Where Was the Defibrillator?

That is the question people need to be asking that quack who served as Jacko’s doc. He was a cardiologist–a heart specialist–so he should have known better.

He is just like Nicophoulos, Elvis Presley’s quack.

Hopefully, other celebs will take consideration of this, and hire real docs–rather than “yes men”–and follow sound advice.

I Was Going to Write

..about this case, but UNC-Wilmington criminology professor, Dr. Mike S. Adams, beat me to it.

I cordially invite Dr. Adams to join Pilgrim and myself–and of course, my superhero cat Recon–to help us provide a final outlet to folks like Lombard, and other child sex predators, in the mountains of Kentucky. After all, the wildlife need to eat, too.

The only caveat: while we, like Adams, are gun nuts, we do not intend to waste ammunition on folks such as Lombard. This is a job for Black and Decker, not Smith and Wesson.

Leicester Nails It

…in making the case for women tennis players to play up to 5 sets–just like the men–and not the 3-setters they play now.

If you really believe in “equal job/equal pay”, then there is no logical reason to pay the women tennis players the same money as the men, given that the women only have to go 3 sets whereas the men have to sweat it for up to 5.

In fact, I’d suggest that until this change is made, women should only get 60% of what the men make in such tournaments.

Prescription Drugs and Jackson’s Death: My $0.02

For the record, Michael Jackson lasted longer than Elvis; Elvis being only 42 when he died. Jackson was 50.

Sadly, Jackson’s worst fears seem to have come to pass: he worried that he may die the same way Elvis did.

In his final years, Elvis was barely coherent due to his extreme use of and addiction to prescription drugs. Apparently, Jackson had the same problem.

The accounts I’ve read have his back problems as the culprit that started him down that path.

In 2000, I never fathomed not being able to run. I was active, ran about 30 miles every week, and had completed two marathons and an ultramarathon over the course of 3 months. The following year–2001–I finished two more marathons.

Then, in early 2002, I started feeling a twinge in my lower back. I figured it would go away. It only got worse. After a month of this, I got x-rayed.

Diagnosis: degenerative disk disease. I scaled back my running, worked on strength exercises, and had some improvement. I even got to where I was trying to get into the Army Reserves, as they had lowered the age limit.

Then, in late 2005, I blew my back out. I could no longer run. I could barely sleep at night. I could barely walk, and had a very bad limp. My weight climbed, as my exercise routine was decimated. At 5-3, I got up to 175 pounds.

In June 2006, I got the word from my doc: either take drastic action or the options get ugly.

The options?

  1. Lose weight, and develop core strength. This could buy me soem time before eventually needing surgery.
  2. take some pain killers from time to time, relying on injections and eventually surgery when things got worse.

As much as I loathed the idea of surgery, I loathed even more the prospect of pain-killers and injections. I knew the horror stories of addiction. Narcotics are nothing to screw with.

What did I do?

  1. I started seeing a chiropractor. At first, it was every week.
  2. I started focusing on exercises that could help strengthen my core muscles while providing decompressive relief for my back. I settled on the dip chair, doing knee-lifts.
  3. I found a recumbent exercise bike on eBay for $450. I bought it, and proceeded to ride the hell out of it.
  4. I started eating more sensibly, looking for ways I could cut calories without being too restrictive. My biggest adjustment? Not eating out as much.
  5. I reviewed my plans with my doc and chiropractor, and evaluated the progress.
  6. Oh, I didn’t take one freaking pill. (Ask me how I really feel.)

The end result? Between July and December 2006, I dropped 20 pounds with only small dietary adjustments. I was able to function. I could walk without a limp.

I didn’t stop there. I continued my fitness journey, and–by the end of 2007–ended up in the best shape of my life. (I’ve not let up either, as the future Mrs. Larijani can attest. Recon keeps my on my toes!)

I say this to point out that

  1. The solution to a medical problem is not always medical.
  2. A physician who resorts to narcotics for back pain–without exhausting other options–is doing his patient a gross disservice.
  3. Michael Jackson did not have to embrace a path of medically-induced misery.

Elvis Presley’s physician–Dr. George Nichopoulos–had doped him to the point of incoherence, feeding the furnace of addiction. The Elvis-Nichopoulos relationship became the classic case study in medical ethics. At the time, it was the highest-profile case of combined drug intoxication. Since then, Anna Nicole Smith also succumbed in similar fashion. Sadly, this appears to also be the case with Michael Jackson.

With his stature, Jackson could have hired a real physician (one who is bent on drugs as a last resort and not a first option) and personal trainer–even a physical therapist–in pursuit of lower back remedies outside of pharmaceuticals. A personal trainer could have kept him in tip-top shape.

Unfortunately, in Jackson’s case, there was probably a whole littany of bad decisions, and his personal health was probably not the largest of his concerns, even though–by tossing that to the wind–he only set himself up for disaster.

A serious lesson I’ve learned in my 42 years is this: you cannot afford to neglect your health. There are things most people can do to minimize their chances of serious problems, not the least of which include a sound diet, and a robust exercise regimen.

Even with profound difficulties–such as a bad back–this is possible, albeit with some adjustments.

Trouble is, you have to have the right doc who will put your feet to the fire to exhaust non-medical options, as most MDs are predisposed to prescribing this or that drug. After all, pharma companies pay big bucks and perks to docs who prescribe the products.

Call me presumptuous and/or cynical, but I’d say Jackson was poorly-served by his medical help.

Perhaps I need to become a personal trainer for celebrities.

Hat Tip to Jenny Sanford

I realize some of the MRA and MGTOW folks are going to have a field day with the story of South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford’s affair with an Argentine woman.

But I must admit: I like how his wife–Jenny Sanford–is handling this.

“His career is not a concern of mine”.

Ouch, that is going to leave a mark!

“He’s going to have to worry about [his career]. I’m worried about my family and the character of my children.”

That is a stronger case for his resignation than anything any lawmaker has said.

I have great faith and great friends and great family. We have a good Lord in this world and I know that I’m going to be fine and not only will I survive, I’ll thrive…I don’t know if he’ll be with me, but I’m going to do my best to work on my marriage because I believe in marriage. I believe in raising good kids is the most important thing in the world

Governor, she is offering to hand you your balls back to you. You’d better accept.

The King

If you go with headlines like “The King Has Died”, it would be tempting to think that all hope and creativity has died. We Christians know better.

I tend to stay out of the loop, but my beloved kept me in the loop last night. I was a little shocked. I commented how I felt like it was the end of an era. Sadly, there is no evidence that “things are better” for him. This is what is most sad of all.

I went onto a cyber-source for news and I saw a headline “Exclusive Last Photo”. I clicked on it hoping I wouldn’t see what I ended up seeing. The man had no privacy.  I wouldn’t deal well with that.

(a bit of a caveat)

When my grandpa died, once life support was disconnected we all ended up leaving the hospital. We left him to die, in a dark room, alone. To this day, that is my only real regret in life. We had come to the hospital in one car and my grandma wanted to leave and go home. So, we all left and took her home. My grandpa was loved – dearly loved – and the circumstances of his death did not reflect that.

Mr. Jackson’s death – one of his final moments – is open for all the world to see. The picture I saw was unnecessary. It is representative of how fallen we are. We are fascinated with the life (and death) of a perfect stranger because he could do some crazy-ass dance moves and could decently carry a tune.

The Real King wants us to intimately know him and take comfort in his death – not just be fascinated. His death offers hope. Finding comfort and hope in His death – and more importantly His resurrection – will reveal our earthly vanity.

Of Course He Should Resign

Gov. Mark Sanford (R-SC) had been a stalwart for fiscal conservatives, as he fought hard–albeit unsuccessfully–to refuse federal stimulus money for his state.

Sadly, he had also been carrying on an affair with a woman from Argentina. Last week, he disappeared–traveling to Argentina–without formally transferring power and without letting anyone know his whereabouts. Yesterday, he confessed to the affair.

As if the affair were not bad enough, the fact that he took a week of unannounced leave–a firing offense for any state employee–is ample grounds for forcing his resignation. If the legislature had any stones, they would impeach him sooner rather than later, and the Republicans should lead the charge.

Unfortunately, the GOP has no stones.

What’s Worse than Taking a Knife to a Gunfight?

Not having a gun to fend off the asshole trying to stab you with the knife.

A few notes:

  1. An EPO (often called a “restraining order”) is as useful as a post-mortem colonoscopy.
  2. Being unarmed when a stronger assailant has a knife, is a recipe for disaster.
  3. You can never trust a bad guy to give you a “fair fight”. If you do not have a knife, he will not put his knife away while you call the cops or look for your gun.
  4. Calling 9-1-1 when an armed assailant is already in your house, will ensure that the cops will arrive just in time to help determine your cause of death.
  5. If mom has a firearm, the estranged husband would be swimming in hell right now, while mom and the daughters figure out which cleaning crew to call.

If you wish to trust in the cops to enforce a court order, you go ahead and knock yourself out. But if you really want to protect your family, there is no substitute for Uncle Remington or Uncle Mossberg.