Howard Is Unwell – Definitely To Be Continued

It was a difficult morning. It started out hopeful enough but turned out to be cathartic but life affirming, hence a conflict and a call to conviction, resignation, and action.

Howard ending up standing the bike well out of town in the gravelled parking lot of a seldom used but well maintained church. The doors were locked. The congregation scattered underground and the pastors jailed. There was a sealed bin of books on the front steps to rummage through on a ‘pay as you can’ honour system. Howard slipped a five dollar bill through the mail slot for a dog eared, paperback copy of Anne Coulter’s ‘How to talk to a Liberal – If You Have To’. The former owner and reader must have been a Presbyterian. He then wandered about to find a place in the graveyard to have a small picnic of Beaverbuzz, an apple, and a Lara Bar.

After the lunch, Howard lay down in the lush green grass next to the last resting place of someone named Robert who died in 1993 at the age of 103.

Imagine that.

Howard read a few pages of the book which promised to be as good as anything Anne Coulter had written but he wasn’t in the mood, lying there in the lush green grass, letting the bugs explore, the birds sing. He was looking up at the sky through the trees, avoiding looking directly into the sun, like his mom always said not to, wanting the sun and sky and grass and trees and his mom to make him better, wanting these things to chase away the rogue demonic cells from his body. All these things were more or less and in varying degrees easily obtained without running some Satanic cult gauntlet of chemical application and forced asphyxiation. Health Care had become toxic and life threatening. Health Services had become focused on entirely unhealthy practices, political bureaucracy and outright murther most foul and less on a most Hippocratic Oath. Turns out 40% of graduating doctors actually took the oath these days. Turns out there was a conflict of interest between pharmaceutical companies and real healing, real medicine. The Hippocratic Oath had become outmoded like human rights declarations of any type and interfered with big money and genocidal political agendas.

After the break, Howard said goodbye to Robert and rode on, North by Northeast to a bad land of long dead creatures that had succumbed to some great calamity, disaste,r die off, whose most likely fraudulent history was being archived with limited public funds for all to marvel at. There would be lunch there. Several establishments offered a ‘Dino Burger’. Fred Flintstone was there. Howard wondered who would be left alive to archive the history of his life and death. Who would dig for his bones. Did any of it matter? Would anyone care? Would anyone name greasy bad food, prepared by cerebrally compromised preparers after him?

That morning, Howard had had a falling out with his doctor of 25 years or so and some compromised doctors that were now called bureaucratic intensivists. He was calm. They were hysterical.