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#1
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Wayne Green will be the Special Guest LIVE
on tonight's Coast to Coast AM with George Noorey. Info: www.coasttocoastam.com Affiliate AM station listing: http://www.coasttocoastam.com/info/wheretolisten.html |
#2
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XM Satellite Schedule
XM Satellite Radio Ask Channel XM 165 10p-6a PST 1a-9a EST On Wed, 26 Nov 2003 19:58:03 -0500, "Radio Free Ungatz" wrote: Wayne Green will be the Special Guest LIVE on tonight's Coast to Coast AM with George Noorey. Info: www.coasttocoastam.com Affiliate AM station listing: http://www.coasttocoastam.com/info/wheretolisten.html |
#3
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Thanks for posting. Wayne's kind of a nut but he is entertaining.
"Radio Free Ungatz" wrote in message ... Wayne Green will be the Special Guest LIVE on tonight's Coast to Coast AM with George Noorey. Info: www.coasttocoastam.com Affiliate AM station listing: http://www.coasttocoastam.com/info/wheretolisten.html |
#4
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"Radio Free Ungatz" wrote in message
... Wayne Green will be the Special Guest LIVE on tonight's Coast to Coast AM with George Noorey. Mr. Ungatz, Who's Wayne Green and what's a George Noorey? |
#5
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"Radio Free Ungatz" wrote in message
... Wayne Green will be the Special Guest LIVE on tonight's Coast to Coast AM with George Noorey. Info: www.coasttocoastam.com Affiliate AM station listing: http://www.coasttocoastam.com/info/wheretolisten.html Oh goodie. Old Wayne will get a chance to run circles around George, while explaining the mysteries of longevity, entrepreneurship and instructions on how to make an oscillator using a lemon and violin wire. Is Richard C. dropping by for a cup of tea? - pack |
#6
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![]() "George Kansan Noory Klum" wrote in message . com... "Radio Free Ungatz" wrote in message ... Wayne Green will be the Special Guest LIVE on tonight's Coast to Coast AM with George Noorey. Mr. Ungatz, Who's Wayne Green and what's a George Noorey? "Wayne Green" is what you do when you have to go to the ER at 9 PM and wait in line 2 hours in a chair to be seen by Dr. WhatsaMatter Fo Uinstien.... "George Noorey" is the nic for George the X-Ray Tech who blasts you with the rads from the Crooke's Tube at 120Kv from behind a lead screen. (..rey-ray...get it?) (Being a paid EMT myself I can appreciate the story that follows, lifted from my other favorite Ng of alt .tasteless Medical humor is always entertaining. Enjoy the read while waiting 4 tonight's show. Wayne G zbtw is a rather amusing...if not eccentric guest. A good listen as I get to run night duty crew as I type this evening) -------------- Nomination: AT Real Life - "Screaming Nutsack Agony" by Coinneach Fitzpatrick Firstly, I must apologize for one thing. I did not receive the original post by Coinneach Fitzpatrick on my news server, and Google did not archive it. I did however save the post made by a nameless retard who whose to quote the entire article and add one line of (stupid) text at the end. That has been edited out. It's the only way I would have seen the article at all. Posted by Coinneach Fitzpatrick Saturday, October 25 Message-ID: Date: Sat, 25 Oct 2003 05:56:34 GMT Lines: 183 From: "retard" Newsgroups: alt.tasteless Subject: Screaming nutsack agony - long and pointless wrote in message ... For the edification of all, a description of my recent experience with epididymitis. First, the background. I was working at an indescribably horrible, stressful job, made worse by the fact that boss gave not one steaming ****e about the customers. Or his employees' health, as it turned out. The choad came in to work with some contagious disease, despite the fact that he's (1) salaried and (b) insured, whereas the rest of us were neither. Of course, stress weakens one's immune response, and I'd been more stressed than ever before due to the ****ty pay, hours, and working conditions. So, when I started ****ing laser beams 2 days later, I wasn't exactly surprised. Unable to afford a doc, I took refuge in cranberry juice. It helped, briefly, but the infection recurred. And recurred again. And again. And again. Then it got ambitious. In the meantime, I had quit my job. Early in the morning of 6 October, I woke up in a cold sweat, with the feeling that things were not as they should be down in my dangly bits. I gently prodded about, and encountered my left testicle, which instantly and savagely attacked my central nervous system. 15 minutes later, I managed to uncurl from the defensive fetal posture enough to turn on the bedside lamp. The swimmer factory had ballooned to 4 times its normal size (that is, twice as long, twice as thick), and was rock hard. Now, about the pain: imagine having your sack ripped open with a carrot peeler, stuffed to the bursting point with white-hot coals, stapled back together, then thwacked with a sledgehammer. Feel free to shudder and cringe as you see fit. Or jerk off in ecstacy. Whichever. The next 5 days are still sort of blurry. All I can really remember is endless repetitions of cranberry juice, hot baths, and ice packs, with occasional crawls to the toilet for more frickin' laser beams shooting out of my frickin' penis, along with shreds of matter about which I don't want to ponder too deeply. Finally, the morning of the 11th, things came to a head (PDI). Stagger to the bathroom with a painfully full bladder, gingerly drop my briefs, aim, and... *squirt* Not good. I don't have a car, just a motorcycle. The very thought of climbing on the beast made me all twitchy and sweaty; ****, I couldn't even walk without grinding my teeth. So, it came down to a choice between going out back with the shotgun, or calling the medics. Not trusting my aim, and having other obligations, I made the call. 10 minutes later, the first crew arrived. I had managed to put on a pair of swim trunks and a t-shirt, and flip-flops. Add to this the fact that I hadn't shaved in nearly a week. Must've been an amusing sight. The medics wired me up, stuck an IV in me (my first ever, weeee!), and asked exactly what was going on. When I described the symptoms, the chief shook his head and said, "Man, you don't want to wait on something like that. You gotta look after the boys!" We talked about the possibility of torsion, and decided that I needed to go to hospital RFN. (right f-n now) Side note: ambulances do not have cushy, comfy rides. I felt every crack in the pavement. The EMTs, to their credit, did a good job once we got to the Halls Of Screaming Torment, getting me up to 1st on triage. "It's a guy thing," they told the triage nurse. Of course we had arrived right at shift change, so things slowed down quite a bit. I went through the paperwork bull****e, embarassedly explaining that I was flat broke and had no insurance "Don't worry about that," they said. Ha. Whilst waiting to be poked and prodded, I wondered about the large proportion of old creepers hanging about. I overheard the resident discussing one's stroke symptoms, a few chest pains, and a few diff breathers. And I wondered... why ****ing bother, when they'll be dead within a year anyway? Eventually, someone came to me with a cup and pointed me to the bathroom. Sweet relief at last, I offloaded about a gallon of dark brownish-orange urine. When I handed the cup to the tech, he did a classic double-take and said, "Thanks, Mr Fitzpatrick, go have a seat and we'll get some water to you." That was the best water I've ever tasted. Being on the edge of collapse due to dehydration may have had something to do with it. Some hazy time later, a spectacularly hot transport chick came up and wheeled me back to a bed. Of course, the first really fine woman I've seen in this festering ****e-hole of a state (Arizona), and I'm looking like a Skid Row reject... Then the doc came by, introduced himself, apologized for the delay, and asked for a quick visual. I showed, he blinked and nodded, and said he'd be right back. Then the nurz strolled in and asked how the pain rated. I said "If 1 is a mosquito bite, and 10 is grabbing a butcher knife to cut the damn thing off, we're at about 8." She said she'd get me a painkiller and anti-nausea med. ObDefinitelyNotT: Dilaudid. Without a doubt, that is the best high I've ever had. It wasn't a numb or detached feeling at all, which I thought was strange, as it's a form of morphine. As the wondrous elixir flowed up my arm and out from my chest, it was like every bit of my body suddenly woke up, stretched, and said good morning. Then the wave hit the affected area, and the pain just... went away. It felt like a warm bath of anaesthetic oil over all the nerve endings. Pure bliss. I asked the nurz if I could get a siz-pack of that to go. She laughed and comfirmed my opinion. Good ****. Then came the anti-nausea stuff. Very thoughtful, as one of the side effects of testicular pain is nausea. Then the doc came back, and said he wanted an ultrasound. I've seen that done, and it looked very pressure-ific. I must have turned pale, for he said they'd give me another dose of Dilaudid if I needed it afterward. I needed it afterward. The ultrasound tech was a good guy, very understanding and patient, but there's only so much he can do without pressing. Damn him, he kept cracking jokes, which made me laugh, which made me hurt... oh well. The blood flow was fine, so no torsion. At that point, I was actually hoping the blasted thing was dead, so they would just take it out and let me recover. No such luck. More Dilaudid, a diagnosis of acute (no ****) epididymitis, and 2 prescriptions later, I was on my feet, 4 miles from home, with no money, and no one to call for a pickup. Did I mention the flip-flops? That's how I got home. If not for the drugs, I never would have made it. So. 2 hours later, I staggered back into my house, grabbed the checkbook, put on my sneakers, and staggered over to CVS, which by some minor miracle is right next door. Picked up my prescriptions for Levaquin and Vicodin, got home and put my entire Monty Python's Flying Circus DVD set up on eBay to cover the check, and sacked out. The Vicodin didn't do ****e for the pain, BTW. I'd used it before, to good effect, but not this time. 1 week later, the infection was gone, but the swelling remains to this day. It's gone down some, but riding the motosickle is still uncomfortable. Advil takes care of that. According to everything I've read, it could be *months* before it's back to normal. I oughta take a pic and put it up on abpt. Let this tale be a warning to ye gents: when something's amiss Down There, FIX IT. Or suffer untold agony and embarrassment, if that's your thing. Cheers, Coinneach Fitzpatrick ---------------------------------- ObT: I've been eating nothing but vindaloo curries lately, and consequently ****ting napalm and farting mustard gas. My ass feels like a White Sands test range, complete with little pools of glass and chattering Geiger counters. With a lifetime to harden themselves against this sort of pain, I'm surprised that the Indians haven't killed us all. Once you get used to squirting live thermite out your bunghole, I can't imagine that facing bullets is particularly daunting. Cheers, Matt "If you cook cranberries like applesauce they taste more like prunes than rhubarb does." -- Groucho Marx |
#7
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Wayne Green is the founder of "73"magazine. George Noorey is the host of
"Coast to Coast AM". "George Kansan Noory Klum" wrote in message . com... "Radio Free Ungatz" wrote in message ... Wayne Green will be the Special Guest LIVE on tonight's Coast to Coast AM with George Noorey. Mr. Ungatz, Who's Wayne Green and what's a George Noorey? |
#8
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"CW" wrote in message
news:agexb.314794$HS4.2790088@attbi_s01... Wayne Green is the founder of "73"magazine. George Noorey is the host of "Coast to Coast AM". "George Kansan Noory Klum" wrote in message . com... "Radio Free Ungatz" wrote in message ... Wayne Green will be the Special Guest LIVE on tonight's Coast to Coast AM with George Noorey. Mr. Ungatz, Who's Wayne Green and what's a George Noorey? Welcome to afa-b know-nothing party. Have a seat and the Commentator will be with you shortly. - pack |
#9
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Wouldn't it be great if JUST ONCE he would just stop and say, "What a load
of crap!" I doubt we'll ever hear it, though. I think Noory must be worried that if he challenges anyone that he will have a difficult time booking guests for the show. After all, like you say -- he is no Art Bell. -- Stinger "Moonman" wrote in message t... Wayne Green is a guy who, when you listen to him, it's like the mental equivalent of dental work without anesthesia. He is an old fart who made a lot of money and therefore believes, without the slightest hesitation or the most occasional moment of humility, that he is qualified to spout all of his nutcase theories--theories of the sort which the poorer of us have to keep to ourselves--on coast-to-coast radio. George Noorey is the pale shadow of, and successor to, Art Bell who will, like Art, sit and listen to absolutely any kind of psuedo- semi- or anti-scientific drivel with unwavering cheery credulity for four hours each night. As an earlier poster implied, Georgie was made to sit at the feet of such as Wayne. They make a perfect pair. -- Moonman |
#10
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breakfast club #7 wrote:
Only people who are worse than them are the model train scow crowd who are just as bad and also in a class all their own. And maybe a few others as well, such as the this poster. |
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