*Blog post started on June 25, 2020.
I might be making this post too difficult. After starting up "The Disgruntled's Real Championship Wrestling" blog, a schedule of when certain posts were supposed to be released was established. So some my personal opinions timeline is going to involve a bit of shuffling. The biggest fear, the topical stuff will not be that in the next two weeks.
…five minutes later.
#SpeakingOut is still coming up on Wrestling Inc. headlines, so I can be optimistic that the attitude about the scene will not change. Ring of Honor says they are going to address the sexual assault accusation brought up against one of their head bookers. They said they will investigate it, but with Jay Lethal still being on the roster despite his indiscretions, if action is taken, I will have material to continue blogging about the movement. This schedule though leaves me behind in terms of addressing the movement, when I could feel like I was amongst the first.
So far, 40 has shown how far behind I have been. I have attempted to be a voice against racism ("Racism Can Play in Peoria. What About Your Local Wrestling"), but it took me another five years to attend my first protest. Tomorrow is going to be the first time that I have ever given blood. Being afraid of needles gave me an excuse for 23 years, but after my wrist and inevitable reign over Peoria wrestling was broken, that is not the case. When you see pins with pus leaking from them in your arm, you will rationalize how you handle other pointy metal things being inserted into your body.
Another first for 40 that involves insertion would be a prostate exam. A parental freak out about a dermatitis breakout left OSF realizing that I may have been trying to avoid attentive medical care. I figured I could slip past the system for a year since my last labs, but they are going to get on me about actually finding a practitioner now. The biggest issue is going back to the beginning when it comes to my type two diabetes concerns.
They were probably right in doing whatever labs they could, but the circumstances were not fair. I was in Morton when this went down, so of course I was eating shit during that 90-minute drive. Obviously blood sugars were high, and based on that, it is back to the beginning about caring for my condition. With the exception of my last doctor, everybody forces me to endure the lecture about the need to focus on vegetables and laying off the booze. Unless they are going to give me a medicinal marijuana card, nothing will change. Give me a card, and half of the conditions might.
The following is a suggestion to encourage men of my age to care about their health and cancer concerns. Reward those who need to deal with a prostate exam the medical weed card. I think the doctors would be surprised to find out what we will do for drugs. Granted, the exam no longer intimidates me, but that is some personal stuff you probably do not want me to get into.
With all the firsts I am dealing with, it is indeed ironic that my best received blog was "40 Years is Enough". In the end, I am just like Peoria, always 10 years behind. At least my love for the hometown is now established. It just sucks to realize that I am socially retarded. How many wise, leftist women have been pitying me?
Zombieland: Double Tap
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