Health

6 Months with Lady Viagra: Wow that extra .5 orgasms per month was really something! (Audio blog)

As performed on May 20, 2017 at FURIOUS FEMINISTS FIGHT FASCISM OPEN-MIC FUNDRAISER NIGHT AT ICONIK COFFEE ROASTERS IN SANTA FE. THANKS EVERYONE for raising money to prevent families from becoming homeless!  (Audio)

 

 

Categories: feminism, Health, sexism, Sexual humor, Uncategorized, women's health, women's humor | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Pre-Existing Conditions Can’t Really Exist Under the American Health Care Act

The Paradoxical Nature of Pre-Existing Conditions: A Monograph by Dr. Laughing Coyote of WTF University

 

Evidently there are now many pre-existing conditions NOT COVERED under the new We-Could-Give-a-Flying-Fuck-Care bill that the House Republi-cretins voted in without even reading it or checking their collective pulses for a conscience.

Being worried about health care coverage these days, (No you had those eyes before you tried to sign up for glasses!) I decided to write to Paul Ryan to ask about what constitutes a “pre-existing condition” according to the AHCA, otherwise known as the Assholes Hurt Consumers Act.

According to Paul Ryan the following are designated as “pre-existing conditions,” which will not be covered under the various sub-categories of the Abolish Health Care Act (AHCA).

-Being unable to remember your fucking passwords

-Sarcasm

-Having a Russian boyfriend

-Giving a shit about other people

-Math skills

(Math skills are considered to be  untreatable pre-existing conditions, so no self-respecting insurance company would deign to insure it.)

Being on Facebook is also a pre-existing condition, as is:

Voting for Hillary

Intelligence

Knowing facts

Having your pussy grabbed    (Insurers think this isn’t really a disorder, but just in                                                         case. One arrogant asshole claimed that if he had a                                                         pussy he would want it grabbed night and day.)

Other conditions that will not be covered because they are pre-existing conditions:

Watching Rachel Maddow

Drinking water daily

Feminism

Believing Trump

(It’s not the insurers fault that you believed a malignantly narcissistic con man).

 

The AHCA (Apocalyptically Harmful Creeps’ Act)  also does not cover the following pre-existing conditions:

A heartbeat

Global warming

Morality

Pining for Obama

Wishing Trump had the balls to go to his own correspondence dinner

Financial ruin

(One insurance representative commented: Our money won’t cover your lack of money. What do you think money is for? It’s to make sure our money has money!)

 

Other pre-existing conditions for which there is now no insurance:

The Comcast-Verizon Internet

President Putin

Trump-induced Tourette’s

Dying prematurely because of the AHCA (Arrogantly Harmful Cunts’ Act)

In a phone call (because I threw my computer against the wall in a fit of outrage—also not covered under the American Heinous Assholes’ Act), Ryan explained that insurance can’t cover the pre-existing condition called “having no insurance,” or any sequelae. I told him I was going to shove my fist up his sequelae.

Subsequently I was then told that “not having an iPhone anymore because I threw it over 1500 miles at Ryan’s self-satisfied fuckhead” is also a pre-existing condition that no one will pay for. I had to borrow my grandmother’s flip phone so he could tell me that.

Then I asked “What if one of my pre-existing conditions has a pre-existing condition? Wouldn’t they then cancel each other out and then you’d have to cover it?”

This comment was ignored. I suspect the Republican “Nerd” (so called because what exactly is ‘smart’ among Tea Party GOP?) didn’t understand me.

I said, “For example, being a Republican is obviously a pre-existing condition and being a Tea Party Republican is manifestly one also-”

“I don’t follow,” said Ryan.

“You didn’t really pay attention during Nerd Lessons, did you?”

“I don’t follow.”

“Obviously you have a few pre-existing conditions that Democrats are fully paying for. Listen closely. Being a Tea Party member is a pre-existing condition inside the already pre-existing condition of being a Republican. These two things that are proven chronic mental conditions are so awful that they negate civilization creating a manifest emptiness which by definition does not exist (thus it cannot ‘pre-exist’) and therefore must be covered by your own Arrogantly Harmful Cretins Act.”

“Oh, yes, we congressmen do have very good insurance,” said the right wing, brown-nosing pseudo genius,  and Speaker of the House.

Refusing to discuss it further, Ryan went on to say that in most states the Aggressively Hurtful Conditions Act does not cover being alive at the time of coverage. “We view being alive as a condition that the state can take no responsibility for, and thus any condition that actually involves respiration, whether natural or enhanced, cannot and should not be covered, because it is the individual’s responsibility for being alive in the first place that is the underlying cause of most illnesses and it is not fair to ask money to pay for that endemic situation.”

I said, “So in order to get coverage, we would have to sign up for the Aggressively Harmful Consumer Act before we are actually alive because actually having enough fingers to fill out the form would be a pre-existing condition?”

“Precisely,” said Ryan.

“So in order to get around this No Pre-existing Conditions Act I have to sign up before I exist?”

“Correct.”

I said, “How many people do you think can cope with that kind of planning?”

“About 3.”

Apparently in this Asinine Health Can’t Act there are also levels of “pre-existing conditions”, to wit: some conditions exist more than others, and are therefore unqualified for a higher level of coverage; in other word the more something exists, the less likely it is to be covered; and the less a condition exists, the more likely it is to be fully covered by the WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!!? Health Care Act.

The only conditions the AHCA covers are conditions that don’t exist. It should be called the Apocryphal Humanity Coverage Act.

Thus, under this sub-clause:

  • All interactions with unicorns are fully covered.
  • Accidents involving people with wings are covered.
  • Diseases stemming from telepathy are widely insured.
  • Chronic illnesses stemming from chronic prescience are actually pre-covered: you get money from the government before you come down with viral omniscience.

Donald Trump’s brain is, obviously, also fully insured.

Faced with this, I thought about shooting myself, but wasn’t sure if I existed enough to be successful. And then I received a call from a philosopher who had a whole different take on the semantics of the issue.

“This shouldn’t stand up in court,” said Philosophical Phil (his friends call him           Philoso-Phil).  “To pre-exist means you don’t exist, so that means pre-existing conditions can’t exist and they can’t keep you from having insurance.”

“So that means they have to insure me even if I breathe on a regular basis, watch Rachel Maddow, vote Democratic and understand facts?”

“Looks that way.”

“I believe they may have fucked themselves, I said.

“Also not a pre-existing condition,” said Philoso-Phil.

 

So, armed with this knowledge, insurance fans, let’s all write to our insurance companies and legislative branches and lawyers pointing out that there is a logical inconsistency in their plan to kill us all and take our money.

I’m so relieved that having a new iPhone 6 isn’t a pre-existing condition, but I am now insanely worried about the unicorns.

Insurancely yours,

The Laughing Coyote

imagesCAQ9YDJW.jpg

Categories: Health, Health Insurance, political humor and satire | Tags: , | Leave a comment

Introducing the Anti-Depressant Cat Calendar! Just in time for inauguration.

 

Who needs Lexapro when you have Button The Cat?

Fall and Winter 2015-1-2016 030

Button, formerly a very successful plus size cat model for FAT CAT Magazine, has agreed to come out of early retirement in order to make the end of the world more palatable!

No one needs to feel bad during Trumpageddon! A good apocalypse should be enjoyed!

And who needs all that Paxil, Prozac, Wellbutrin, and the new one just out last month, Soma, when all you really need is a chubby white cat with an eating disorder to get you through each day of the month on a calendar!

Button the Cat’s  Suicide Prevention Calendar, YEAR 1  A.T.*  (*After Trump)


January 

Whatever he’s on, I want some!

Fall and Winter 2015-1-2016 030


FEBRUARY   

Fall and Winter 2015-1-2016 075Fall and Winter 2015-1-2016 072Fall and Winter 2015-1-2016 073

A little kitty porn pole dancing to get you through. . .


MARCH

Maybe eating all five birds was a bad idea. . .

2015-06-25 20.25.37


APRIL

I’m not just another pretty face

button-pics-jan2017-015


MAY

Therapy Cat works great!

fall-and-winter-2015-1-2016-046


JUNE   

I’m in here with the dishes making decisions for our country

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JULY

I AM YOUR VALIUM!

button-pics-jan2017-008


August

Everything is better with a friend

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 (That is Button’s best friend, Onyx.)


SEPTEMBER

Let me in the house and I will save you

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OCTOBER

Available without prescription

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NOVEMBER

 

Yes I am organic and I do cat yoga

afeb-10-20-2016-003


DECEMBER

More effective than OxyContin. Happy Holidays!

dec-jan2016-17-014

 


Bonus pictures in case you haven’t ordered your 2018 Anti-depressant Cat Calendar and need some more to tide you over!

JANUARY 2018

I am one with the blanket, I am one with the blanket. Relax….midterms are only eleven months away now

more-button-jan-2017-011


FEBRUARY

IT’S THE LOVE CATS!

oct-2016-dec-2016-347

 

 

Categories: Animal Humor, cat humor, Health, mental health, Trump Presidency | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

Obamacare Now Covers Lobotomy: Day 50 of Surviving Trumpageddon

I just finished ordering an online lobotomy so I can get through the next 4 years. I know I will not need my brain anytime soon. The lobotomy comes with DIY instructions that even an already brainless idiot can follow.

My other option is selling my brain on eBay. Then I can finance a trip to Washington, D.C. to interview for a job in the Trump Ass-ministration as the head of Intelligence. I figure my reptilian brain is pretty much all I’ll need for that so I will make sure not to sell my brainstem or medulla.

I will also be renting out my heart for the next 4 years. Who needs one of those in this climate? I have posted my heart on RentAnOrgan.gov so if you, or someone you know, need a heart (like a Trump supporter) you can bid on it and give it to them for New Year’s as revenge.  Expect to compete in a bidding war because President-Elect Dump and his boyfriend Putin are racing to collect all human hearts and burn them in this new FuckOverFest cold war that is now our collective reality. The stupid people have finally won!! Now everything will be great! Because Ignorance always makes Everything Better!

Being the oracular business woman that I am, I also bought ownership of the Wizard of Oz song If I Only Had a Brain, sung by The Scarecrow.  I am going to make so much freakin’ money owning next year’s theme song!

 Welcome to 2017: how stupid can a country be and still exist? Stay tuned for the answer which will probably come late next year.  Already little girls are asking: Can an apocalypse have an apocalypse?

 

I think my lobotomy is going to need a lobotomy.

It’s 1404 days until the next election: how are you surviving?

The Laughing Coyote

Categories: fake news, Health, Health Insurance, mental health, Obamacare, political humor and satire, Trump Presidency | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

Ovarian Emails

Ovarian Emails

I got an irate email from my ovaries the other day that said, “Where the hell is our uterus? We are getting reports from stranded ova that after they ovulate there’s  nowhere to go. Can you imagine what that feels like? You wait fifty years for your chance to leave the room you’ve lived in with all the other unripened eggs—you know everything about everyone—their hopes and dreams, their nasty habits, the rumors about the ova who live in the other ovary being smarter and better looking than your lot of listless, shallow and self-absorbed eggs, who are content to post selfies on Body-Book and worry about their weight. And imagine that you’ve experienced all the tiresome competitions between the Left Ovary and the Right Ovary in the Successfully Released Egg Contest, and read all the research and opinions about who deserves to ovulate, and then endured the monthly ups and downs of the Ovarian Selection Process (which is only slightly less complicated than a Supreme Court confirmation). Yet you are always living with a nagging question in the background: Where do we go when we leave this ovarian life? What happens to us? And then finally you ovulate and nada.

I was shocked. Not just because my reproductive system knows how to e-mail but to find out that their sex education system is possibly worse than ours, especially in Ovary-Right. Apparently the eggs don’t know what happens to most Ova: disappearing into a toilet or tampon somewhere, lost and anonymous with the blood that was once part of the uterine lining—all hopes dashed. But who would agree to ovulate if they knew of that probable future? Finishing the email, I realized that my Ova were also not prepared for the other thing that can happen: turning into a human being. Perhaps the ovaries weren’t equipped to handle large scale panic.

My phone beeped, interrupting me. I had a message. It was from Eva the Ovum. She wrote, “We’ve been trying to call you, since typing is hard without fingers and the voice-to-type thing sucks, but you never answer the phone. Some of us think you are a Millennial, but I disagree—I suspect you are simply a curmudgeon who hates talking, but I thought you might respond to a text.

“I want you to imagine what it’s like to be me. Finally liberated from Ovary-Right, I arrived at the end of the fallopian tube only to say, ‘Where the fuck is the uterus?. . . I know there’s a uterus. Right before I ovulated, I was notified about the difference between a fallopian tube and a uterus and this is no uterus. I can’t possibly embed here. I was specifically warned against that kind of behavior. But here I am and it’s basically a door without a house and even the door is missing. I felt disenfranchised. ‘Is this all there is?’ I asked the silent tissues.

“Nothing in Ovary-Right had prepared me for the possibility of the uterus going missing. I dug into the end of the fallopian tube and tried to remember more about the briefing I’d had before ovulation. Does the uterus leave the pelvic floor and come back? Had there been any instruction on what to do if the uterus is late? Should I wait here? Does the uterus have a phone number or an App? If it travels, where does it go? Around the body like some kind of weird inter-organ Uber? Wait a second, didn’t I hear about that somewhere. . . in history. . . the wandering uterus?. . . that causes-yes that’s it- Hysteria, when the uterus wanders around the female body creating problems for the GOP.

“What were those symptoms? Moodiness, hysterical regulation of pregnancy, delusions about birth control and abortion, and a special kind of neurasthenic paralysis of the hands that keeps the Senate from voting on Supreme Court Justices? Yes, that had to be it

“I decided to make an temporary fallopian encampment hoping the uterus would take a break from abusing mankind and come back to pick me up.

“And….nothing happened. A month passed. And here came another Ovum, Olivia, and I reached out to grab her because unlike my slow careful meander through the fallopian tube, she was tearing through it like an egg on a mission. I thought maybe the woman we live in-you-was having sex and making everything slippery and turning us upside-down, which ruined my encampment, dumping the tent over that I’d managed to scrape together out of tissues and the bits of some cancer-causing Johnson and Johnson’s baby powder. Unfortunately, my fellow egg slipped out of my grasp in the bedlam, sailing off into the abyss and then falling and falling until I couldn’t see her anymore. I was horrified.

“Then the questions started up: What is the ovum without the womb? What is a uterus without the possibility of a baby? What is the purpose of an unemployed and undereducated egg? What skills did I really have? Shortly thereafter, I decided I had been alone and self-aware way too long—us ova are not generally good at solipsism or solitude. Obviously some action needed to be taken. ‘But what should I do’ I asked myself. ‘I can’t possibly live here the rest of my life. It’s like a train station for round tiny slugs. I’ve studied Feng Shui and these conditions are not good for me. Plus I feel the danger of dying without a purpose. Parts of me already seem to be disappearing when I sit still too long. Anyway, I was promised a uterus and I want to know what happened.’

“I decided it was no use waiting around for the wandering uterus to come back. In fact if I was a uterus and could move around the body why would I come back to the pelvis where I’d been trapped my whole life? Why not hang out in the left triceps? Or the knee? I hear the face is great this time of year if you know how to handle it.

“Then I remembered some gossip that some Uteri (which is the plural of Uterus) feel that being a receptacle for human life is not always what it’s cracked up to be, which is maybe why the Ovarian Committee told us nothing about it until right before Ovulation. Evidently some Uteri resent being seen as only useful for pregnancy. We’d dismissed this as propaganda because it leaked from Ovary-Left and involved science, which for us on Ovary-Right was just a misspelling of Scientology.

“Subsequently I recalled more talk about our uterus being involved in a Fibroid Ring that she couldn’t get out of that was making her pay in blood and pain.  Maybe she had every reason to get out. Shit, what if our uterus had left the building entirely in order to escape from a Mafiosa of Fibroids? Maybe our Uterus wasn’t in Our Woman’s body at all anymore, but had applied for a passport to places unknown. Perhaps she’d had plastic surgery of some kind and was hiding in plain sight. In fact she could be anywhere or anything, like a fancy scarf, or a small purse, possibly even a man’s face in the form of a mask. Wow that would be really something. I wondered if I should slip out of the body and go look for her, but I had no idea which way to go. There were no signs saying: This Way Out.

“I had to get back and tell the others. I owed them that.

“I found some fibers that no one seemed to be using and, like the Salmon, that I’d read about on the Ovarian Internet, climbed my way back up to the fallopian door, took a running jump at the canyon of gap between the fallopian tube and Ovary-Right and then clung to the outside and threatened to turn into Ovarian Cancer if they didn’t let me back into the Ovary tout de suite.

          “But we’ve never had an Ovum come back,” said the GateKeeper. “Our revolving door only revolves one way.”

Ignoring that Sarah Palinist logic, I said, “I have the Johnson and Johnson’s talcum powder pointed at your head. Get out of the way and I will solve the enigma of the revolving door as well as the mystery of the missing uterus!”

“And so I told my story to the Ovarian Committee, and then, after learning how to write, which took another month, we composed an initial email and then I decided to text you this testimonial. Please tell us what is happening with our uterus.”

And that is how I found out that you should always notify the Ovaries of a major shift in Uterine Policy so they can prepare to fall to the floor of the empty pelvis and be absorbed into whatever tissue happens to be there—a death perhaps better than being carried out of the body on a sludgy river of blood and letting the ovaries know that the hidden dream of becoming your own body through the miracle of gestation and birth is now over.

Did I really want to tell them I chose to have a partial hysterectomy to remove a uterus infested with many different kinds of fibroids, most inoperable, causing pain and digestive problems that would only get worse with menopause still years away? I didn’t know I had to warn the remaining organs and set up a psychological support system. Furthermore, it had never occurred to me that I could email my reproductive system. Think of the conversations I could have had if I’d only known! On second thought, maybe not.

How was I going to explain all this? Was I going to say, “Look ladies I had them excise the uterus, but I left you alive, never mind that now all of you are doomed for reabsorption in remote and unknown pelvic areas, never before seen by other Ova.” Would that spin of me saving them so they could be Pelvic Pioneers be a sufficient consolation prize? What would happen to me if all my remaining ova got mad at me at once? What about sad and depressed eggs? Would they be more inclined to just throw in the towel and cause cancer? What if the ovaries decided to start wandering around my body weeping and carrying protest signs about the oppression of Ova and the murder of Uteri by women? Worse, what if they accused me of being a Republican, who could do ridiculous things, like vote for the GOP from 2001 onwards and decide that putting a Pussy Grabbing Male Presidential Candidate into office was somehow better than choosing the “evil” e-mailing Hillary.

As usual, the threat of even looking remotely Republican galvanized me into action and I began to think hard. Where would a uterus go once she leaves the body if she could? Mine would go fucking vote for Hillary.

So I did what any self-respecting democratic woman would do when texting her ovaries: I became a politician.

I texted back a headline to Eva the Ovum. It said, “Hysterical Wandering Uterus Votes for Clinton.”

Eva the Egg texted back, “Our uterus is out voting for president?”

I wrote, “Yes. In fact I think my sex organs have been plotting this for a long time: the fibroids being an excuse for voter autonomy. It is the Year of the Hysterectomy: GET OUT THE FUCKING VOTE. Female sex organs are so excited to vote for Hillary who is a Woman’s Woman, not like that shit-for-brains Sarah Palin, who finds plastic Ziploc bags confusing, and totally different than that morally bankrupt, talking penis-puppet Condoleezza Rice—who has all the morality of a cockroach despite her IQ being four times that of G.W. Bush. Women are out voting for Hillary Clinton with all their reproductive organs—vaginas, wombs, ovaries and brains, and no one can stop it!”

I added, “Last night Trump held a press conference and whined and screamed and said, ‘We need to crack down on Illegal Wandering Uteruses Committing Voter Fraud. We must keep female reproductive organs from rigging this election and getting away with it.’ But no one’s listening to him anymore and he can’t stop it. Apparently it’s too much pussy for even him to grab.”

Eva the Ovum wrote back: “Wow.”

I wrote, “Your sacrifice, Eva, just might save our Democracy.”

A day later I got a text from Eva the Ovum. “I was so inspired by how our Wandering Uterus is trying to save the world that I’ve convinced all of us in Ovary Left and Right to ovulate all at once behind Hillary Clinton. After all, we are Stronger Together! Come on Girls! Let’s go fill out all those ovals!”

I sat back with a sense of a job well done. No more periods and a female president! What a great time to be alive!

Sincerely,

The Laughing Coyote

Categories: Health, political humor and satire, Sexual humor, women's health | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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