It’s noon here on Tuesday, and Joe has finally been moved (or is in the process of moving) into his own room. He’s out of ICU and we’re looking at a late-this-week total release for him.
And a note for all you intrepid well-wishers out there: please don’t break out your Sherlock Holmes outfit and track down the hospital and room number for a personal call. That could get out of hand real quick. He’s got major stitches to heal and the last thing you want to be responsible for is having him rip ‘em wide open lunging to get your call.
So hold the calls, or better yet call the line set up for well-wishes: 206-202-5179
Even better, send those dead presidents Joe’s way. Even with insurance, the cost of major medical care can skyrocket. They even charged me for my BEDPAN! And the kleenex, and the q-tips, the cups, …well, you get the picture.
Love your show, Joe.
Or, cut out the middleman! Buy Joe a bedpan!
No…wait…don’t do that.
Guess I need to break into Grant’s tomb.
Dead prostitutes? Well. OKay… Anything to help out.
OH!
dead PRESIDENTS. That makes a little more sense.
Um. I have to go make a phone call….
Would joe happen to need a male prostitute?
AHHHHGGGGG… I got an image… I GOT AN IMAGE….
It burns…. it burrrrrrrnnnnsssss.
BURRRRRRRRNNNNNSSSSS.
Philip
(not that there’s anything wrong with that)