I'm over it. I felt imperfect for a while, a gall-bladder amputee, an organ gimp. But I realize that the GB was keeping me from being absolutely, totally physically perfect, so it had to go.
But I do wonder if people with very healthy gall bladders might not be doing something or other better than I am.
Anyway, the kind of shape-shifting of which I am accused has no relationship with surgery. I am not the Michael Jackson of posters.
My shape-shifting is somebody else's way of not facing that his act may be playing poorly in Peoria.
"I Wish I Was In Peoria"
S.O.S! S.O.S!
Captain, we are lost!
Our ship is floundering in the sea,
By wind and rain we're tossed!
Lifeboats here, lifeboats there!
Hear the shrieks and moans!
The captain cried, "All hands on deck!"
And said in trembling tones,
Oh, how I wish I was in Peoria.
Peoria, tonight
Oh, how I miss the girls of Peoria
Peoria, tonight
Why you can pick a morning gloria
Right off the sidewalks of Peoria!
Oh, how I wish I was in Peoria!
Peoria, tonight!