Monday, April 4, 2011

Physician's Licensure Hold Lounge

Now Donna cannot even go back to her hut on the desert floor. Some say having left the garden hose on too long made a leak to the aquifer, and that's how the collapse occurred. Sunlight and her stucco home broke through the decomposing granite crust and free fell a few hundred feet before splashing down hard. One ironic mention about it all getting sucked in, her cards and pictures, pets, food, art collection, driveway with cement prints, mailbox is that at the same time, she was remote viewing a documentary entitled Chank Atlantis. She'd shown up to sit in for the state that day. They had her on a tuffet of clay, some would say, because of the law tablets that were played to negotiate her stay in the Physician's Licensure Hold Lounge. From her folding chair in the rehabilitative media chamber she had marveled at the power of the sea cutting down on hubris, especially the condescending sass of the middle class university-style intellectual with their endless self-congratulatory slumming forays and phat-assed group licking pageants. 

What saved her life was the rubber room is the first obvious but wrongest conclusion you could come up with. If life had been normal it would've been Nature there to call hero: Nature, who held Her shit until most righteous folk would be off at work before giving into the breach. The depressing fact was that nothing much else but Donna's life was saved of Donna's life. Was this where she'd be into perpetuity, a detention event venue for enemies of the meta-cognitive talk therapy apologist movement? Sure, she was safe, her life anyway, but the focus created by these environs always had to be the patients: were they secure from alternatives to medication as well as compliant with the prohibitization of medicative alternates? The rationale of the health vendor societies everywhere was cost, that they be recipients of all cost, that it be monitored, and that there was an accountability of payment, sustainability of need, and payment that could be pursued and multiplied and punished even while continuing to provide a river of product opts.

Phyllis, SSCB

7 comments:

  1. Anonymous02:28

    Phyl might seem bitter cause of her journalism degree being from AU (Accredited University). Believe it or not, the town she dormed in is now called, at the post office, Realistic Campus, Chalk Chank. When the school went under and the town council was overrun by foreigners, they used development maps from old construction folders. Got something to send the mayor? Street address: Attractive Lobby.

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  2. These were Dr. Thong's feelings and through her point of view, madam. Her own colleagues had house arrested her and then claiming to have saved her life by it?

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  3. Anonymous03:06

    She was also a stripper for beer money even though there was no bar in RC.

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  4. wtf
    this is one hell of a thing you have here
    the whole thing

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  5. I took it as anti-tenure propaganda playing in the rehab media room.

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  6. Thanks M. we dug your breakthrough piece on DC.

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  7. http://shivica.org/chalkchank3.mp3

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