not enclosed by walls, to respect those who cannot afford lawns or who may be homeless, which is a tragic condition that should not be judged– there arose such a noise of undeterminable origin,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash, not produced by any incendiary device,
threw open the shutters and threw up the sash.
* The moon on the portion of female anatomy that cannot be said on the radio or television due to FCC restrictions of the new fallen snow,
gave a luster of midday to objects below.
When what to my wondering eyes, or other means of sensing, should appear, or emerge, but a mode of environmentally friendly transportation of compact stature that does not contribute to the world wide concern of global warming, nor uses unreplenishable fossil fuels, and eight tiny hoofed animals that should never be hunted for sport.
With a senior citizen driver of a vertically challenged disposition, so lively and quick, not meaning to imply that senior citizen drivers of a vertically challenged disposition are not normally lively and quick…I knew in a moment it must be the follically gifted person of enhanced girth previously mentioned above—but of no denominational significance.
More rapid than an avian species that is protected under federal law, his coursers they came, and he whistled, because he was genetically predisposed to whistle, and shouted, but not in an aggressive manner, and called them by name.
Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer, and Vixen, on Comet on Cupid, on Donder and Blitzen! (The folically gifted person of enhanced girth did not mean to call these hoofed animals that should never be hunted for sport by any value-laden or gender specific name as all reindeer, regardless of gender, are provided equal opportunity.)
To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall or other point on land that could be viewed by anyone either with or without a home…now dash away, dash away, dash away all! And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof, or any other point of a building within view of anyone either with or without a home, the prancing and pawing of each little hoof…
As I drew in my hand, or prosthesis, whichever applies, and was turning around…down the chimney the follically gifted person of enhanced girth came with a bound. He was dressed in an outfit that was comprised of a fur-like material made of hemp from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all tarnished with non-tobacco ashes, and soot.
A bundle of toys or educational items he had flung on his back and he looked like a entrepreneurial retailer as he opened his pack. His eyes how they twinkled, his genetically inherited facial features how merry, his cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry. His droll little mouth drawn up like a bow, and the facial hair on his face was as lacking in pigment as the snow or other type of precipitation, depending on the climate.
(((The next lines are omitted because of references to smoking and tobacco products without regard to the concern over second-hand smoke which would set a bad example for children.)))
(((Again, the next lines must be omitted because of value-laden and biogted references to people of enhanced abdominal girth.))) … a wink of his eye, not meaning to imply anything sexual or inappropriate and a twist of his head, soon gave me to know I had
nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, nor signed to the hearing impaired any indication he was trying to communicate, but went straight to his hourly or salaried union-contracted position recently negotiated and agreed upon by all parties, and filled the hosiery which may be worn by any person regardless of gender and washed in a gentle manner using only recyclable materials, then turned with a jerk (which may or may not be grounds for a workman’s comp claim).
And laying his finger aside of his nose, and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose. He sprang to his mode of environmentally friendly transportation of compact stature that does not contribute to the world wide concern of global warming, nor uses unreplenishable fossil fuels and to his team gave a whistle… And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, or sign to the hearing impaired as he drove, soberly, out of sight….
Happy non-denominational or denominational celebratory day to all…and to all a good night!
And I think that was just absolutely marvelous! And at the same time, my little brother, who still has connections in the military community, sent me these two highly classified pictures:
And did you see where the idiot Hayes Brown, an MSNBC Opinion Columnist (that right there ought to tell you everything you need to know) thinks that NORAD’s Christmas Eve Santa tracker needs to stop? That Christmas and the military have no place being connected to each other. What a fucking moron. I’ll bet you kneel for the playing of the National Anthem. The military is about honor, self-sacrifice, giving to others (up to and including your own life)…Christmas is the celebration of the birth of Christ, who epitomized all of those traits. And Santa is a fun tradition for Children to bring them into the spirit of giving and receiving in love. If you can’t see how they are all intertwined then you are missing the point. I was going to put the link to his article, but screw it, it’s not worth giving the idiot any more time than I already have. Calling him out by name and shaming him here is more than enough.
We also had our normal amount of shooting and deaths and such over Christmas. You’d think there’d be one day a year where we’d be able to go without stupid shit happening. People of the earth, you amaze me, and not in a good way. That’s why we need Dragon Laffs and you campers so very much. To pass the word to every one far and wide that the only way to get through this life is with laughter. Maybe…just maybe…if we all laugh together, we’d all get along together.
So, what do you say we give it a try again right now, shall we?
This next one is from Aussie Pete. And we can definitely sympathize:
The never ending dragon oribis giving meaning to all life and … yeah, okay, so it’s BS but a beautiful picture.
Could be used against rioters, looters, politicians who don’t keep their promises…
No kidding. But, I guess it beats the hell out of the alternative.
Well, big changes since I started this issue a few days ago. I’m not even sure where to start. I guess, first of all, I’m sorry for missing the Monday deadline, but you’ll understand when I explain it. This is hard. My poor Mrs. Dragon is in the hospital. Yeah, she’s quite sick. Turns out, on top of everything else that’s going on, she has COVID.
I finally managed to talk her (dragged her) to the ER around 4 pm on Sunday. Ran a bunch of tests because of her liver and heart conditions. That is the one good thing about going to the same hospital over and over again, they have all of her records right there. They knew she had COVID right away. They did a test for that, for flu, and a bunch of other things. Anyway, it was 6 am Monday morning before they finally got her a room. That was the last time that I saw her. Since she has COVID, no visitors.
So, I wasn’t allowed to leave her ER room, cause if I did, I couldn’t go back in. They used to have nice easy chairs in there, but have since replaced them all with hard plastic chairs that are easier to sanitize. So, here I am, a diabetic dragon, haven’t had anything to eat since about noon on Sunday, it’s now 6 am on Monday. No sleep, dozed a little bit, but who can really sleep on a hard plastic chair in the ER when they kept coming in to change IV bags and alarms were going off and people were screaming and … you get the picture. It’s still dark outside, I’m a wreck and I have a half hour drive home.
Boy, wasn’t THAT exciting.
But I made it.
Gotta get a couple of hours sleep.
I got two hours of sleep before my brain woke me up and told me there was things I HAD to do. And my phone was blowing up anyway with messages of friends and family that I had talked to the night before that had now gotten a good nights sleep and wanted to know the updates on Mrs. Dragon. And it occurred to me that, even though we are vaccinated, Izzy Dragon and I needed to be tested. I had no idea where to even go, since I’m now firing on about one cylinder. Talked to the guy at work who’s covering the office and he offers to go and buy two at home kits.
What a blessing.
Long story short, I’m positive and Izzy is negative. Makes sense, I’ve been taking care of Mrs. Dragon hand and foot for the last 3 days or so when she’s been really sick and Izzy has either been at work or upstairs segregated in her part of the house. (Mrs. Dragon and I live downstairs).
I’m kinda asymptomatic. Okay, really start thinking Impish. This could be important. You know how this little bastard works. What is a symptom and what is exhaustion/stress/just you? You need to call YOUR doctor, explain the situation, through yourself on her mercy and beg for help. So, around noon, I call the doctor’s office, leave a detailed message, clear, concise and wait. In the meantime I call myself in to the base, gotta report all positive cases. The proper people call me back and quarantine me officially.
Mrs. Dragon calls and says they may release her with drugs, oxygen and some other stuff. But, she won’t know until later. They are trying to arrange the oxygen supply. WOW! I’m amazed. I haven’t even dropped stuff off to her yet. No phone charger, no glasses. So, now I’m planning on dropping stuff off and picking her up cause it could go both ways.
Time goes by.
Around 530 pm I get a ping from my pharmacy that they are filling a script for me that I’ve never seen before. Ah! My doctor is getting around to my phone call. Timing is right, her office hours end at 5. About ten minutes later my phone rings, it’s my doctor’s nurse. She says that she’s sorry, but my doctor is not in today and she’s been playing phone tag all afternoon with her (my doctor) and another doctor and here’s what they want me to do… She’s so cool. The one prescription medicine was a monster cough, deep lung type thing, but then she also said:
150 Vitamin C (already have it! Just jack up the dosage)
1000 – 2000 Vitamin D3 (already have it! Thanks Friggin’ Pete! Long story, but He knows!)
50 Zinc (damn. Don’t have that one)
Seems like there was something else, too that I was already taking. Anyway. Just jack up some of the stuff I was already taking. Add the one prescription and the zinc and I was good to go. Oh and eat and sleep and stuff like that.
So, pick up the meds at the drive thru and they were kind enough to pull the zinc off the shelf and give me that through the drive thru and go from there to drop the stuff off at the hospital to Mrs. Dragon and the phone rings while I’m driving. And before I get any lectures, I have hands-free stuff in the car. And yes, for those of you doing the math, I’m now going on about 48 hours with only about 2 hours sleep, plus intermittent naps…and it’s dark out again. I bring that up over and over because this is northern Indiana. When it gets dark, it gets friggin’ DARK. And the damn suicidal deer come out. Not to mention the despondent racoons, the pessimistic rabbits, and the rest of the depressed wildlife.
Anyway, as I was saying, the phone rings and it’s Mrs. Dragon and she tells me that they’ve decided they are going to keep her for 5 days, at least, because her oxygen levels have dropped.
Impish swerves slightly to keep the car on the road.
How badly have they dropped? asks Impish.
Not that bad, but bad enough that they want to keep me.
Okay, well I guess that I’m just dropping stuff off then and not picking stuff up.
Some I’m just stuff?
Yeah, just some old stuff.
Yeah, but you love me anyway…and the rest is too husband and wifey for the rest of you guys. And that’s pretty much where we are now.
Except, I just now got off the phone with Mrs. Dragon. (9 am Tuesday morning) She’s doing better. And it’s just as well that she is staying in the hospital. They let slip that she has viral and bacterial pneumonia as part of her COVID. I told her she was a wreck and I was trading her in for a younger model. She told me to go to hell and she was going home with the hot nurse that was taking care of her and I heard a guy chuckle in the background and say in a low voice, “yeah, you tell him.” So, it sounds like she’s being well taken care of. She makes friends WHEREVER she goes.
It is truly amazing to me. Anyway, so good news there. And maybe the whole reason my surgery was cancelled, which, if you remember, was scheduled for yesterday…the exact same time Mrs. Dragon was being admitted to the hospital…was because God knew I was going to be a bit busy doing other things. There is always a plan.
Now, I’m sitting on my ass, and ready to freak the fuck out, so let’s put some more laughter out there that I’m sure more of us than just me can use.
Rap is like scissors — it always loses to rock.
We get all of the best girl bands to play at our parties.
Mrs. Dragon’s Poster
I HATE having a messy house.
Not enough to actually clean it. But enough to give it a really disgusted stare from my seat on the couch.
One minute you are young and carefree and the next minute your kids are asking for help with their history homework because you were alive in the nineteen hundreds.
Counterfeiters: Workers who put kitchen cabinets together.
There was a brief time in the early 90s where you could pull up to someone at a red light and ask for Mustard.
He asked me why the house isn’t clean because I’m home all day.
I asked him why we aren’t rich since he works all day.
Pro Tip #22: Ring your doorbell on your way to bed. This will clear the dogs off of the bed just long enough for you to get comfortable.