The opinions expressed do not necessarily reflect those of Coma News Daily.

by Natalie Peters, Coma Town Councilperson, Opinions expressed are correct
It has come to my attention that Dr. Jimmy, a Coma physician, believes there’s a future in “Mid-evil” medicine, as I like to call it.

Is that what we do in the future? Look back at the past? Does this make any sense?

And please, spare me the false equivalency of mentioning the popularity of ancient Chinese, Native American and aboriginal healing. Those are totally different.

What barbarities in medieval times could compete with the advanced science of chemical face peels, stomach staples, or firing lasers into our eyeballs?

How people lived with wrinkled faces, ugly glasses or excess body fat back in those days we will never have to know because of the wonders of modern medicine.

Okay, maybe they did have Fairy Godmothers back then and Mel Gibson as Braveheart.

Although, it was probably better that Braveheart died because I’m not sure what his quality of life would have been like if doctors had saved him after those torture injuries.

The most important question in all of this is what about the animals?

Do those leeches really want to suck disgusting sick people blood? Has anyone asked them how they feel about their role in medicine? Who will speak for the leeches? And what do leeches cure? Can they treat cancer? Can they remove fat?

Granted, I felt that modern medicine had failed me when Dr. Jimmy told me recently during my annual physical that I was “heavy” for a  person my age and that I “need to lose a few pounds.”

But when I punched a hole in his exam room wall and yelled “You need to rethink medicine” I didn’t mean leeches.

So, now that Coma’s only physician has gone medieval on this town, we need to ask “Who will speak for the leeches?”

I will.

I will speak for medicine. I will speak for the leeches. And I will make sure that we keep our eyes on what’s important. Because we can see better with LASIK.

Follow

Share on Tumblr

comments feed

You Should Get Grotesque Injuries Looked at by a Medical Doctor

By Stan Bargmeyer

Recently I suffered a compound fracture in my right arm after a freak mailbox accident.  It was actually two compound fractures.  One above my elbow thing and one below. Like many people who grew up in my generation, my first thought was, “hey, walk it off.” And now that they’ve invented the internet and I read over the condition and thought, ” All I need to do is wrap this up.”

After several weeks, however, and a nudge from my daughter- I realized the wounds were festering.  The old kitchen towel I used to wrap around my arm was starting to smell funny and the pain was reaching a point where I could no longer tolerate it.

Finally, I broke down and went to the medical doctor in town.  Dr. Jimmy, my physician, was shocked by my condition and the increasingly intolerable odor emanating from my wounds. Over the next 22 hours, him and a team of surgeons worked to save my arm, set the bones back in place and alleviate the incredible pain.

This ordeal has taught me several important lessons.  Lessons I believe many people could benefit from if they find themselves in a similar situation.

Sometimes medical doctors can help with severe injuries.  What qualifies as a serious injury nowadays? With the rise of social media and television, it’s kind of hard to know.  I’ve come up with a helpful rhyme that you should learn so that if you’re faced with a similar situation you’ll know when to contact a doctor;

“If a bones-a-showin’

And bloods-a-flowin’

A doctor is who you should get to be knowin’”

Wash your wound towels at least once a week.  I learned this lesson the hard way.  I definitely recommend washing your wound towel at least once a week and maybe even twice.  They tend to stiffen and then there is, of course, the foul odor.

Avoid trimming off chunks of your arm meat to “tidy up” your wound. The doctors actually are pretty good at dressing wounds and putting everything back together.  I wish I would have known this one sooner.  But hopefully someone can benefit from this knowledge.

Try hard to not get a serious wound in the first place.  This is probably the best piece of advice I can give.  If you can avoid getting a debilitating injury, you won’t have to worry about any of this.  That is where I really messed up.  I didn’t try hard enough to avoid getting a serious wound.

I hope my experience and the lessons I’ve learned can help others.  Just remember, if you have bones sticking out of your skin or large chunks of flesh exposed and bloody or even internal organs visible to the naked eye, you should consider having it looked at by a medical doctor.

Follow

Share on Tumblr

comments feed

Natalie Peters
Coma Town Council member

The threat of a buzzard menace is real and growing.

My fellow Coma residents may be aware that a growing gathering of buzzards have swarmed our town in recent months, defecating and mating their way across rooftops and parking lots.

What my fellow Comatons may not know is that these creatures have attained self awareness.

That’s right, they know exactly what they are doing and why they are doing it.

We do not know how they achieved this advanced state of intelligence but it left your Town Council with no choice but to act:

We enacted the somewhat controversial requirement that homeowners personally guard their garbage cans and immediately return them to their garages after emptying–or face $1,000 fines–in order to counter the buzzard menace. This was needed because the birds are learning to open the cans and feed at will. They can also open doors, so please keep them locked.

We banned residents shooting the swarms of massive scavengers because the birds have applied for hidden carry permits. The last thing we want is running bird-on-man gun battles in this town.

We required residents–under pain of $3,000 fines–to cover their roofs with broken glass, flaming torches and gargoyles because science indicates these are effective measures to humanely encourage these creatures to move on. Let’s make this some other town’s problem.

Lastly, we’ve increase the sidewalk tax to $10 per day to fund our groundbreaking research on a buzzard drone to trick these creatures into flying to a new town.

No one likes paying for solutions but this is no time to question your elected leaders. We must stay united in the face of the genius-buzzard menace. And together we shall prevail, Coma!

Follow

Share on Tumblr

comments feed

For People Traveling This Christmas, Please Don’t “Home Alone” Your Child

Stan Bargmeyer, Coma News Intern

I recently viewed the popular motion picture “Home Alone” about a small male child who accidentally gets left home by himself during the holidays.  The young boy is forced to survive a series of challenges most young people are not equipped to deal with.

While the lad in the picture handles himself well, I don’t think it is reasonable to expect every adolescent faced with similar circumstances to employ such clever thinking with an amazing level of resourcefulness and resilience.

Anyone who views this film and thinks that leaving young children unattended at home for an extended period of time is a good idea would be, in my opinion, wrong.

If anything, the movie shows just how important it is to not leave young children home alone when you leave town.  Especially during the holidays.

I think the filmmakers in this case were irresponsible in their storytelling.  I can only imagine how many parents will watch this movie and decide to leave their young children at home, unattended.

I’m urging you not to.  Don’t “Home Alone” your child this holiday season.  Take any necessary measure to remind yourself to bring them with you.  Like a note on the refrigerator.  Or use one of those fancy phones to send you some alert or notice.  Or ask your child to remind you not to leave them behind.

But please don’t’ watch “Home Alone” and think it is an opportunity for your child to learn how to take care of themselves or fight off violent criminals.  That’s the wrong message.

Enjoy your holidays with your children.

Follow

Share on Tumblr

comments feed

You Punch a Monkey in the face ONE TIME and you get labeled the guy who goes around punching monkeys in the face.

By Micah Horncraft, curator of the Town of Coma Futurist Society, Owner of a Tiny House

Apparently, everyone else in the world is perfect.  How nice it must be for all of you. Must be real nice to never make a mistake ever! Must be nice to not accidentally punch a monkey in the face and then have everybody call you, “The guy who goes around punching defenseless monkeys in the face.”

Yes, I did punch a monkey in the face.

Yes, it did cause his little monkey eyes to water.

Yes, I probably could have handled the situation much better.

And YES, I do regret punching Bo-Bo Bo-Bo, the chimpanzee, square in the face.

And now, everywhere I go, people look and point and I can hear them mumbling under their breath about how I’m that guy who engaged in fisticuffs with a primate.

So somehow, all my prior good deeds have been undone by one unfortunate afternoon at the Coma petting zoo.

Why not refer to me as, “That guy who routinely yields the right of way to other motorists even when he doesn’t have to?”

Or, “That guy who didn’t freak out when he discovered his two-for-one coupon at Da Foot Bucket had expired?”

But no, despite my many humanitarian efforts over the years, I’m now only referred to as the guy who had a minor incident with a simian.  It’s funny that this town managed to forget about the time I accidentally set those baby polar bears on fire but can’t stop obsessing about this monkey thing.

How about, “That guy who thought SERIOUSLY about donating to the local food bank when he saw the display outside the grocery store”?

That would be far more accurate because that happens all the time.

My advice to anyone out there thinking about punching a monkey in the face is this; don’t do it! It’s not worth all the looks and nicknames.

Follow

Share on Tumblr

comments feed

By Bob Smith-Smith

Has the time finally come to replace Coma Tech’s Mad Scientists mascot with something less offensive?
I think so.
Why?
The answer to this question is both complex and simple.  The simple
answer is that they are disrespectful and hurtful to scientists and science-minded peoples.

Not long ago, I was at a Coma Tech game and their ludicrous mascot was pretending to lobodomize the opposing team’s indigenous mascot. Ok, just because American scientists have practiced such discredited eugenics practices against “undesirables” in the past doesn’t mean it’s reflective of today’s scientific leading lights.

As a one-time physics major, let me disabuse mainstream Coma residents of some facts about this mascot that they just doesnt “get”:

1. “We are honoring scientists”

There are so many things I can tell you about the sports team names,
mascots and imagery that are anything but an ‘honor’ that it would take up more time than you have to read.  So let’s just hit the basics – the ‘MS’ phrase is slanderous, not an honor.
Mascots and fans dressing up like ‘scientists’ is insulting and highly offensive, not an honor.
Fans performing ‘labodomy stabs’ at games are insulting and highly offensive.

2.  “I know geologists who have no problem with ‘mad scientist’ mascots”

Let me say right here that I am fully aware that some of our science magnet schools use names like ‘Math Lunatics’ or ‘Nutty Professors’.  This is where the issue gets complex.  You see, often these names were not chosen by our science students, but by the non-scientist (probably jocks) who provided the money to start those schools.

3.  “This is just ‘political correctness’ run amok”

What, for crying out loud, is ‘political’ about being correct?  Anyone who whines about being asked to be respectful and do the right thing to science weavers is a coward and a crybaby.

4.  How do these mascots/team names hurt science-y people?

Well, for starters, they insult. On a larger scale, “science” mascots serve to trivialize us as a left-brained people. This has gone on for centuries (Hello, Dr. Frankenstein), and it served it’s purpose then as it does now. So much for the ‘progress of civilization.’ Instead of portraying us as soul-less, controlling nutjobs, look us as people who are socially awkward and excited about beakers.

It’s time to include us in the national conversation. Bill Gates is no awkward, gangly joke.

Follow

Share on Tumblr

comments feed

Sadie Cracker
“There’s a bus that turned over on highway 35 killing a surprised cow.”
The news blares through radio 24 hours a day in this bar.
And if it’s not the news, it’s some DJ screaming about how you can be a winner.
My father sits carefully down on a stool at Bear’s Biker Bar and scratches away at some lottery tickets.
“I win,” he says to Bear, the bartender. “look at my winnings!”
“You got nothing. You scratched it all off and nothing matches. You didn’t even win a dollar,” Bear says.

The bar is busy tonight. Someone just finished reading some bad poetry and there’s a kid who’s gonna go on later and do some comedy. Like everybody, he has dreams.

“Give me my dollar,” Dad says. Bear laughs and salutes me.

“We have no idea who’s gonna win these elections but we do know lots of anecdotes about these candidates–” the radio says, before I shut it off.

And for a moment there’s silence in this bar where the mumbling is drunk and stories never end.
“I lost my leg in a war…”
“I lost my wife to a website…”
“I lost my hair…”

“I won, Bear,” says Dad. “Give me my dollar.”

Everyone here wants to be great and winning even in their loss. Except for me. All I can think is all I have is this one moment and I don’t want to look back and say I missed it. And slowly Charlie takes the stage. He’s the town warrior poet, librarian and head of the Weekend Warhammers Motorcycle club. He can barely stand because he spent the last two hours sitting indian style on the bar’s porch reading some Shel Silverstien and Lord of the Rings to a bunch of kids. I know because mine were there.

He clears his throat and says, “Sadie come play?” Not tonight I shake my head and point to Robert McGuiness, my friend and guest.

Charlie starts to play the cords to “Free Fallin.” He’s quick to point out that it’s the Tom Petty version and not the one that John Mayer ripped off.

“You can go sing and play,” says Robert. I shake my head no. Tonight I just want to enjoy it. Robert stands up and grabs my hand. He leads me to the dance floor where several drunks are already trying to dance in a slow clumsy shuffle.

“She’s a good girl. Loves her momma,” sings Charlie.
And so we dance.

“Get off my girl, buddy,” says Dad. He’s walking toward us. “Get off my girl. I’m winning tonight.”
Not sure if Dad knows I’m his daughter or if he thinks I’m his girlfriend again.

Robert takes a step away and bows. Dad cuts in as the chorus goes on “Free fallin…Free fallin” and I think this song is completely inappropriate to be dancing with my father but not as inappropriate as the time he asked me to dance to “I wanna sex you up.” And Dad starts slowly spinning me.
“Did you see I won tonight Sadie?” and he twirls me. “Like the time when you were little and I won that TV in the raffle.”

All we have is right here. All I have is this moment when he knows who I am. And Charlie looks at the twirling and he stops mid free fall. He puts down his acoustic and picks up an electric guitar and starts playing the chords for Hallelujah. “That’s right Sadie we’re winning,” says Dad as he spins me again.

“I heard there was a secret cord that David played and it pleased the lord,” says Charlie.

And we spin. And I look over at my friend Robert. He’s a former journalist and now the local junk man in town. He makes me laugh and he winks.
Then Dad looks over at him. “You wanna cut in for a twirl, buddy?”

Follow

Share on Tumblr

comments feed