County Commission Voice -- New for Knoxville Voice

Knoxville Voice's Web site seems to be getting its kinks worked out. I have a new column up over there (even though my byline was left off, it's still me): http://www.knoxvoice.com/arts/funny-ha-ha/county-commission-voice/

 

County Commission Voice

Get Your Sunshine Online

by Scott McNutt

Moderator: With county commissioners’ ongoing inability to understand Chancellor Fansler’s ruling regarding their violation of the Sunshine Law and the obvious dysfunction in commission meetings, Knoxville Voice is pleased to announce the creation of "County Commission Voice." Commission Voice is an online forum where county commissioners can openly debate and deliberate in full compliance with the Sunshine Law. We’ll invite County Commission Chairman Thomas "Tank" Strickland to open the proceedings. Chairman Strickland?

…

Moderator: Chairman Strickland? Are you there?

Tanque: I’m leading with deeds, not words, so I won’t be participating.

Moderator: Ho-kay, perhaps we can get County Law Director John Owings to make the introductions. Mr. Owings?

JudgeDread: Not me! I’m not posting on any Interwebs blog. They’re scary! People are mean!

Moderator: Don’t worry, JudgeDread. The public can see what you post, but they can’t respond. Only you and the commissioners can post here. It’s not a blog; it’s a closed forum.

Most Important Man in South Knox: Is that rite? This is close and the pubic can not do nothing?

Moderator: Correct, Commissioner Pinkston…

Most Important Man in South Knox: Good! I want to call sum witness afore us to inquisigate em!

Moderator: Assuming a motion to that effect is made and passes in your regular meeting, and Mr. Owings approves it-

JudgeDread: Not getting involved!

Moderator: …then you could ask guests to post here. But I think an online interrogation would look pretty silly. How will you intimidate your "witnesses"? Type at them in ALL CAPS?

Most Important Man in South Knox: DRATS! Still, ‘less we invit em, the peeple kin not do nothing on this blob?

Moderator: It’s "blog," not blob, only it’s not one. But, yes, commissioner.

Most Important Man in South Knox: Good! becase I have a deel to work out on ol Sout Knox Hi wit Com Dee Freeze-

Moderator: …however, I must remind you, Big Man in South Knox Town, that any citizen who wishes to can view what you do here. You might want to keep things aboveboard.

Most Important Man in South Knox: Curses! Foil agin! I gone!

Commissioner M. Harmon: I make a motion that we all identify ourselves by our real names. Internet "handles" are juvenile, not befitting the decorum this august body should conduct itself under. And I want to state for the record that I think this blog is a great way for us to show the citizens of Knox County that we really care about keeping our proceedings legitimate.

Moderator: IT’S NOT A BLOG!

L84Dinr: neato! this is a kewl blog! mrowings or mrmoderator, I have ???: can I curse in cyberspace?

JudgeDread: Don’t drag me into this, Lumpy! It’ll all end in tears, I know it: Mine!

Moderator: :~( It’s not a blog, but you can be as colorful as you like, Commissioner Lambert…

L84Dinr: ALLLLL R8T! hey, university twit: PECKERHEAD! PECKERHEAD! PECKERHEAD! :-P

Moderator: …but remember, in cyberspace, everyone can hear you’re obscene.

L84Dinr: no praw, my hardworking blue-collar peeps love it! so does the media! need to see which reporters want to interview me 4 my l8est antics! c ya!

M. Harmon: Won’t anyone second my motion? …Anyone? …Anyone?

IcePrincess: Speaking of press conferences, Mr. Moderator, You need to set up a chat room for me to hold a press conference so I can alert the media that I will be participating here.

Moderator: I’m sure the media is monitoring this exchange, Commissioner DeFreese, so they’re already aware that you’re participating.

IcePrincess: Yes, but I need to have a chat room so we can arrange a time for them to put cameras on me and interview me. You really don’t understand how my media relationship works, do you?

Moderator: …and that’s probably best for all involved.

IcePrincess: Well, you just set up that chat room ASAP. TTFN.

M. Harmon: …Anyone?

Commissioner I. Harmon: I would second your motion, Commissioner M. Harmon, because I do agree that the dignity of this Commission is hurt by silly conduct. But I can’t second it because the Internet is an invention of the Devil created to further spread His Lies, and I am only here to point that fact out. My fingers are burning from His Hellfire even as I type "Goodbye." AMEN!

Leuthold: Mr. Moderator or Mr. Law Director, can we sell advertising space on the front page of this blog? I’ve seen that done on other blogs so I was wondering.

JudgeDread: notlisteningnotlisteningnotlisteningno-

Moderator: Commissioner Leuthold, I think Mr. Owings is trying to indicate the equivalent of sticking his fingers in his ears and saying "Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah." It’s not my place to say, but it doesn’t seem appropriate for the government to be in the business of selling advertising space. And-

Leuthold: "-it’s not a blog," yes, sorry about that. OK, well, I just thought it might be a good idea, since we have this tight budget coming up. Guess I better go study up other ways to raise money. ’Bye.

M Harmon: Craig, will you second my motion?

Commissioner Moore: I’ll second that motion.

M. Harmon: Well, that’s unexpectedly decent of you, Scott. Thank you!

Moore: …with one amendment: Everyone goes by their correct names except YOU, "UNIVERSITY TWIT"! HAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

M. Harmon: Oh, very funny…

Moore: Now, I’m out of this blog until you stick it where the sun don’t shine!

M. Harmon: …Anyone? Will anyone second my motion? It’s a good motion…

Moderator: I think we’re alone now, Commissioner Harmon, so I think I’ll be departing, too.

M. Harmon: …Anyone? …Anyone? Doesn’t…doesn’t anyone care?

…

M. Harmon: I guess no one does. No one cares… *sniff* …signing off now…

…

…

JudgeDread: I told you it would end in tears!

 

Blood? Simple: I leak, therefore I am -- new for Knoxville Voice

I'm sure this'll be up any time at Knoxville Voice's snazzy new digs (www.knoxvoice.com), but in the meantime, here's the latest column.

Blood? Simple.

I leak, therefore I am

by Scott McNutt

A while back, for insurance purposes, I had to give up three large vials of blood and two of urine. A few ounces of pee-pee and few more of hemoglobin may seem a good swap for the $250,000 insurance to you, but the unnaturalness of it bothers me.

Blood is supposed to keep you alive by circulating in a closed system of tiny tubes inside your body. Blood is an inner-you sort of thing. It’s not supposed to come out of you. If your blood isn’t inside you, you’re dead. So voluntarily having my insides drawn outside turns my world upside down. My life essence being sucked out through a needle the size of a vacuum hose freaks me, frankly, the hell out.

Still, I used to donate blood annually. Come that donation day each year, I’d wake up pale and sweaty and only sweat more and wax paler as the bloodletting hour drew near. When my time in the mobile blood bank came, I would be asked if I were about to faint by the attendant who is there to ask you those sorts of questions. (Example: "Are you now injecting or have you ever injected yourself with drugs or other substances not prescribed by a physician?" "Are you now about to faint?" "Are you now or have you ever been a man who has had sex with another man?" "Are you about to faint now?" "Not even one time, sex with a man?" "Are you sure you’re not now about to faint?" "Are you now or have you ever been a bloodsucking creature-of-the-night living-dead vampire?" "How about now?")

I’d always reply that I hadn’t yet fainted while giving blood, but I supposed I always looked like I was about to faint because, apparently, looking faintly is the visceral reaction my body has to having its life essence sucked out.

The person who actually stuck the giant siphon in my arm would always observe, "Are you sure you’re OK? You look like you’re about to faint." I’d reply that I always looked like I was about to faint when giving blood, and I’d apologize for not having the proper blood-donating demeanor. Who knew blood donation was supposed to be such a peppy occasion?

Finally, around 2002, I think, one attendant had enough of my pasty, perspiring pallidity. He said, "You know, if giving blood causes you to stress so much, maybe you just shouldn’t do it. You know?" So I stopped.

Anyway, for some tests, I had to give the blood. But why blood? Without water, we all amount to about $1.98 in common chemicals. So if we’re all mostly water, couldn't I just spit on 'em to give them all the information they need?

Barring that, I want to know why it had to be three containers of blood and two of urine. Why not three urine and two blood, or even five urine and no blood? What makes blood a 3-to-2 favorite? What do they have against urine? I could give gallons of urine. I could give urine all day. As long as there’re no needles involved.

I thought about bringing this up to the nurse who had come to my office to draw my blood but decided against it. I figured that if I started talking up my pee-generating capabilities, she might get the wrong idea, and my premiums might go up. Besides, she was a nice lady, one I didn’t want to gross out.

She was one of those thin older women with leathery skin, wearing maybe a little too much makeup, whom you supposed would be outside leaning against the building and taking a drag off a cigarette as soon as the procedure was done. She had a slightly world-weary air, but a kind voice. As she broke out her equipment, she said, "Honey, how do you do having your blood drawn? And roll up your sleeve."

"I always look like I’m going to faint, but I never have," I replied.

"Well, you’re already looking pasty, hon, and I haven’t even got the needle out," she said.

"I know," I answered. "The anticipation, the dread of it, makes it much worse than it really is."

"Well, just you don’t think about it," she said as she prepped the syringe. "You just look over my shoulder, and tell me what you do here. This won’t hurt a bit."

"I appreciate your saying that, Ma’am, but, yes it will – ow – hurt. What we do is-" and I proceeded to outline my organization’s work, perspiring freely all the while.

"You’re sweating," she noted.

"Yes. My body does that. It’s not intentional," I said. It occurred to me that if I could just sweat blood, everybody’d be happier. But I didn’t share that insight.

"OK, keep talking to me."

So I did. And several hours later (minutes by some objective measure, perhaps, but hours, days, eons even, in my subjective one) we were done. I had not fainted, but, as always, I was soaked, sallow, and substantially lighter of hemoglobin. The nurse asked if I was sure I could stand on my own before she sent me off to the bathroom to deliver the rest of my end of the bargain. I dutifully did so without incident, but she hovered just outside the bathroom door, certain, I believe, that at any moment she’d hear the thump or splash of my collapsing body and have to rush in to save me.

After that, she instructed me to drink a soft drink, and she made sure I was drinking it before she departed. I’ve often wondered why it’s soft drinks they force upon you after a blood-taking. The claim is that soft drinks replenish your blood sugar, but my theory is that their high-fructose corn syrup helps seal the gaping wound in your arm. Whatever the reason, it worked. I didn’t pass out, and I didn’t bleed out.

My results came back the next week. Blood work they call it, and work it they do. Glucose, lipids, cholesterol, HDL, LDL, triglycerides, electrolytes, thyroid, liver and kidney function, viruses, diabetes, cancer -- so much can be read in your blood. Happily, all the things written in my blood were spelled out correctly, within norms for my age. My blood sugar was a little low, but that’s nothing a dose of high-fructose corn syrup can’t solve.

I still don’t know why the same things can’t be discerned from urine. But I should be thankful for small favors, I suppose. At least the blood was drawn from my arm and not my privates. Then I would have fainted. I hope.