Technology marches on

A friend recently suggested I try Cleverbot. She figured that since my life has reached a point where I routinely talk to Siri, I might as well converse with other computers (and to think I started out chatting up Eliza on a TRS-80). After all, Cleverbot even has a picture of a brain on the site, endearing it to my profession.

I'm well aware that querying these things is like using a Magic 8-Ball. But, while seeing a patient yesterday, I decided to ask it a question for the hell of it.

Thanks, Cleverbot. That was very helpful. And no, I don't.

Mary's desk

Wild-eyed lady runs in, stands at counter, loudly bangs pen on sign-in clipboard.

Mary: "Can I help you?"

Mrs. Wild: "MY SCAN WAS ABNORMAL!"

Mary: "Okay, what is your..."

Mrs. Wild: "HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME IT WAS ABNORMAL? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?"

Mary: "I'm sorry, let me look into this. If I could have your name..."

Mrs. Wild: "THIS IS INSANE! HOW CAN YOU SIT THERE SO CALMLY WHEN MY SCAN IS ABNORMAL?"

Mary: "I..."

Mrs. Wild: "DON'T JUST STARE AT ME! DO SOMETHING! MY SCAN IS ABNORMAL! I DEMAND TO SEE DR. CARDIO IMMEDIATELY!!!"

Mary: "Dr. Cardio is upstairs, in suite #805."

Mrs. Wild: "SHIT!"

(runs out, slams door)

May 18, 1980

I'd like to offer a remembrance for David A. Johnston (1949-1980, age 30). He died 33 years ago today in the service of his country and humanity. His body has never been found.

He believed scientists sometimes had to take serious risks if the knowledge gained would save the lives of others.

David Johnston, roughly 12 hours before his death.

Artisanal, or whatever

In case you live under a rock, the BEST news story of the week didn't involve murder (unless you consider a reputation), terrorist attacks (unless you consider an undercooked pizza as such), or hurricanes (except for one named Amy).

It involved the bizarre online meltdown of a restaurant in Scottsdale, Arizona called Amy's Baking Company. This place was featured on Gordon Ramsay's cooking show, and became the first place he was ever entirely unable to help, and actually walked out on. If that was the whole story it would be forgotten by now.

What made it much better than anything else, though, were the antics of the place's owners as we watched them steal tips, abuse costumers (and not in a semi-lovable Edsel Ford Fong sort of way, either), and pass off pasta from a grocery store as homemade. If you haven't seen it, be sure to watch it on Kitchen Nightmares. You won't be disappointed.

But what made it a moment for the ages was their bizarre online complete meltdown (well chronicled elsewhere) with them throwing obscenities, claiming the high ground of a deity supporting them, and using ALL CAPS randomly. Then they claimed a hacker had done it all, and not them (although they've done similar things before).

Now, I know nothing about restaurants, beyond which ones have banned my kids from ever coming back. But I have made misuse of the word "artisan" and its derivatives a sort of crusade.

So, looking at their site I noticed the inevitable word "artisan" on it (oddly capitalized, along with "Gourmet" and "Pizzas").

In the same paragraph it noted they serve "house made Artesian Pastas."

Look: "artesian" means an aquifer or spring in the ground, which provides water. It has nothing to do with "artisan." Water can never be artisanal, but it is often artesian. Capisce?

So, Amy, unless you've found some sort of natural spring that produces a steady stream of pasta (sort of like the famous spaghetti farms), I want to make these points:

1. Unless it came flowing out of the ground, it's NOT artesian.

2. If you made it yourself, by hand, you can call it artisanal.

3 If you bought it from the grocery store and are reselling it as your own, it's not "house made," "artisanal," or "artesian."

4. You should also use a comma. To the best of my knowledge there is no such thing as "Artesian Pastas fine wines."


Thank you, Webhill!

Front counter

So.

A guy shows up at 9:30 with a lady. She signs in on Pissy's sheet, and they sit down next to each other. After a few minutes Pissy's staff takes her back, and he sits out there reading a magazine.

In the meantime, Mary and I are waiting for my new patient at 10:00. At 10:15 we called it a no-show, and at 10:30 my 11:00 patient wandered in early. So I took her back and started the appointment.

At 10:40 the lady who was seeing Pissy leaves - by herself - and the guy who came in with her wanders up to the counter.

Mary: "Can I help you sir?"

Mr. Magazine: "Yeah, when will Dr. Grumpy be seeing me?"

Mary: "What time was your appointment?"

Mr. Magazine: "10:00."

Mary: "Sir, you didn't sign in... We didn't know you were here."

Mr. Magazine: "I would have said something sooner, but there was a good magazine article."

Mary: "I thought you were with that lady you came in with... I'll have the doctor squeeze you in over his lunch break..."

Mr. Magazine: "I'd just met her, in the hall outside your office. I wonder why she didn't sign in for me?"

Tuesday morning, 2:17 a.m.

Dr. Grumpy: "This is Dr. Grumpy, returning a page."

Mrs. Batter: "Oh, Dr. Grumpy, I'm glad you're still up."

Dr. Grumpy: "I'm not. What can I do for you?"

Mrs. Batter: "I feel so terrible."

Dr. Grumpy: "What's wrong?"

Mrs. Batter: "I'm just torn up about your talk."

Dr. Grumpy: "The talk I gave last night at the hospital? Why, what did I say?"

Mrs. Batter: "It's not you doctor. I just... I, I, I wasn't there!" (starts crying)

Dr. Grumpy: "Okay... And you called me because...?"

Mrs. Batter: "I feel awful. My husband and I were planning on coming to it, but then he got tickets to last night's baseball game from his friend Ed, so we went to that instead. You remember Ed? I think he sees you for his foot problem. And now I can't sleep because I feel so awful about not going to your talk, because I knew you'd be offended that I wasn't there."

Dr. Grumpy: "It's okay Mrs. Batter. I'm not offended. The local Stroke Association chapter had announced the talk, so there was a decent turn-out."

Mrs. Batter: "You didn't even notice I wasn't there, did you?" (starts crying louder, hangs up).

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Dr. Grumpy: "Is the new sleeping medication helping?"

Mr. Stats: "Absolutely!" (whips out iPad) "As you can see from this graph, I"m sleeping 22.8% more than I was before trying Dozaway, and here... (swipe) it shows how I'm falling asleep 17.3% percent faster, and on this next screen... (swipe)"

Is this the Turing Test?

Snowball recently got some shots and had a tooth pulled, so spent a few hours at the veterinarian. That evening I noticed they had our phone number wrong on the bill, so called the next morning to correct it.


Phone Girl: "Local Animal Hospital, I..."

Dr. Grumpy: "Hi, this is Ibee Grumpy, and..."

Phone Girl: "I'd like to wish you a very happy National Hug-Your-Cat-Day this month!"

Dr. Grumpy: "Okay, I picked up Snowball yesterday, and realized you have our contact info wrong."

Phone Girl: "Did you know National Hug-Your-Cat-Day is this month? Cats do so many wonderful things for us, that it's important to take care of their heath, too!"

Dr. Grumpy: "I don't have a cat. I'm just calling about an error..."

Phone Girl: "Well, now would be the perfect time to consider getting one! We have 3 cats looking for loving homes here, and several animal shelters we're working with for National Hug-Your-Cat-Day are running offers to help you enjoy them!"

Dr. Grumpy: "Look, I don't want a cat. I just need to give you our correct phone number."

Phone Girl: "Cats are wonderful companions! I'm sure if you came over and met some of the adorable ones available for National Hug-Your-Cat-Day you would..."

Dr. Grumpy: "What time do you work to?"

Phone Girl: "I'm here until noon, but National Hug..."

Dr. Grumpy: "I'll just call back later."

Space Oddity

Commander Chris Hadfield, the Canadian astronaut departing the ISS, posted this awesome cover today of the classic David Bowie song. Filmed, of course, on site.

Sunday reruns

Mrs. Hyve: "I'm allergic to all medications. I'm even allergic to Benadryl."

Dr. Grumpy: "What happens?"

Mrs. Hyve: "All medications give me a rash, so to safely take any pill, I have to take another pill first, to prevent the rash from happening."

Dr. Grumpy: "What do you take to keep the rash from occurring?"

Mrs. Hyve: "Benadryl."

Green bananas

Mr. Hills: "I need a refill on my Fukitol while I'm here."

Dr. Grumpy: "Sure..." (Grabs script pad, starts writing) "Hey, do you need this written for a 30 or 90 day supply?"

Mr. Hills: "Just 30 days. For crap's sake, doc, I'm 91 years old."

And you couldn't use your 1 phone call?

Mary: "Dr. Grumpy's office, this is Mary."

Mr. Bar: "Yeah, this is Don Bar. I'm a new patient, and I need to reschedule my appointment from last month."

Mary: "Okay... It looks like you had an appointment last month, that you no-showed."

Mr. Bar:  "That's why I need to reschedule it."

Mary: "I'm sorry, but we have a strict policy for new patients who no-show and don't call at the time. You can't be rescheduled, and will have to ask your doctor to refer you to another neurologist."

Mr. Bar: "I was in jail, and just got out."

"Why can't you be more like that Khatri boy? He makes a nice living."

Every medical study has a "financial disclosure statement" in it, listing all the people who did the research, how much they were paid for doing it, and who financed it.

So, while glancing through an article this weekend, I noticed the usual disclaimer paragraph at the end. This caught my eye:

Personally, if I were Dr. Hartung or Montalban, I'd be pretty insulted. Worse, I'd be embarrassed that my friends (and my mother!) saw how much better everyone else was doing.

Why fathers go bald

Craig: "Dad, we need your help."

Dr. Grumpy: "What's up?"

Marie: "I lost my school ID today."

Dr. Grumpy: "Where did you lose it?"

Marie: "While we were walking home."

Dr. Grumpy: "Any idea where? It's a 2 mile walk."

Craig: "Along the road, somewhere between here and school."

Dr. Grumpy: (sighs) "Thanks, Craig."


(loads up car, drives SLOWLY to school and back, with kids peering out the windows and other drivers honking and giving me the bird for blocking traffic, while I randomly slam on the brakes any time a kid sees a leaf, or crushed paper cup, or piece of dog shit that vaguely resembles a school ID and screams "THERE IT IS!!!")

I finally gave up and drove back home.


Dr. Grumpy: "Marie, it doesn't appear to be out there anywhere."

Marie: "It has to be! It was while we were walking home today that I noticed it was missing!"

Dr. Grumpy: "When was the last time you remember seeing it?"

Marie: "Last Wednesday, during the field trip to City Park."