Chester Einstein's Words of Wisdom

Hello BilgeBucket readers! It feels good to be back at the ol’ keyboard shoveling the crapola. Hell, it feels good just to be living. I’m back in action: crankier and more lovable than ever! In case you brainwaves didn’t know, I’ve been out of commission since last summer thanks to a urinary tract infection, or UTI as us in the know call it. Of course, I wouldn’t have gotten it if I hadn’t gone to India to help out Sanjay Tandoori learn something he should’ve known already. I got screwed, I tells ya! Since I was the only one who made it to India, I ended up giving Sanjay the demonstration on how to use a condom. I’ve had some bizarre jobs in my life, but teaching an Indian how to put a prophylactic on a pickle ranks right up there with being an extra on Debbie Does Dallas. Although that stint as an arts and crafts docent at the Apache Junction Swap Meet was mighty weird. To this day I’m still squeamish at the sight of macaroni and sparkles.

That India trip was a CF from the gitgo. I arrived at the airport and was Tandoori there to greet me? No! He left a message he couldn’t get off work so I had to hitch a ride on an ox-cart that just happened to be passing by. What century is this? I felt like I’d time traveled back to the Old West. And you want to talk about heat. I thought I’d be pretty immune since I live in Arizona, which is about ten degrees warmer than hell. But the second I stepped on that cart, I was drenched like I’d been swimming in the ocean. It was a hundred degrees with ninety percent humidity. I was thinking about regressing and sprouting gills. That ox-cart ride seemed like it took forever. When I finally made it I was dehydrated so much I looked like a prune. The driver gave me water from a bucket he had next to him. It tasted like mop water, but I downed it. Big mistake! A week later, I was screaming like I was in a Gitmo torture chamber every time I peed. Fortunately, by that time, I had taught Sanjay how to use a condom and showed Sameera the wonders of the diaphragm.

I must say, Sameera was the highlight of the whole trip. I can certainly see why Sanjay was such a horny jackrabbit. She had just had her eleventh child (a boy named Vishnudutt) two days prior to my arrival, but she was a vision. She had beautiful dark brown skin and enchanting eyes and the colorful saris she wore made her look like an Indian goddess. She was also an incredible cook. I’ve never tasted a better Bendekaayi Gojju. The newborn was well behaved, too. However, the other ten were as rugratty as American kids. I didn’t expect much discipline from her because she was too nice. She was the type of modern parent who instead of punishing the child, would say politely, “Please don’t do that anymore, my liddle widdle snooky wookums!” That may work on The Brady Bunch, but consarnit sometimes you need to be a little firmer. Since Sanjay was always working, I helped her out around the house; doing dishes, knitting doilies, and shooing cobras out the door. Before long, it was time to head back to the states and none too soon. It was hurting even thinking about peeing. Despite the remedies hoisted upon me by the locals like bat eye, peafowl pee and lizard nuts, nothing seemed to help. By the time I got back to the states, I was burning up. Fortunately, they rushed me to the hospital, lowered my temperature and stuck a catheter up my wiener. And it only cost me half my life savings. What a deal!

This brings me to the point of my next tirade: healthcare. I can tell I’m getting better because I’m fuming worse than the nation’s rickety old coal plants. That Bush really screwed the pooch this past year especially with the ‘new and improved’ Medicare Part D. I think the D stands for disaster! Or maybe death, which is preferable to filling out that dad burn forms. I’m an old man. I just want my drugs paid for. I mean Jesus H. Christ have you seen the cost of some of the medicine. You have to take out a loan just to pay for some of ‘em. This is supposed to be a ‘Christian’ nation. It seems like if you get sick, those doctors are saying, “Oh you want to get better? It’s gonna cost ya!” You jackasses! I didn’t plan to get sick. It’s funny; with all this What Would Jesus Do preaching, I don’t recall Jesus asking for smackeroonies when he was healing people. Then they add insult to injury by trying to prevent you from going to Canada to save some bucks. Well, here’s a news flash for all you congressmen in Washington: we’re not all Dick F***ing Cheney with money up the wazoo to pay for these drugs.

Well that’s enough for today. Dr. Mesmer said, “Keep your rants to just three or four paragraphs, Chester.” Besides, Oprah’s on in a few minutes. I sure loved it when she ripped that James Frey a new one. She’s so sexy when she’s mad! I wish she’d bring me on the show to punish me for writing this tripe. Do me, Oprah! Do me!!!