Anti-life-biotics

Last night a friend sent a video of a German singer named Kaas. I wrote back thinking Kaas must be cold ... If I were wearing pants that fit in the manner hers fit, I'd be cold, too. Maybe I was envious of her figure or her youth. I wear pants that low and my middle-aged shape has them shooting off like a rubber band off an aiming finger. And just moments before, I had expressed cavalierly gratuitous comments about Glenn Campbell's Classical Gas performance? Was it my intellectual flatulence ... poor Glenn is off somewhere now in dementia and I was being critical of his guitar fingerings ... How unkind. How unlike the kind Soul I seek to be. ... When I was young, I'd say each morning as I opened my eyes: Modeh Ani l'Phanecha ... I offer thanks before Thee ... Melech Chai v'Kayam ... Living and secure King ... she'hechezarta bi nishmasi .... that you returned into me my soul ... b'Chemlah raba emunasecha ... with Your reliable mercy. I woke up this morning not knowing if the flu or the antibiotics were killing me, but when I found myself mouthing those childhood words in a foreign tongue, I wasn't expressing thanx to Big Pharma. My advice: beware of allopaths bearing cutting edge antibiotics ... IF THEY'VE COME TO KILL YOUR BUGS, YOU MAY BE NEXT! Having the flu or other bronchial madnesses in the Fourth Quarter is not Playing ... nor is it Playful. With apologies to both singers and all cowboys, I remain ... Flu-bitten, Bronchial and/or Addled Howard