Public Health has failed us.

People tell me all the time: TIM, IT’S NOT LIKE THAT ANYMORE.

Supposedly, we are living in a medical Renaissance. What a wonderful time to be alive.

Until the day it’s not.

Public Health refuses to give him the drugs he needs to stay alive. The cost of the treatment would put a very big dick up Public Health’s ass. I am very cautious about supporting Medicare for All. I don’t trust it not to become the nightmare Public Health is. You don’t believe it. Come spend an hour in a clinic waiting room with me. Or ten. I fucking dare you.

Public Health particularly objects to my having access to any computer whatsoever. That they have failed is supposed to be a secret. One that everyone knows.

We have had to learn to do things ourselves. It is always like this. We can sail into any port of call you could possibly imagine.

Public Health doesn’t even have the shingles vaccine.

We know how to get it.

I never wrote this. I am not here.

I jest. Anything and everything I make is a jest. I am doing my best to be Mister Funny Bunny. I should have have a children’s TV show.

Theoretically, if Oxycontin can be funneled into a black market, and it can, things like vaccines must be a piece of cake. I do not know if Trump has lifted all rules that apply to the business of the pharmaceutical industry.

But Big Pharma acts like it.

I am in favor of getting rid of the middle man. The doctor or the nurse practitioner. Just legalize the whole big bag of tricks and be done with it. Legalize ALL drugs. Period. You want some, you get some. Free drugs for everyone. I am not a socialist. Socialism is for pussies. I am a communist.

Enough said. Theoretically, a PICC line is a long catheter that’s placed in the upper arm. Its tip ends in the largest vein of the body, which is why it’s considered a central line. A port is a catheter that’s implanted surgically under the skin on the chest.

Essentially, we are the dead, and we know it.

We sail silently into port after port. We are never anywhere too long.