Dr. G, and hear immediately from the voice over that she is "cutting into the scrotum sack." #?@?! Like Pavlov's dog, these words cause my male reflexes to kick in, hands moving down to protectively shield the groin area from the Medical Examiner's blade.
Jan Garavaglia's slab with his ball sack sliced-n-diced and his bowels emptied into a bowl. I bet he'd kill to shovel snow given a choice between that and a guest appearance on Dr. G (it's not quite the same as doing Letterman). Three words you don't want to hear applied to you: standard Y incision.
And the next thing you know, Dr. G is out of this dude's bowels, out of the morgue and on the road to shop for supplies at a big ol' medical supply "mall" (sort of the Walmart of forensic sundries). Great segue, guys - I'm still gagging from the gross-out of the last examination and now Dr. G is trying a new pair of jumbo rib cutters on for size and checking out overhead exam lights on this little "lighter side" field trip. She seems out of her element among the living, outside the confines of that ghostly crypt that is her domain to me.
Activia / Jamie Lee break and we're back in the exam room again, with more slicing and dicing and blood-filled silver bowls, followed by a good hose-down. The doc is back where she belongs!
"She turns her attention to the chest cavity."
Grinch and Dick Cheney. But they're special. And I hear they have machines that pick up the slack. And besides, the Grinch had that problem fixed by one Cindy Lou Who. Perhaps one day Dick will find his too. Meanwhile the machines will suffice.
The rest of us, we need our cavities and can do without Dr. G-types poking around in there.
Well, time to prepare for the snow. I'm all loaded up with Inglourious Basterds and Star Trek on Blu Ray now so I'm prepared for the weather.
Personally, I think the people doing the walking should be doing the shoveling (they've already out there in that shit and they're the ones that need to get somewhere). Meanwhile, I'm going nowhere pretty fast.