From the inane rambling falsetto bilge of their made-up language to the droning dirge of the pompous, yet uninspired instruments, these guys (and their PR machine) did not fail to disappoint. Their cookie-cutter formulaic cheese coupled with the unlimited freedom of arbitrary, meaningless strings of phonemes make them a better business plan than a band, as the duped hordes of post-gothic whitey that filled the stadium rapturously attested. They spared us a second encore, but replaced it with pretentious histrionic curtain calls. A sham of a mockery of a farce of a scam. The emperor is stark naked and we felt like we’d been mugged.
My blood results were good last week: white blood count: 8.5 and platelets: 202. Thursday’s sonogram revealed a very enlarged (by 13mm) and damaged gall bladder, most probably a direct result of the chemo, but no stones, sort of thankfully. The damage (chronic cholecystitus), I’m told, is permanent, since it’s chronic. My prostate continues to be enlarged as well, but that was all the bad news. My liver, kidneys, pancreas, bladder and even my spleen, all check out fine.
Radiation again tomorrow – just five more sessions to go. I’m starting to get pretty red around the radiated areas now, but was expecting this, as I’d seen it on my fellow radiatees in more obvious places.
Had a great but exhausting time with Jon and I landed a lot of unexpected work last week, so I haven’t been able to post. I went to Efka & Scott’s wedding out in the middle of nowhere yesterday and had a blast. Here’s a picture of the bride blushing along with her bridesmaids, the groom and the preacher:
Looks like we’re off to Crimea if we can get there before the Russians invade (again). Still no visa.