The Gormogons

A lot of people make a big deal about open-heart surgery, especially those undergoing it, but in fact it’s quite easy to do, the Czar figures. Think about it. The heart’s always in the same place, it makes itself pretty easy to find, and everybody’s heart is pretty much like any other. How hard is this? Our own Dr. J. performs a bunch of these every day, and he doesn’t seem particularly put out by it.

Let’s take an example. Say you know somebody who’s got a bad ticker, maybe because their heart is three sizes too small, or they’re super-old, or maybe they just hang out with ‘Puter and the Czar and can’t keep up with the alcohol and hot wings. Probably, at this point, you’re thinking “heart transplant,” and without even bother to research this for a second, the Czar say’s you’re right. Let’s do a transplant.

First thing, you need a patient to operate on, because they’re no point doing open-heart surgery unless you have one of these. So go get one. We’ll wait.

Got one? Great. You know, the Czar probably should have said you should make sure he’s got a bad heart, but frankly (for purposes of instruction) this doesn’t really matter.

Second thing: you need a donor. Doing a transplant with only one person is a waste of time, as well. You could do it, one imagines, by taking it out and just putting it back, but… no, wait! That’s an excellent idea! Instead of a messy heart transplant, and you going to have to thump some second doofus in the back of the head only to find out his heart is even worse than the first guy’s, the Czar has just figured out how to do a heart transplant with one person. Read on. This is even easier than you think. Probably, even easier than the Czar thinks.

Okay, so your patient needs to be sedated. You could try the expensively traditional route, with anesthetics, but that stuff is hard to get. Plus, the Czar thinks you need to know how to use them, as too much or not enough is going to cause trouble. Therefore, stick to the less-expensive, less-complicated methods: tequila works well, or you could just swing an elbow into the side of the guy’s head, about an inch or so above his ear. If you’re on the smaller side, like Mrs. GorT, you might want to swing a couple of times to make sure he’s out and not faking. Frankly, we’re not sure why you’d want to fake being unconscious during open-heart surgery, but people are sure funny, you know?

Now, let’s say you got that down and your patient is out cold. Get a decently sharp knife and open up that chest. Move any ribs that are in the way. Ribs, by the way, are easy to find: they’re the ones going left-to-right. If you see them stacked up, top to bottom, that’s the spine and the Czar is very sorry, but you’ve open him up on the wrong side. Flip him over.

All right. By this point, you’ve got his chest open and there should be a lot of blood. This can make the heart hard to find, even if you knew where it was to begin with (hint: it’s in the center of the chest). Fortunately, the heart makes its location known by pulsing (what doctors call “beating”), often quite dramatically. You need to find it quick, because it won’t be beating long. Because of the blood, you might have trouble seeing it, so just reach into that pool of blood and feel around. It’ll be obvious once you do, so don’t make a big deal about this.

Remove all the connections to heart with your knife. Be advised, there are quite a few. Maybe only two, but some of these could be nerves and stuff so try to pay attention to what you’re cutting. When that’s over and done with, you simply lift the heart up and out of the pool of blood. Be ready, because there may be even more blood coming out of it. Pretty much that’s all the heart does, is dump blood on everything. Science does not know why.

Once the heart is up and out of the chest cavity (does that sound technical, or what?), wring it out. Try to get all the blood out. There may be some buttery stuff inside. If there is, you definitely want that out, so get out as much of that heart butter as you can. Also, you definitely don’t want to eat that. It may look like ear wax, but it’s really quite nasty stuff that was almost certainly responsible for his heart being bad.

If you don’t find much butter, well, he probably wasn’t that sick, so that’s on you. Either way, don’t fret too much because it’s probably good to just clean it out anyway. Maybe a couple times a year.

When the heart has been cleaned, you may notice it’s stopped beating. That’s not reason for worry, because remember you just unplugged it a couple of steps above. Put the heart back into the chest, as best as you can remember it looking, and reattach all those connections. Remember to get this right: there are definitely inputs and outputs, and maybe some nerves. You want this to be as close as possible to they way it was, because pretty much all those connections do important things.

Almost certainly, you should see the heart begin beating on its own again, due to the big nerve being connected. This is truly a miracle of nature. But you’re not done, yet! Because, as it stands, you have a patient with a huge hole in his chest. You’ll want to do something about that if you expect him to get up again and start walking around.

Fortunately, this is pretty straightforward. Put back and ribs you took out (they’re all pretty much the same, so don’t spend a lot of time monkeying with this), and pull the edges of the big cut you made together. Doctors will spend a lot of time and money with stitches, but they’re all on the take to begin with. Time is of the essence here, so just a couple of really wide strips of masking tape or, if you have it handy, duct tape. Just tape the wound closed until the bleeding has mostly stopped. In a few days, or maybe a week at most, that wound should heal up and the guy can just peel the tape off himself. It’s probably better if he does it, himself, especially if his chest is really hairy.

Not surprisingly, that’s all there is to it! You’re now a qualified and experienced cardiovascular surgeon, which is pretty sweet. The Czar may have left a step out (pretty sure we got it all, though), so Dr. J. can easily fill in any details or minutiae in a subsequent post. If you don’t see a subsequent post, well, that’s because we got it pretty much right the first time. And that’s awesome.

An Upstate Sunrise

‘Puter’s an early riser. He routinely wakes between 04:30 and 05:00 without the assistance of an alarm. He loves the wee, small hours of the morning when the whole wide world is fast asleep. ‘Puter often uses this time to walk for an hour or more around his little Upstate village. ‘Puter treasures his pre-dawn walks, especially at this time of year. Especially at this time of his life.

This time of year, the darkness lingers a bit longer each morning as if the sun, like Mrs. P, struggles to shake off its sleep and fights the temptation to remain in its warm bed just below the southeastern horizon.

Some mornings ‘Puter can see his breath fog in the crisp, dry air in the oddly orange glow of the streetlights. ‘Puter sees his brash rabbit friends doing brash rabbit things. ‘Puter wonders where the fox and her kits which roamed the neighborhood earlier this year have gone. ‘Puter startles a large buck, somewhere between 8 and 12 points. Its tail goes up and ‘Puter watches the massive beast disappear into a neighbor’s bushes.

During ‘Puter’s walk, the sky slyly transforms from inky blackness to midnight blue, from midnight blue to periwinkle, and, just before the sun peeks over the sky’s rim, from periwinkle to burnt orange.

Geese move overhead, low and slow, complaining loudly to one another as they gather before leaving town for warmer climes. The geese remind ‘Puter of local old people huddled together in diners at this early hour, talking loudly to each other about their winter plans in Florida.

The maples are losing some of their summer green turning a barely noticeable shade or two less vibrant, a prelude to their coming display of gaudy yellows, reds, and oranges. Nature’s starting its annual descent into death.

‘Puter walks on contemplating it all.

‘Puter thinks of his two boys, the youngest of whom he dropped at college this year. Tablet’s starting a new, adult phase of his life. Laptop’s preparing for graduation this winter and grad school next year. ‘Puter wonders how he managed to create two good, normal, functional young men. He decides it’s mostly Mrs. P’s doing. ‘Puter wonders what their futures will bring, what they accomplish, who they will marry. ‘Puter walks on.

‘Puter thinks of Mrs. P who’s preparing for a new school year, new annual cycle. ‘Puter frets about the new, empty nest phase Mrs. P and he have recently entered wondering when and if they will rediscover each other. He silently prays they will. ‘Puter wonders if Mrs. P is similarly worried. He resolves to ask her as he walks on.

‘Puter thinks of his father passing the time in a memory care facility blissfully unaware he’s unaware as the hours and days pass in an incoherent blur. Is Dad happy? Why won’t he die so Mom can be free? Dad’s already gone, God. Why do you let him live on? What are you trying to teach me?

‘Puter thinks of his mother dutifully visiting Dad each day. She spends hours with him. They seem happy together even though Dad has no idea who Mom is. Mom tells herself and everyone who will listen that Dad still knows who she is. Mom is lying to herself. Or maybe she knows something ‘Puter doesn’t. They sit together, Mom talking and Dad listening. At least he seems to be listening. Dad can’t really talk much anymore. Just short, nonsensical phrases. And yet Mom is there every day, uncomplaining, happy, caring. Is this why Dad lives, God? Is it so I can see what true, Christlike love is, what it means, and what it does?

‘Puter thinks of his recent 50^th birthday, grimly realizing he’s likely lived more than half his life. What is he going to do with what time he’s got left? What difference has his life really made? What difference can he still make? Is there time? ‘Puter wonders.

A car passes. ‘Puter snaps of his contemplation.

The sun has risen. ‘Puter is home. He walks up his driveway and into his house, picking up the plastic-bagged newspaper en route, burdened with more questions and fewer answers than when he left.

The Czar always suspected that grilling watermelon is a real possibility, and this weekend he took advantage of some old friends stopping by the dacha to do just that. Fortunately, the week before, one of the Czar’s neighbors introduced him to a grilled watermelon salad. The Czar is allergic to most fruits unless they’re cooked, and the neighbors thought this might be a safe thing. Look, the idea of mixing watermelon and onion together seems horrific, but the Czar caught a whiff of their concoction and was heartened enough to try. After a quick taste test, the Czar thought this was a knockout recipe.

There are a bunch of recipes on the internet for this, but here’s the one we did.

Basically, this is a mix of watermelon, onion, feta cheese, and balsamic vinegar, none of which sound like they should be combined together. It’s great because you can grill it up hours in advance and let it chill in the refrigerator as long as a day or as short as a half-hour, so you can squeeze this into your grilling routine.

	Your ingredients are olive oil, balsamic vinegar, a red onion, a Black Diamond watermelon, some pine nuts, and crumbled feta cheese. Try to get the Black Diamond as it’s usually seedless, inexpensive, and found in lots of stores.
	Cut the ends off the onion and slice it vertically down the center, as you would for classic steak grilling. Discard any harder bits: you want the tenderest parts of the onion. Cut half the watermelon in to giant wedges. These are about an inch thick, in quarter-round pieces. Brush both sides of the watermelon and all the onion with olive oil. Put the other half of the watermelon away for the kids, later. Get your grill going to medium heat. We used gas, but this is equally good over charcoals (not pictured, but definitely verified). When decently hot, put the pieces right on the grill. See the onions? They’re up there, too.
	After about two-to-three minutes, flip the watermelon pieces over: check out those grill marks.
	After another two-to-three minutes, the watermelon is done. The onion may need a little more, but the Czar put his over a known hot spot on the grill so these all finished up together. Total cooking time: five minutes. Look at that! The watermelon is evenly grilled on both sides, and the onion is nicely marked up and soft.
	Cut the watermelon roughly out of the rinds and dice it up in to easy-to-eat pieces. Julienne the onion as well, or if you’re pressed for time, just cut it up into tiny bits as fast as you can.
	Drop the watermelon and onion pieces into a salad bowl. Sprinkle on a lot of the feta cheese, drop some pine nuts if you have them (we did, so we did, but this is totally optional), and then drizzle balsamic vinegar over the whole thing. Gently mix and store in the refrigerator so it sets a bit. You want this served a little cool to cold so the watermelon has some texture restored.

We assure this is a fantastic combination of tastes. Our guests were as thrilled as we were with their first taste. Given the low cost, super-quick prep and cooking time, and the utter exotic nature of it, this one is sure to make your guests impressed.

Well, you long-time readers know the Castle Gormogon so well that you could walk to it from the Leaping Peacock with your eyes closed, which in fact is how ‘Puter and the Czar often have to do it.

But we do have other neighbors, too, and not just along Castle Drive. In the back, behind the menagerie, and even past the trees, our “back yard” abuts the chain-link fence of Mrs. Schroeder, who’s retired, widowed, quiet, and makes her own pickles in Ball jars. She’s the kind of neighbor who gives out home-made apple Fiddle-Faddle on Halloween, and the kids trick or treating on Klesmer Street know it’s safe (and desirable) to eat, not throw away.

Alas, Mrs. Schroeder has been a bit bed-ridden lately, due to a small incident with force lightning that hit her from an unexplained source. She was out checking her tomato plants when, we heard from her neighbor from across Klesmer, Dan Weber, a zigzaggy bolt of bluish force lightning zapped her pretty bad in the shoulder, somewhere from the direction of our Castle. Anyway, that’s what Dan said he saw.

We did not see any such lightning, curiously, and you’d think we would have. Indeed, our own Dr. J. is something of an expert on the subject of producing force lightning (he’s a Sith Lord, or somesuch), and he was absolutely certain that none flew over our Castle from some random direction. But Dr. J. has been so nice, visiting Mrs. Schroeder every day, making sure her wound is healing nicely, and assures her that, in his professional medical opinion, she’ll be back to gardening, cooking, and basic human hygiene in no time! And just to make sure, he’s been bringing her candles, a floral arrangement, and a frozen lasagna over the last couple of days.

Doc has been so nice to her, in fact, that she’s offered to make him some of that Fiddle-Faddle, and it’s only August. Dr. J. assures her that he’ll keep an eye out for any future force lightning flying around, and if he finds out who did it, he’ll definitely tell her. Doc added that he’s pretty certain that it won’t happen again, as he is an expert at it and everything. And just to be sure, he bought Dan Weber a really nice bottle of bourbon to make sure that Dan doesn’t ever see any more lightning bolts come from over our Castle toward their homes. The Czar hasn’t spoken to Dan, but we hear that Dan is pretty sure he didn’t see anything the first time, either.

Such a mystery. But whichever way this goes, get well soon from all of us at the Castle! Sincerely, your neighbors, the Gormogons.

The Цесаревич has always been fascinated by politics at all levels (local, municipal, state, and federal…and spends a lot of time watching elections overseas, too), and rather unsurprisingly is considering political science as his college major. As he gets older, now well into his teens, he seems cagier about the whole system and, to be honest, the Czar finds himself disagreeing with the boy less and less.

In a recent conversation, he mentioned that Chicago mayor Lori Lightfoot—although still very green in Chicago’s foul political swamp—probably will be courted by the Democrats for a national role after a single term. Her honor may certainly decline the invitation and instead run for re-election, but the Czar indeed would not be shocked if she agreed. She isn’t Rahm Emanuel, and that alone is encouraging a lot of Chicagoans that the city might be improving even though she has done little, yet.

In other news, we see that US Representative Ocasio-Cortez, from New York, is not polling terribly well at home. In fact, the number of likely voters planning to support her re-election in 2020 is barely in the double digits. Things are so bad that at least four Republicans are running against her, which probably consists of every Republican in her ultra-blue District. While that may mean nothing, the Czar does expect that she will be primaried next Spring, and she may not win.

But so what if she doesn’t? Ocasio-Cortez enjoys far higher support nationally. The media, who are astonishingly stupid, mention that she enjoys stellar popularity nationally—except, of course, as a US representative, that counts nothing for her re-election chances since the country doesn’t vote for her. Yet, it does reveal that she would probably go further by running for president in 2024, assuming that President Trump is re-elected based on the fact his Democrat opponents seem to be most affected lunatics since the Civil War’s offerings.

Let’s talk about that. From Joe Biden, who can’t even say hello without turning it into a forehead-slap by the rest of America, to Sen. Harris, who has now repeatedly indicated that she will reign by decree (she calls it executive order, but her statements reveal she has no intention of following those rules), to Sen. Warren, who simply says everything you want will be paid for by…somebody else, it seems. Not one of these candidates is grounded in reality, and all and each are presently making a Trump re-election essentially inevitable.

These things are linked by a most interesting factor: the Czar’s boy assessing that Chicago’s mayor could play a big part nationally, if she chooses, to Ocasio-Cortez’s potential to dominate the Democrat party, to the utter tomfoolery rampant in today’s Keystone Kandidates—yes, they all share a common origin.

Back in January, 2014, the Czar predicted that competent Democrat politicians were as rare as a clean-smelling men’s room in the Castle. President Obama’s leadership destroyed the party: almost 1,000 Democrats were replaced nationally by Republicans over his 8 years in office, which left a significant hole in the number of eligible candidates with a modicum of competence. Only the lunatics were left: the ones so solidly locked into their jobs by their bluest-blue voters that they could be Charles Manson and be repeatedly re-elected.

Eventually, time was going to run out for the Democrats: the reasonable ones, the moderates, the charmers, the folksy down-homers…they’re gone. And while Grandma Ankylosaur still pulls the D-lever while clutching her beloved photo of Jack Kennedy, she worries that the Bookers, Klobuchars, and the Buttigiegs are going to stay. She’s right to be worried.

Things are so bad that this amazing Delta House of Democratic dopefuls (“Bernard Sanders…no grade point average. All classes incomplete!”) is running against Trump. Instead of four-or-five plausible candidates strategizing on a bigger plan, you get twenty cartoon characters all displaying raw incompetence in an effort to leave nothing left standing. And that’s because…ready?…these are the best that the Democrats can produce right now.

So many in 2024, you’ll see the rabid Vladimir Ilyich Ocasio-Cortez running as a primary candidate, because by then, there will be even less of a choice. And yeah, maybe the soft-spoken, passive-aggressive litigator from Chicago, Lori Lightfoot, will seem—by comparison, anyway—to be next Harriet Truman.

Hey, the Republicans have a dump truck full of reasons to be worried, but the Democrats are in vastly worse shape. As the Czar also predicted at the same time, they’re going to have to ditch progressive liberalism—and especially this rampant Leftism—if they want to do more than just be mayors in the country’s sickest cities.

Joe Biden is the most moderate, compelling candidate at the moment? Somewhere, Jack Kennedy is clenching his fists and wondering what the hell happened to his party.