The King of Pointland

The Visit

I arrived ten minutes early for my 11:15 AM appointment. The doctor didn't see me until 1 PM. He didn't take my blood pressure or temperature, or listen to my heart, or weigh me. But he did look into my ear, and at my throat, and told me it looked kind of red. He swabbed for strep, and prescribed a ten day course of antibiotics. The entire episode lasted four minutes.

I think my doctor has too many patients, and too many drug reps.

On the bright side, I did get to watch the View. I learned that Tina Turner is back, girlfriend! Another segment involved successive pairs of totally hot identical twins modeling the same fashion item (alligator skin shoes, fingernails, etc.): one real, one fake. The challenge was to guess which was ersatz, and then learn how much cheaper it was.

I have a problem with the View logotype on the table, though. I keep forgetting that the show is not about vampires.

P.S. Thanks for all the kind wishes and words of advice.

Customer Service Question

Kan's wedding was great fun. Kan: Mazel Tov. And you will not be no-gifted. Which is to say, you will be yes-gifted.

However, I began to feel sick Sunday. It might have been something I caught on the flight out to LA the previous Friday, or perhaps I picked it up earlier. In any case, I had a 102 °F fever come Monday morning, and a bad sore throat. It was, unfortunately, the one day of the year I could not afford to miss work -- otherwise I would have stayed out west a bit longer. I sucked it up and drove to the office.

Monday night, I had a 104 °F fever. The next morning it was down to 101 °F, and since that time it has hovered around 100 °F. It's 100.6 °F now (Wednesday night). I still have a sore throat, and I feel like crap.

So this morning, at my Mom's insistence (something about bacterial blood infection), I tried to schedule an appointment with my physician. The first time I called I got the office answering machine. I left my name, condition, and asked them to call back as soon as possible so I could make an appointment. Three o'clock rolled around, and still no call-back, so I tried again. This time I spoke to a young woman who couldn't seem to remember my name or how to pronounce it. I explained my situation, that I'd had a fever and a bad sore throat for three days now, and I asked if I could get an appointment.

She told me they wouldn't be able to see me until some time next week.

"So if my condition becomes more serious before then, I should just go to the emergency room?"

The receptionist told me to hold on. After a few minutes, I heard a male voice.

"Yes?"

"Umm, is this Dr. M- ?"

"Yes."

"This is David Eisner, I'm a patient of yours, I don't know if you remember me ..."

"Yes. [name of receptionist forgotten] is going to give you an appointment for tomorrow."

"Thanks."

Somehow I came away from this experience feeling like I was at fault for demanding an earlier appointment. Do others get better treatment from their doctor's office?

Unwired!

I bought a copy of WIRED magazine the other day because I was interested in a couple of stories about the future of radio (HD, Satellite, etc.) As I scanned the cover my eye was immediately drawn to a seemingly minor detail, a single mark of punctuation, in fact. There, at the end of a list of teased stories, was the word "MORE," and at the end of that word, an exclamation point:

BURT RUTAN * THE INCREDIBLES * DANGER MOUSE * MARS ROVERS * HALO 2 * MORE!

And with that, whatever hint of coolness the magazine had left was gone. The old WIRED would never, ever, have resorted to a "MORE!". Now the publication is revealed for what it is: nothing more and nothing less than Condé Nast's technology monthly.

I know, I know, WIRED stopped being cool seventy years ago, and aren't you proud of how cutting-edge you are, and I'm sure you would never deign to buy a magazine at the supermarket, and you think Adbusters has sold out, so why won't you leave me alone, I'll never be as cool as you want me to be, Mom.

The magazine still has a few things to recommend it, though. The recent WIRED CD roCCked. Lawrence Lessig and Bruce Sterling are both noteworthy contributers. The removal of the extra pound and a half of advertising is praiseworthy. And if you look at the lower outside corner of most pages, you will find they are conveniently numbered in sequential order — something the old WIRED never quite figured out how to do.

Still, it was much better.

Yawn

Apparently we don't just abuse prisoners in the War on Terror, but we also beat them to death. "An autopsy showed that Dilawar's legs were so damaged that amputation would have been necessary." This story gets the A14 treatment.

In other news, Crown Prince Abdullah wins the award for best retort of 2003.

Another Thing

Second in an occasional series

I find it depressing when corporations use New Yorker-style cartoons in their New Yorker advertisements. On page 24 of the current issue of said magazine we find the following:

This sadly incompetent attempt to disguise a commercial message as urbane wit makes me want to sleep until 3:00 PM, eat two bowls of ice cream, and then take a nap.

What I Find Depressing

First in an occasional series.

I find it depressing when a restaurant chain advertises a new meal creation — an exciting occasion, the commercials imply. Apparently Chili's now has something called a "Steak Sizzler." It looks OK. But imagine how you will feel when you are sitting at the table, after the waitress has delivered your Steak Sizzler, and you look down at your plate, and there it is. That is the saddest thing you'll ever see.

I shouldn't dump on Chili's, though. It's equally depressing when Applebee's does the same thing.