Mayday!! Mayday!! Cruise Control Bites!! Ziggy Zaps My Giggy!! Whoa!! What a dastardly turn of events. I am slinking silently through the Really Black Forest, trying to matriculate back to the friendly confines of the Compound.
Nothing would feel better than taking care of a simple 104 fever in a fussy 5-month-old with no focal physical findings who has had no immunizations because his mom feared that vaccine makers were still "loading up each vaccine with toxic doses of mercury" and who also refused a CBC-and any other tests-because she did not want to traumatize her baby.
Yet she did demand to know when her precious little Billie Sue would be well-without using any nonherbal meds, including "antibiotic poisons"-because she, her other 3 nonvaccinated kids, and her hot-as-a-pistol babycakes have nonrefundable tickets on a 6:15 am flight to Disney World tomorrow morning. And, oh, by the way, "You also need to call my HMO-WhateverCare-in the morning and get a backdated preapproval for this visit cause you aren't my PCP-his office is closed at 5 pm and it is totally inconvenient considering you are 5 minutes away and he's a 30-minute drive with a $2 dollar toll each way-gimme a break for Pete's sake!!"
My brief moment of febrile rhapsody was preempted by the girly-tinged-and somewhat garbled-screams of a familiar voice-"Hit the deck!! Hit the damn deck!! Dick's on the loose and he's loaded with live ammo. Rummy's loaded and driving a runaway Hummer."
Our beloved VP-Dickie C-sounded a little peeved as he yelled at the Hummer-"If you buzz me one more time, DR, I'm gonna stuff an official Sunni-shrinkwrapped IED into your wimpy little muffler."
That oh so familiar voice imploring me to take cover was the one and only one Al Gore, strikingly clad in a shiny-green jumpsuit with a black bull's-eye on the back. He himself sounded way beyond peeved as he dug his pudgy paws into the Germanic soil: "Ziggy, you promised that Dickie would give me a rendition-proof exit visa out of his humanoid no-survivors trophy hunt."
"Sorry, Big Al, but you should have been a little suspicious when Donny R insisted that the name on your visa be changed to Al-the Ace of Spades-Qaeda."
"But Scooter-I mean Ziggy-you promised-and you gave me your Boy Scout's honor handshake-that you wouldn't let Dick the Hammer tell anybody my real identity."
"Dammit, Big Al, I told you to always use my Deutsch covername-Ziggy Ziggy Ziggy!! If you call me Scooter Libby again, I'll waste you right here on the spot with a uranium-enriched WMD I have hidden in my Army-issued flak jacket. Besides, you weanie Demo-Cats never learn-you still believe in Scout Camp, the Tooth Fairy, and Hanging Out the Wazoo Chads. And just to reinforce my belief in Controlled Aggressive Response to acts of perceived aggression or hostile gestures, I am also equipped with a 3,000-volt CART (Controlled Aggressive Response Taser) that will light you up and stop you in your woosy tracks at up to 100 yards."
"Ziggy, you will not outgeek me, so help me Google. I didn't want to do this, but, as we speak, I have Bluetoothed the OK for Tipper to anonymously fax all your Protected Health Information to your friendly HMO-WhateverCare-including the little nuggets of info which you so brazenly withheld about your off-the-chart LDL and your painfully skyrocketing blood sugar. Not to mention the awesome number of Cialis scrips you filled in a 12-month period-you are truly a man's man!! None of which you happened to disclose on your WC application-can you spell preexisting, ScooterBear?"
"Q Dawg-you HIPPA Nazi!! How can you call yourself a real Democrat if you use these kinds of dirty tricks on your fellow humans? How low and sleazy can you go? We may do a little Rendition Rumba to expedite free and open communication with persons of interest and we might even swipe a few Chads in the spirit of healthy competition. But going after my PHI-now that's Un-American with a capital U. That could be personally devastating to my monthly premium, and besides, I was ordering the vitamin C for Dickie and DR to avoid infopimps like you from using it against us. How did you pull off this unconscionable crime against my humanity?"
"Easy Z-man. Tipper and Howard Dean got revved up one night on Starbucks and No-Doz-a perfectly legal buzz I might add-and BOOM-the next thing you know the 3 of us (I, of course, require only a broadband connection and a little WiFi to get my Internet erection, so to speak) had tapped into a plethora of cool and very private healthstuff using a methodology perfected by some hiphop rapper named SnoopDoggy-genius!!"
"That's it. You are officially toast, Allie Q. I have relayed our position, using my Sprint Sidekick CAR GPS solar-powered range-finder. Stand up, Q-dawg, and take your metal like a man. Dickie C is dead-solid sober at this very moment and locked on to your left ventricle with his Remington Deadeye Dick Special Edition 30 ought 6. And, by the way, have that dirtbag doctor hanging on to your twitching ankles stand up and take his metallic medicine with you."
"Look, Z-dawg, I am about to have a bowel movement in my official Greenpeace organic nylon Polo jumpsuit-in fact I am so full of it I do not think I can hold it one minute longer unless you stand up and hold my hand while I am made a pinata by hot Cheney lead. You have your official Army flakjacket to protect your brave GOP pumper-all I have is this weasel doctor trembling at my size 15 Calvin Klein mansters."
"Awhhh, I screamed at the top of my smoke-filled lungs as the Zigster Tasered me right in my Giggy-to use proper medical terminology-and ended my life as a potentially fertile male forever-or so it seemed at the time as I jumped amazingly quickly to my feet and stood ready and not-so-willing to meet my fate, never having made it within 3,000 miles-not to mention 3,000 volts-of my Beloved TROT Compound."
All I can tell you about the next 3 minutes is that
1. I finally figured out why both Z-man and Q-dawg sounded so garbled when they were gabbing back and forth. They were both wearing official Cruise Controllers-special binkies designed by T Cruise to muffle any screams of pain or agony associated with birth-related stuff (labor/placenta expulsion, etc) or rendition-triggered trauma.
2. Never rely on Army-issued flak stuff-man those Remington hollow points went thru poor old Scooter's jacket like it was made of silly putty.
3. Mr Former VP Big Al Gore knows a thing or two about buying stuff on the Net. He had secretly put on a heavy-duty flak jacket under his 100% organic fibers jumpsuit that he had ordered from the Guns and Ammo Web site and-man-it worked like a charm!! Charleton Heston would have been damned proud of Big Al-and so was I. Cause I instinctively and immediately claimed a Red Cross exemption from all combat when the metal started firing and stationed myself directly behind Big Al's manly torso. Needless to say, that was one of the keys to the game, as they say in football, and, I might add, in life. So, after my hero and the new poster child for Guns and Ammo did relieve himself in a very big and impressive way, we resumed our dutiful trek toward the HIPPA Capital of the Free World-AKA the Compound.