Odds and Sods - post-frenectomy edition

Here at Dead Air, I try to keep my readers updated on the newest frontiers in hippie-aging. Today, we discuss frenectomy, specifically a labial frenectomy. (Nooooo, not THAT labia!)

First, imagine my heart-stopping reaction when I am referred to a periodontist (yes, as always, the consult-a-rama never ends!) with the same surname as a local politician whom I have, umm, written about in an unkind manner here at DEAD AIR! (((gulp))) A friendly question brings out that YES, they are RELATED (as everyone in the south is, of course). I can only hope this individual isn't fond of frequently Googling their relatives, or if so, maybe secretly hates their politician kinfolk as much as the rest of us do.

So...I go to see the periodontist for a graft of my receding gum and a frenectomy, which is the snipping-and-mending of that long, weblike piece of skin that attaches lip to gum; a useless fold of skin that we don't really need. Some evolutionary adaptation, maybe, like our appendix, no longer necessary. Now, it exists merely to attract stray hulls of popcorn, as well as pull on your gum and make your gum recede even faster than it normally would. This procedure is called a labial frenectomy. I also had two skin-grafts, over two teeth.

Simply put, this hurts like a mofo. But there are drugs to be had, and the days of my chemical purity in such matters are long gone. As Alan Arkin reminded us in LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE, when you're young it's crazy to do drugs; when you're old, it's crazy not to.

Now I look like I've been pummeled. And you know all that perky-ass Mouseketeer bullshit you heard as a kid? I now speak very specifically to baby-boomer-aged American females, bludgeoned daily with: SMILE! It takes MANY MORE MUSCLES TO FROWN! This line was usually delivered by some insufferable, strenuously earnest 4th grade teacher, fresh from the local Midwestern Teacher College. The immediate capitalist goal was the continuous baby-boomer Gidgetizing of the masses of American womanhood during the halcyon 60s--ambiguous or thoughtful facial expressions were banned by the cultural authorities as signs of female independence. "Frowning" also referred to various versions of not-smiling, such as smirking, scowling, or sneering. Looking perplexed or furrowing one's brow in thought, were pretty risky also. Related other facial expressions that might imply girls were thinking for themselves, needless to say, were NOT permissible. We were constantly exhorted to SMILE, SMILE, SMILE.

Well, lo and behold--it turns out that...YES! It IS easier to smile. My preliminary research shows that reading blogs, post-periodontal surgery, has brought on involuntary painful smirking, scowling and the especially post-surgically-stinging sneer. (Aiyeeee)

I am suddenly aware of just how much smirking and sneering I actually DO in a day.

What would I do without the net, to teach me these important things?

~*~

Renegade Evolution reports that various anti-porn websites using porn performers' images without their consent, are just as much in violation of the law as any actual porn site that does the same thing:

The Stop Porn Culture Slide Show Training Program includes a script, tips for conducting the session; it also includes the power Point Visual presentation, which contains pornographic material. They are saying that this slide show falls under the preview of Fair Use.

However, as it can now be watched, downloaded, viewed, reproduced, and yes, even sold, the creators of Stop Porn Culture, or anyone and everyone else who wishes to showcase, distribute, or otherwise use the material in the slide show is in violation of Federal Law 2257.

Never mind that not a one of the performers featured in this “educational tool” were asked their opinions, or for their consent, nor were the companies that originally produced the images…but now see, there are questions of a Federal Law which applies to Pornographers, and as these people have essentially made themselves such, the law also applies to them. Any person exhibiting pornography, even if it is free, is beholden to 2257, this includes SPC, and those who run this seminar. You will note, at the end of the presentation, there is a claim of copyright over images already subject to copyright, and used without permission.

Another one of those interesting paradoxes that never occurred to me; rather as the film Tongues Untied was later used in anti-gay videos made by the Christian right (and I saw one of those; this isn't academic). Some of these clips were pretty explicit, too... it is interesting how far the "anti" people go in utilizing so-called obscene material to make their points. I can't help but wonder how much of this is to draw the audience in, to guarantee them some sexual excitement and appeal to their own repressed, unacknowledged prurience.

~*~

Some brave souls on the left and right are finally daring to take on the seemingly-sacrosanct matter of John McCain's war record. Politico reports:

Critics have accused McCain of war crimes for bombing targets in Hanoi in the 1960s. A widely read liberal blog on Sunday accused McCain of "disloyalty" during his captivity in Vietnam for his coerced participation in propaganda films and interviews after he had been tortured.

"A lot of people don't know ... that McCain made a propaganda video for the enemy while he was in captivity," wrote Americablog.com's John Aravosis. "Putting that bit of disloyalty aside, what exactly is McCain's military experience that prepares him for being commander in chief?"

"Getting shot down, tortured and then doing propaganda for the enemy is not command experience," Aravosis wrote in the blog post, titled "Honestly, besides being tortured, what did McCain do to excel in the military?"

Wow! And predictably, it's ON. (226 comments so far! Check it out.)

~*~

Blogdonia's most recent feminist trainwreck concerns the CARNIVAL OF FEMINISTS (#59), which included an extremely transphobic blog post purporting to "deconstruct" transgenderism. The article was eventually removed, but the resulting conflagration (113 comments) continues.

Again, I feel it necessary to apologize to transpeople for the actions of these bigoted radical feminists, as I apologize to people bullied by Christians, by southerners, by white people, by Americans...I can only say I am sorry, folks.

They do not speak for me.

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Listening to: Grateful Dead - Estimated Prophet
via FoxyTunes

How to survive your root canal

Looking up ENDODONTICS brings up some horrifying reading, and just look at those DRAWINGS! (screams)

~*~


The first thing you notice when entering any specialist's office: how nice everything is. My god, the money. It radiates. My fashionable endodontist (herein known as FE) has beautiful framed jazz posters in his office, what looked to be a Keith Haring coat rack (I didn't have time to inspect it carefully), and in the ladies' loo, beveled mirrors and a solid glass washbasin. The tiles are lovely, and look like marble or stone. I helped pay for all this, I thought.

Baby boomers' bad teeth--all that Dairy Queen crap, Hostess twinkies and Coca-cola, has paid for this pricey office.

I always demand gas forthwith, shocking most dental assistants with my fortitude (pump that UP, girls! MORE!) and astounding ability to withstand copious amounts of nitrous oxide. I assume there is a notation in my file (which I am told is one of the largest in the practice--ta dum!) that specifies "She likes a lot of gas!" or something like that.

FE has weird space-age, scientific tools that he employs, one of which looks like he is in a space capsule, wearing little goggles and looking through a microscope that sits right on top of your face. Meet George Jetson! I always bring some music along, and during this particular sequence I was listening to the Delfonics' "Didn't I blow your mind this time?" ...which, along with the gas, made it somewhat otherworldly and fun, for about 10 seconds or so. It hurt like a mofo, but I really couldn't differentiate the pain of the root canal itself, from the pain I have been experiencing for the past week--all sensation tends to run together into a steady stream of pain, worthy of MARATHON MAN. (Is it safe?)

Left: Fancy George Jetson space-age endodontics microscope.

The noise is positively harrowing, reminiscent of chain-saws and coffee-grinders; then you smell something burning and ... Clorox? Just close your eyes, and concentrate on the Delfonics. (Daisy's advice: nitrous and music, can usually get you through it. No strange or odd music; something familiar.) The filing of the root is where you start to feel, well, nauseated. WHAT is he doing? Oh my GOD.

Apparently, my infection had something to do with the bone (the WHAT? the BONE? Oh, holy Jesus, Mary, Joseph) and might get worse before it gets better. It could become re-infected, since the bacteria in the bone doesn't get oxygen and can multiply quickly, or somesuch thing. As FE patiently explained, I felt dazed. (Bone? Did he say BONE?) I kept thinking about how I'd like to just pull it out, but I couldn't say this to color-coordinated FE with his designer scrubs and shoes. He'd wrinkle his nose at me and make me feel low class. He'd be right, too!

~*~

This round, at least, is over.

Can anyone guess the price? The winner gets a free Daisy's Dead Air Bloglines subscription! HAHAHA!

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Listening to: Yo La Tengo - Moby Octopad
via FoxyTunes

Dead Air Church: Ain't Life Grand?

Left: Clara Zetkin, founder of International Women's Day. Photo from Marxists. org.

Yesterday was International Women's Day, and I had intended to write this wonderful, bang-up socialist women's herstory piece about the founder of IWD, Clara Zetkin. Alas, I spent most of the day clutching my jaw in abject misery, and did not get to it. Here is a biographical account of Zetkin, by Roy Rydell, reprinted from the March 7, 1998, issue of the People's Weekly World. It's the best I am able to do right now, and I'm sorry, dearest Clara!

I have a do-over root canal scheduled for Wednesday, but for now, need to reduce the infection in my tooth-root before they "open it up" (doncha love those terms they use?). I'm on antibiotics and Tramadol. As stated previously, I feel like I've had my jaw broken--and consequently, not thinking real clearly this weekend. I wasn't able to finish my work shift last evening, and I can't even remember the last time that happened.

And so, I was thinking "Ain't Life Grand?" sarcastically, and then thought, hey, where is the song, anyway?


Ask and ye shall receive! I found this lovely video. Thanks to Khat Baker for this montage of photos set to Widespread Panic's Ain't Life Grand (1994).

Have a great sabbath, and don't forget to floss.

~*~

Ain't Life Grand - Widespread Panic

[via FoxyTunes / Widespread Panic]

The dentists all love me

Yes, the dentists, as well as their compatriots, the endodontists and the oral surgeons, all rub their hands with glee. Dollar signs light up the eyes. They clear their schedules, they work through lunch, they eagerly make follow-up appointments and call each other on the phone, consultating madly together, hemming and hawing in harmony and looking at my (very expensive) X-rays. Hmmmmm, they agree: It doesn't look good.

Not surprising. It never has.

Only two generations ago, people had all of their contrary, infected teeth pulled out--just pull them all out, said my grandmother. I used to wonder how anyone could agree to such a thing, but no longer. I totally get it. JUST PULL THEM OUT has occurred to me any number of times, but the suburban dentists I go to look shocked if you say this, and this is now apparently the equivalent of Dental Blasphemy. It's BAD for your jaw and your bite and all the rest of it. The problems just get worse. You are supposed to have teeth, after all.

I read about Chairman Mao, who had horrific, chronically infected, pus-filled teeth and endured awful pain, and I am inclined to forgive a lot. The poor man was under terrible stress.

Since this past weekend, I have throbbing pain in a tooth that already has a root-canal* and crown--never a good sign. Abscess? The tooth is, God help me, moving around a bit in my jaw (grandmother's voice: Just pull it out!) and there is what appears to be a "cloud" (what?) on the X-ray. The root is possibly infected, and the consult-a-rama has begun.

So, there they are, my dentist and and my fashionable endodontist, who wears designer scrubs to work. (At his prices, I'm surprised we don't get piped-in pharmaceutical heroin and live jams from Eric Clapton himself.) Yes, yes, they sing in well-known dental-harmony, it doesn't look good.

Follow-up appointment on Friday morning, which will make me late for work, then late for home, and a veritable chain reaction of lateness will ensue--all of which will make me significantly crabbier since I am in PAIN. Well, I thought, I possibly can at least lose weight since I can't chew anything... but no, I decided the one thing I can eat is ICE CREAM, and by God, I stopped to do some consulting of my own with Ben and Jerry on my way home.

I hope Chairman Mao at least had some ice cream to make him feel better, too.

*I've had 13 root canals in all, and I'm not sure how many crowns, since several have been replaced already.

Odds and Sods...from an official non-loser!

Yes, that's right! I'm no loser! I have proof!

I would counsel that the test is somewhat culturally biased, with obvious extra points going to tattoos and piercings.

I am introducing a new feature here at Dead Air HQ, titled ODDS AND SODS. If I had that Twitter thing happening, I might try that, but I'm afraid it will be too complicated for my tiny brain. I mean, I could barely figure out Foxytunes!

~*~

For those of you who emailed me, concerning my soap opera with the preacher: let me assure you all, he did not see me enter the Gay Movie. They cordoned off the fundie protesters across the street, and unless they had binoculars (and I wouldn't totally discount the possibility!), they couldn't see who was going in. They did, however, preach very loudly and hyperventilated on cue for onlookers and video cameras.

The movie, titled FOR THE BIBLE TELLS ME SO, was pretty basic, reminding everyone that gay people are often devout Christians too. I'd actually go one better, cribbing from my Imaginary Boyfriend, Rev. Michael Eric Dyson, who says the churches would fall apart without gay people: "Who's gonna run the choir and the Sunday School?" Indeed, WHO? All those deacons, all those priests, all those choir directors, all those nuns? ARE YOU SERIOUS? Well, I suppose this is news to some people, but certainly not me.

The main thing was the emotional reactions of the audience, the tears, the laughs of recognition.

It's an important movie that should be shown throughout the Bible belt. And everywhere else, too.

~*~

New to my blogroll:

AntiBarbie.Net writes short stories about cool stuff like women killing their ex-husbands (any ex-husbands reading this: you should NOT take this personally :P). At first, I thought ANTI-BARBIE meant "against Barbie dolls"--and then I realized she meant it like ANTI-CHRIST... she is The Anti-Barbie. Some atheists are so witty, you just gotta love it!

Charlottesville Prejudice Watch is a really great blog, deconstructing prejudice in all its sneaky little forms. Good politics and great reading!

And... speaking of deconstruction, we have the new Questioning Transphobia, a pointed reply to the really unpleasant website (which doesn't rate a link) "Questioning Transgender." I've never liked the snooty tone (we're girls and you aren't! nyah nyah!) of the aforementioned site, as well as the manner in which they totally ignore the reality of transmen (which of course, doesn't quite fit into their "colonization of women's space" theories).

Unfortunately, there have been few FEMINIST replies to these arguments, and the redoubtable Lisa at Questioning Transphobia jumps in with aplomb, making mincemeat of the usual Janice Raymondesque nonsense, which a lot of us grew up hearing and believing.

As penance for my one-time UNquestioning belief of several of these ideas, I am hereby linking Lisa and pledge to participate to the best of my ability and SIN NO MORE!


And... speaking of sinning no more, check out Roman Catholic Womenpriests!

I once had a root canal done* by a "substitute" dentist--a woman--since my usual dentist was on extended holiday. In so doing, I realized I'd never been to a female dentist before. And my oh my, wasn't she just so much gentler than my regular dentist... particularly as she began filing down the root of my tooth, the truly harrowing part of a root canal--even with copious amounts of nitrous oxide, which I demand forthwith, even before my novacaine shot. (I am paying for this, now, dammit, gimme my gas!) I remember thinking a woman dentist might make it better, and why can't we have more of them?

Same with priests! Wouldn't confession be so much nicer if you could say "Forgive me MOTHER, for I have sinned"? Would it be a bit MILDER, like that filing-down I just mentioned? Well, it would for me.

Did I just compare confession to root canal? Oh, hell yes.

*I've had 13 root canals in all.

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Listening to: Grateful Dead - Ramble on Rose
via FoxyTunes