What’s the difference between Woody from Toy Story and Joe Biden?
Woody goes limp when a child enters the room.
This post over at GFZ reminded me of a story that happened to me 15 or 20 years ago, while I was still a street medic. I was partnered with another medic, a female who like to seem like she was jaded, but really wanted to believe the best in everyone.
There was a prostitute who had diabetes that we would run on every month or so. The call would usually follow the same path. Her “customers” would call 911 every time she would pass out at “work” and we would check her blood sugar to find that it was low. We would start an IV, give her some glucose, then she would wake up and refuse to go to the hospital. We did this for several years.
Then we didn’t see her for awhile. After not seeing her for 6 months or so, we got a call to a local convenience store and there she was. My partner says to her: “Hey Dianne! We haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been?”
Dianne replied: “Things are great. I got me a man, now. We have a good job, and moved to Orlando.”
Partner: “Good for you! So what brings you here to town today?”
Dianne: “Well, my husband says that now that we are married, we have plenty of money, so I only have to work part time.”
Michelle Obama as President Camacho.
This reminds me of what it feels like to argue with most people, especially on the Internet.
The only difference is that, in real life, someone ends the discussion with one or more of the four following responses: