A lot has happened in the last few months since I attacked Fox News cultists.

Mainly, I have changed to a different methadone clinic. I had been at the last clinic for over 20 years. In the past I have changed four times. Each little gathering place has its own atmosphere. Generally that is a Nazi atmosphere. A lot of counselors realize they have a teeny bit of power of us lowlifes.

So I was a little nervous about changing to this new clinic in Ingleweird. The first day I went in, it felt like I was being interviewed for a job. The doctor asked me how my teeth were. He seemed satisfied that I had had implants.

The head counselor and I started out by butting heads. When I walked into her office there was a desk. On one side of the desk was a chair, and on the other side were three chairs. I started to sit down in the one chair, and the counselor, C., said, “Oh, are you going to sit in my chair?” I was so confused by the desk arrangement at first. I said, “Oh, I’m sorry, I can’t see very well.” There were a couple other kerfuffles, but by the time I got to know this woman I was so impressed with her credentials, I told her, “Let me just slink out of here.” She had a Ph.D. and a lot of other very impressive stuff. She showed me some pictures on her phone. One was of her snow skiing.

The last counselor I had was a fraud: the one I call the Queen of Mean. She had told me she had a Master’s from USC. But after I got to know her, I realized she hadn’t passed fifth grade arithmetic. I also realized she was out of touch with reality.

There is another office worker there who exudes confidence and efficiency. The doctor is the only scary one. He had been pushing this office worker to hurry up. I had to comment: “She’s a machine!” I don’t think he got it.

There are still hoops to jump through, but I feel more relaxed now.

The past three months I have been limping around with a walker. I broke a bone in my pelvic area. It healed on its own, because by the time I got to a doctor I had healed.

Until next time…