Your RDA of Irony

Arms and the Bland

I donated blood today.  When asked if I had syphilis or gonorrhea, I was actually flattered.  I am at that stage of life when all my appendages may be a bit arthritic.  Then there were the demographic questions.  I was asked my race.  I identified myself as “Caucasian unless you are really, really Anti-Semitic.”  Mel Gibson says we are “sorta Asiatic.”  You can imagine Genghis Cohen ransacking the dim sums of China.

My irreverence did not seem to disqualify me as a donor.  However, I may have been deliberately consigned to the clumsiest member of Life Source,  My leech must have been a graduate of the Mengele School of Acupuncture.  Perhaps I was lucky that she could find my left arm.  While I am not familiar with the rules of Mumbly Peg, I apparently was the board. I don’t know what St. Sebastian said during his blood donation, but I was disappointingly trite.  At the point where I could no longer ignore the excavation in my arm, I exclaimed, “Ouch.”

There goes my reputation for wit.  “Ouch” was the best I could offer?  Not, “You may be rushing the autopsy” or “I am ready to sign the confession” or “Let me know when you reach China”  or “Is this the third act of Julius Caesar?”  I didn’t even think of a traditional American response of swearing and punching her out.  No, I betrayed my image, profession and country with a tediously polite “Ouch.”

Fortunately, I am not Japanese; so this is not a suicide note.  I will endure my disgrace by wolfing down what is left of the Halloween candy.

And let’s remember the historic significance of this day:

Veterans Day



  1. Dennis Pennington says:

    A little ice cream couldn’t hurt .

  2. Megan says:

    Thank you for donating! My Dad was so disappointed when he couldn’t donate anymore after he had been to Afghanistan.

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