Liver Patient Rejects Donor Organ as "Unsatisfactory"

wo hours after being promised a liver from a recently-deceased organ donor, terminal liver patient Marcy Quelode refused to accept the liver, declaring that it did not meet her standards.

"I don't think it's out of line to say this liver is unsatisfactory," Quelode told her doctors and EMTs who had brought the liver in an emergency helicopter from Illinois.

"See?" Quelode said, pointing out thin, veiny fissures in the organ as they presented it to her, per her request. "Not a top of the line model, to say the least. It's not bite marks or anything, but as far as I'm concerned it's not far from it. I'll pass."

Quelode's doctors assured the woman the surface scarring or blemishes were just cosmetic defects, but Quelode said if they didn't bother the doctors then they could have it, but she wanted a better one.

"I know you're trying to save my life, and I appreciate it and all," the ill patient told transplant surgeons, "but if I let you talk me into it right now, I'm just going to wake up and regret it tomorrow. I've been through this before—well, not this. I was never happy with my breast augmentation surgery, though."

Earlier this year Quelode was diagnosed with Primary Biliary Cirrhosis, some kind of liver disease. Without a liver transplant, it is highly probable the disease will continue to shut down her liver until she dies from liver failure. However, the immediacy of the situation, according to Quelode, is no reason to accept substandard donor organs.

"Despite the warnings of doctors and the rolling of eyes while saying, 'Oh-kay!' I believe that I can do better. All my life I have taken 'good enough' when I deserved much better. This liver is surely 'good enough'—the donation was a kind gesture by a man with a wonderful heart. Unfortunately, I need a liver and he apparently kept shoddy maintenance on that."

Her condition worsening, Quelode was put back on the waiting list for a new liver, with the hand-penciled footnote "Grade B or Better Only." Doctors, exasperated and annoyed, tossed the refused liver back in the medical cooler bowing and adding, "Certainly, your majesty. Watch us jump to it. Jesus."

Immediately the doctors and EMTs left the room and waited a couple of minutes just outside, then went back in, but Quelode recognized the cooler and told them she wanted a brand new liver, no more shenanigans. More frustrated, doctors exited again and had Quelode returned to the list.

"We gave the liver to some guy in Iowa," said transplant surgeon Yurgen Pose. "He was doing fine with it for hours, then some big-mouth on the operating team mentioned the lady rejecting it, now he's all on the phone with us everyday asking what's wrong with it. What a pain in the ass. Why did I become a doctor? I could have been a NASCAR driver. I guarantee you Jeff Gordon doesn't have to listen to shit like this all day."

As Quelode's serum bilirubin levels continue to rise, edging her closer to the end, she asks to be included in everyone's prayers and hopes that everyone will fill out their organ donor cards, especially non-drinkers who exercise but infrequently engaged in rough contact sports.

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The American people should thank the inventor of the remote control. We should thank our fat asses off. Because if it weren't for the remote, we'd have to get up off the couch every time something crappy came on TV, which means we'd all have bionic Teflon knees by now. And I don't know about you, but I like my current knees just fine.

Before the invention of the remote, Americans had to get up off their big, fat asses to change the channel every time something crummy came on, which led to the modern trend of watching whatever is on for hours regardless of quality. Beaten down and bitch-slapped by the repressive lack of technology in those days, Americans slouched away their meek little lives in front of such stultifying fare as Ted Hammerslut's Big Band Breakdown and The Russians in the Cushions, both of which were huge ratings hits in the 50's because TVs came from the factory set to that channel.

During World War II, those ingenious fucks known as the Nazis developed the first remote control technology, which they utilized in the design of a robotic doorman that was used to heil Hitler a cab when he was visiting Nazi central headquarters in Berlin. Due to the crummy technology of the day, the robot didn't work very well and after decapitating Hitler's mother-in-law in 1943, it was given the German medal of honor (the coveted "Big Bastard") and retired to a furniture showroom in Dresden.

Early attempts to adopt the Nazi remote technology for use in television sets were unsuccessful, as the remotes would channel-surf on their own looking for reruns ofThe Three Stooges.

The first successful television remote was developed by the Zenith Electronics Corporation in 1950. Called the "Lazy Fuck," the device was attached to the television by a long wire, and was used less for controlling the TV than it was for tripping crabby housewives in hilarious ways all across America. Though a huge hit among unhappily married men all across the country, overall the unit did poorly due to its bitingly accurate name.

In 1955, Zenith sort of improved on their invention with the creation of the "Flashmatic," a small device that looked exactly like a flashlight but wasn't because it said "Remote Control" on one side. Viewers aimed the Flashmatic at one of four light-receptive cells positioned on the corners of their television screen, allowing them to turn the set on, change the channel up or down, and explode the television. Some considered the lack of an "off" command to be an inconvenience, but forward-thinking Zenith executives imagined a day when Americans would never turn off their televisions, making unsightly "off" knobs a garish eyesore. The main purpose of this innovation, however, was to draw attention away from the Zenith's exploding feature, which made tidy profits for the corporation due to repeat business from customers with poor hand-eye coordination who blew up several television sets a year.

Eventually the Flashmatic had to be phased out since on sunny days the set would flash channels randomly for a few minutes before exploding, and in 1956 Zenith televisions killed half the residents of Arizona. The Flashmatic was replaced in 1957 by the Zenith Space Command, a revolutionary new remote technology named to appeal to small boys and the insane. The Space Command used an unpowered remote which contained four small aluminum rods. When the buttons on the unit were struck violently, preferably with a xylophone mallet, the rods would produce inaudible ultrasound tones that were then picked up by vacuum tubes hidden inside the television set.

The Space Command worked like a charm, a shitty, useless charm, and was a big hit among the tech-savvy and expectant mothers who soon realized that if they stood close enough to the humming set, they could see their babies. Unfortunately, after several years of lawsuits from families claiming birth defects and complaints from dog-whistle enthusiasts that their sets kept exploding, Zenith decided to discontinue the Space Command in 1959. For nearly two decades Americans were plunged back into the darkness of throwing coffee table knick-knacks and snack items at television sets in hopes of jogging the channel knob.

The modern remote made its debut in 1980, with current units using gamma radiation to perform tasks as disparate as setting a VCR's clock or cooking a Thanksgiving turkey faster than a microwave. Research found the gamma rays caused attention deficits in children and obesity in adults, but it was a small price to pay to not have to watch CHiPs anymore.

In 1992 MTV debuted a gameshow called Remote Control, which was of no consequence to anyone beyond the fact that it fills up three lines of column space.

Over the last twenty years, countless new remote-controlled innovations have hit the market, changing the way we live forever. From the "Bitch Be Quiet" human silencer to the remote-controlled "Woody," few can deny that remote controls are here to stay. And why not?

Well, I'm waiting. I'll expect an answer by Monday.

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It's about time they built the super-accelerator, that's all I can say. For years they claim they want to protect the security of our borders and make everything more efficient for everyone, well, you know what I say? "Put your money where your mouth is." Only less cliché, and somewhat wittier. And finally someone did.

This is not news, of course. It was in all the non-commune papers and everybody made quite a big to-do out of it. Jay Leno, on his shallow pale imitation of the Carson show, made a particularly funny joke about it I can't remember. So it was well in the public zeitgeist for a long time now. You can't walk into a seedy bar or eavesdrop on someone's telephone calls without hearing casual references to the super-accelerator. Which is good, as far as I'm concerned. What's good for the super-accelerator is good for America.

But before you get comfortable and believe this is how everyone thinks, you should know: There are certain special interests groups in Washington who don't like the super-accelerator. Shocking, perhaps, but we can't shy away from the truth. Congress would probably prefer you didn't know this, and went back to watching your Queer Jobs for Straight Slobs or whatever trendy show is on this week. While rich lobbyists secretly take the super-accelerator away from you and sweep it under the rug.

Not on my watch, lobbyists. Red Bagel has a mouth like a Shanghai whore, only this mouth is for getting the truth out there.

It's a fair question to ask what these guys have against the super-accelerator. It takes all kind to ruin the world, Americans. A lot of them think the super-accelerator is ahead of its time, and hate the idea of where it's taking them, and us. Others are merely interested in self-preservation: They work for industries making a profit off regular accelerators, and hate to see that money go the way of the dodo. Some hate and fear, not the super-accelerator, but what it represents: Super-acceleration. And, of course, there's always terrorists.

I say to them: Tough shit. The super-accelerator is here to stay. It's an idea whose time has come. We've had a taste of the super-accelerator, and like a drug-addled crackwhore, we want more, more, more. In fact, those words rhyme so well feel free to use them in any song you're writing if they fit in well—but only if it's pro-super-accelerator. Because the super-accelerator has opened a new path to us, and scary as it may be, we can't go back to our old ways of life now.

After all, what is there to really be scared of? Change? A new an exciting way of life unknown to men before the super-accelerator? The 30% fatality rate of test subjects exposed for very short amounts of time to the super-accelerator? This all sounds like a mother hen's worrying. The super-accelerator has the potential to bring us a golden age of prosperity and if there's a minor risk to liver and respiratory system, I say it's well worth it.

I'm not the only one who thinks so either. Americans everywhere are getting behind the super-accelerator, where test results show it's much safer. Republicans and Democrats are putting their differences aside to speak out on behalf of the super-accelerator. Personality types as far apart as Christina Aguilera and Madonna have expressed their fondness for the super-accelerator. And as for myself, I have to agree with my good friend Lil Bowwow the super-accelerator truly is "all that."

So don't give up on the super-accelerator yet, naysayers. It was only a matter of time until the day of the super-accelerator arrived, and now that it has, don't fight it. In the meantime, I will do my best to ensure the long life of the super-accelerator, as well as finding out exactly what it is the super-accelerator is for.

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