the taste of summer

It's been said that writing about soda, or some combination of soda and ice cream, is the last refuge of a desperate blogger. And since I'm obviously still going strong, and crankin', I'm sure that people out there are wondering why I'm devoting today's entry to soda. Well, to put it bluntly, this Jones Lemon Drop soda is the bomb.
I'm a little partial to Jones, for several reasons: I like the name, they're underdogs, they do cool things like printing random pictures submitted by customers on their packaging, they're not afraid to make turkey-and-gravy soda, and I suspect they take good care of their employees.
And last but not least, they're based in Seattle, and some of their flavors are really good. Take Lemon Drop: each sip is like a mouthful of sweet Seattle summer rain. (Or maybe it's winter rain, or fall rain. All that rain started to taste the same to me after a while.) At any rate, it's got the perfect balance of sweetness and tartness, and it's all that.
I think Lemon Drop is right up there with San Pellegrino Limonata, which is a damn good carbonated beverage. And it puts Sprite and 7-Up and Mountain Dew to shame. And here's why: number 1, they use cane sugar instead of that high-fructose corn syrup shit. And number 2, it's just lemon. None of this lemon-lime nonsense. Now, don't get me wrong - I like limes. A lot. I wish there was a lime soda. But lemon-lime soda: what's up with that??? Why couldn't they just leave a good thing alone? From a marketing perspective, it probably seemed like a brilliant idea to combine the two; but from a gustatory perspective, it was a black day in soda history.
Sometimes, it's good to take a step back and just think about simplifying things, back to where they came from. Maybe we shouldn't be injecting cheese into pizza crusts, to make cheesy crust pizza. And maybe we should be taking the lime out of lemon-lime. We're all indebted to you, Jones, for leading the way.

tri tri tri again

Last Sunday was Triathlon Day in the MJC, as the Ironman series rolled through town for their annual event here. I actually got up early enough to see the 7 am start, then passed a bunch of people during the marathon stage while out on a bike ride, and finally saw some people finish around the 13-hour mark. Damn, that stuff is inspirin'. Just the start alone, with a couple of thousand swimmers bobbing in the water, waiting for the gun, and rock music blaring over the speakers. And the finish! Can you imagine crossing the finish line after a 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike ride, and then a marathon? Sheeee-it. That makes my "gold star day" the week before look like some kind of diaper derby.
Well, I'm gonna let you in on a secret: last year, after seeing some of the Ironman here, I looked into signing up for the 2008 event. Which was kind of foolhardy, admittedly, because I've struggled and broken down in helpless sobs both times I've tried to do just a marathon. But I'm telling you, that stuff was inspirin'! But by the time I checked it out, it was already completely filled. So, earlier this week, I steeled my nerves again, and went to the Ironman registration site. And ... the 2009 event was already totally sold out!
Yessssss! I'm saved!
But fear not, people, because I have a plan that may save me some face. After careful consideration and a little research, I'm thinking of breaking into this triathlon nonsense with a "half-Ironman," or a 70.3, or whatever you want to call it. Each stage is half the distance of a regular triathlon, which is still kind of intimidating, but maybe a good way to get my feet wet. (Get it? Swimming? Wet feet?)
More on all this stuff later. Right now I'm just talkin' the talk, but before you know it I may be walkin' the walk, and ridin' the bike, and swimmin', and breakin' down and cryin' like a little bitch baby ...

menaces II society

I've been in Mad City for over a year now. I like it here. It's chill. But there be one thing burnin' me up inside; and if you also live in or near or around the MJC, you probably know what I'm talkin' about. That's right: the trains. They be runnin' through the city at all hours, blowin' them horns and shit. 2 am, 5 am, 11:15 pm - it don't matter. Whenever they come through, they blow it up big so that everyone knows they around.
And my question is, why? Why they be doin' it? Because if you drivin', and that train comin' down your way, this big wooden thing with flashing lights comes down cross the road, all ding ding ding and shit. It will not let you through! And it's not like those trains be creepin' through the neighborhood. You hear them comin' from a looooong ways away. Know what I'm sayin'? So I don't know if that horn supposed to scare the raccoons and squirrels off the track, or what the fuck. But it don't fly with me. I mean, why not put some psychedelic laser show on the front of the train, to keep that shit clear? It'd be like, "Watch out, homey! Get back! Or I'll fuck up yo' eyes with Dark Side of the Moon." And that would not be wakin' people, neither.
It's like cell phones. People be talkin' about how they cause brain cancer. Now, maybe they do, and maybe they don't. But what we gonna do? Stop usin' them? If there's a 0.02 percent chance of gettin' brain cancer from a cell phone, people still be usin' them. Why? Because we cannot ... go back. It's like cars. We know they be risky, but we keep on usin' them. We accept the risk, because what we gonna do? Not use them? It's like hamburgers too. And I say, we can do without the horns on the bitchass trains. Because they don't scare nobody, and nobody need them. All they doin' is fuckin' with the QOL in the MJC.
And that remind me of the reason why I left Seattle. Yeahh, that's right: the drawbridges. Them, and that shitbag Tim Eyman. But mostly the drawbridges. You know what I'm talkin' about, Seattle people: you be goin' cross town, trying to take a shortcut through Montlake, and BAM! Up goes the drawbridge. And there you are, stuck in your car, holding yo' dick. All so Paul Allen can drive his big-ass boat from the one lake, to the other lake. Well, here's what I say: charge for that shit! If he wanna drive his boat through, charge his ass maybe $300 every time. You wanna fuck with traffic, and the people? Well, the people gonna fuck with you. And don't be puttin' that money in some general fund or whatever, neither. I want the man to come out the little drawbridge house with Paul Allen's money, and start handin' it out to people sittin' in cars. Damn! That shit would make my day ...

cornflowers

I love these things. They grow by the side of the road, like weeds, but they're beautiful. Plus, they're named after corn. I love corn. It's awesome.

the original mad city

Some of you people may have noticed that the URL for my blog is the ponderous www.blogmadcity.blogspot.com. And you've probably wondered, "What's this shizzle? Why didn't he just go with www.madcity.blogspot.com?" Well, the answer is that that address was already taken, by one Jerry Litzau Jr. And if you're expecting me to launch a Mad City-style tirade on his ass, think again. I don't know Jerry personally, but I've checked out his site and his profile. He seems like a good guy, plus he's visually-impaired. I have the utmost respect for the visually-impaired. Plus, Jerry seems like a gentle soul, so the "Mad City" address for his blog is almost whimsical. True, he doesn't publish much, but I suspect he doesn't have a lot of --
Come to think of it, what the hell Jerry? You grab the greatest blog address of all time, and then you don't even publish much??? Is this a joke? Are you deliberately trying to make my life difficult? What have I done to deserve this? Why, I oughtta ... um ...
Salute you, I guess. Because we're basically doing the same deal, the best way we know how. And trying to keep it real in the process. So don't mind me, Jerry: it's all good, bro. Keep on rockin' in the MJC ...

cancer part 1

Over time I'll probably have a lot to say here about cancer, given my choice of oncology as a career path. But before getting to anything else, I just wanted to publish a little plea: sign up for the National Bone Marrow Registry. It's a simple thing to do, and it really can give you the opportunity to save someone's life. Diseases like leukemia and multiple myeloma can be treated with chemotherapy and other medications to prolong life and control symptoms, but typically the only long-term cure is a transfusion of blood stem cells from another person. These cells not only produce new blood cells (i.e. platelets, red blood cells, white blood cells), but can also fight the underlying blood disease through a weird process known as graft vs. tumor effect, wiping out any malignant cells that remain after chemotherapy. Sometimes the donated cells can also damage normal tissues and organs in the recipient, which is known as graft vs. host disease. But already, I can tell my little talk here is getting overly long and technical, and people are skipping back to my piece on the #1 rock song of all time, so let me simplify things:

YOUR STEM CELLS CAN CURE SOMEONE'S LEUKEMIA. And donating them is not much more complicated than donating blood. You can read more about it, in layman's terms, at the National Marrow Donor Program site.

I'm kind of embarrassed to say that even after meeting and caring for people with leukemia and other blood illnesses during my residency, I didn't sign up for the donor registry until I developed a personal connection to someone who needed stem cells. It's, like, a three-degree connection: my friend's wife's brother. But if you too had an opportunity to meet Steve, you'd soon learn that he's a great guy, and you'd be more than willing to do this simple thing to help him. (Well, that is, your chances of being a donor match for Steve per se, or anyone outside your family, are quite small. Almost like hitting the lottery. But you know what I mean.)

Check out Steve's blog! There's a link to it right over there, on the right.

And FYI, signing up for the registry costs about $50. Just do it! Damn cheapskates!

a gold-star day

People, how was your Labor Day weekend? Mine went swimmingly. Or should I say, bicycling-ly? Ha ha ha. But yes, I did go for a big-ass ride yesterday: the Wright Stuff Century, the big summer event for the local Bombay Bicycle Club. The name is a reference to Frank Lloyd Wright (the route passes Taliesin, his summer home in Spring Green WI) and the length of the ride (100 miles). Actually, participants can do routes of 40, 60, or 100 miles. Last year, I did the 60. This year, I rode with my friend Mary Beth, who was dead-set on doing the whole schlemiel. And we did it! Though we were, in fact, almost dead by the time we finished.
Now, I know what you're thinking: "Wisconsin, right? Midwest. Flat as a pancake." Au contraire. The course was kinda brutal, with grinding, winding uphills and swooping descents liberally sprinkled throughout. And while I'm grateful it didn't rain, in an ideal world I also wouldn't order cloudless skies with temps in the low 90's. Fortunately, the BBC and its many volunteers offered lots of support along the way. We hit just about every rest stop and water break on the route. Started just before 8 am, finished a little before 5:30 pm, with somewhere between 7 and 8 hrs. of riding total. Free beer at the finish. (This is Wisconsin, after all.)
And look at my registration number! The sexiest number in the whole field! I guess they've been reading the blog ...