Grendel takes asthma medication twice per day — once in the morning and again in the evening.  His medication, as you may remember, is Flovent (now Flovent HFA).

Until now a single inhaler was approximately $95 for 60 days.  The last two times I've had to get the prescription filled I have been somewhat curious about the more than $10 increase in price (now $108.00).  Outside of the change to an ozone-friendly inhaler, the medication is the same.  So why the increase?

Is it because it's now produced in an ozone-friendly form?  That's my guess.  If it is, I'm happy to pay the extra cost to make sure the medication isn't environmentally harmful.

But I'm suspicious because I started paying more for the prescription before the new HFA form was available.

So what's up with the price increase?

I suspect it's the typical American prescription drug company mentality — we can step all over the American public on cost for prescriptions because we make them pay for all of our overly indulgent executive compensation packages.  These companies, like GlaxoSmithKline, the makers of Flovent, claim the exorbitantly high prices in America for these medications is how they recoup costs for research and development.

They claim they can't get the higher costs in foreign countries because the laws in those countries don't allow them to.

Huh…  Isn't that interesting…

Why do we not have those same price protections (I prefer that term over "caps" since they do protect people from the financial rape they suffer in the US for the very same drugs)?

It simply amazes me that Grendel has been on this medication for some time and I thought the original $95 was outrageous.  Here we are, though, with a greater than 10% increase in cost for the very same product.

When will our government give the American people the same protection they get in Canada and other countries where prescription drug companies are not allowed to extort the consumer when it comes to medically needed treatment?

It’s only 10:30 AM and it’s already 93° F (33.3° C).  I suspect we’re going to have a hot summer this year.

I know what you’re thinking.  I live in Texas and we assume every summer is hot, right?

You’re correct in that we have hot summers every year in the Lone Star State, but “hot” comes in varying degrees of severity.  It can mean a month or more of consecutive temperatures over 100° or it can mean a few days here and there over 100°.  It can mean our over 100° temperatures are no higher than 105° or it can mean we get as hot as 113°.  The heat can be so bad that we have widespread heat-related deaths or it can mean only a handful of mostly elderly and otherwise highly susceptible people are killed by it.

Will it be hot this year?  Of course — this is Texas.  It’s simply a question of severity.

Today is May 22 and we’ve already had four consecutive days in the mid- to upper-nineties which we normally don’t get until early- to mid-June.  I suspect that means we’re going to have a very unpleasant summer.

I wrote this during my sophomore year in high school.  It's short and simple yet so easily recalls with near inconceivable clarity those events which fashioned it in my mind and eventually to paper.

It's amazing how a simple writing such as this can be such a memoria technica, yet it's not surprising.  I've been writing for a long time and have always used it as catharsis concomitant with memorialization (hence the blog).  In this case, I remember the class I was sitting in and the other students who were seated around me and even what I was wearing (that being the terrifying part of this memory; what the hell were we thinking?).

I wrote this particular item during one of those unexceptional teen moments when the world was most certainly crushing in on me.  I was positive nothing could ameliorate the situation.  Everything in life was surely wrong; everything I did or tried ended in failure; woe is me…

Of course I would survive and the world had no intention of stopping what it was doing just to focus calamity on me, but you remember as well as I how dramatic teen life can be.  It's almost as if we would feed on our own drama.

Perhaps averring what I knew to be true even in such melodramatically desperate times, I wrote this.

help
supporting
yet sometimes unwillingly given
much needed
yet not enough to be given
one day you will need it
and realize
that no one is ready to give
until one person comes
ready

[circa 1986]

Cingular claims in its advertising that it's raising the bar for cellular services, especially following its acquisition of AT&T Wireless (my previous carrier).

Thus far I have yet to see my service improve.  On the contrary, my service has actually gone downhill in several places, not the least of which is where I live.  With AT&T I had coverage throughout my house.  Now, with Cingular, I have coverage in one corner of one room and out on the patio — and that's it.

If Cingular thinks it's improving service, they're sorely deceived.

My nephew Redkloud (Michael) is 24 today.  Wow, I remember what it was like to be 24, but that was back when the dinosaurs roamed the planet — so I’m sure things are quite different these days.

Happy Birthday!

I was visiting The Poor Man today and stumbled across a site that I just had to share with you.

You may remember when I introduced you to Rate My Kitten.  I have been so thoroughly entertained by that site.

It is with the same sense of silly self-indulgence that I discovered KittenWar.  The Poor Man is a cat fanatic like me (among other similarities) and, via his blog, brought this new site to my attention.

If you've ever heard of sites where people compete with each other for the best vote based on looks, you'll understand the concept behind KittenWar.  But the intent is not so much to vote one animal down versus another, at least not for me.  No, this is indeed one of those guilty pleasures where I go to enjoy the pictures of cats and kittens — hard core kitten porn as The Poor Man puts it.

It's terribly cute, like Rate My Kitten, so take a quick jaunt over there and get your war on.

Rick and I were in the mood to see a movie last weekend and decided to go see The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.  He thought the previews looked interesting enough to go see it and I had read the book many moons ago and was hoping the movie would be a good representation of that experience.

I began reading the Hitchhiker’s series in the mid- to late-eighties.  I thought The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy was hysterical — plenty of adult humor (mature, not x-rated), the dry wit and sarcasm Douglas Adams was so adept with, and a very interesting and entertaining view of the universe at large and life in general.

Having so thoroughly enjoyed the first book, I followed that by reading The Restaurant at the End of the Universe, Life, the Universe and Everything, So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish, and finally Mostly Harmless.

Adams’ writing was unique and entertaining, his storytelling was intelligent and his sense of humor was frighteningly similar to my own in some respects.  As he was involved in the making of the movie, my hope was that he was able to keep the movie as close to the book as possible — meaning it would be rather enjoyable.

But I’ve learned to be realistic in these cases and did not go to the theater with high expectations.  That was a good thing.

Despite his involvement with the making of the movie, I found it terribly disappointing.  As Rick pointed out afterward, it was a movie for children more than adults, something I too had noticed and found to be a complete betrayal of the written work (and original audio work) it was based on.  All of the adult humor was gone, replaced with silly slapstick antics and lame one-liners and child-centric humor, which grade school children could have come up with.  It was like a Disney film gone wrong.

The special effects were fantastic, however, so there was at least that small part of it that was worthwhile.

The entire story was intact.  That made the movie tolerable.  The overall feel of the original humor was there as well, meaning the movie was funny and entertaining, but overall it was an obtuse and bizarre attempt to duplicate on the big screen what Adams had accomplished with the original radio broadcasts and books.

Is this movie worth seeing?  For fans of the original works, that’s a resounding “yes” followed by the cautionary statement that you will be disappointed.  For non-fans, it’s hard to say.  You may well be entertained by the movie or find it to be an insufferable mess.  There is plenty of eye candy to keep you occupied, most of which will be diminished in translation to a small screen — so it is worth seeing at the theater for that alone.

But I cannot in all sincerity recommend it to anyone except existing fans of the original works.  Anyone else will have to make up their own mind about seeing it or not.

If you do see it, remember to bring a towel.

I walk into the bathroom to put away towels I had just finished washing.  Kako is lying on the floor next to the bathtub watching me intently as she stretches out and hooks her claws into the shower curtain.

I finish putting the towels up and turn to look at her.  As if that were an invitation to push my buttons, she curls her claws through the shower curtain and begins pulling at it as if it might be a new scratching surface.

As this is not acceptable behavior in our home, I tell her “no” and kneel down beside her to help her get unhooked.

She leans back and watches me as I disconnect her claws from the shower curtain.  There’s a twinkle in her eye that tells me the game is afoot.  I’m familiar with this process and know precisely what to expect.

As I detach her from the curtain, she pulls her paws back from the bathtub and looks at me innocently.  “Look, Daddy.  Aren’t I cute and lovable and adorable and sweet and…” But I know that look.  It says all those things, yes, but, more importantly and with greater clarity, it also says, “You’re not the boss of me.”

The moment I stand up, she stretches out again and promptly latches onto the shower curtain in exactly the same manner I thought we had just discussed.

I once again tell her “no” and reach down and remove her claws from the curtain.  This time I wasn’t able to stand up completely before her claws were once again knuckle deep through the curtain.

Knowing this was a direct challenge to my authority, I gave her a light smack on her ass and told her — with a slightly more authoritative voice — “no.”

Before I could get safely out of striking distance, she turns and hits me back with just enough force and claws to get my attention.

Her eyes narrow with a brutally predator-like disdain for the challenger apparent.  Her ears flatten back in preparation for what she knows will be fierce battle.

I’m already beginning to laugh at this point, but I’m still trying to be “in charge” — so I smack her again with only a hair more force than I did the first time and accompany it with another “no” — this time with more authority in my voice (well, at least I thought it was).

She promptly lashes out and hits me back — only harder than before and with more claw this time.  I see barely perceptible racing stripes across the back of my hand.

She moves quickly, too quickly for me to get my hit in safely before she reciprocates.

This goes on for three or four hits before I’m laughing so hard I nearly piss my pants.  This is how Kako’s discipline goes — poorly, at least from my perspective.

She’s really mad at me by now because I obviously feel as though I am the victor in this territorial challenge.  As far as I was concerned, I should have been.

But there’s no way for me to discipline her when I can’t stop laughing uproariously, so I turn to walk away.  She flinches, perhaps wondering if my laughing is an attempt to distract her so I can get in another strike.

Her arms stretch out, her claws splay slightly, her ears move upward just enough to indicate her guard is coming down, her eyes open more widely so she can see precisely what I’m up to.

Nothing — I leave the room still chuckling to myself but knowing the moment for discipline, for taking her to task for whatever started the whole scene, is over.  It’s gone.  It’s passed and is never coming back.

Damn.  She won again.

My nephew redkloud posted this on his site several days ago.  I laughed so hard I thought I might wet myself.  Although you can always see the original post at his site, I just had to post it here so all of you could see it.

Dear Fucker…

You are my fuckin’ friend…
And I hope you know that’s fuckin’ true…
No matter what the fuck happens…
I will stand the fuck by you…
I will fuckin’ be there for you…
Whenever the fuck you need me…
To lend a fuckin’ hand…
To do a fucking good deed…
So fuckin’ count on me…
Whenever the fuck you need me…
Fuck, I will always be there…
Even to the bitter fuckin’ end…
Send this promise to all your fuckin’ friends to show your fuckin’ friendship and watch who sends it the fuck back to you…
And if they dont send it back…

…FUCK!