Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts

Sunday, November 01, 2026

BOOZE or Mykel's Blog for November 2026


 

You’re STILL Wrong

or
Mykel's

NOV 2026 Blog/Column
by Mykel Board

   BOOZE

The captain has three bottles of beer in his pockets, and therefore life is extremely good.
                    – Jon Kalman Stefansson

 If something bad happens, you drink in an attempt to forget; if something good happens, you drink in order to celebrate; and if nothing happens you drink to make something happen.
                –Charles Bukowski

The problem with the world is that everyone is a few drinks behind.
                – Humphrey Bogart

When I read about the evils of drinking, I gave up reading.
                – Henny Youngman

Sometimes too much to drink is barely enough.
                
– Mark Twain


SCENARIO ONE: Tenth grade biology class: It’s frog dissection day. The jars of floating frogs have been brought down from the shelves and one placed at each work station. The frogs are still wet from the liquid.

“Miss Reinheimer?” I say. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes Mickey,” replies the teacher. “What is it?”

“What is this stuff that the frog was in, keeping it ready for our knives?”

“It’s green tea,” she answers. “It keeps them from falling apart.”


SCENARIO TWO: I sit in an alcove at CVS, waiting for the woman in white to come ask me to roll up my shirt sleeve so she can stick the flu-needle in my skin and save me from coughing for the rest of the winter. Ah, here she is.

“It is Mister Board, isn’t it?” she asks.

“That’s me,” I answer, “I’m guessing you want me to roll up my sleeve.”

She smiles and nods. Then she stands next to me with an open bottle of Diet Coke. She presses a puff of cotton against the top of the bottle, soaking it with the liquid. Then she rubs the liquid against my arm and follows that with the plunge of a needle.


SCENARIO THREE: You’re depressed. Your best friend has just jumped to her death from the top of a 30- story building. Your mom finally succumbed to that bang on the head she got in a car crash with a huge Amazon delivery truck. Your abortion succeeded, but the baby’s body was accidentally brought past you. You can see it was horribly deformed… just one big eye. When you’re released from the hospital you head for the kitchen… looking for liquid solace. You find it in a huge bottle… of grape Gatorade.

Of course these things only happen in imagination. You know they can’t be true. The preservatives used for dissecting animals is formaldehyde… made from processed alcohol. Before you get a vaccine, or injection of any kind, the doctor rubs your arm with alcohol… to prevent infection. When one thing after another goes wrong in your life, it’s not Gatorade you turn to but a bottle of Southern Comfort.

Diet Coke, Green Tea and Gatorade are healthy. Booze is not. THAT’S WRONG.

The purpose of this month’s blog is to show that… again… everything you know is wrong and here’s another example.

Why do the Jews have special blessings over wine? Why not over vegetable juice? Jesus turned water into wine… Why not soy milk? Catholics think of the blood of Jesus as red wine.

In Shinto, sake is consumed as part of “purification rituals.” The sake is served to the gods as well as to the religious followers. People drink it to communicate with those gods. Also, the sharing of sake between participants in a Shinto ceremony is seen as a means of fostering friendship and strengthening the bonds within the community.

Wikipedia describes this for Taoism: In Taoist rituals and practices, alcohol also plays a role as an offering and a means of connecting with the divine. An alcoholic beverage is often used in religious ceremonies and as an offering to the ancestors. The use of alcohol in Taoist rituals can symbolize purification, blessings, and the establishment of a sacred space.

This is typical for the Japanese. Nomu, in Japanese, means “to drink.” They have invented the word nomunication where ideas are exchanged while drinking-- usually beer or sake. It’s common in Japanese business discussions… but I think it works everywhere.

The list goes on. And think about it… who would you rather be, a Taoist or a Mormon? And if a religion older than 2000 years says booze is the body or the blood of God, they must’ve got it from somewhere.

As for nomunication: Would you rather discuss capital finance… or capitalISM... over prune juice or over Michelob?

There is something about booze that is holier… healthier… more human... than any bottle of Gatorade or Ensure. It’s been that around since about 7000 BC, when the Chinese discovered it… much to their --and the world’s-- delight. The Old Testament mentions wine several times. Noah, of and the ark fame, got sloshed after the flood. He fell asleep naked and was covered up by his daughters. This is not a negative! It shows compassion on the part of the daughters and an understanding of the horrible ordeal that Noah suffered guiding that boat filled with two of every animal. Somebody had to feed the skunks!

And what about drinking age? Except for the Muslim countries where alcohol is prohibited, the US has the highest drinking age of any country in the world. In Russia and Austria the drinking age is 16. What else do we have age limits for?: voting, driving, sex… all useful or/and fun activities. Just having a drinking age shows how much we deeply respect drinking.

The internet says: It’s not uncommon for European nations to serve alcohol to a child as young as five years old. Many Jewish kids experience their first taste of drunkenness with the four cups of wine required on Passover.

This year the US government recommendations changed from 2 drinks a day… especially red wine… to ZERO because any amount of of alcohol causes cancer..

By now, you’ve probably heard the chorus… you may be part of it.

Hey buckaroos, EVERYTHING causes cancer. I found a listing on an internet “health site” that says:

Indoor Tanning lights, Outdoor sun tanning, Smoking including someone else's smoking, bacon, sausages, beef and lamb, any barbecued meats, Trans fat (fat-shaming? Trans-shaming?), flying in an airplane, painting your nails, tap water (and not only in Flint!), and Styrofoam: all cause cancer.

This is fear mongering… and bullshit. Health becomes a value that’s further and further a list of things NOT to do… and it is based on INDIVIDUAL actions, what YOU eat or don’t eat… smoke or don’t smoke… drink or don’t drink. What about your neighbors… society… your country?

The top ten countries in longevity are Monaco, San Marino, Hong Kong, Japan, South Korea, Saint Barthelemy, Andorra, French Polynesia, Switzerland and Australia. The US ranks number 62. Most of those top ten countries are small, obscure places that may share long insular histories. The only country in the top 10 comparable to the US is Australia – slightly larger than the US, with a history of being a British Colony and worldwide immigration. So how do they compare in alcohol consumption? The per capita consumption of alcohol in the U.S. is 9.8 liters a year. (For me that’d be a month.) Australia – number 10 in the longest-lived countries – 11.2 liters a month.

I know. I know. My drinking buddy Mark Twain also complained that there are three kinds of lies: lies, damn lies, and statistics.

So though my numbers don’t PROVE anything, they do show a trend. You can have a healthy group of people… who are miserable. When I go to the gym, I’m miserable. Wearing a non-offensive T-shirt and sweat pants (even a gym is not enough incentive to put me in shorts!), I sit on an uncomfortable seat… two black pads pushing my legs apart. My job is to bring my knees together as many times as possible… gradually increasing the weight. I have to fight after every 10 pushes. Then I switch machines to one where the pads are on the outside of my legs and I have to separate the legs instead of bringing them together.

To my surprise, I’m better at keeping my knees together than spreading my legs!! That’s does not coincide with my self-image. I’ve always considered myself as one who is quick to spread… but I guess as I get older…

That’s side-tracking. The point is that I’m miserable. Doing one painful thing after another… among other (mostly) guys also doing one painful thing after another. Why? For health! Health is causing the body pain, eating disgusting rabbit food, going to bed before the bars close, getting up before Dolly Parton had to be at work. Health is annoying, uncomfortable, I make an effort and have a heart attack anyway.

My nextdoor neighbor, Jack, who I hardly know, is up before me. Every morning and most evenings I hear a sound like someone repeatedly... and heavily... punching a pillow. I haven’t asked him what he’s doing because I fear it might be something… er… personal. But in my mind it’s some exercise… something “healthy.”

This is a pre-Boardian view of health. What I’m thinking about now is to expand health. Change it from ME to US. When I go to the doctor, I have to wait my turn, usually several minutes past the appointed time. But when I’m in the exam room, there are at least 4 other people there. There’s the Doc, and 3 students.

“We use this to keep a baseline on blood pressure… and don’t forget to account for the increase in pressure caused just by being at the doctor…”

The doctor is explaining my blood pressure to the students. He’s instructing them as he examines me. I think it’s great… more than a health check for me, it’s a kind of classroom. That’s a good kind of WE health. That is health that teaches others about health.

But there’s another kind of WE in health. I see on TV that some towns in New Jersey are suffering a “cancer cluster.” Evidently the towns developed on top of toxic dump sites that spewed poisons into the land and air. Those poisons caused a GROUP of cancers in those towns. That’s also the WE of health. Side Note: My proofreader tells me she grew up in a “leukemia cluster” in East Rutherford NJ.

Yes! Yes! I think. We need some WE health. Lately, I’ve been reading about BLUE ZONES. These are areas of the earth where the general population lives longer lives. Science seems to be getting better in answering WHY about these zones. Of course, they include individual stuff like diet, but they also include measurements like “frequent social interactions.” Here in the US (and probably other places) COVID has labeled person-to-person interactions as dangerous. I’ll tell you what’s dangerous: FACETIME and ZOOM are dangerous. COVID, like polio, is controllable with a vaccine. Isolation is not.

This is where alcohol comes in. Sure, some people drink alone, but I say the problem with that is not the drink part, but the alone part. Alcohol is a social drug. Its number one quality is to bring people together… not to separate them. The four-cups-of-wine seder is at least a family together. Often more than that. My sister and I were always bringing friends to the feast and mom would open a few extra boxes of matzoh for the company… along with another bottle of Manischewitz. Lately, I’ve been going to Chabad seders where dozens of Jews down their four cups in joyous unity.

The happiest times of the week for me are Drink Club on Thursdays at the Peculier Pub, Drink Club Lite on Sundays, at the Bleecker Street Bar, and Drink Club Secret on Tuesdays, at… I can’t tell you where.

The US ranks 23rd in the World Happiness list (Finland is first, then Iceland, then Denmark. Most unhappy is Afghanistan… a booze-prohibited country.) These happy countries rank at least 30 positions higher than the US in booze consumption.

I understand that some people are physically addicted. I know that too much booze can cause car crashes, and damage the liver. Too much of anything can be unhealthy or bad in another way. Too much sugar can cause diabetes. Too much sex can give you chafing. Too much money can turn you into Elon Musk. But it’s the TOO part of TOO MUCH that’s the problem, not the adverb. Take water, that healthiest liquid. Too much water can drown you. Does that mean water is a bad thing?

Unlike the drugs like vaccines that PREVENT things from happening… or like antibiotics… that stop things already done, alcohol ENCOURAGES things… good things. Laughter, song, dance, they’re all encouraged by alcohol. Enemies smooch… or something sexier… with alcohol. A night of strangers together at Drink Club (https://drinkclubnyc.org) will forge deeper relationships than sitting together at a dozen Noam Chomsky lectures.

Alcohol is a health food. It’s one of the few that not only helps the consumer, but helps groups of consumers. It’s why people have more fun when drinking alcohol, than when drinking water. Alcohol dissolves differences… turns hate into love… changes annoyance into entertainment. When I’m drinking with strangers, the strangers become friends. When I’m drinking with friends, the friends become better friends. It’s no accident that Donald Trump is a non-booze drinker. Alcohol is a drink of being WE! Donny The Trump is too much of a ME guy to go for the booze.

See you in hell, 
Mykel Board


ENDNOTES: [You can contact me on facebook or by email at mykelboard@gmail.com. Through the post office: send those... er... private DVDs..or music or zines... or anything else (legal only!) to: Mykel Board, POB 137, New York, NY 10012-0003. If you like my writing, you can be notified when anything new is available. Send me an email with SUBSCRIBE TO THE BLOG in the subject line. Back blogs and columns are at https://mykelsblog.blogspot.com]


→ LAST MINUTE ADDITION: I just found that Sardinia in Italy has double the alcohol consumption of Italy in general… beer consumption around 60 liters per person per year. It is also the healthiest place in Italy… and home to the top longevity place in Europe.

–> I BET BEER WAS INVOLVED DEPT: The NY Post reports that a New York resident saw footage from his Ring camera. It showed an Amazon delivery driver pissing in the hall outside his apartment, peeing all over the floor and furniture. "He walked straight back there as if he'd done it a hundred times, like second nature," the resident reported. "I had shoes in the hallway, a chair in the hallway, a table in the hallway and he was peeing and splashing everywhere." The victim complained to Amazon, who offered him a $50 coupon as consolation. The resident declined the offer.

→ THIS ONE TOO: Anxious to heed nature's call, a man in Rosenberg, Texas, crashed his car into a Krogers... on purpose, KVUE TV reported that the unidentified man, who police later learned was upset that the store was locked, drove his car through the pharmacy doors in order to use the restroom. No injuries were reported.

-→PROBABLY NOT THIS ONE: This from a Canadian source: A British Columbia city council candidate whose humorous campaign signs went viral appears to have won his election, despite branding himself as “unqualified.”
    Brady Rogers gained attention online for his Kelowna City Council campaign signs, which bore slogans such as "I barely want to do this," "Just trying to pay my rent," "Fine. I'll do it," and "How hard can it be?"
    Even Rogers' campaign website opens with the message: "Do I enjoy politics? No. Do I know what I'm doing? No. But am I qualified? Also no."
    Preliminary results from the local municipal election show Rogers receiving 12,635 votes, coming in fourth among the 37 candidates. If those election results are certified. Rogers' seat on the 9-member city council will be guaranteed.



LINKS:


I'll soon be posting in Substack as well as Blogger. I want to thank Jim Testa for helping me set it up. There’s been a delay in getting started. Keep an eye out

Subscribe to the blog at: https://mykelboard188732.substack.com
Read or/and subscribe to Jim at https://jimtestanj.substack.com

I just heard from Luciano Pires who explains he’s: a musician, illustrator and writer and I run a YouTube channel called Electric Acid, dedicated to strange, obscure and forgotten music. The channel explores everything from underground noise, industrial and experimental music to bizarre one-off records, marginal scenes, forgotten artists and musicians who somehow slipped through the cracks of music history.

I’m especially interested in the stories behind the music — the records that sound like they shouldn’t exist, the artists who operated completely outside the mainstream, and the strange connections between different underground scenes.

You can find Electric Acid at: https://www.youtube.com/@Electricacid

I’m happy to present the art of Sarah Thobe… who paints personalities as part of her portraits. Check her out at https://sarathobe.com/.

And it was great to hear from my very long-time friend, Fred Lonberg-Holm. Celloman extraordinaire. You can hear him at https://fredlonberg-holm.bandcamp.com/album/the-return-of

Anthony Allen Begnal asked me to mention his Hardcore Conversation You Tube channel, and I’m happy to do so here.

Longtime scene/zinester Robb Roemershauser has restarted the Above Ground Zine Library. The Zine library doesn’t yet have an address at the location but, feel free to donate zines that you no longer want to the Aboveground Zine Library 2100 Sawmill Road Apt. 22-202, New Orleans, LA 70123. The Zine library will be located in the upper 9th ward on a busy street.

My pal Matt Sheahan says: “You can link to my website - www.matthewsheahan.com or my Substack - https://politenewyorker.substack.com/ .” Matt is a great musician and very funny guy.

My Kenyan pal, Albert Melody shares a facebook adventure in one of those great Kenyan national parks. Guess who he shared the adventure with!!! You can read about it here. Albert also has a blog at: Albertomelody.blogspot.com

Teddy Labato has a “lo-fi noise” link to his band Check it out.

It’s About Time dept: Finally, a book about Hungarian Punk  put out by Puke and Vomit records.   Great scene there and I was glad to have contact with bands like Der Trottel and Tizedesz. Glad to have been a (very small) part of that scene. 

Zine fans can find my list of old zines that I want to get rid of (aka sell)
here. Which reminds me, it’s time to donate some stuff to the Above ground Library
Here are some other contacts to make:

Teddy Lobato’s band can be found at 
https://www.facebook.com/THEBASSMANsPSYCHEDELICNOISE

Karl De Winton sent me a link to his bandcamp DJ stuff. https://share.google/5sTnXjgMkFbiWQvzA NSFW… but then again,
that depends on your job. 

Dan Hetrick asked me “How 'bout us punk rawk programmers?” And offers http://merk.chat  Free chat for the people!

I’ve talked about Bob Cutler before. But he has more to offer than DYSTOPEKA https://chrometuna.com/https://theklusterfux.com

Riot Division makes its musical offering at: 
https://www.facebook.com/riotdivision

Barstool Revolution Zine is on facebook at https://www.facebook.com/people/Barstool-Revolution-Zine/61557909822199/

Rina Borei shows off her inflatable Octopus on Instagram at: @oona.frost

Jim Testa, friend, journalist, editor, musician and wordsmith, (he appears in this post) has an interesting substack about music and more. You can find it here.

Sid Yiddish sent me this link to all his videos. It’s a great place to start, especially if you don’t know him. 

I did a nice interview with The Aither zine. Interesting questions, complete, and questions I’ve never been asked before. You can read it .here It’s a good one. 

Here’s Ricardo Wang with a “micro-label” in Seattle “specializing in 8-track tapes and CDs. WOW! Check out one of their label staples: The Dead Air Fresheners, best band name of the year. 

Also on bandcamp: My very long time faves in NYC, the BLACKOUT SHOPPERS. Featuring pals Seth and possibly the next vice-president of the US

Sid Yiddish has posted a video of a show done for WZRD in Chicago. Great live performances, and if you catch the video around the 20+ minute point you might see a familiar face doing the lyrics to his songs (some unrecorded) as poetry. You’ll find it here.  

And this sounds right up Sid’s alley. The Bilderberg Jazz Arkestra on Bandcamp!

Eric Grayson has an online music review zine, Sobriquet. Full pictures of the sleeves too! Something missing from too many zines. Sometimes you CAN judge a… er… book… by its cover. 

Steen Thomsen is a Dane I’ve known ever since Lincoln was shot. I put his band THE ZERO POINT on the great WORLD CLASS PUNK Cassette for ROIR. It must be worth a mint now. I don’t have any left, I’m afraid. You can (and should connect to the Zero Point) connect to the Zero Point on facebook. Tell ‘em Mykel’s blog sent you. 

Sorry Dorothy, we are STILL in Kansas. And it’s as weird as OZ. Check out Bob Cutler’s DISTOPEKA. 

You already know Murder & Mayhem zine… those guys who did the Mykel Board centerfold. (No genitals shown… and probably for the better.) Their online version is here.

The Clean Boys from Denmark are also longtime friends of mine. In Denmark we recorded as The Bend-over Boys.  Only one 10-inch available… but at least now I can say I have a 10-incher! 

Finally, for this month, Margaret O’Brien asked me to include the site: anti-war.com They seem to be folks after my own heart. I’m glad they didn’t call it “anti-defense.”

Oh yeah, then there’s me. I have a blog of stuff I’ve written mostly from last century. You might enjoy it. Then again, you might not. It’s here. 

Let me know if you have a blog… or a print zine… or a YouTube and want to be added to the list. You show me yours… you’ve already seen mine. mykelboard@gmail.com

Wednesday, October 08, 2025

Ya Gotta Have Heart or YOU'RE STILL WRONG, Mykel's Blog for October 2025

 


You’re STILL Wrong

or

Mykel's October 2025 Blog/Column

YOU GOTTA HAVE HEART

by Mykel Board    


[Sorry I’m a bit late this month. I had… er… other obligations. You’ll read about them right here, I hope.]


You have to treat the injured person not like a human being with a wound, but like a human wound.                      – Abe Kobo


We forget that health is a means, not an end   
– Thomas Szasz


The hardening of the American heart is far more dangerous than the softening of our borders.   
– Marianne Williamson


“Feather… Building… Brown.” [NOTE: I’m making up those three words. I have no idea what they really were.] And how are you feeling? Any pain since the operation? Twinges? Body parts? Can you describe how you feel now?

“I’ll never remember those words,” I think. “No pain now but my brain isn’t working right.”

“Mdfabadf ksafsartfa,” I say.

“What was that? Can you remember the three words?”

“No.” I answer, “Kiptoesink wastupa.”

I can say a few single words: bed, door, nurse. Others can go perfectly through my brain… thought waves… but I can’t spit them out verbally.

“Do you know where you are?” comes the question.

“Hospital,” I answer.

“What’s the name of the hospital?”

“I don’t remember,” I answer. “Koospaf smitzerik.”

“I see,” she says. “We’ll let you sleep now.”

“Yes, I’m in a hospital,” my brain tells me. “I came here from another hospital. I forgot the name of this one… The old one used to be called … be called… be called... Oh yes, St. Vincent’s… but it changed names. Why did they send me away… I… I… I…”

I drift off to semi-sleep. As I fall asleep, I have a vision of a psychedelic machine… a white thing… looking a little like a parking meter… with swirling black lines on a gray screen. Have I seen that some place before? In a museum? In college during an acid trip? POW! Awake again.

“I can’t remember the words,” I tell the nurse. “ but I remember telling you I wouldn’t remember them.”

Okay, let’s back up…. Go to the recent past… a couple weeks ago… mainly a blur. I remember the pain… in my chest. I use my finger to trace the ache. Hey isn’t that exactly where my heart is? Didn’t I just use the sharp fingernail on my right hand to trace on my chest an exact outline of my heart?

Hmmm, maybe I should see a doctor.

Flash to the doctor’s office: In Chinatown… Yellow pages cardiologist… closest one. She’s on the insurance plan. Make that appointment.

Meanwhile the pain goes away… and comes back 2 days later. My visit with the doctor… of course… prescription for testing… more testing… in Chinatown. Pain again… harder longer… I can’t wait for the tests I’ll go to Saint Vincent’s. It was closed for a while, but I hear it’s open again with a different name… a drag name: Northwell. I don’t know. Maybe it changed genders Emergency room. Late… near 10 o’clock.

NOTE: As I type these words I feel a mild chest sting. Left side to the upper right of the heart… I know where that is now. Very light pain… but… but…

Back to St. Vincent’s, a temperature test. A blood test for cholesterol… The doctor comes in to tell me the results. I can’t remember what he says, but I do remember him saying… “we have to test again in four hours to confirm the first results.”

It’s now 11 o’clock. I’m not sticking around until 3AM to confirm a test. A fuckin’ heart attack will confirm the test. When the doctor leaves, I wait a few minutes and check myself out the front door.

I don’t know if they’ve got my name… let alone my insurance company. How much is my 3-hour stay gonna cost me? Does it count if they can’t double check.. give me my 3AM confirmation? Fuck ‘em… the pain isn’t bad anyway. I can walk out the front door and no one will notice.. It’s a 20-minute walk home. 20 minutes well spent, I’d say.

I’m out. On the street... no check out... no nothing. I wonder what they’ll think when someone comes up to the bed at 3AM to administer the confirmation. I chuckle to myself thinking about the look on the nurses’ face when she sees the empty bed.

I get to 6th Ave. No pain… maybe a little tension… a little pressure… Aaaaah, home!

I peel off my clothes and, fully naked, lie down on my bed and fall asleep. Yes, a naked glorious sleep. No beeps. No buzzes… no coughing neighbor, just sleep. I stay in bed most of the next day… fading in and out of consciousness… like a boxer getting hit in the head… waking up… throwing a punch… getting hit again.

About 5 the next morning, I wake up with a chest pain… but not a chest exactly… just at the bottom of the rib cage… I think that’s where the diaphragm is. You know, that flat muscle that pumps the air in and out of the lungs. It’s a steady pain on the right and on the left… I fall asleep again.

It’s later… I don’t know how much later. The pain has moved… up… up into my chest. A small area right in the center. Easily defined… Using my thumbnail, I trace the edges of the pain. Exactly tracing an outline of my heart. Dit.. dit… dit… a heart-shaped pain right where my heart is. Pressure... then stabbing pain… Exactly there… like an anatomy lesson in medical school... Exactly….

I force myself to stand up. Slip on yesterday’s clothes… take my wallet… leave the apartment… Do I lock the door? I can’t remember. Elevator down to the street. It’s dark outside… I start walking… I can’t do this. I hail a cab…

“Get me to the hospital,” I tell the driver, “St. Vincent’s on 7th Ave.”

I hope he doesn’t panic. I hope I don’t panic. We make it. I throw all the bills in my wallet at the driver… $10? $5? $50? Who knows? He’s too panicked to complain… Just wants me out of the cab. Could you imagine the paperwork if your fare kicks the bucket while you’re driving?

I check into St. Vincents again. The guy at the desk doesn’t recognize me from two days before. Maybe it’s a different guy… I don’t remember showing him ID or an insurance card. I don’t remember them undressing me or what they did to get me in bed. But there I am again… in a hospital gown… naked underneath.

Beeps and buzzes… then a lift… on a stretcher like a TV news victim. An ambulance ride… No siren just the ride uptown. An ambulance without a siren. Where’s the fun? It’s like a jerk off without an orgasm… Why bother?

I’m now at Lenox Hill hospital. They explain that the former St. Vincent’s doesn’t have overnight stays… so I was transferred here. “Here, have something to eat.”

Nothing tastes good. Fruit is the best among the offerings… I guess it’s the high-fructose fructose. Even the coffee is awful. The only taste is bitter… bitter brown water... It gives me gas. Here I lay… tooting away… unable to crawl out of bed and would it make a difference. Putttt… putttt … puttt… not like the beer fart which precedes a beer shit. (“Poetry is like a good beer shit.” Charles Bukowski).

FLASH AHEAD: I give up. I’ve got to force out some poetry. I’ve been here a day now… Not taken a single step in that time. I can do it. I’m sure I can stumble from here to the bathroom. I only need to pass the bed of my roommate, enter the room and close the door. First, I swing my legs over the side. More difficult than it sounds…. First the right… uh… uh… uhhhh... then the left… hospital gown rising up as I move. No one there to see junior and his jowls… revealing himself under my hospital gown. What must it be like for people who see this stuff day in and day out? I’ve often wondered how come all gynecologists aren’t gay? Doesn’t over exposure take away the joy?

Ah… ah… ahh… I lower myself from the bed to the floor. My naked feet touch down. Using my arms I slowly lower my weight to those toes.. the soles… the heels… Full weight… My body sways slightly and I grab the bed for balance.

Right foot… left foot… right foot… Past the cloth curtain room separator. Past the groaning black guy… around my age… gray beard… hospital robe slit visible up the side like a stripper… He squints his eyes open to look at me and then closes them again. I hope he hasn’t died.

Right… left… right… left… OW!! I stepped on something. Tiny and hard. I walk with the pain following me on the bottom of my foot. When I reach the bathroom, I hold the knob with my left hand and lift my right foot… grabbing it with my right hand… pulling up. There... embedded in the sole… near the big toe… is a tiny black speck. I use the nail of my right index finger to scrape it out… It looks like a mouse turd.

I flick it under my roommate’s bed… enter the bathroom… lift up my robe and sit down. Pffffftttt! (Wasn’t that a Rudolf’s Rache song?) I push. A pain shoots through my head. Fuck! I’ve given myself a stroke in addition to my heart attack. The pain disappears with the next pffffftttt! Then I feel it. You know the feeling… starting about navel height you can feel the clump… clumps… move through the lower intestine… millimeter by millimeter… right to left to right again… then down… gloriously down… PLOP! PLOP! Oh God yes!! Yes!! POETRY!

I tilt my body to the right to look at my accomplishment. Not great… but better than the mouse turd I picked out of the bottom of my foot.

FLASH TO MY RELEASE… I’ve found out they put a stent into my heart. It’s a kind of plastic min-tube that keeps a closed artery open. The hospital has made an appointment with new my cardiologist. A six-foot way plus guy. He’s barely more that third my age with a fashionable (as opposed to Chabadnik) beard, and a slim attractive body. When he speaks, I hear an accent, but I can’t identify it. His name is Dr. Farhan… pronounced “far hahn.”

“I have a few questions I’d like to ask you,” I tell him.

“Ask away” says the Doc.

“First,” I tell him. “It’s almost Yom Kippur. Can I or should I fast for the Jewish holiday?”

“It won’t hurt you,” he says. “But I don’t know how much good it’ll do you.”

“Are you Jewish?” I ask. “Where are you from?”

“I’m from Austria,” comes the answer, “but I’m Muslim.”

“Ah,” I tell him. “I’ve got a friend from Bahrain who complains that he gains weight every Ramadan. He tells me that as soon as the sun sets, the eating starts and doesn’t stop until sunrise the next day.”

Doc shakes his head. “My parents were Muslim so I keep the identity nominally. I don’t like the way my fellow Muslims keep the holiday. You’re supposed to feel the starvation… realize the poverty in the fast… the pain of the poor. But we just focus on watching the sunset so we can stuff our faces.”

“Same with a lot of Jews,” I tell him “Yom Kippur is… at least in part... to feel the pain of hunger so we can understand the poor. But we can’t wait to break that fast. Jews and Muslims are like fighting cousins. It’s so sad.”

“I’m non-practicing,” he says.

“Okay,” I say. “Next question: When I was in the hospital something happened to my memory. First I couldn’t even remember how to speak. Then it got a little better, but I couldn’t remember the names of my family members… then cities or places I’ve been. I failed that test… you know when they give you three words to remember? I couldn’t remember even one of them.”

“Okay,” says Dr. Farhan. “I’ll give you three words. Let’s see if you can remember them: Jew, Muslim, Christian.” [NOTE: Those were the actual words he gave me. I remember them now… weeks later.]

I laugh.

I ask about diet… exercise… “Cardiac Rehabilitation”… I got a prescription for it from the hospital, but the bureaucracy in filling that prescription has prevented me from doing it. I still don’t know how much or what kind of exercises I should be doing.

“What about eating and drinking?” I ask.

I expect he’ll tell me to quit drinking alcohol and subsist on a non-hotdogs and non-chicken wings diet washed down with O’douls non-beer.

“You don’t need to quit the good stuff,” he says. “Just try to cut down. How much do you drink now?”

“I just have a beer with dinner,” I lie. [NOTE: Just after I return home, I see in my spam box one of my weekly newsletters with a sub-title WHY PEOPLE LIE TO THEIR DOCTOR. I don’t read it.]

[NOTE: As I write this, I have actually cut down the drinking to about 8 beers a week. And I haven’t had fried wings, a hot dog, or a Jamaican patty since the operation.]

Dr. Fahrhan writes me a prescription. It’s for a statin replacement… “you shoot it into your belly.” He tells me.

“Like Ozempic,” I say. “I’ve seen the ads for that one.”

He holds up his index finger. “Wait a minute!” He says, “I have a practice kit.”

He leaves the office and returns with a box. He opens the box and takes out a tube similar to the Ozempic one. He passes me the tube I lift up my t-shirt and press it against my belly.


 “No… no…” says the doctor. “You have to remove the little red cap in front. Then look for some liquid to fill the tiny window. Then you should pinch your belly and get a nice chunk of fatty tissue between your thumb and forefinger.”

I grab a hunk of flesh and press it between my fingers. “Like this?” I ask.

“Yeah, but use your left hand,” he says. “You need your right hand to do the injection.”

I switch hands.

He nods.

“Now press the tip against the flesh and push the black button in the back. You’ll see the liquid disappears as it goes into your flesh.”

I do. It does.

I feel nothing as the chemical goes into my body. It doesn’t.

“When you take the actual drug,” he says, “you’ll feel a sting. This is just a practice shot. Nothing goes into your skin.”

“You got it!” He continues. “I’ll send a prescription for the Repatha over to your pharmacy.”

He looks at some papers. “CVS on Mulberry Street, right?”

I nod.

ASIDE: PET PEEVE. Doctors used to write prescriptions. SCRIPT means write. PRE- means before. Get it? It’s what the doctor WRITES BEFORE you get your drugs. You should take a written piece of paper into a pharmacy and get a price for the drugs listed on it. If you didn’t like the price, you brought it to another pharmacy. In 2025 YOU HAVE NO CHOICE! In order to prevent fake prescriptions… say a prescription for heroin or cocaine… There has to be direct contact between the doctor’s office and the drugstore. No shopping around for the best price. You pay what they ask or you don’t get it.

After the doctor, I go home... quickly fall asleep, wake up and go to the drugstore. One of the things I like about it is that it’s open 24 hours… another one is that the people who work there are nice.

The next day, I go to pick up the drug. That CVS is my usual go-to drug store even though they keep half their goods locked behind glass. Maybe they all do these days.

I’m there around 11 in the morning. I walk to the prescription section in the back, punch in my name and birthdate [ASIDE: I guess we’ve all seen and those older have noticed, that birthdays have replaced Social Security numbers as proof of ID. Hey Gen Z… do you even KNOW your social security number?]

The druggist greets me... checks the numbers on the screen… types in some words and then POW! “Yes Mr. Board, that’ll be four hundred and sixty-seven dollars.”

See you in hell
Mykel Board

ENDNOTES: [You can contact me on facebook or by email at mykelboard@gmail.com. Through the post office: send those... er... private DVDs..or music or zines... or anything else (legal only!) to: Mykel Board, POB 137, New York, NY 10012-0003. If you like my writing, you can be notified when anything new is available. Send me an email with SUBSCRIBE TO THE BLOG in the subject line. Back blogs and columns are at https://mykelsblog.blogspot.com]

→ Role Reversal Dept pt. 1: I dislike 90% of what Donny The Trump does and the same percentage (or higher) of who he appoints to office. But my friends don’t think about it. They just hate 100% on principle. It used to be that liberals/lefties hate big corporations and love DIY or “mutual aid.” But when former Democrat RFK Jr. says “mental illness” isn’t like cancer or pneumonia and needs a different type of treatment… oooooh cooties! Look, I’ve got a lot of friends who live on the street. They do not live there because they have mental problems. They have mental problems because they live on the street! The cure for homelessness is not a pill from a psychiatrist’s hand. The cure for homelessness is A HOME… not some stupid psycho drug.

→ Role Reversal Dept pt 2: Historical note: The US did not defend itself from a Korean invasion. The US did not set up a military shield to prevent an attack by the Vietnamese. When some Saudi pilots flew some planes into the World Trade Center how did the US DEFEND itself… by invading IRAQ? The US has, in the last 100+ years NEVER defended itself. It has only attacked. Those of us who protested many of those attacks did not protest a DEFENSE. We were not “anti-defense” we were ANTI-WAR. So when Donny changed the name of the DEFENSE DEPARTMENT to the WAR DEPARTMENT… he was correcting a mistake! He was becoming more truthful. It was absolutely the right move. Though, of course, taking money away from healthcare and giving it to the WAR Department. THAT was a mistake.

AFRICAN LINKS:

Albert aka Alberto Melody is the reason I went to Kenya. We met on facebook a couple years ago. He has a blog you should take a look at: Albertomelody.blogspot.com. Tell him Mykel sent ya. Oh yeah… He’s looking for friends his own age. So if you’re a 20-something and interested in Africa… or just meeting new people. Contact him at: albertletowon42@gmail.com

NON-AFRICANS

Sid Yiddish sent me this link to all his videos. It’s a great place to start, especially if you don’t know him.

I did a nice interview with The Aither zine. Interesting questions, complete, and questions I’ve never been asked before. You can read it here. It’s a good one.

Here’s Ricardo Wang with a “micro-label” in Seattle “specializing in 8-track tapes and CDs. WOW! Check out one of their label staples: The Dead Air Fresheners, best band name of the year.

Also on bandcamp: My very long time faves in NYC, the BLACKOUT SHOPPERS. Featuring pals Seth and possibly the next vice-president of the US

Sid Yiddish has posted a video of a show done for WZRD in Chicago. Great live performances, and if you catch the video around the 20+ minute point you might see a familiar face doing the lyrics to his songs (some unrecorded) as poetry. You’ll find it
here.

And this sounds right up Sid’s alley. The Bilderberg Jazz Arkestra on Bandcamp!

Eric Grayson has an online music review zine, Sobriquet. Full pictures of the sleeves too! Something missing from too many zines. Sometimes you CAN judge a… er… book… by its cover.

Steen Thomsen is a Dane I’ve known ever since Lincoln was shot. I put his band THE ZERO POINT on the great WORLD CLASS PUNK Cassette for ROIR. It must be worth a mint now. I don’t have any left, I’m afraid. You can (and should) connect to the Zero Point on facebook. Tell ‘em Mykel’s blog sent you.

Sorry Dorothy, we are STILL in Kansas. And it’s as weird as OZ. Check out Bob Cutler’s DISTOPEKA.

You already know Murder & Mayhem zine… those guys who did the Mykel Board centerfold. (No genitals shown… and probably for the better.) Their online version is here.

The Clean Boys from Denmark are also longtime friends of mine. In Denmark we recorded as The Bend-over Boys. Only one 10-inch available… but at least now I can say I have a 10-incher!

Finally, for this month, Margaret O’Brien asked me to include the site: anti-war.com They seem to be folks after my own heart. I’m glad they didn’t call it “anti-defense.”

Oh yeah, then there’s me. I have a blog of stuff I’ve written mostly from last century. You might enjoy it. Then again, you might not. It’s here.

Let me know if you have a blog… or a print zine… or a YouTube and want to be added to the list. You show me yours… you’ve already seen mine. mykelboard@gmail.com




BOOZE or Mykel's Blog for November 2026

  You’re STILL Wrong or Mykel's NOV 2026 Blog/Column by Mykel Board     BOOZE The captain has three bottles of beer in his pockets, and...