Go, Speed Racer!
Actually, I suppose the title should have been “Slow down, Speed Racer!” I had my cardiologist appointment today for my tachycardia (excessively fast heart rate). My sisters and The Socialist were unable to take me, so a friend from work did the honors. I may have stated in prior ramblings that I against minivans on politcal, moral, and probably religious grounds, but riding around in the back of an air conditioned one that has separate thermostat controls for the back seat, a DVD player for the passengers, and stereo surround could make one forget one’s priciples I fear. This was one very cool trip into The Big City, marred only by the fact that we sat on the major interstate into town for an hour while a multivehicle accident blocked all lanes at the exit just ahead of where we wanted to get off. We ended up being a tad late for the appointment (good thing we left so early), but at least they didn’t kick me out when I signed in.
Dr. Heart has no clue why my resting heartrate continues to be so fast, but he’s sticking me on a drug to slow it down, and I have to get some extra blood tests tomorrow when I go for my regular weekly testing to rule out a thyroid problem. I sincerely doubt it’s a thyroid problem. Exactly how many organs can go bad on a person inside of six years anyhow? Damn, I wish my parents had sprung for the extended warrenty on me when I was born.
Dr. Heart, by the way, is a wonderful guy who obviously listens to his patients and is careful to talk to them about their problem on a level they’ll understand best. He’s thorough, and ended up shaking some information out of me that I hadn’t thought about in years. Unfortunately, he also looks like a walking, talking, life-size Dr. Ken Doll, right down to the toupe that doesn’t quite match his natural hair and looks so plastic that I’d swear it would crack in half if he fell over and hit his head. The toupe is done in a kind of modified Elvis, with a flip that comes down over the hairline on his forehead before being swept back over his head. I am a very bad girl. For the first ten minutes or so of the office appointment, I spent so much time trying (successfully) not to giggle that I didn’t catch a word of what he said. I like the doctor, but the toupe has to go.
Conversing with my friend from work on the way back, I discovered that rules governing internet usage at work continue to get more and more restrictive. They installed a babysitter program shortly before I went out on disability that blocks us from being able to access certain sites. Some of the sites blocked make sense, but others actually were used for professional reasons, and a lot of people are up in arms about it. On top of that, it now turns out that this same Big Brother program also blocks e-mail from coming in from most private accounts. That means that anyone we corresponded with for professional reasons through aol, comcast, podigy, many universities, and other such servers can no longer send us email. This is particularly a pain for me, since many of my contacts are in private practice and not working in a corporate setting. I already know of one person who has attempted to contact me and found themselves blocked, and I have to wonder how many others are affected but can’t tell me because I’m out on disability. I’m really annoyed, especially as they did this with no warning, but since I’m not actively at work right now there’s not much I can do. If there’s damage control to attend to, I’ll worry about it when I finally get back to work.
On a more upbeat note, I somehow got into a discussion with The Socialist last night as I was drifting off to sleep about favorite television shows of my youth. I started listing shows that I loved and he’d never heard of. Many were local products, including a variety show for local children to perform on and another program run by an artist who drew pictures as he told stories. I remember rushing home after school so I could catch most of Dark Shadows, and then watching a children’s show hosted by a local weather forecaster. It was that show that introduced me to such memorable Japanese imports as Astroboy, Prince Planet and Ultraman. Unfortunately, I couldn’t remember Ultraman’s name at the time I was having the discussion last night, and kept waking up trying to remember it. Finally, at seven o’clock this morning, it came to me. How could I ever forget Ultraman?
There were plenty of other shows that he’d either never heard of or at least had an amount of disdain for. Fireball XL-5, Supercar, Stingray and of course, the Thunderbirds (supermarionation may be kitch, but it still rocks in my book). Cartoons like The Eighth Man (who was named Tobor, which is “robot spelled backwards, as they reminded you in every episode) and Marine Boy, with his oxygum. It’s been over three decades, and yet I remember more about some of those shows than I do about last week’s episode of Star Gate.
You know what I really miss though? Underdog.
WAV audio
There’s no need to fear! Underdog is here!
when criminals in this world appear
and break the laws that they should fear
and frighten all who see or hear
the cry goes up both far and near
for Underdog! Underdog! Underdog! Underdog!
speed of lightning, roar of thunder
fighting all who rob or plunder
Underdog. Underdog!
when in this world the headlines read
of those whose hearts are filled with greed
who rob and steal from those who need
to right this wrong with blinding speed
goes Underdog! Underdog! Underdog! Underdog!
speed of lightning, roar of thunder
fighting all who rob or plunder
Underdog. Underdog!
I’ve got to bookmark this page. Just hearing this makes me feel good.