Monday, July 11, 2011

LIFE IN THE ER PART 375: DEGENERATE SOUTHERNERS

Okay, I wanna know one thing: what’s the deal with Southerners who get drunk, and wind up in the hospital?

I mean, really.

Have they still not gotten over losing the Civil War? Was Sherman’s March to the Sea so devastating, that to this day, the only way Johnny Reb can deal with it is to drink copious amounts of alcohol, and carry out symbolic acts of ritual suicide?

So I got an x-ray request for a dude with a name that caused me to assume that he was African American. First clue that a white guy is from The South: his first and/or last name cause you to assume that he’s black. Imagine my surprise when I found him, and he was a white dude with—and this is ultimate proof that there is no God—a full set of beautiful hair.

He’s lying there on the gurney, moaning in pain with a sports injury. It happens. I ask him some questions, and he tells me, “Mah friend done pulled ahn me, and it popped out.”

Then he he wiggles, and starts screaming, “Durn! Durn! Oh mah Lord! Oh, it truly hurts crazy!”

I wheel him over to radiology, where I employ 20 years’ worth of experience in how to x-ray severely injured people while moving their body parts as little as possible.
This is my superpower. If I was a superhero, I would have “ICXYWMY” across my chest (I Can X-ray You Without Moving You).

His injury was very real, but (1) he had a bruise on that part of his body that was 4 days old [I am an expert on bruising, just ask my wife] (2) he reeked of alcohol, and (3) he had swim trunks on, so I think this is what happened: He and his friends got drunk 4 days ago, went swimming, did something stupid, he got hurt, and for the last 4 days he’s been drinking Wild Turkey and tryin’ to wahk it auff.


Needless to say, despite my expert radiographic handling, he done hollered and screamed so loud while I x-rayed him that coon dogs in Pascagoula howled in sympathy.

He kept screaming, “Durn! Durn! Oh, gosh! Gosh, dang nabbit! Oh Lord, this pain is silly!” until I got the right views, and took him back. Unfortunately, despite the ER doc’s best efforts, his injury was still out of alignment, even after I x-rayed him a second time (DURN! Oh mah goodness!) calling for the intervention of a specialist.

So my wife dropped by with a Starbucks grande mocha with extra whipped cream (my own private form of heroin) and Forrest Gump’s friend had arrived. His friend had an equally Southern name—ripped from the pages of a Faulkner novel. With a military moustache, white t-shirt, a camouflage baseball hat, and a good solid 20 to 25 teeth still in his possession, he smiled at J the ER nurse and shouted a warm Southern Greeting:

“HI! REMEMBAH ME? I WAS THE DRUNK GUY, MONDAY NAHT!”

Not skipping a beat, J droned, “Sir, this is an ER. We get a lot of drunk people here.

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

You drink the crap they pour at Starbucks and you call southerners degenerate?

Thomas Geza Miko said...

I was drinking epresso before anybody in America ever heard of Starbucks. When Starbucks started sprouting up in Southern California 20 years ago, I jumped for joy because it provided (a) dark-roasted espresso--unlike that horrible, acidic robusta they serve at IHOP, Dennys, etc, and (2) it provided sidewalk cafes where you can hang out, read the paper, socialize, and meet interesting people.

Big John said...

"I was drinking epresso (sic)before anybody in America ever heard of Starbucks". So, it was you! You can be deported for that. In Mississippi you'd get a hangin'.

In some parts of Europe, espresso's used for sheep dip.

Espresso is not only un-American, but a part of Commie Musselman plot to destroy American values; not to mention the ruination of perfectly good coffee beans.

The Talabanous up there in the mountains in Afghanistan, what are they drinking? Hmmm, could it be………espresso? What did Nixon drink just before he tearfully climbed the 13 steps up the ladder to Marine One to fly off into the "Disgrace" chapter of American History? Well, you know.

Look-it.

Espresso, the stuff the guys of Iron Butterfly were drinking when they wrote ‘Smoke on the Water’.

So Senior Baristas, you may place that in your Knockbox, and block it.

Anonymous said...

-----Original message-----

From: Jim Yoder
To: apos;" <thomas_miko@
Sent: Wed, Jul 13, 2011 18:59:35 GMT+00:00
Subject: RE: degenerate Southerners

I said,
As a southerner myself I take umbrage to the profiling done here that assumes that your two toothless or mostly toothless victims were from the south. Now I realize how easy it is to assume that your everyday “Billy Bob’s”, Jerry Lee’s and Joe Don’s are from the south but I can assure you that is not the case as that there are MANY of those mullet wearing, toothless, no brain people are from right around Southern California.
Other than that it was very funny and I love it when stupid people do stupid things.
Jim

Big John said...

Considering you and your Yoder pal seem to be experts on the South in general and the novels of William Faulkner in the specific, I am sure you will understand the source of this joke.

Faulkner was at a party when a woman armed with this question approached him.

“Mr. Faulkner, I understand you writers sometimes put yourself as a character in your novels. Could you tell me who you were in your novel Sanctuary?

Without a moments hesitation Faulkner replied:

“I was the corncob.”