Update

Today was a lot better. Dad was in better spirits, despite his unerring ability to make The Wrong Comment (“They got me a single room, here on Death Row”), and all of us had gotten a bunch of much-needed rest.

I spent a few hours with him and his girlfriend at the hospital. A third surgeon came by today, and convinced Dad to go with a different procedure for the bypass. This one involves keeping the heart beating, rather than shutting it down during the grafting process, so as to prevent the brain from suffering any oxygen deprivation.

The surgeon also contended that he could bypass all six of Dad’s blocked arteries. By the time I arrived, Dad and his girlfriend had elected to go with this other surgeon.

The operation’s scheduled to begin (with pre-op) around 7am tomorrow. I hope to have good news to report by noon.

Details

Following a scary missed (and mis-)diagnosis by his cardiologist last week, my dad had an angiogram this morning; he has 100% blockage of three arteries in his heart. He’s having a bypass performed on Wednesday.

I haven’t done much eating or sleeping these past few days, and I sure won’t be doing any blogging till after his operation. I appreciate the well-wishes I’ve received from some of you already, as well as those to come.

Thanks.

Update: Sorry to put up such an apocalyptic-reading post. I was pretty wrecked by the time I got home last night, and didn’t know what to write. I want to add that both surgeons with whom we consulted said that Dad’s a “perfect candidate” for this operation, and that there’s very little chance (0.5-2.0%) that anything will go wrong on Wednesday. So, while I’m still incredibly worried for my dad’s life, the surgeons aren’t portraying it as a very risky procedure.

Thanks again for all the e-mails. It means so much to me to know that I have such wonderful friends all over this world.

Rave On

The DEA’s annual magazine, “Drugs of Abuse,” has been released. According to the agency:

This DEA magazine delivers clear, scientific information about drugs in a factual, straightforward way, combined with scores of precise photographs shot to scale. We believe that Drugs of Abuse fulfills an important educational need in our society.

But according to Mr. Sun!, it looks like the DEA is just trying to tempt us all into using (more) drugs.

Good thing it wasn’t Final Four weekend . . .

On Sunday, Tiger Woods hit one of the greatest shots I’ve ever seen, on the 16th hole to help him win his 4th Masters jacket at Augusta.

On Tuesday, Stephen Stanko got picked up by the cops. He was on the run from rape and double-murder charges in South Carolina. Where’d the cops find him? In a mall in Augusta.

Coincidence? Nope! Evidently, after allegedly raping a 15-year-old girl, killing his old lady (the girl’s mom), and killing a 74-year-old guy for his truck, Stanko decided, “I’d really like to see Tiger play.”

Let that sink in. No, no: Not that this guy, following rape-and-murder Friday, decided he wanted to watch some golf.

Instead, think about this: Stephen Stanko probably killed an old guy for a set of wheels, but even he couldn’t score tickets to the Masters.

That’s a mighty fine — Oh, nevermind

In April 2003, I was flown down to Puerto Rico for a press junket tour of its pharmaceutical manufacturing infrastructure (secret identity, etc.). I called it the “PR for PR Tour”, which wasn’t very imaginative, but hey.

During the flight down, I read the press materials they’d sent, to get an idea of what business advantages the island had to offer. Reading about its relationship to the U.S., I thought, “They’ve got a pretty good deal, all things considered. Lots of benefits without as much of the hassle.” Still, I wondered if there was popular interest in formally joining the U.S. as the 51st state.

As my cab drove out of the airport, I noticed a building that made me think, “There’s no way Puerto Rico’s ever becoming a state.” That building had a billboard-sized sign in front that read, “COCKFIGHTING”.

At dinner with the other press people and our liaisons that night, I mentioned the sign. The liaisons blanched, while the press corps, mainly Europeans, were enthralled, and began peppering the locals with all sorts of cockfighting questions. This was exacerbated when it turned out that the main liaison’s boyfriend came from a family that was the #2 breeder of fighting cocks in PR.

I kicked back and discovered rum, which made the night that much more entertaining.

Why do I bring this up almost two years later? Because of an item I read last week on Page 6 in the New York Post. It seems that over-the-hill, one-time-best-pound-for-pound boxer Roy Jones, Jr. is a cockfighting aficionado, and the Humane Society of the U.S. just got over-the-hill wrestler Hulk Hogan to write to Jones and implore him to give up the sport.

Oh, but that’s not the part that amazed me. No, dear reader, what your Virtual Memoirist finds astonishing is the last line of the HSUS item’s lede:

Louisiana is one of only two states where fighting roosters is still legal.

I had blithely assumed that cockfighting was illegal in the U.S., and that its tradition in Puerto Rico was a major obstacle to ever considering bringing PR in as a new state. Now I realize that, pound for pound, PR matches up pretty well with Louisiana.

Of course, the fact that it’s still legal in Louisiana is only half of the equation. As the HSUS statement reads, it’s legal in two states. This led me and the official VM girlfriend to ponder what the other state was. We were in the car when I mentioned the item, so we couldn’t look up the answer.

“I bet it’s somewhere in the west,” she said. She was already embarrassed, but not surprised, by the fact that it’s legal in her home state.

“I’m going with Florida,” I told her. “They’re lawless, plus they have a big latino population.”

Keep in mind, I’m not a proponent of this sport. It seems pretty cruel to me, and I don’t like to see animals get hurt, even if they are heavily armed. I think it’s pretty funny that HBO Sports employs Roy Jones, Jr. as a commentator, but if another of its employees–like Bob Costas, or an associate producer, or something–owned a cockfighting arena, he’d probably get ridiculed and/or bounced out of his job.

I’m not sure it’s that much crueler than the practices at an industrial chicken farm, and I’m sure as heck not bailing on Chik-Fil-A anytime soon.

Anyway, I was wrong. It turns out that New Mexico was the other state that hasn’t banned it. And the most recent ban, near as I can tell, was in Missouri in 1998. The ban also covered “bear wrestling.”

In 1998.