The Side Effects Will Kill You!

     I've seen far too many new drugs advertised on TV, in newspapers and magazines, that will cure everything from Obstructive Sleep Apnea (OSA) to severe incontinence. The manufacturers, such as Pfizer, make millions and even billions, without losing sleep or having to urinate three times a night.
     It seems very disingenuous for the profiteers to earn six figure salaries, say over the past two decades and climbing higher, but they still haven't cured even the common cold. What are they waiting for?  How many more patients have to die, just waiting for a doctor's appointment? Especially at VA Hospitals.
     General Trump (yes, he is our Commander-in-Chief), claims he can fix anything. He is also good at saying "you're fired" and his salute is that of a seasoned military man. Very short, sharp and snappy. Just wait until he gets five stars and then outranks the late General Eisenhower, supreme commander of all our armies in World War II. Then he'll nuke North Korea back to the stone age.
     But I'm getting off the subject. Xaralto promises to replace warfarin pills for blood thinning, to avoid blood clots. However, don't count your lucky stars yet. The ads warn customers they can't drop their pants for a shot of pills if they have an artificial heart valve. Otherwise they could suffer a heart attack, kidney stoppage, internal bleeding, shortness of breath, vomiting, headaches, dizziness and fainting. And then they would die.
     So I'll stay with my warfarin and take my chances. I have an excellent urologist who is considered one of Connecticut's best. He is also Chairman of the Norwalk Hospital Urology Department. And his office is a beehive of activity with patients coming and going, in both senses of the words. Hmmmmm. No pun intended.
     Recently I had a cystoscopy performed by the good doctor in his office. I could have selected the hospital, but there is too much paperwork, prior preparation, anesthesia and staying overnight. Although I don't like the size or look of the device he uses to examine my bladder, and then zap any growths that look malignant, the procedure was over in 20 minutes. No pain, no shame. Just a smaller instrument next time doc, please, in six months.
     This is my 143rd Blog, Questionable Commentaries, and I will have 200 by the end of this year. Are you listening advertisers? Meantime, check out my lawsuit against President Trump well defined in the April 14, 2017 issue of NEWSWEEK Magazine by reporter Zach Schonfeld.

The Reason Why I Chose To Be Disobedient And Challenge The Establishment!

    More than six decades ago when I was studying music at Ohio State University. M.E. Wilson was a stodgy sour puss in his sixties who lectured on music history before an auditorium class of 200 freshmen and sophomores. I was one of the latter, bored by the professor's salty attitude.

     Wilson never hesitated to insult someone. During one session, an attractive female student quietly left her seat and tiptoed towards an exit door. "Where the hell are you going?" He shouted: "Nobody leaves this class while I am speaking! Do you hear me?" The young lady calmly answered, "I have to go to the bathroom." And she exited through the door as Wilson continued rambling on about Mozart who never wrote a march. 

     "Whoa!" I said and  I stood up for emphasis. "Mozart wrote several marches. My friend Lee Briskin is a pianist and I'll ask her to play one now." Lee obliged, the students applauded, I smiled broadly as Wilson just sulked. He also looked at me with daggers.

     This course was required. We had a written exam at the end of the three-month term and I felt confident I would receive an A or B, because I knew the answers. A week later I received a letter from the chairman of the Music Department, Eugene Weigel, stating I had failed the course and would have to take it again!

     No way Jose, I thought. I'm not going to sit through an hour a week for three months listening to the SOB who never knew Mozart also composed marches. The errors in my final exam were: interchanging the definitions of Maestoso and Religioso. Also, I had scored a 16 bar sample melody using parallel fifths, a definite no-no in music at Ohio State University. I defied their traditional approach to music.

     To add insult to injury, M.E. Wilson had scrawled a large F on my exam and wrote:  "Anybody who confuses the definition of Maestoso and Religioso or uses parallel fifths, will not receive a passing grade. Mr. Abel, you are disobedient!"

     That's when I switched my major to Communications and concentrated on creating allegorical satire. I was already considered class clown and voted BMOC (Big Man On Campus), with a large photo hanging in the Student Union.

     My next act of rebellion was to compose an original piece of music, using many parallel fifths, for the Ohio State University Marching Band. Named “Serenade to a Sand Dune,” featuring the drum line. It was played during a halftime football game and again at the Rose Bowl. According to the COLUMBUS DISPATCH, director Jack Evans said, “Alan Abel's music received the greatest ovation ever accorded the band. “

     This is the reason why I devoted my life to be disobedient and challenge the Establishment .

It Was A Very Good Year When I Was 13

          

                                               

     At the tender age of 13 I had been learning to play the snare drum for a year. Then my teacher, Giovanni Baietti, said he taught me all he knew. So I had to find another teacher, although I was already playing with the Salvation Army Band in Coshocton, Ohio.  Population 12, 000.

     There were 25  musicians in the band. I was the youngest, and we played mostly for marches to the town cemetery. An older drummer, Lewis Bucklew in his 40’s, was cross-eyed and could never stay in step. He was always skipping to catch up, because we were in the last row.

         Giovanni Baietti was also assistant director of the 300 member Ohio State Fair Band, high school boys representing 88 counties in the state. They camped on the fair grounds in Columbus for two weeks every August.

     Mr. Baietti said I could be a gofer that summer, even though I was only in the 8^th grade, and to bring my drum along. Also, I would get to stand last in line with twenty-four percussionists during concerts and be allowed to play  “Stars and Stripes Forever.”

     I was terribly excited to be with such a huge band, under the direction of Dr. Louis E. Pete.  He was a 50-year-old conductor of the Ashland Symphony, had a prominent mustache and would sternly castigate any musician who didn’t follow his waving baton.

       During the first week of rehearsals I was busy passing out the mail and running errands for staff members. But I did find time to practice and look over the music I hoped to play the following year. I didn’t make any friends in the band because they were all older boys.

     Then came opening night of the Ohio State Fair.  There were 10,000 people in the Grand Stand watching us play a 15 minute concert broadcast on the NBC Blue Radio Network. I was at the tail end of 24 drummers when a strong wind suddenly blew over all the wire music stands!

     In the middle of von Suppe’s “Morning, Noon and Night in Vienna,” panic prevailed among the young musicians. No music stands, no music. Dr. Pete clutched his head in vain. He might as well be trying to ride a dead horse.

      That’s when I jumped into this sea of flying sheet music and fallen stands. Without missing a beat I began playing a series of cadences mezzo forte as Dr. Pete conducted. Several dozen staff members frantically dashed about picking up music and stands.  Giovanni Baietti, with a huge smile on his face, held up a sign reading START AT LETTER ‘C’ ON COMMAND.

     Our concert resumed and ended with sighs of relief. Dr. Pete said, “Drummer boy. You saved the concert. I could kiss you.” One bandsman shouted, “I’ll bet your mustache tickles.”

     I became Number One drummer immediately and four years thereafter.  It’s called serendipity.