Today’s theme is: Your disgusting body. Sure, God gave you arms long enough to scratch yourself between the shoulder blades and touch yourself in an impure manner. But he also gave you a colon, the body’s own smelly sewer pipe, and do-gooders took it from there and gave us the Colossal Colon, billed as a 40-foot long crawl-through exhibit where you can look upon the price of bad eating, not to mention genetic bad luck — Crohn’s disease, polyps, cancer, whatever.
It passed through (sorry) Fort Wayne recently, and the medical writer at my alma mater wrote a story. She played it straight, probably because the last time she dared to insinuate that the health beat might have a lighter side, in a column poking fun at the endless (Your Disease Here) Awareness Months clogging her calendar, the paper got a bunch of pissy letters from porphyria sufferers.
Honestly, I don’t know how you write a story about the Colossal Colon without at least a whiff (sorry) of humor, but I guess it comes from being a grown-up and leaving the snickering over whoopee cushions and fart jokes to junior-high kids.
But some of us never do. So in the interest of brightening your day, here’s a picture of the Colossal Colon with a dog in it.
Moving right along.
I thought the Wendy’s/chili/finger story would go away when the woman who made the allegation turned out to be a lawsuit-crazy crackpot, but I guess not. The New York Times takes an interesting look at the sort of situation that makes “spokesman for a fast-food chain” a job where you never know what’s coming around the bend. How can you resist a story with the headline, “CSI: Wendy’s”? I can’t.
But can we continue with the body theme? We can. Eric Zorn has been all over the Our Lady of the Stained Underpass story, breaking out of Chicago, where thousands believe a Marian apparition has emerged in yet another unlikely place. What is it with these Marian apparitions? Grilled cheese sandwiches, toasted tortillas? Proof that God has a sense of humor.
Everyone says the stain looks like Mary, but I beg to differ: It’s a vagina. My Chicago source says others agree, and that in fact it’s being called the Vagina Mary, but you won’t read that in Professor Zorn’s column, because it appears in a family newspaper.
Further? Sure! It seems Mitch Albom, newspaper columnist, best-selling author, playwright, talented musician, radio-show host? Is also? Choose your body part: … the stories about Albom’s bad behavior, particularly to underlings, are legion. For example, Lessenberry says one of his students quit an internship at WJR radio after Albom threw a computer keyboard at her. Art Regner, co-host of a sports talk show on WXYT-AM, experienced Albom’s wrath firsthand. “I remember one time when I was his producer, he was unhappy with the way something had gone,” Regner says. “Even if they were upset, most people would have a few words and that would be it. But Mitch � Mitch screamed and screamed. It was a major tantrum.”
I can be a real asshole, too, but I don’t think I’ve ever thrown anything harder than a wad of paper at someone. So much for all that wise counsel at Morrie’s bedside.
With that, I think it’s time to wrap it up. I’ll take that fingerburger to go, because my stomach’s growlin’.