My wife has been going to a clinic in Vancouver that specializes in hormones.  It is called the Westcoast Women’s Clinic.  Turns out they also deal with men who aren’t smart enough to be put off by the name.  Yes, she talked me into going there to discuss my middle aged hormone levels with the all-female staff.  The first step, which happened a couple months ago, was I had to spend a 24-hour period peeing in a plastic bottle.  Then I dashed off to UPS with my frothy little jug and mailed it to a lab in the states.   Today’s trip to the clinic was to go over the analysis of it.

The staff probably looks forward to dealing with male patients as an opportunity to get even with us for all the sins of our gender.  They looked pretty harmless with their free tea, their impeccably clean washroom and twinkly music, but there was a sinister undercurrent brewing.

My consultation was moving along in a cordial fashion as we discussed this and that hormone level, when suddenly my doctor dropped the bomb:  “I’m going to have to give you a prostate test.”  To which I explained that I already had a blood test that showed I was the owner of a happy, normal, non-troublemaking prostate.  This didn’t satisfy the villainous she-devil.  “Those tests aren’t that accurate and it was done several years ago,” she retorted, adding “I can’t prescribe anything without knowing if your prostate is healthy.”  I tried bargaining, offering to sign – even write for her – a waiver that would not hold her responsible for anything that resulted in not screening my happy little prostate mechanically, but she said that was “bad medicine.”

Common symptom of testicular cheap viagra without prescription cancer is a painless lump or swelling in the testicles. So, what is the solution? Getting rid of an erectile dysfunction is not an easy task, and no one should make it seem otherwise. cute-n-tiny.com levitra sale Men with ED are unable to achieve or maintain adequate amounts of blood cialis online http://cute-n-tiny.com/cute-animals/top-10-cutest-baby-tapir-pics/ in the penile tissues. Tiredness connected with depression viagra online consultation may outcome with impotence. She led me, continuing to bargain and bribe, to a small room with an examination bed, and was told to strip naked and get under a flimsy sheet.  Sensing the situation was becoming helpless, I complied.  She came back into the room when I was done undressing and started by listening to my lungs and heart.  Then came the order “lay down and face the wall,” accompanied by the cruel snap of a latex glove.

At this point, reader, I was viciously violated.  Her finger was amazingly strong, pushing me to and fro on the bed as she probed about with a force and vigor such as one might use to operate a jack while changing a tire.  I continued  to try to strike a deal to no avail.  Then she left, no doubt to celebrate her conquest with an office wide round of high fives or other secret sisterhood rituals, leaving me sore and bow-legged in a little puddle of lubricant.  This was not my finest moment.

What do you know?  After all that, it turns out my prostate is happy and healthy, not causing anybody any trouble, just like I told her.

 

Well, it’s tax season again.  Time to wonder where all that money goes.  Income tax on individuals only came into being as a ‘temporary’ measure to help finance WWI.  Prior to that, taxes on businesses kept the government running, usually with a surplus.  Of course, in those days there was no enormous bureaucracy built around the collection of taxes, so they could get by with less revenue.

I thought it would be a simple matter to pore over the data and find how much of our tax dollars are spent paying the wages, benefits and retirements of those who collect the taxes.  I could find the Canada Revenue Agency’s operating budget and number of employees, but – as an example – nothing concrete relating to heating and maintaining the stone edifices of Gatineau, Quebec and an office building in every major centre of the country.  If someone would like to crunch those numbers, have at ‘er.  The point is the CRA is a monster.  I found a report that says the CRA costs $4.2 billion a year, but the verbiage of the passage is so wrapped in bureaucratic mumbo jumbo and accountant phrases that, with my non specialized vocabulary, I can’t fully comprehend what we’re getting for our $4.2 billion.  Does that include wages, bonuses, benefits, retirements etc of all the employees?  Is that the hydro bill?  People like me can’t figure it out, and I’m pretty sure that’t the point.

I heard an idea that I think is worth repeating.  I would love to pretend it was my idea, but it wasn’t, and I came across it long ago enough that I don’t remember where I heard it.  If I ever find out (or remember) I’ll get right back here and credit the owner.  The idea is that the country could replace the CRA (the original idea was American, so the IRS) with a very small streamlined office handling taxation.  Every transaction would be taxed at say 20% without any income tax taken off your paycheque.  The tens of thousands of highly paid bureaucrats sucking at the tit of the old system would be weaned off to find other work; the hundreds of edifices could be sold off or made into affordable housing.  Suddenly criminals and churches would be paying tax too, and with so much more of our money left to spend, the economy would flourish.   The monster would die, and our hard earned tax money could efficiently get to the hands of the government.