The fool of a writer should have PE tubes put in his son's ears. This is managed care at its worst.
My daughter was a "failure to thrive" at age 2 and I finally took over her care, got her to a good ENT, he put tubes in her ears and she grew six inches in the next year.
But Michael! It's the question "EVERYONE" is asking! (According to Althouse).
For anyone that cares, no one with any knowledge (that I know of) is proposing - let alone advocating - any such thing. What's described is a last-ditch effort for people who have pseudomembranous colitis that's recalcitrant to every known antibiotic, a toxic gut (and [intensely] diarrheal) disorder, obviously and intimately connected to gut microbiota, and nothing to do with ear infections.
But without the gotcha post, that would have been one less blurb in her daily town-crier roster. Which would have been completely unacceptable.
Kenneth Burke had a stool poem, returned by an embarrassed poetry journal editor without comment. Burke felt it was too adjectival.
There was an island of Antiquity, Well-favored with an equitorial sky, Where Babylonic galleys used to lie, And inland music sounded cumbrously.
Though long accustomed to such clemency, It felt obscure disturbances, whereby Emitting a huge geologic sigh It lurched, and gently sank beneath the sea.
In marbles now, in pale aquatic hues, Stand aimless, posturing on heavy floors Where parchments waver, limp and yellowish, And houses front on darkened avenues Bearded with sea-growth, promenades for fish With mournful faces peering through the doors.
I wonder if the person who perfects this therapy will win a Nobel. He should call it fecal tissue research. He's sure to get huge funding grants from the PC crowd.
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२४ टिप्पण्या:
Only the NYT is asking THAT question.
And only the NYT COULD ask that question.
And at the same time the Middle East is on fire and HRC has exposed our national security secrets to our enemies.
It actually is an important question
C. diff epidemic
"Should We Bank Our Own Stool?"
That's gonna make for some messy ATMs.
Note: there are two meanings to ATM, one of which is filthy and yet on topic, too.
I am Laslo.
I'd worry about bank runs.
A new fad? His and hers little viles of stool on a gold chain worn around the neck. It might be as popular as the Pet Rock.
All that glitters is not gold.
No, next question.
Another reason to ignore the NYTimes.
The fool of a writer should have PE tubes put in his son's ears. This is managed care at its worst.
My daughter was a "failure to thrive" at age 2 and I finally took over her care, got her to a good ENT, he put tubes in her ears and she grew six inches in the next year.
HMO medicine.
This thread is getting deep.
The deposit slips come on a roll.
But Michael! It's the question "EVERYONE" is asking! (According to Althouse).
For anyone that cares, no one with any knowledge (that I know of) is proposing - let alone advocating - any such thing. What's described is a last-ditch effort for people who have pseudomembranous colitis that's recalcitrant to every known antibiotic, a toxic gut (and [intensely] diarrheal) disorder, obviously and intimately connected to gut microbiota, and nothing to do with ear infections.
But without the gotcha post, that would have been one less blurb in her daily town-crier roster. Which would have been completely unacceptable.
Everyone in the bank was focused on their bowels when the masked man burst through the door shouting, "Nobody move!"
Should we bank our own stool?"
I already do, next to my collections of boogers, dandruff and toenail clippings.
What? Why that look?
85 year old man says, 'I went to the doctor and he asked me for a blood sample, a urine sample, and a stool sample. So I left him my underwear.'
When will Colorado de-regulate shit...that's the question I'm asking.
Kenneth Burke had a stool poem, returned by an embarrassed poetry journal editor without comment. Burke felt it was too adjectival.
There was an island of Antiquity,
Well-favored with an equitorial sky,
Where Babylonic galleys used to lie,
And inland music sounded cumbrously.
Though long accustomed to such clemency,
It felt obscure disturbances, whereby
Emitting a huge geologic sigh
It lurched, and gently sank beneath the sea.
In marbles now, in pale aquatic hues,
Stand aimless, posturing on heavy floors
Where parchments waver, limp and yellowish,
And houses front on darkened avenues
Bearded with sea-growth, promenades for fish
With mournful faces peering through the doors.
I wonder if the person who perfects this therapy will win a Nobel. He should call it fecal tissue research. He's sure to get huge funding grants from the PC crowd.
Well, shit.
Didn't read the article for the same reason I don't eat stool lying along the road. The writer must have been inspired by The Martian.
Tim Blair in a recent podcast marvelled at a telecast of a surfing contest where a shark attacked a competitor and the announcer said "Holy shit!"
The announcer later apologized for the language. The shark attack wasn't important by comparison.
The social graces prevail.
This should be in the turkey thread probably.
"I mean, he's REALLY broke ... he doesn't have SHIT in the bank!"
I've had C diffand it is so bad that I would have willingly taken this cure.
If we worry about this, life must otherwise be very good and we have no troubles.
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