Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Thank You, Google
I think the story of finding the Plushie Microbes is worth re-telling.

I am a confirmed hypochondriac. I currently suffer from dementia, cancer, footrot, and restless leg syndrome. The doctors won't actually give me these diagnoses, but dammit, I have Internet. WebMD told me so.

One night, I was watching TLC (again). An ad popped up about flesh-eating bacteria. Thanks to my handy laptop, I was able to Google it. Then, I Googled images. I saw some legs with enormous gashes in them and an arm with an ulcer. I was instantly intrigued, and began picking at that spot on my thigh where the skin is red and flaky (it's razorburn, people, I don't REALLY have leprosy). As I scrolled through images of rotting flesh, I came across this little guy...

He's got a KNIFE and a FORK because he EATS FLESH! How adorable!!

I was cooing at the website. Go and coo. I never knew how huggable syphillis really was! No wonder people contract it all the time! Sure, influenza killed off millions of people in the early 1900's, but can we blame it when it's as fuzzy as this?

I've been cured of my hypochodria. If having all these diseases means I'm surrounded by sweet little microbes with eyeballs, I feel just fine.

Written by FRITZ
| Link | 2 wise cracks! |

Name: Fritz

Location: Detroit Rock City!
Where the weak are killed and eaten

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What My Brain is Eating
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    What I Live By:
    We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time. Through the unknown, unremembered gate When the last of earth left to discover Is that which was the beginning; At the source of the longest river The voice of the hidden waterfall And the children in the apple-tree Not known, because not looked for But heard, half-heard, in the stillness Between two waves of the sea. Quick now, here, now, always— A condition of complete simplicity (Costing not less than everything) And all shall be well and All manner of thing shall be well When the tongues of flame are in-folded Into the crowned knot of fire And the fire and the rose are one. -T.S. Eliot "Little Gidding"

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