Remember When?

Remember When

This blog has taken a few twists and turns during the last four years. For almost two years, I published articles regarding the workings of the Law of Attraction. I hoped to inspire people to reach for their dreams; to share knowledge that could help them achieve their goals. I then gave the blog a rest, until Covid became the shameful and overwhelming story of the world. In response, I published an article on March 18th entitled We The Courageous (press here) in an attempt to offer support and help people dig down deep and face their fears about what was being reported.

Since that time, I’ve used various techniques–including articles regarding our true nature, the satirical antics of Dr. Phuphuey, and even a link to a recent peaceful protest in Trafalgar Square–that I hoped would help bring a degree of sanity to what appears to be collective insanity. Think of it: Did you ever believe that we would see a time when masks, physical distancing, and talk of social bubbles would be imposed upon the human race? And oddest of all, it doesn’t seem to make one whit of difference that the Corona Worldometer (as of today) continues to report that 99% of the cases present with mild symptoms. Nor does it make any difference when we hear of opposing opinions from respected doctors and experts in the field of immunology being silenced. Are we searching for a guarantee against death of the body? If so, we had better keep on looking.

The following is only my opinion, but it relates an example of one of the real victims of the human response to the story of “Covid.” The woman, “Dolores,” is eighty-four and lives in the retirement section of a nursing home. My friend, who provides footcare for the elderly, had visited this previously vibrant woman just prior to the implementation of restrictions in Canada in early March of this year. My friend, who recently treated Dolores for the first time in five months, told me that she noticed a significant decline; Dolores was both cognitively and physically slower. Yes, I admit, there is no proof that we can attribute all, or even part, of Dolore’s decline to being isolated from her family members. Dolores told my friend that there had been lots of phone calls; but, of course, visitations and shows of affections such as hugs and kisses from family members, had been deemed meaningless and prohibited by those who would save us. We, of course, are concerned with saving ourselves; that’s why we stand six-feet apart and don the pitiful masks that hide our humanity…even when our hearts are screaming that something smells about this whole thing.

The good news is that any further decline in Dolores, and the thousands of isolated persons like her, will not be covered by any media coverage; therefore, we won’t have to witness it. Nor will we know the accounts of thousands, if not millions, who have lost previously flourishing businesses. These silent but atrocious occurrences don’t make headlines; and they never will. It is up to us–the relatives and caring friends–to stand up for the current inhumanity that is sweeping the world. If we don’t, only egos will survive; and they aren’t worth saving. Remember when?

Dare to dream (and care for one another).

With heartfelt regards,

Art

Copyright © – 2020–R. Arthur Russell

Dr. Phuphuey Plays Doctor

Dr. Phuphuey's Busy Day

Note: The names of the persons directly involved in the following account have been changed to protect their right to privacy, as guaranteed (okay, maybe not “guaranteed,” but “implied”) under the Medical Privacy Act of 1923, as first instituted quid pro quo somewhere in Liechtenstein; amended in 1927, somewhere in the Nether Parts; and later modified (see attached pamplet explaining “said” modifications) somewhere over the rainbow.

***

The waiting room was jam packed–elbows would definitely have touched if it were not for social outlawing. The atmosphere was deadly quiet, except for occasional coughs of adults and stabbing cries of children. In a chair in the far corner, a man about forty leaned slowly to one side, righted himself, and then nonchalantly fanned the newspaper he was holding. From out of nowhere, Nurse Whatsthebigfuss bustled into the center of the room.

“May I have your attention,” she said. “Dr. Phuphuey’s running a little behind schedule today; so we’re going to triple up in an effort to speed things along. Should work quite nicely, if everyone plays fair.”

There were nods, a few “hmmphs,” and one loud uncontrolled fart–followed by thirty stabs of accusing stares.

“Now,” said Nurse Whatsthebigfuss, fumbling with three charts, “Misters Hullaballoo, Aboutnothing, and Rinky…Dink, please follow me down the hall.” Two elderly gentlemen and a young man in his mid twenties rose and hesitantly followed. She led them to a small examination room with only one chair. “Perhaps you can play rock, paper, scissors to see who gets to sit,” she said.

The men were in the midst of determing the winner, when the door to the adjoining office burst open. It was Dr. Phuphuey. “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he quipped. “Thank you for being so cooperative.”

“Ahem,” said Mr. Hullaballoo, averting his eyes. “Don’t you think you’ve forgot something?”

Dr. Phuphuey patted his chest, fumbled his hands into his labcoat pockets, and tugged at the stethoscope dangling around his neck. “Don’t think so,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

Young buck Rinkydink spoke: “‘Cause you’ve got no pants on.”

“Well, I doubt that,” said Dr. Phuphuey, staring straight ahead,” but the words were barely out of his mouth when his right hand–which had crawled downward as though by its own volition–patted “there” and confirmed the news. “Dang, if I’m not,” he said, with a guffaw. “A lesser man would be embarassed.” He dashed to the adjoining office and returned a minute later wearing baggy track pants. Mr. Rinkydink gave him a bold thumbs up.

“Mind if I smoke?” asked Dr. Phuphuey. He was flicking his lighter before they could answer. “Now,” he said, after a deep exhale, “to speed things along I’d like each of you to state your problem in three words or less. It will save us a lot of needless rambling on about details. We’ll cut straight to the chase. You first, Mr. Hullaballoo.”

“Headaches,” said Mr. Hullaballoo.

“Stress,” said Mr. Aboutnothing.

There was a sustained pause, accompanied by a drumming of fingers by Dr. Phuphuey. “And what about you, Mr. Wrinklydick?” he asked.

“That’s Rinkydink, if you don’t mind.”

“My apologies. So…spill the beans.”

“Depression.”

Dr. Phuphuey thoughtfully stroked his chin. “I’m sensing a common thread. Do any of you watch the news?”

The three patients answered at once, their heads bobbing. The room was filled with their replies: “Most certainly;” “Morning, noon, and, night;” and “Ohh, yes, it’s my duty.”

“What we have here,” said Dr. Phuphuey, “is a case of Laughter Shortiticus. It’s characterized by signs and symptoms that we’re taking life far too seriously. When was the last time any of you laughed.”

Misters Rinkydink and Aboutnothing admitted that it had been months–the beginning of the year. “What about you, Mr. Hullabaloo?”

His eyes looked upward, as though searching for the memory. “August 12th, 1979,” he finally said.”

Dr. Phuphuey began to scribble furiously on his prescription pad, and then tore off the note and handed it to Mr. Rinkydink. “Take this to Nurse Whatsthebigfuss and have her make it out in triplicate. Follow these instructions three times a day, and check back with me in a month. I’ll make sure I’m wearing pants.

***

On the serious side, it’s a well-known fact that positive emotions play a very important part in keeping us well. The same holds true for hugs, kisses, and touch–all of which we’ve been deprived of during the last several months. Disease is often related to stress which reveals itself as a broken link in our chain of body, mind, and spirit. May this article help to alleviate some stress–even if only for a few minutes. God bless.

Dare to dream (and care for one another).

With heartfelt regards,

Art

Copyright © – 2020–R. Arthur Russell