Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" C'mon people now, call all your brothers, everybody get together, try to love one another right now!
(Now that's a beautiful sentiment. Maybe I'll write a song and use it as a lyric!)
Back in the day when my mama was alive, she used to complain when people talked about their health. She would say, "Oh boy, I got treated to another organ recital."
Get it? Organ recital?
Mom never did organ recitals herself. At her 70th birthday she announced that she wouldn't live to see 75, and she didn't.
Pardon me while I crack my knuckles and give you a brief organ recital. Because it contains free advice from Annie ... and we all know what that's worth!
I've suffered from a bum hip for a couple of years now, and it wasn't until I was limping like a Civil War veteran that I decided I'd better see what it was all about. It's arthritis. And that's a bummer, because it cuts down on my tap dancing quite a bit.
The limp is caused partly by bursitis. So I went to see this really nice doctor, and he suggested a new alternative treatment called The Thumper. (Not as yet seen on T.V.)
The Thumper is a hand-held device that works kind of like a jackhammer, but on a different scale. A technician puts it on your sore hip, and it vibrates and thumps away at the inflammation. Yes, it does hurt like H-E-Double-L. But when the treatment is over, you feel better. As in, bring on Gene Kelly and two umbrellas, please!
I'm told I'll be getting 8-10 Thumper treatments, and then I'll not only tap but go right back in toeshoes for the local production of "Buzzard Lake." If you haven't seen "Buzzard Lake," I won't give away the plot except to say that you can't do it with a sore hip.
Oh well, heck. Here's the plot: A pretty swan dies, the buzzards swoop in, and after some appropriate sailing, they eat the swan. The New York Times calls it "appalling and compelling in equal measure."
The moral of this sermon: If you have bursitis, you might want to ask around for this Thumper thing. After only one treatment I'm springing forth like the crabgrass.
THE BAMBI OF BERKELEY SPRINGS