Getting to the Bottom of the Matter...

...no wait...reverse that...Getting to the Matter of the Bottom...there, that's better.

It's true, faithful reader...at the age of 51 years, 11 months, and 20 days, I endured my everybody-oughta-do-this-at-50 colonoscopy.

The problem with this is that folks expect me to write this hilarious blog about it...because...like...it's funny...you know...they stuck something where the sun don't shine. Tee--and may I say--hee.

The reason that's a problem is because Dave Barry has already covered that base in a far grander scale than of which I could ever hope to even be a dim shadow. Seriously, check it out:  https://www.miamiherald.com/living/liv-columns-blogs/dave-barry/article1928847.html

And the True Truth of the matter is, it really wasn't that big of a deal. Yes, the "GoLitely" bowel-flushing mixture was a little slimy, but nothing to gag about. The procedure itself was a little humbling, but nothing painful whatsoever.

The most fun was the short period of so-called recovery, when I was encouraged to get "all that air we pumped into you out." That section of the facility was quite musical, but I'm proud to say I could compete with the best of the virtuosos.

Not that any of you really wanted to know that.

If the Phone Rings, Don't Answer It

What with a not-completely-successful attempt to avoid becoming part of the Michael Jackson Media Maelstrom, and finding it difficult to find anything humorous about playing nursemaid to Beloved since her knee replacement surgery June 10th, I have officially come up Quite Short in the Time To Blog Something Department.

I was beginning to think my life had become so drudgingly dull and despondently dreary that I was going to have to change Almost the Truth from a humor blog to a health care forum.

And then along came KayJay...

The phone call was initially a bit scary: "I'm okay, but...." These are not words that a parent wants to hear coming out of the mouth of his/her youngest. Granted, it's better than a police officer or emergency room nurse telling you that your youngest is not okay, but....

"I'm okay, but I'm going to be late for supper...."

Oh...well...that's not so bad. But I did kind of wonder why she sounded like she was crying. It's not like I was going to ground my 20-year-old daughter for being late for a meal.

"...I'm going to be late for supper because I have to wait for a cop to show up...."

Okayyyy...that could be a good thing. She could have been a witness to a mugging or something and had to help identify the perp.

"...I have to wait for a cop to show up and take the accident report...."

Well...it could still be an innocent observer kind of thing.

"...take the accident report and give me a ticket for hitting this guy who perfectly could have made his left turn but he just sat there and, I don't know, I just looked away for a second and when I looked back he was still there and I swerved to miss him but didn't exactly miss all of him."

I guess I need to change Almost the Truth from a humor blog to an online car insurance workshop.

I'm just a guy who says that I am the one

Okay...I seriously mean absolutely no disrespect. I totally revere and admire the overwhelming talent with which God endowed Michael Jackson. His entertainment legacy is unmatched, unequaled, and unable to be duplicated on this or any other planet.

However...

When the star-studded memorial service was beginning, and the casket was being rolled in, and the choir was singing "Soon and very soon, we are going to see the king," was I the only one who got a little creeped out? Seriously...did anyone else kind of wonder if that casket lid was going to flip open and The King of Pop was going to have the Greatest Comeback of All Time?

*shudder*