This past March I had massive reconstructive heart surgery. I won’t bore you with the details but suffice it to say, it was a huge ordeal and I’m very lucky to be alive, so feel free to send me money and gifts. Pictures of boobs would be nice.
So I wake up from my coma and I’m in the intensive care unit. At this point, I’m barely conscious. I take a gander at my surroundings and here is what I surmise:
I am not in the room alone. For some reason, I have come to the conclusion that the room is actually full of people who are all being very quiet. And they’re all under a big sheet. Why? Because they’re here to watch someone die, of course!
And not just “anyone”! No. They’re here to watch the guy who played “Doc” on the Love Boat die. Apparently he’s an acting teacher (in the fucked-up reality of my brain) and has asked his students to all come down to Cedars Sinai and watch his final “performance”. So here they are, all eagerly taking notes, clearly eating this up because it’s so “deep” and “real”, but they have to be quiet and stay under the sheet because I’m sharing a room with this guy. Just my luck, right?
Well apparently I hallucinated all this because that dude is still alive. I think. Who cares, really, anyway? Right? I guess I imagined a whole bunch of other stuff that never happened as well. I wrote it down in a notebook I used to communicate with people while I had a tube down my throat but when I went back to look over my notes, they were all gibberish. I think it was all pretty standard stuff: the nurses are trying to kill me, little people roam the hallways at night, I can fly, etc…
What I like about the “Doc teaching a class about death story” is that even when I was drugged out and delusional and waking up from the most traumatic experience of my life, my brain chose to provide me with commentary that people from Hollywood are pretentious and full of shit. I didn’t have any visions of my dead grandma or Jesus or Abraham Lincoln imparting words of wisdom to get me through my time of need and pain. No, instead I got Doc from the Love Boat making a bunch of untalented losers take notes on how a guy who’s about to die breathes and makes a machine go “beep beep beep”.
I know I made a leap in logic there, but trust me, they’re untalented. And losers. And by “them” I mean “you”. You’re not gonna make it. Give up.