Rambling Rhodes

It's Like "Eat It" All Over Again

Weird Al is, quite possibly, the most unappreciated comic genius ever to grace our planet. I heard "White and Nerdy" this morning on the way into work, and I honestly almost had to pull over I was laughing so damned hard.

Next Week's Column. . . TODAY!

"Can You Ear Me Now?" c. Ryan Rhodes, Sept. 27, 2006

I'm one of those people who absolutely hates going to the hospital. Not that there are people who really enjoy going to hospitals. . . well, except for maybe doctors. The point is, if given a choice between removing my thumb with a pliers, or going to a hospital, let's just say I'd have to put some serious thought into it.

Alas, sometimes going to a hospital is simply unavoidable. Generally, I have the healthy constitution of a Kodiak bear, but even my body sputters every once in awhile and I have to make the dreaded doctor's appointment.

Last week, thanks to an unfortunate experience during a jiu-jitsu tournament, I developed a case of cauliflower ear. For those not familiar with this medical condition, let me explain: Cauliflower ear is somewhat common if you're active in boxing- or grappling-related sports. If your ear is either struck or bent violently, the skin can separate from the ear cartilage, causing a bubble of blood and liquid to bulge out. If this doesn't sound like fun all by itself, there's more! If left unattended, the cartilage, separated from the skin—it's only source of blood—can die and basically shrivel up, resulting in a drastically deformed ear.

Faced with this prognosis, coupled with my stubborn refusal to visit a doctor, I opted for a couple of days of self-surgery. Now, being the M.D. that I am, self-surgery consisted of me dropping a sewing needle in boiling water, and then jabbing the needle into my ear. It was a successful—and righteously painful—procedure. Bloody liquid flowed freely out of my ear and down my neck. I then squeezed the remaining liquid out, and hoped for the best.

Unfortunately, the best did not transpire. The needle hole quickly knitted and closed, and the blood-filled bulge re-asserted itself, and it did so larger than before, probably because there was more blood on hand since some moron went and jabbed his ear with a sewing needle.

disappointed in my failed first attempt at self-surgery, I was nonetheless optimistic enough to try again. Again I boiled the needle, aimed it at my ear, and proceeded to puncture the resurgent hematoma. What had once just been a merely a righteously painful procedure had graduated to the next pain level, that of tear-jerkingly excruciating. Painful though it was, the result was the same, and the bulge spewed forth its pent up bloody reservoir.

Unfortunately, I didn't realize I was dealing with the Obi-Wan Kenobi of cauliflower ears: "Strike me down and I'll become more powerful than you can possibly imagine." Sure enough, I woke the next day to a case of cauliflower ear that was now almost blocking the entrance to my ear canal. Clearly, I was losing this battle, and I quite frankly had lost the will to attempt a third self-surgery.

Defeated, I picked up the phone, putting it up to my undamaged ear, and made a doctor's appointment, which I quickly learned was probably what I should have done in the first place, since I immediately saw that they had medical instruments far more sophisticated than my sewing needle. Additionally, the doctor seemed to know exactly what she was doing, which was a distinct advantage I lacked.

As I walked out of the hospital with my professionally drained and stitched ear, I reflected on how stupid my stubbornness and my hatred of hospitals is. Never again would I put off going to the doctor when it's warranted.

Except for that appointment I have this week to get the stitches taken out. I think I can do that myself.

As you can see. . .

I went the medical route for my cauliflower ear, when I realized jabbing it with a sewing needle just wasn't going to cut it (pun intended). The head-wrap is precautionary for 24 hours. Stitches will come out next week, and I'll be wearing a head-gear during jiu-jitsu for, like, ever.

Yes, the photo is crappy. Apologies for that. The girlfriend took it, so don't blame me.

You Know What? fuck T

This shit's just starting to annoy me.

Some innocuous Danish cartoons depicting Mohammed get published, and Islamic radicals lose their shit, so much so that newspapers worldwide opt not to run said cartoons, citing all sorts of limp-wristed bullshit reasons.

The Pope, the GOD-DAMNED POPE, quotes criticism of Islam and the Prophet Mohammad issued by a Byzantine Emperor from the fucking 14TH CENTURY, who said "such as his (Mohammed's) command to spread by the sword the faith he preached." And guess what? Islamic radical shitheads lose their shit, killing a nun and burning a fucking church. So the Pope, the GOD-DAMNED POPE, has to issue an apology for fucking quoting a Byzantine emporer.

I mean, Jesus! At what point do you stand up and say "No, fuck YOU! We're not going to continue to tip-toe around you're God-damned religion because a bunch of radical shit-smears within the Islamic ranks can't help but lose their shit over every little thing?!"

Because you know, and I realize this point has been made before, but it bears repeating: If you go on a fucking killing and torching rampage every time somebody hints that your religion may consist of violent tendencies, maybe, JUST MAYBE, you're proving that fucking point."

I mean, good God, I've watched South Park absolutely tear Jesus a new a-hole. Way back in 1997, I watched an early South Park clip of Jesus and Santa duking it out in Mortal Kombat fashion, with Jesus saying to Santa "You fucking pussy!" And that was fucking hysterical. Jesus has been an acceptable kick-dog for as long as I can remember. But dare to take a zing at Mohammed, and you have to consider the possibility of a worldwide radical Islamic shit storm.

Jesus you can throw down the stairs, smear with poop, put a butt plug in his ass and burn a swastika into his chest, and there would be a very real chance of getting it hailed as a work of art and put on display in some New York museum. Put a bomb turban on Mohammed, and you have to fear for your God-damned life.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but if you're a fan of free speech, this type of self-censorship in the interests of placating a sect of lunatic fundamentalists ought to have you deeply concerned. I'm not saying there should be depictions of Mohammed with a butt plug up his ass, but good God! Some leeway here, is all I'm asking. Maybe depicting Mohammed standing next to, or looking at, a butt plug, possibly considering it. That would be a nice start.

It has to be empowering as hell to know that, if your religion is slighted in the least, you can raise an angry mob to scare the bejeezers out of the worldwide media; that you can instill a sense of fear of reprisal so powerful, people will refrain from showing Mohammed holding a scimitar, or even showing Mohammed at all.

I mean, Jesus, what does it say when I hesitate to save and publish this post? Or that I could end up taking it down later? Something's wrong here. Very wrong.

UPDATE: Or, to put it another way:

Results

I won my first match pretty handedly, 10 to 2. It went the full five minutes, and my opponent was tougher than the score would indicate, so I was freakin' exhausted.

My second match, I thought I was in control, leading 4 to 0, when my opponent scissored my arm between his legs and proceeded to crank a technique that I'm convinced very nearly broke my arm, and I barely had time to tap out. My arm is still sore.

Oh, and I have a nice minor case of cauliflower ear now, which is just great. I've drained it with a sewing needle, but if it gets any bigger, I'll probably have to go the professional route.

I still love jiu-jitsu though. It's awesome.

Here I am after a particularly refreshing release of flatulence. Okay, actually, this is a candid picture of me taken before the tournament started. Not flattering, I know, but so few pictures of me are.

Here I am, winning, in all my blurry, digital-image glory.

Here I am winning again, this time with just as much blurriness, with just a hint of fuzzy.