Because I’m an absolute freak, weird phrases stick in my memory for years. For example, there’s a paragraph that’s stuck in my mind from a New Yorker article about Mars exploration SIX YEARS AGO:
“It’s a difficult road to Mars,” Charles said. “There are many years of hard work ahead of us.” Already, though, there’s active discussion within nasa about what kind of astronaut would be best prepared for deep space. “If young,” he continued, “they may be the most fit. But then you run into the problem of radiation, which could zap their gonads, so they would not be able to have kids.” A case could also be made for choosing older astronauts, seasoned by previous missions, for the first Mars voyage.
Why did it stick out? Because of that line about cosmic rays zapping someone’s gonads. Just thought it was funny.
Until yesterday. That’s when I received an e-mail from a friend of mine in his mid-60s, in which he wrote
Sorry I’ve taken so long to get back to you. But yesterday morning at ten, I got my prostate nuked. (They fill you full of painkillers and antispasmodics, then do it — by sticking a microwave coil up your pecker — right in the doctor’s office. Takes an hour — and it’s a bitch!) Supposedly the sucker is now two-thirds the size it was before, and in two or three days I should be able to pee like a normal fellow.
I have nothing to add to that.