¡Hola! ¿Cómo estás? ¿Dónde está el baño?
Just practicing.
Actually, I'm going to Georgia first, to visit a whole passelful of relatives I haven't seen since I was a teenager.
Wail, howdee, nay-bah! Whuzzup heah in ol' Jo-ja?
Just practicing.
For those of you just tuning in, I'm off to beautiful Mehico to have a cancerous tumor removed. Or, in doctor's parlance, I'm "being treated for my condition". Doctors never use ugly words like "cancer" and "tumor" because it'll cause me to dwell in the depths of despair forever. The back story is here, and it's not too late to donate a few shekels to the cause. I'm still facing some serious post-operative costs.
And certainly my deepest thanks to those who helped make this possible. I honestly thought when I first heard the verdict diagnosis that it was a death sentence, simply because I knew I'd never have the money even for a cut-rate (no pun intended) operation down in Mexico. But, between selling almost everything I own (they can have my Honda Civic when they pry it from my cold, dead fingers), the gang at my mom's rest home (they actually held an official PBS-style 'fundraiser', with skits and songs and magic acts by the residents to entertain the troops during the event), and, of course, the generous people here and on Instapundit.
As for my recuperation and getting back to blogging, I have no idea what to expect. Naturally, I've been hearing wildly different scenarios, although I think the worse ones are referring to a full-fledged colostomy, which is a far cry from what I'm getting, thank God. I have an extremely comfortable computer chair, and, being on a boat, the galley and head are just five feet away, so I should be able to get along just fine. Because the boat's a liveaboard, I've got tons of food and water at the ready should the global warmists be wrong and dirt reaches the point of spontaneous combustion far sooner than expected and I need to quickly head out to sea so I can be boiled alive.
(there's something wrong with that last sentence, but I just can't place it)
And, of course, no Big C update would be complete without a cartoon or two from my two dear, dear friends who have done their utmost to keep my spirits buoyed by sending me every gruesome, morbid, soul-eviscerating cartoon they come across. Bless their little hearts.
And it occurs to me that not only do Americans live longer than Britons, Australians and Canadians, but Hispanics, as well. Or, to be precise, "have more liveable time' than the others.
You know all those extra letters Britons use in words like "colour", "neighbour", "programme", etc? Well, all those little seconds it takes to type those extra letters adds up over time. If it takes 1 second to type the 'u' in 'colour', 'neighbour', etc, times one million uses over a lifetime, that's 12 days, or almost two weeks of wasted life.
And then we notice the unnecessary upside-down exclamation and question marks in Spanish. Again, countless days, wastefully thrown away.
In other words, compared to every Briton, Australian, Canadian and Spanish-speaking person in the world, you just gained 12 days of life.
You're very welcome.
See you in a week.
