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Cal.E.'s Korner



Dropkick me, Jesus, through the goalposts of lifeEnd over end, neither left, nor the rightStraight through the heart of them righteous uprightsDropkick me, Jesus, through the goalposts of life

Make me, oh, make me, Lord, more than I amMake a piece in your master game planFree from the earthly temptation belowI've got the will, Lord, if you've got the toe

Dropkick me, Jesus, through the goalposts of lifeEnd over end, neither left, nor the rightStraight through the heart of them righteous uprightsDropkick me, Jesus, through the goalposts of life

Bring on the brothers who've gone on beforeAnd all of the sisters who've knocked at your doorAll the departed, dear loved ones of mineAnd stick 'em up front in the offensive line

Dropkick me, Jesus, through the goalposts of lifeEnd over end, neither left, nor the rightStraight through the heart of them righteous uprightsDropkick me, Jesus, through the goalposts of life

Dropkick me, Jesus, through the goalposts of lifeEnd over end, neither left, nor the rightStraight through the heart of them righteous uprightsDropkick me, Jesus, through the goalposts of life

Yeah, dropkick me, Jesus, through the goalposts of lifeEnd over end, neither left, nor the right

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: Paul Charles Craft

Dropkick Me Jesus lyrics © Screen Gems-emi Music Inc., Black Sheep Music




T.: And you’re also alive, Cal.E.? And you can talk? I thought that you died fifteen years ago…




C.: I did, and I can’t really talk. This is a fictional blog. No cats can really talk, just as there isn’t really a  place where people can go and learn to use their powers when the discover that they’re wizards. It’s called fiction. (rumble) Is that thunder?




d.: It’s either thundering, or Dr. King is rolling over in his grave, seeing how American’s rights to free speech have been drop kicked through the uprights of life…No, that’s thunder.




C.: d.c., you need to do something. T. has passed out, and I can’t wake him up. What do I need to do?


d.: Palpate his peripheral pulses promptly. He may have a blood clot. We don’t want in to go to his brain or his heart if he does.





Robot cat: Come with me. I know where there is a vet clinic that has a high rate of survival for sick kitties.


d.: What is the survival rate, may I ask?


RC.: Since we started using A.I., we have an eighty percent survival rate.


C.: Well, that’s better than fifty-fifty…


d.: Wait, Cal.E. In the United States only 0.2 percent of people admitted to emergency rooms, both at hospitals and free standing ones die in the care of the E.R. staff. Ninety-seven percent of those who have “life saving measures” performed in American E.D.s survive a hospital stay afterward. (Kennan. 2010). Eighty percent is not good.


C.: Well, what can we do?




J.: We can have him airlifted to Houston from the airport.


C.: This small, remote, supposedly deserted island has an airport?


d.: Well, if it does, that’s where we need to go. I’ll just carry T to the airlift and we should be in Houston is about forty-five minutes if we go quickly and beat the thunderstorm that’s rolling in…




RC.: Not so fast. A.I. robot cats have control of everything on this island, including the airport.


C.: How are you going to stop us?


RC.: Can any of you fly a helicopter?


C.: Well, T. can,* but he’s unconscious. I don’t know what to do now.


d.: Maybe you and I can figure it out, Cal.E.*


Tune in tomorrow, folks, and find out if T will live, or if this quartet is doomed to live on a deserted island run by A.I. robots forever.


*Disclaimer: As far as I know, no cats can really fly a helicopter, nor can a cat from this planet speak English, especially not a dead one. I also realize the corner is usually spelled with a 'C' in the English language.



REFERENCE



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