In Alabama, all professions are somehow political — and, therefore, religious — even medicine. During and shortly after the passage of the Affordable Care Act, I passed the time spent waiting in a dermatologist’s office by reading the marked Bible passages that he believe invalidated Obamacare.
So, it’s not too surprising that, not only did a doctor trade the Hippocratic Oath for the Hypocrite’s and run for the State Senate, Sen. Larry Stutt is now trying to repeal a law named for a patient whose post-pregnancy death he was sued over. The law requires insurers to cover post-pregnancy hospital stays after his patient, Rose Church, died of a heart attack 10 days after giving birth.
Stutt’s bill, Senate Bill 289, “would also also end a requirement that doctors inform women when finding dense breast tissue, which is associated with an increased risk of breast cancer, during a mammogram.” So, it might be that Dr. Sen. Stutt merely hates all women and not just the one that he settled out of court over. After all, what do they know, whether it concerns the health of their breasts or how they feel post-pregnancy?
Knowing their state is a lock for Mitt Romney in the 2012 presidential election, members of the Alabama Republican Party have gone full-Mormon. Their new initiative, Alabama’s Battleground Patriots, will send volunteers door-to-door in swing states, including Florida, North Carolina, Ohio and — oh, good lord — Virginia to spread the good word about voting for Romney.
So, it looks like certain Guys who thought they left this malarkey behind when they moved from Alabama to Virginia will be keeping their lights off and remaining as quiet as possible.
Sorry about missing “Take it from Snee” last week. If you were busy watching those crazy British kids getting married or the end of the “Do you remember where you were on 9/11?”-era, then you may not have noticed that Alabama was trying to kill me. (Did you see what I did there, McBournie?)
Believe it or not, this is actually my second draft of this post. I tried to live blog the tornado warnings that, in Alabama, come with World War II-edition sirens. These interrupted me so often that by the time I worked a game out of it, the power shut off and was not restored to my neighborhood until last night.
For six nights–which is how you count blackouts because daylight isn’t blacked out–I lived a preview of our future dystopian nightmare. I survived and bring you the following findings. Continue reading →
SeriouslyGuys deployed me to Huntsville, Alabama in 2007. They hoped that they would have direct access to all the stupid stories in the South. (Who would have suspected Florida and South Carolina?)
But, every now and then, this town delivers.
Local sex shop Pleasures will open a second location in Huntsville in the best metaphor of our economic times: a closed-down bank. The drive-thru teller lanes will be incorporated into the business as the first sex toy drive-thru in Alabama and possibly the world.
Look, Pleasures owner Sherri Williams: Huntsville just outlawed texting and driving to curb accidents and save lives. Now I have to dodge your customers when they’re on a “joy ride?” Not cool.
In my on-going series of ways that Alabama is trying to kill me, I’ve learned that I’m a no-good fat fatty-fat fat-fat.
Those of you who may know me would be surprised, considering I’ve always seemed smaller than everyone else (except Chugs). But that’s exactly how it snuck up on me.
According to Time Magazine, Alabama ranks as not only one of the poorest, but also one of the fattest states (except Mississippi). Over 30% of this state’s population is obese because of fried food, gravy and a lack of grocery stores, sidewalks, bike lanes and public transportation (gotta walk to bus stops).
Because so many people around me are obese, I didn’t even notice my weight gain. No matter how big I got, I looked “normal.” And, according to CNN, even Old Navy may have conspired against me by marking larger cloths with smaller measurements! So my waist size hasn’t really been 30 this whole time!
So, when Alabama’s tornadoes and rising STD rates missed me, it resorted to the old fashioned way: diabetes and heart disease.
I woke up at 4 am this morning to the soundtrack from Pearl Harbor. No, not Michael Bay’s crapwork of a film. I mean air raid sirens. I leapt out of bed and fumbled with the alarm clock for a little bit–at first, to mistakenly turn it off, and then to turn on the radio to find out what the hell was going on.
I couldn’t find the radio button, so I scrambled to the living room. On the way, I tripped over the vacuum cleaner, careening it into the cockatiel’s cage and freaking him out. For good measure, I also yelled out the cat’s name while stubbing my toe on the coffee table.