Same Story, Different People

Here’s an Ozempic story.

I know that I seem to be talking about this topic a lot, because my own results have been pretty pleasing.  But as Nadine Dorries describes her own journey towards going this route, I’m pretty sure that a large number of my Readers are in a similar situation to hers — I know that my own symptoms were pretty much parallel to hers — and maybe this will help you.  Here’s Mrs. Dorries in a pre- and post pic:

Just as a reminder:  I went from 277lbs peak to just over 220lbs, although it’s taken me a while longer — about six months — but there have been other benefits.

After a quarter-century of taking blood-pressure meds, I may not have to take them for much longer.  (According to the last doctor I saw a couple weeks ago, my BP of 113/90 was better than hers — and because I’d been feeling so rotten, I’d forgotten to take my BP meds for two days beforehand.)  Here’s hoping.

I have had absolutely no side-effects from Ozempic.  I was briefly concerned that (please pardon the graphic description) that I’d gone from an everyday, set-your-watch bowel movement to very occasional visits to the toilet.  But as my doctor explained, my daily food intake had been reduced by two-thirds (maybe more, even), so that wasn’t unexpected.

Which leads to this point:  my relationship with food hasn’t changed.  I still have cravings for a particular taste or type of food;  but when it comes to actually eating it, I eat far less of it — sometimes as little as 25% of it in terms of quantity.  (Four cheese sticks becomes one, two fried eggs become one egg, half-finished, and so on.  Daily bread has turned into once a week, and one slice of toast instead of two per sitting withal.)

But all those other horror stories that people have ascribed to Ozempic?  Not one.

I will admit, as I’ve said before, that my muscle mass seems to have gone down along with the saddlebags of fat, but I’ve always been muscular — even over-muscled, perhaps — so that hasn’t bothered me at all.  My ass seems to have, shall we say, slackened somewhat.  But FFS, I’ll be turning 70 in November (!) so “old-man-flabby-ass” was always going to be in my future anyway.

I’ve been told to exercise, but that’s not going to happen.  My sole “exercise” is a 100-yard daily walk (uphill both ways, uh huh) to the mailbox to check the mail, and a similar uphill distance to our garage to get the car.  The new apartment is actually walking distance from a bakery (I know, bread ungood shuddup), so I’m planning on walking there whenever I need to get more bread;  the only problem is that north Texas is not, as we say, pedestrian friendly, so it seems that the health benefits of that quarter-mile walk may be somewhat offset by becoming some F-150’s hood ornament.  But I’ll give it a shot anyway.

The biggest bummer is that insurance does not pay for Ozempic and the other drugs of that ilk even though, as in my case, its original purpose is absolutely medical:  to address pre-diabetic or Type 2 diabetes conditions.  I have no idea why this is so.  But as New Wife puts it, it’s better than dying from diabetes-induced problems (heart attack, organ failure etc.).

So there ya have it.  It’s all food (or, less food) for thought.  Hope this helped.

Dept. Of Righteous Shootings

According to Reader Andrew T., it seems as though this asshole went around a whole bunch of houses in a neighborhood outside San Diego, trying to break in for purposes as yet unknown, but let’s just assume it wasn’t to sing hymns.

Eventually, of course, he managed to actually break into a house and attacked both the homeowner and his wife — and then discovered, alas too late, that you shouldn’t bring just a stick and a rock to a gunfight.

Yup… Our Hero Homeowner popped him in the chest, and the Mass Burglar quickly assumed room temperature.

It doesn’t say in the news report, but it seems pretty clear that the cops just took the dead body away, shook hands with the homeowner and carried on about their other business.

Which is as it should be.

New Expression

As Longtime Readers know, I am generally not in favor of “verbing” — turning a noun into a verb.  I do like using existing words or terms appropriately to create a fresh description of something altogether different.

Here’s a good example from Combat Controller:

I like it.

Nobody said it has to be over the ocean…

News Roundup

So in we dive, to swim through the murky waters of recent events.

In Political News:


...forget it, Glenn;  they could start loading them onto trains, and these idiots would still be voting for Democrats at the Skokie El station polling booth.


...and we are surprised by this, because…?

Dispatches from the War Between The Sexes:


...yeah, in my yoot I used to try this line on recalcitrant women;  never worked.

From the Police Blotter:


...hey, it’s not like the corpus delicti was gonna need it, right?

In Medical News:


And:


...maybe in some Socialist parallel universe.


In Nutrition News:


Speaking of the latter sports equipment, here’s a report from Paris:


...and here I thought prossies were legal in France.


...that’s just what the French refer to as “bleu”, kids.  And it’s not even boiled, either.

And in related news:


...or the U.S. could just tell the Olympic Committee to take a hike and let some shithole like Kyrgyzstan host their little spectacle instead.

And in today’s 

...no link because eeek.

...that trannie thing just isn’t working for you, Nancy, is it?

And in :


...not her normal look, mind you:

And not her usual immaculate self:

But that’s enough news for the day.

Just… No

Let’s say that many years ago your company stopped producing a popular car model in the line-up.  Now time has passed, and you want to reintroduce it, using the model’s old name in the hope of using its storied cachet to attract buyers.

Nothing wrong with that in principle, of course, but there’s a right way and a wrong way to do it.  Here’s the right way:

The original 1969 Dodge Charger Hemi R/T, a roaring, powerful and dangerous muscle car pushing 375hp:

The relaunched 2010s Dodge Charger (SRT Hellcat), a still-more powerful, even-more dangerous roaring monster pushing a jillion (okay, 700+hp):

The styling may have changed,the engineering improved, but the essence of the beast remained the same.

Now let’s look at the (oh-so very) wrong way to relaunch a brand.  From Ford U.K.:

The original 1969 to mid-70s Ford Capri, a sporty, spirited and sexy little two-door number:

The 2025 proposed Ford Capri, a blocky, all-electric (!!!!) SUV (????):

…which retains absolutely nothing of the spirit of the original, and isn’t worthy of even carrying the name.

Someone From Marketing needs to get summoned into a windowless, soundproofed room for a four-hour ball-kicking.  (And yes, I’m quite aware that a woke model like this may well have emanated from a womb-bearer, or someone with pretensions thereto.  Or a committee — same thing, really.)

And no, I’m not taking bets that this abhorrent abortion of a vehicle is going to fail, abjectly and miserably.