The Davis Dilemma Continues

It was hard to absorb the mass exodus of our favorite Oriole players last season. We said good-bye to the dynamic duo of Machado and Schoop. We dealt Zack Britton to those dreaded Yanks. And perhaps the hardest to absorb was the decision to cut ties with fan favorite, Adam Jones.

But, as enjoyable as baseball can be, it's ultimately a business at the Major League level. Unless you're the Yankees, you simply can not pay out the money to keep a team of great players together for a very long time. It's a bit frustrating. You groom a player from farm to table. Then when he eventually becomes a great player in the Big Show, you can't afford him anymore.  

With all of this being said, I find it a bit ironic that the only Oriole "super-star" that remained after the dust settled was Chris Davis. It seems just like yesterday that "Crush" was mashing baseballs like a bag of Idaho potatoes. But similar to an aging rock star, Davis has fallen on some hard times. Over the past three seasons, he has batted a dismal .221, .215 and .168. If I'm not mistaken, last year's .168 ranks as the lowest average in MLB history (for those with sufficient at-bats to qualify). To add to the perplexity, Davis is in the fourth year of a 7-year, $161 million contract. To say that the Orioles are not getting a decent return on their investment would be a vast understatement.

Entering today's game, Davis hasn't had a hit in his last 38 at-bats (going back to Sept. 15 of last season). During those 38 plate appearances, he has struck out an astounding 29 times. For all you baseball trivia buffs, the all-time record for hit-less at-bats is 46 which was set in 2010 by Eugenio Velez. Baltimore's former masher is now within a couple games of breaking this infamous accomplishment.

So, how does a guy go from being a bonafide slugger to this? It certainly doesn't appear to be a physical thing as Davis looks to be in great shape. So, my guess is that it's mostly a mental issue. By this, I am certainly not questioning Davis' intelligence. But in any high pressure situation, such as making contact with a 90 mph slider, mental concentration is pushed to the utmost limit. As you progressively fall short on your goals, the gears in your mind spin progressively faster to make the necessary adjustments. And when the results continue to be unsatisfactory, frustration has the tendency to overcome you. Your thought process becomes clouded because of the countless things racing through your mind. I don't know, maybe Dr. Phil can offer some suggestions.

Although the fans have voiced their discontent of Davis' recent performance, I can't help but feel really bad for the guy. Can you imagine the pressure this guy is under? Every time he steps to the plate, he can probably feel the criticism. Yes, he's making a ton of money, But from an emotional standpoint, ironically, that probably makes it worse for him. He knows that he's being paid a lot of money to perform. I'm sure that he's also aware of the fact that he's not fulfilling the latter end of that deal. 

In the end, I hope Davis can somehow pull out of this extended slump. If he can somehow figure things out and start launching missiles over the centerfield wall again, the fans will quickly forget about the past few years. 

kw

The Not-So-Great Smollett Hoax

Well, it looks like the cat is finally out of the bag on Jussie Smollett's fake "hate crime". When this thing was initially reported, I immediately sensed a distinct aroma of liberal bullshit. A noose, bleach, "MAGA country" ramblings, etc. Come on, could this thing be any more orchestrated?

Honestly, I had never even heard of Jussie Smollett before this story went down. Maybe that's because I've never watched an episode of "Empire". But Smollett has definitely made a name for himself now. They say that any publicity is good publicity. But the jury's still out on that one. Smollett, who is now charged with felony disorderly conduct, will have to do some serious spinning to come out of this one looking good. 

Even with these latest developments, many on the left will still defend Smollett. I expect to hear how he fabricated his story to expose a bigger problem in our society. Many will view him as "sacrificing everything" for his cause (By the way, remember when Colin Kaepernick sacrificed "everything". That was, of course, before he got a reported $60 million pay-out from the NFL). This is just another example of how the political gears of our society turn. If it's your guy or your cause, the end ultimately justifies the means. In layman terms, this is known as throwing a bunch of shit against the wall to see what sticks.

What I find most ironic about Smollett's stunt is that is was intended to paint Trump supporters as racists and himself as the victim. But in reality, he screwed the pooch in more ways than one. First off, Trump is always reminding us of the "fake news". Well, Smollet just gift wrapped a perfect example for him. Before the media investigated anything, they immediately ran with their predictable narrative. It's similar to the way they pick and choose which cop-shooting stories to run. Secondly, if one has to actively seek out and fabricate a "hate-crime", is racism really as bad as the media wants us to believe? Was oppression so bad for Smollett that he had to hire two Nigerians to "oppress" him? 

I am certainly not saying that racism does not exist. It does. And it's wrong. However, making up a story as Smollett did, serves no useful purpose in resolving anything. It only serves to set things back even further. As a result. Smollett's antics will now cast inevitable skepticism on any future "hate crimes". In essence, he sabotaged his own cause.

This whole thing was a powder keg that had the potential to explode at any moment. People could have gotten hurt or even killed over an incident that never actually happened. And for what? Apparently, Smollett was unhappy with the salary he was receiving as an actor on "Empire". So. he recklessly tried to fuel racial tensions in a lame attempt to boost his career. As a result, he is now facing three years in jail. Probably not the best move for career advancement.

A few additional things to note....

A year or so ago, Rosanne Barr was forced off of her show for an alleged racist tweet she made. Not only did Rosanne create the show, but it also happened to be the hottest show on TV at the time. So, she obviously paid a hefty price for her actions. So, will Smollett's racially motivated actions be as damaging to him?

Smollett's legal team recently said their client deserves the presumption of innocence. Fair enough. But it wasn't that long ago, according to reports, that Smollett had commented on how then Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh should not be granted presumption of innocence on charges of sexual misconduct. I guess things are different when the shoe is on the left foot?

If this incident was indeed staged, can Smollett  himself be charged with a self-inflicted hate crime? Inquiring minds want to know...

The premeditation of this whole incident is what's most compelling to me. Knowing that the media salivates over stories like this, Smollett fed the beast and they ate it up. Thinking that he could actually get away with it seems kind of ludicrous at this point. But nice try....

kw

Super Bowl 53 Ramblings

So, here we are, on the dawn of another Super Bowl. There was a time, not so long ago, when I used to really look forward to this day every year. Whether I was hosting the party or I was joining friends somewhere else, it was always a festive occasion. Not so much anymore...

I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't interested in tonight's game. After all, Tom Brady will potentially cement his place in history (again!) as the greatest NFL quarterback of all time. He's exciting to watch. Remember that comeback against the Falcons in Super Bowl 51? That was nothing short of spectacular! Sure Brady's got a lot of critics, but I think it has more to do with jealousy than anything else. I mean the guy has everything anyone could ever want: money, fame, success, beautiful wife, etc. I used to hear Raven fans try to elevate QB Joe Flacco by saying "all the guy does is win". That claim would be a vast understatement when it comes to Brady.

Tonight's match-up boils down to the old versus the new. You've got an aging but experienced Brady/Bellechick team taking on the young, hungry Rams led by QB Jared Goff and 33-year-old head coach Sean McVay. It should be an interesting contest.

By the way, am I the only one who likes the old Patriots uniforms of the 80's better than the modern ones?

I have dinner plans this evening, so I really don't plan on watching the game. Although, if it happens to be on, I'll likely glance at it every now and then to check the score. After all, I do have a few football pools for the game.

I don't feel the need to rehash the reasons that I don't watch much football anymore. Some friends agree with me, others don't. That's fine, we'll just have to agree to disagree.

With this being said, there is a potential controversy brewing over the halftime show. There is pressure on Maroon 5 and others to "make a statement" during their acts to show solidarity with Colin Kaepernick's "knee campaign". No one has revealed if anything will be done or not. But I suspect that we'll see some form of protest. I think most people have become somewhat numb to it and will generally just ignore whatever the statement-du-jour happens to be.

I remember a Super Bowl a few years ago where Beyonce made her whole half-time act a political statement. As expected, it inspired/angered equally. I happened to be in the latter end of that group. I personally like to see politics left out of my music and sports. Of course, music can be a lot trickier because it's often fueled by politics. I get it. But the divisiveness is what really turns me off. As the old Coca-Cola commercial used to say, "I'd like the teach the world to sing in perfect harmony..." I know it's a pipe dream but it's still a nice thought.

Anyway, enjoy the game if you happen to be watching it. For what it's worth, my random prediction is Patriots 38 Rams 24.

kw

My Introduction to Politics

Well, the big mid-term election is finally behind us. And while both sides claim victory to some extent, one thing is certain: there will be two more years of bickering leading up to the 2020 Presidential election.

I am not here to lecture you on what's right or wrong with today's politics. I am not going to change your views. And you're probably not going to change mine. So, what do you say we just kick back over a cup of our favorite beverages and I'll tell you a story about how I was introduced to politics at a very young age.

It all started sometime back in the middle '70's in a small town in North Carolina. Most of my relatives on my Dad's side lived in this area, so we were making our visitation rounds.I honestly had never met most of them. I would later find out that many of these strangers were actually my second or third cousins. And there were a lot of them. I quickly learned that southern folks were very efficient at reproducing.

We eventually ended up at one of my Dad's distant aunt's house. We went inside and started the awkward introduction process. I soon met a boy about my own own age. He might have been a cousin but I can't really remember. But anyway, he invited me out back to check out his tree house. I was instantly intrigued. As a young city boy, I had heard about tree houses but I didn't know they really existed. Now, I was about to actually step foot in one.

We exited the main house and made our way back to a dense patch of woods. I was wearing a relatively new pair of Jack Purcell's. The thought of trampling through the soft, damp ground and ruining them made me a bit uneasy. But nonetheless, the opportunity to experience a real life tree house could not be squandered.

As we entered the woods, we came upon a small stream. This was also something new to me. The closet thing we had to a stream in Baltimore was a storm drain. So, my new friend (I'll call him Jim-Bob) proceeded to show me how beneficial a natural stream could be. He cupped his hands and gathered up some water. To my surprise, he then put it up to his lips and drank it. He suggested that I do the same. I declined by telling him that I was more of a Pepsi man.

Without missing a beat, he then turned up a large rock and extracted a small creature from beneath it. It turned out to be a crawfish. I had never seen one of these. He offered to let me hold it but I declined. For some reason, he then started to taunt me with it. He pretended to set it on my shoulder. Then he tried to put it down the back of my shirt. I flinched to get away from the little crustacean and the bigger psychopath. This should have been a sign to leave the woods immediately and go back to the city.

Anyway, he eventually got bored and returned the crawfish to the stream. He motioned for me to follow him deeper into the woods.I have to admit, I was a little apprehensive. Crazy thoughts began to run through my mind. The fact that I had recently seen "Deliverance" certainly didn't help things. But, for whatever reason,  I decided to venture on.

Before long, I could see the tree house. It was nestled about twenty feet high in a large oak tree. As we made our way closer, Jim-Bob made me even more uncomfortable when he pulled out a medium-sized pocket knife. He picked up a small twig and began to carve at it. It was really strange. Why would he pull out a knife at this very moment?  I mean, I had seen this kind of thing on "Little House on the Prairie" but Jim-Bob definitely wasn't one of the Ingalls.

So, I gathered up whatever courage I had left and followed him to the oak tree. There was a makeshift ladder that led up to the bottom entrance to the tree house. Jim-Bob invited me to go up first. Since I was a husky boy, I was concerned that the ladder would not support my weight. But I figured, it was probably better to die from a fall than to have Jim-Bob carve me into a Jack-o-Lantern.

I carefully climbed the ladder, grasping each rung as tightly as possible. I made it all the way to the top without incident and then I pulled myself up on to the deck of tree house. As I surveyed the the surrounding area from 20 feet in the air, I experienced a much-needed moment of comfort. But it was short-lived as Jim-Bob began to pull himself onto the deck.

He invited me to have a seat. So, we both sat facing each other from opposite corners of the tree house. We had a random conversation while he continued to widdle away at the twig. It was definitely making me uncomfortable and I think he could sense it. He confirmed by belief by asking, "Am I making you nervous?"

I had developed very early as a bonafide smart-ass. So, instead of answering him with a simple yes or no, I replied, "No, not all. Why would I be nervous about sitting in a remote tree house with a knife-wielding stranger?"

He just laughed and said, "We're not strangers. We're 5th cousins."

And, I know it took a while to get to this point, but this is where my introduction to politics was born. Jim-Bob then switched gears on me and asked, "So, are you a Democrat or Republican?"

I scratched my head my head and replied, "I'm ten years old. I have no idea."

"Well, you gotta be one. So, go ahead and pick," he replied.

I explained that I didn't really know the difference between the two. And then I tried to change the subject to baseball or something. But he wasn't having any of it. He was insistent that I pick one. Then, things really went to the dark side when he said, "You know, if we're from opposing parties, I could kill you right here and it would be totally justified."

Did I just hear this guy right? Now, my mind really started racing. Could I take this guy, even though he was armed with a knife? Could I overpower him and toss him out of the tree house? And then, would the fall be enough to hobble him long enough so I could make a run towards the main house? Pretty heavy stuff for a 10-year-old to comprehend, huh?

Although Jim-Bob may have been better versed at surviving on stream water and stabbing squirrels with a pocket knife, I had city smarts. So, I turned the game around on him and asked, "So, let me ask you, are you a Democrat or that other thing?"

"I'm a Democrat, just like my Daddy," he spontaneously replied.

Unknowingly, Jim-Bob had taken the bait and revealed his hand. Seizing the moment, I said, "Me too! Damn, you really had me worried there for a minute. I thought you were gonna say you were that other thing."

Feeling like I had just dodged a bullet (or more specifically, the dirty blade of a pocketknife), I breathed a sigh of relief. I then took that opportunity to make my escape announcement.

"Hey, Jim-Bob, it's really been a blast. Your tree house is bad-ass.. But I gotta get back to the house. My parents are gonna be leaving soon", I said.

To my surprise, he casually got up and said, "Yeah, I reckon we should be getting back." 

We made both made our way out of the tree house and through the woods towards the main house. As I looked down, I noticed that my Jack Purcell's were covered in semi-dried mud. But I really didn't care. Whether I was Democrat or Republican, I was just happy to be making it out of the woods alive......


Epilogue

My intent was not to take a political shot at either party. I'm just telling you about the non-conventional way that I was introduced to politics. But since you're probably wondering.... I registered as a Democrat at the age of 18 for no other reason than "that's what my Daddy was". I remained a Democrat until I was about 30 years. At that time of my life, I started paying more attention to the issues and realized that I aligned more with the Republican party. So, I switched over and have been a member of the GOP ever since. However, I always welcome a spirited debate and try to approach things with an open mind. Even if it happens to be in a tree house in North Carolina....

The Wasp and Me

Earlier this week, I was making my way down to Richmond via route 301. I like to take this route because it's a little more relaxing than dealing with the stop-and-go traffic that usually awaits me on I-95. However, one of the drawbacks of taking this path of less resistance is that you'll sometimes hit stretches of road where there's a shortage of places to pull over. On Monday, I found myself on one of these stretches. And it put me in quite a precarious situation...

As I coasted along the desolate road, I scanned the wooded area for any imminent deer that might be waiting to pounce. The carnage on my previous ten miles of pavement convinced me that the deer were definitely lurking out there. I glanced at the radio and changed the station to Ozzy's Boneyard where I was lucky enough to catch the beginning of Dio's "Last In Line"....

"We're a ship without a storm
Cold without the warm
Light inside the darkness lit at peace, yeah...

We're a laugh without a tear
Hope without the fear
We are coming home"

I was grooving to the melody of the song and reminiscing about playing it with my old band mates back in the day. And then, just when the tempo picks up and Ronnie James is about to head off to the witch, I saw it......

Crawling on the back window of my SUV was the biggest wasp I've seen since President Taft. The thought of this thing stinging me brought instant sweat beads to my forehead. I knew I had to pull over to deal with this dire situation. However there was no shoulder on the road. My head was on a swivel as I frantically surveyed the area for a safe place to pull over. But my only option was to pull off into a marshy ditch. So, I decided to keep moving...

My speed increased as the wasp slowly made his way across the entire length of the back window. I started to get delusional. For a moment, I could have sworn I heard him say, "Whoa! Slow the f*#$ down! I'm not wearing a seat belt back here!"

Then, things got even darker. He was no longer crawling on the window! Where could he be? My fear is that he would make his way to the driver's seat. As I imagined him quietly bouncing off the interior of the car like a ninja in the night, I tried to prepare myself for what I saw as an inevitable showdown. So, I armed myself with an old USA Today that was laying on my passenger's seat. I would have traded my stack of Mega-Millions tickets for a can of wasp spray at this point!

In a bit of twisted irony, AC/DC's "Can I Sit Next To You" started to play on the radio. The thought of this thing sitting next to me in the confined space of the car was terrifying. My hope was that he would ultimately position himself where I could get a safe but respectable whack at him with the rolled-up newspaper.

As I continue down the road at breakneck speed, I catch movement on the back windshield again. He's back on the radar! I can't lose sight of him again! So, I finally pull into a makeshift driveway on the deserted road. As I got out and walked to the back of the car, there was an eerie Hitchcock-esque vibe in the air. The wasp stared at me through the inside of the window. I felt safe but violated at the same time. After all, he had invaded my space. And he was still in it.

I finally gathered up the courage to open the hatchback. I slowly raised it with my left hand as I clenched the USA Today firmly in my right. I expected the wasp to eventually fly off into the open air. But he clung to the window throughout it's full motion. With the hatchback completely raised, he just sat on the window on looked at me. Maybe it was because I was now out in the open, but for some reason, the wasp didn't seem so scary anymore. In fact, it almost seemed like we developed a bond. The thought of smashing him with the newspaper now seemed unreasonable. But I surely didn't want to resume my journey with him in the car with me. So, I slowly brushed him off the window and out of the car. I expected him to fly away. But to my surprise, he slowly crawled around on the ground a few feet from me. It was kind of like a dog rolling around in front of you to gain your affection.

As I made my way back to the driver's seat, I looked back one last time. The damn thing was actually crawling towards me! I actually think he wanted to get back into the car. Did I just make friends with a wasp? Whatever the case, I got back into car and just shook my head as made my way back onto the road......

kw

Richmond - Breakfast & Beer

Last week, I found myself in Richmond, Virginia for a business trip. When I travel, I usually try to stay at one of the local Hilton hotels. One of my favorite brands of the Hilton chain is the Embassy Suites. Aside from the spacious rooms, they also have a nice breakfast every morning and an "evening reception" every night. The reception is basically a free happy hour. And if it's free and it makes you happy, it's definitely for me!

The morning breakfast is always interesting. They have these stainless steel bins loaded up with bacon, sausage, eggs, etc. I'm not really much of a breakfast person but I tend to make an exception when I stay here. As I survey the room on my first day, the first thing that I notice is that the food supply is about to take a pounding. I don't want to be insensitive, but let's just say that there were some pretty robust people in the house. I swear, I saw one stoutly woman load her plate up with at least five pounds of bacon. Maybe it was her idea of a low-carb diet, I dunno. But, nonetheless, I felt the urge to call 911. I just couldn't see anyone ingesting that much cholesterol in one sitting without some kind of medical intervention.

On another note, I always like those toasters they have at these places. You lay your slices of bread on a small conveyor belt and a couple minutes later you have toast. It's like a David Copperfield trick! The problem with this is that there's always some inconsiderate prick who will abandon his toast. This usually causes a back-up with my toast which requires me to fish it out with a fork (I would normally just reach in with my fingers. However, people look at you funny if you don't use tongs or a fork to fetch your food in these places).

And I can't stand the people who tie up the coffee line. Instead of stepping aside to prepare their cup of java, they'll stand in front the dispenser for 5 minutes while they fumble with packs of Splenda and mini-cups of Half-and-Half. I am not a violent person but I have fought the urge to punch these people. Congestion in the coffee line can have a mood-altering effect on people.

And speaking of mood-altering effects, let's talk about the "evening reception". Starting at 5:30 every night, the Embassy Suites opens up their much-anticipated Happy Hour (since it goes on until 7:30, it actually two happy hours). It's an opportunity to unwind with your co-workers or to mingle with the other hotel guests.

Your choices of adult beverages are usually limited to a couple of domestic draft beers and the normal variety of cheap wine and liquor. If you're looking for a glass of Chateau Margaux or a splash of Grey Goose, you're probably going to be disappointed. Speaking of Geese, I was happy to see that this Embassy Suites was offering a Goose Island IPA as one of it's draft beers. Amazingly, some people were still opting for the alternative beer choice, Miller Lite. C'mon, man!

And similar tp the people who selfishly impede the coffee line in the morning, there are people who do the same in the bar line in the evening. For instance, although the sign clearly states the wine choices are limited to Cabernet, Pinot Noir, Pinot Grigio and Moscato, there will be that one person who will demand a glass of White Zinfandel. This will inevitably cause the bartender to go look for the manager as the rest of us stand in line imagining subtle ways to kick the legs out from under the moron. And there are also those people who will order mixed drinks that take ten minutes to make. Rule of thumb, if there's a long line of irritated people behind you, don't order anything that contains more than two liquids. Order a rum and Coke, I hear it's a good combination (and don't bitch because the rum isn't a Ron Zacapa XO!).

Anyway, I eventually make it the front of the line and secure my Goose Island IPA. Sipping the hoppy goodness, I make my way to a vacant table as the stress of the day slowly fades into the background.....

kw

A Colonoscopy Story

When men approach the half-century stage of their lives, they often find themselves spending a lot more time with their doctors. Similar to a car or any other mechanical device, the parts of our bodies inevitably wear out over time. And of course, once you reach middle age, you're expected to have regular check-ups, blood diagnosis and the dreaded colonoscopies.

I put off my colonoscopy for a couple of years. A few months ago, I finally accepted the fact that I was only postponing the inevitable. So, after a little pressure from my primary doctor, I scheduled my appointment with the colon man.

I already knew many people who already had the procedure done. So, I kind of knew what to expect. Almost everyone agreed that the preparation was the worst part of the whole ordeal. Spending "C-scope Eve" making countless runs to the bathroom certainly didn't sound fun. But then again, neither is the aftermath of a Taco Bell value meal. These are the trials and tribulations of an active digestive system.

On the days leading up to the procedure, you're told to lay off of nuts, seeds and other small things that can cling on to the inner walls of your colon. This would be especially tough for me because I very seldom take a lunch break at work, often relying on granola bars to carry me through the afternoon. Well, two days before C-Day, I instinctively ordered the seared tuna appetizer at a local restaurant. I didn't realize until I was half-way through it that it was encrusted with sesame seeds. Figuring I had already sinned, I went ahead and finished the rest of the dish. Hopefully, my doctor would be able to distinguish between a seared sesame seed and a polyp.

On the following morning, I had to start the clear liquid diet. Let me tell you folks, this really limits the menu. For the next day and a half, I would survive on pineapple Jell-O, lemon-lime Gatorade and chicken broth. I have to admit, by the end of the day, the chicken broth actually became quite tasty.

Around about 5 PM, I slowly opened the first bottle of Colon-Blow. I raised the small bottle to my lips and reluctantly tipped it back. I expected it to taste like liquid chalk, but it was actually kind of sweet. It gave me a weird "don't take candy from strangers" feeling. As the last of the bottle made it's way down my esophagus, I could feel the panic starting to kick in. Realizing that time would be of the essence,  I took off my belt and unfastened the top button of my pants.

About 45 minutes later, my stomach began to make gurgling noises. It rapidly made it's way through my digestive tract like an raging bull. As the sweat beads started to form on my brow, I slowly rose from my living room recliner. The classic Clash song "Should I Stay or Should I Go" raced through my mind. Then, a large contraction in my lower abdomen encouraged me to do the latter. I sensed that things were about to get real!

My pants were already around my ankles as I stumbled past the large window in the foyer and nearly tripped into the bathroom. I had hoped that the neighbors didn't see my bare ass during the migration.  But embarrassment was the least of my concerns at this point. I had more pressing issues to deal with.

I made it to the toilet and.......let me just say that the flood gates opened. I don't want to get too graphic but imagine for a minute that the Hoover Dam is at the north end of your colon. Then imagine that everything in your digestive tract is the Colorado River. Now, imagine that the Dam gives way. Anything in the path of the ravaging river would surely be swept away. Well, I think you get the picture...

This went on for the next few hours. By 9 PM, things had settled down. Surprisingly, I had a good night's sleep. As I woke up, things seemed so calm and peaceful. But we weren't quite finished yet. You see, I had to take another dose of the Colon Blow this morning (the day of the procedure). Instead of my usual morning coffee, I tipped back the second container of the "sweet surprise". The second round wasn't as nearly as bad, probably because round one pretty much cleared everything out.

Several hours later, I headed over to the medical center to have my colon scoped. The doctor and his staff were very comforting. The last thing I remember was having a conversation with the anesthesiologist about the beer selection at the Greene Turtle (this started when he commented on the Greene Turtle t-shirt that I happened to be wearing). Anyway, the next thing I knew, I was waking up in the recovery room. I was actually woken by a profanity-laced tirade from a woman in the next recovery stall. I can't remember everything she said but I do recall her threatening to "shit all over the place" if they didn't let her leave. At that point, I motioned to one of the nurses and said, "Check, please!"

The doctor came in and informed me that he removed three polyps. I instantly wondered if they were actually polyps or those sesame seeds that I mentioned earlier. But in either case, the good doctor assured me that they would be tested to make sure that they were not cancerous. Several days later, he called me and told me that everything checked out fine. But just to be safe, I will be going back for a follow-up screening in a few years.

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I often take a humorous approach to life. But I can't express how important it is for people (especially men) to have these types of preventive screenings. The survival rate is very high when colorectal cancer is caught early. So, if you're approaching 50, plan on scheduling your colonoscopy soon. And plan on sticking around for a while. I'm sure there are plenty of people who would really appreciate that...;-)

kw