For those of you NON-goat people, I wrote a line last night, that might not have made sense to you.  The following line needs clarification, “Which means that the oil is blacker than the head on a Starbuck offspring.”  It has been brought to my attention that some thought this was border-line racist.  While others wondered how I knew that the Starbuck’s coffee owners had black headed kids.  Here’s the deal.  Starbuck is a BLACK headed buck that was raised by Mike Kelly and sold to Jamie Smith.  Starbuck has raised a lot of good kids over the years and YES, a lot of them have black heads.  I apoligize to those of you that aren’t goat-oriented and therefore, not privvy to this info.  I understand that not everybody can be a KOOL KID and raise goats.  

     This afternoon, I was given the label, “Model of perfect health”.  What?  All I did was go get a physical so that I could keep my CDL license.  I filled out the paperwork, sat in the waiting room talking to Tim Dunkin, then pissed in a cup (no spills), got weighed, measured and then had to put on some flannel sleep pants and wait.  While waiting, I read a Sports Illustrated basketball edition.  I hadn’t looked at one of those in awhile.  Hhmm.  They didn’t have a magazine about watching paint dry.  

      They then tested my pulse rate and my oxygen.  I had both.  Then the old arm wrap blood pressure test with the stethoscope to hear better test.  Then, the scary part–the eye test.  “Sir, do you wear your glasses when you drive?”  RUSM?!  I would be a casualty of wreckless driving if I didn’t wear them while driving.  I rocked that eye test.  I felt like I had good vision in my right eye for the first time since ’88.  They probably ought to increase the distance of the eye chart.  

      Now, they needed my shirt off.  Wait here.  Then, finally, here they came.  Reflex test.  Look up the nose test followed by the look in each ear test.  They determined that I have a nose and can hear something behind me.  They didn’t actually determine if I can smell out of my ears or hear out of my nose.  But, yes, I have those senses.  Then a bunch of deep breaths while listening through the stethoscope.  One last test.  Yep, the cough while I feel test.  Except, it wasn’t the old, grab them and cough.  This deal wasn’t quite as invasive.  

       The doc got done, showed the chart to the nurse and commented, “This one is the model of perfect health”.  She agreed.  I couldn’t leave this statement alone.  I had to comment.  Then, I realized that doing DOT physicals brings in some physical specimens that aren’t so physical.  You know?  The stereo-typical pork rind eating, CB talking, get no exercise truck driving type.  Or worse, the can’t pass the piss test part of the physical tanker truck driver.  For clarification purposes, yeah, it’s kind of like a stock show.  I looked REAL GOOD compared to the competition.  Me, being the model of perfect health is kind of like winning class 1 wether goats.  As a judge, you hope they get better from here on out.  

      After I aced this test, I took my medical card to the DMV.  They stamped it.  Then, I noticed that I was next to a Braum’s.  So, I went and got a big waffle cone of twist frozen yogurt.  You know, because I’m a model of health.