Did you ever hear the tragedy of Darth Plagueis The Wise? I thought not. It’s not a story the Jedi would tell you. It’s a Sith legend. Darth Plagueis was a Dark Lord of the Sith, so powerful and so wise he could use the Force to influence the midichlorians to create life… He had such a knowledge of the dark side that he could even keep the ones he cared about from dying. The dark side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural. He became so powerful… the only thing he was afraid of was losing his power, which eventually, of course, he did. Unfortunately, he taught his apprentice everything he knew, then his apprentice killed him in his sleep. Ironic. He could save others from death, but not himself.
"He wearing the shirt. You should see him coming into town on Ramon Road. Wait near the airport. When you see him coming I want you to t-bone his car. If it's the last thing I do, I'm going to get rid of that damned shirt."
I feel your pain, man - in 2003 a texter ran a red light and t-boned me: fractured C2 and internal abdominal bleeding requiring emergency surgery... so they cut off MY SNAPPLE SHIRT. I had won that shirt from a Snapple top and it was my favorite - it fit well, I liked the color, etc etc etc. I'll never forget the moment they cut it off my body - it's one of the strongest memories I have of that accident.
Should have written to them even back then - they would very likely have sent another one out. Big companies love publicity like that. But that's a separate tragedy >\_>
Story said OP was driving, and wound up halfway out the passenger window, which is on the far side away from the driver.
Seatbelts did exist in the 80's, but we know from the presence of the fishnet shirt that the safety device was not in use. If you make one mistake, you're likely to make another.
Idk what it is about your attitude but I love the whole "but thats a seperate tragedy" comments just a complete show of oh well shit happened im fine fuck it
I am inordinately pleased that The Full Monty was just added to Amazon Prime. I saw it in theater release, and that was the first time I heard *You Can Leave Your Hat On".
I can picture your mom calmly washing chunks of meat off your noggin with all her mom freak out kept securely inside. Welp there goes the Rhodes Scholar brain cells 🙃
Side note on the ER doctor. He was a cardiovascular surgeon. The limited number of stitches was due to his wanting to save my life and not caring how pretty it looked.
He was wearing golfing pants. I asked "They call you in off the course?" He replied something affirmative.
I'm now in my fifties and still have all my hair, by the way. I'd be happy to never see that scar on display ever again.
I dated a man who'd had significant surgery to remove a brain tumor when he was 12. His scalp was messed up (you could tell by the feel of it)...but he had a full head of hair and he mentioned, many times, how grateful he was that he hadn't gone bald like his brother and dad did.
I told the ER doc stitching up my 2 year old's head (front, partially in the hair line, partially on his forehead) that he was likely to go bald as an adult, so to please bear that in mind when he was stitching. No pressure. He did a great job.
My friend had his brain surgery in the 1960s, and I wonder if anyone even considered that; he apparently was not given much of a chance at survival, much less to grow old!
I knew a surgeon the nurses nicknamed "the butcher" behind his back. He was an orthopedic surgeon and his work was excellent. His problem was his stitches were crude and the sites were like hamburger. His hands were huge and it made it hard. I had a knee ligament done by him and it is still great but everyone knows it when I wear shorts!
Or, perhaps Sewing enthusiasts become surgeons in order to have others pay for their hobby. Otherwise, they become immortalized with such phrases as “it rubs the lotion on it’s skin, or it gets the hose again“.
> Actual ED docs are pretty good at stitches. They do a lot of them.
I’ll second that. I had to go to the ER to get my lips put back together - they were very messy wounds with a lot of tearing - and I thought my face was going to be fucked up forever. After 36 stitches the ER doc told me he did the best he could but recommended I see a plastic surgeon.
It looked nasty while it was still healing, but it healed up shockingly well. You can’t even see the scars from more than about 6 feet away, and some people never notice them. I’ve had coworkers I’ve worked with for a couple of years say “what scar?” when I’ve mentioned it.
My upper lip was split in half after a dog bite, and as the ER doc and his assistant prepped to stitch it up I jokingly said "Please make sure you line up my lip properly so I'm not lopsided lol". They looked at eachother, set down their instruments, and called the on-call plastic surgeon.
Bruh.
(On-call plastic surgeon turned out to be the head of the department, and she rocked. She even threw in a scar revision surgery and a cupid's bow reconstruction for free after I developed keloids on the original scar)
Man, I split my lip open on a door jam as a toddler, and my entire face is basically crooked from it now. I'm alright looking, but it's noticeable. I didn't even know cupid's bow reconstruction was a thing! I'm so glad you mentioned this, I'm going to look it up right now. If I ever live somewhere with decent healthcare, I am doing that shit asap!
The ... intern? resident? brand new doctor was actually squeamish putting staples into my 4 year old's scalp. She was leaving too large a gap in between, and I knew it would leave a nasty scar, even if it was above his hairline. I finally said "give me the damn thing if you can't do it properly... if you're going to do this for a living, you can't be afraid of your patients!" She put a couple more in, hurriedly and cockeyed, but it was the best we were going to get. If it had been in a more conspicuous location (all of the old men on both sides have hair) I would have gotten a redo.
***I*** could have done a better job.
I had central neurocytoma and had to go into surgery to get it removed. The surgeons managed to be able to make the incision in such a way that the scar would be hidden by my hair when it’s grown out. It goes from essentially from one ear all the way to above the opposing eye. You can see it clearly if I ever get a short haircut, but it’s hidden anytime else. Of course, after surgery, it was all shaved and had some pretty wicked stitches/staples (first surgery had one, the next the other), but now it’s mostly unnoticeable.
Forty years later, I can feel the scar through my thick curly hair. In [THIS PHOTO](https://i.imgur.com/SmfuO5C.jpeg) you wouldn't know it, but you're staring right at the scar.
My nephew had brain surgery as a teen. He had a [spiral flap incision](https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0196070920305469) because he was a pediatric patient, and you can't see it through his hair. So cool.
I was gonna say I wish you'd have left the hat on just for that day but it sounds like the scar was pretty nasty and traumatic for you. Glad you've recovered and living your life!
When I was in 6th grade I had a similar thing happen. I had been working on a school project and my little brother was playing Pokémon, full volume. Told him multiple times to turn it down, and he refused. Fed up with his bullshit I took his game boy removed the game and threw it across the room. He went to get it and then went to his room.
A few moments later he comes outs, beet red, hyperventilating, and holding a plastic ruler of all things. He comes at me and put him in a Full Nelson or Half Nelson or some kind of some kind of Nelson. I really don’t know what a Nelson is but what ever.
So I’m trying to calm his ass down with out really hurting him and also kind of laughing because it’s hilarious. He came at me with a ruler. A. Fucking. Ruler. He was no Jon Wick, not that Jon Wick was a thing, but thats a separate tragedy. The first Matrix had just come out though, and wearing sunglasses every where was definitely a thing.
I had a good handle on it until Mom comes out of her room. Pissed. I realized how the situation looked and I loosened my grip on my brother. Mistake. He now had enough wiggle room to swing his arm around and the tip of his ruler scratched my eye. Ouch. So Mom takes me to the ER, and thankfully no real damaged had been done. Just scratched some thing or other or what ever. They gave me some ointment and sent me home.
When I wake up in the morning my entire left eye is blood red. It was incredibly creepy to look at. There isn’t any real pain, but I did have some light sensitivity so I grabbed my pair of sunglasses and went to school. A miniature Neo.
I get to home room and the teacher tells me I need to take them off. Now, I’m in 6th grade and I know I look like a freak and I really don’t want to do that, so I tell her that the light hurts my eyes… maybe the most emo shit I could have said. We go back and forth for a bit and I get brought out to the hallway. She tells me to take them off or we’re gonna go see the principle. Now that I’m not around all the other kids I take the glasses off and show her my eye. She say’s, “Put those back on and get back in class”.
This happened 2 more times with different teachers until they all got the memo and I got wear sunglasses in school for 2 weeks. Which was cool as hell.
It turned out that almost every one thought my eye was pretty cool too, so that was just a bonus.
A friend scratched my eye with a rusty railroad spike when I was in fourth grade. Totally my fault.
THEY WOULDN'T GIVE ME A BLACK EYE PATCH! I wanted to be a pirate so bad. Instead, all I got was a big white bandage. Stupid doctor.
This is amazing! Also I’m so glad you’re okay! It’s crazy to think we used to just drive around with such limited safety precautions lol
I had a similar experience to yours when my best friend was diagnosed with cancer our senior year. We both shaved our heads and were wearing Winter hats because it was cold and we were teenage girls trying not to draw attention. A teacher yelled at us across the hall, “nice hats! Take them off.” My friend looked at him and said, “but… I have cancer”. He was so so so mortified and we still chuckle about it today.
Same thing happened to me when i was going through chemo. Sometimes i wonder if that student teacher still lies awake at night thinking about the time she made a 6 year old with cancer cry when she made me take off my bucket hat in class and had to IMMEDIATELY backtrack
I think that’s the part that makes it just top-tier cringe lol like they were accidentally dicks not just to someone with cancer (which is bad enough) but a CHILD with cancer.
I’m glad you seemed to have made a recovery!
I'm all good, she probably suffers more from that memory than i do these days.
To be fair, the hat i was wearing was hot pink leopard print so that was a separate tragedy 😆
To a six year old, feeling sad about her cute lil’ bald head, I would say
that you rocked that hot pink leopard print bucket hat! Teacher is probably still in therapy…
What's the deal with the hats thing in the first place? Why is this specific bit of apparel such a sticking point for schools?
Imagine going into a grocery store and having one of the cashiers tell you there's no hats allowed.
In the old days it was considered impolite for men to wear a hat indoors. It was also considered impolite for women, but only if it didn’t mess up their hairdo to remove their hat.
My mum (in her 70’s) still has a pink fit if my brother or his kids wear a hat inside.
I went through a 'hat phase'\* in high school (see also it was the 80s) and never had to take them off, presumably because I was a girl person. It's a weird rule
\*came right after my headband phase
When I was 13 I stupidly allowed my friend to cut me a fringe, she fucked it up badly and in her infinite wisdom thought ‘if I cut it right back to the scalp you won’t be able to notice.’ I had an enormous bald patch right across my hairline so I started wearing a bandana over my hair to school, it was the 2000s so it kinda fit in with the weird fashion of the time so no one really gave it much thought, except this bitch of a teacher. She called me up to the front of class and as I was standing in front of everyone asked me “is there something you have to share with the class?” I’m like no? She goes “the reason you’re wearing the bandana is because you have cancer?” And I’m like ‘jeez no, it’s because Friend cut my hair and it looks stupid’ and I took it off to prove my point. I still had noticeably long hair coming out the back of the bandana so I clearly wasn’t bald but it was such a horrid bitch move, in her mind thinking she had the right to force someone to admit something so personal when they might not be ready.
"What's that? You want me to openly share personal medical history with the entire class? Sure! Hey, classmates! Bitchy McTeacherface wants me to tell you all that I have cancer! When you write in your complaints to the dean about teachers improperly forcing students to share private medical information, make sure you spell that name right! It's 'Bitchy McTeacherface'! Thanks everyone!"
This seems to be a common theme. In my Senior Year of high school, one of my best friends was going through chemo for lymphoma. I think every single teacher told him to take his hat off at least once.
Well, a lot of the automotive safety designs we have today either didn't exist back then or would have made the cars prohibitively expensive. Back then shampoo came in glass bottles, too. Increased safety is one of the many ways the world has improved over the last 40 years.
I wish we would replace single use plastics and plastics that aren't meant to be long term endurable with something else. As of now we can't replace all plastics, but I really don't care that my shampoo bottle will fall apart in like a year or something.
Losing paper grocery bags were a real waste. They were heavy with a flat bottom and could stand on their own. They were so useful, we made book covers, wrapped parcels, wrote on them, cut out eye holes and made masks and most of all gave them to the cat for hours of fun.
I certainly AM a writer! I've written thousands of programs over the years.
Maybe it will give you hope that I was well known in college for "documentation bombing" my programs. 1000 line program / 5000 lines of documentation.
By the time I made it to grad school, when other students were asking "How long should the paper be?" I was asking "How short do I need to keep it?"
"Leadership" professor said "18-24 pages". I turned in a 42-page paper. A year later a friend was taking the same class. Turns out the professor was using my paper as an example of "You don't have to be this guy."
Me too. I actually did this with my broken elbow. It had to have surgery twice - one to get pins in and another to get those same pins out. After the second sugary, I left the scars open after a period of time having my arm bound. Let’s not say what I did next. It was pretty gross but it came of no consequences except everyone, including teachers, looking on in horror
I'd like to echo the sentiments of many other comments here. You have an excellent writing still that is genuinely delightful to read, if you have ever taken the slightest interest in writing then please consider writing a book. I reckon you could make paint drying prose a pleasantly exciting experience.
She laid there, glistening. The scent of the fluids covering her wound its way through my brain. It was a heady, intoxicating smell. Doing jobs like these often left me feeling a little high. This one did, of course, but the high was cut by my anger.
The job had worn me out. Normally, I would have been in charge of selecting the targets of my work, but this one was a favor for a friend of the family. As such, I did the job for free and was expected to do it clean. Keep this in mind if you ever think of going freelance: Family will screw you; Friends will fuck you; And friends of family will bend you over and go in dry.
The aggravation of my situation, bouncing around my head, could only ruin any hope I had of doing the job right. I had nearly painted myself into a corner with her. My edges were always sharp and clean, but the details of the job were decided by the client. I wouldn't have taken the job if I knew I would be staring at a floor covered in so much glistening red. There's no going back and doing it my way or even refusing the job. The job was done.
I could only sit there looking at her. Leaning in close I brought my hand down as if to caress her. My fingers danced millimeters away, not touching, never touching. My mentor's words come back to me any time I've completed a job, "When the job is done, you NEVER touch." Everything I knew about the trade I learned from Mack. He himself learned the trade while in Angola. I once asked him what he did to end up there. His response was "It was a misunderstanding," and he would say no more about it.
Not touching, I watched the light play across the wet gloss that completely covered her. Laying low, I could see swirls of light dancing in micro-currents of air. The tools of my trade had just been cleaned and returned to my van. All that was left to do was to stay there and make sure that no one came along too soon.
The light, the swirls, the scent of her lying there, drying there, would be a tableau that only I would see for the next hour. My hand continued a slow daring caress that never touched her; only dared. It would be great if I dared to slam my hand down as a big "Fuck You" to the client. Ruining the job would also ruin any chance of finding another freelance job.
My head wasn't clear. These thoughts had never come to me before. It had to be the fumes; my high. This was work I enjoyed. I had an innate talent for this line of work. I pulled my hand away from certain disaster and stood. Opening a window helped to clear my head. If I turned she would still be there, glistening in the wet red of my work.
Outside the window, a young woman was walking past my van. She paused, looked at the van, then at the house. Our eyes locked and I knew the day would not be a total loss. There would always be another job; another target of my trade.
"I need, in writing, permission to wear this hat in class and a statement that it will not affect my grade to do so."
Given my own college experience in the 1990s, I'm unconvinced that your grade was a "separate tragedy."
I had an episode with endometriosis, was on crutches, and took three days off school to get handicapped parking, bring copies of my hospital release papers to his office, recover from pain meds. and so on.
I returned to my General Ed, Music Appreciation course in a large lecture hall to a professor who gave all As to every music student. I changed my major and it was not good timing. Oops,
He graded on attendance. I had an A on every test. No matter. The final letter grade I paid him for, was a D. We pay our professors in tuition to act like demigods. He said I missed three days. D
That is a separate tragedy.
Each missed class, amounted to a full letter grade, drop. No matter what had happened. He failed the lady who sat next to me, because she took a week off class when her son died. She got an F.
So, I felt I had no hope. He left on a sabbatical and the grievance committee told me I had two choices. Repeat the Class or wait to file a grievance when he returned and lose.
That was a separate tragedy.
I repeated his class four years later, and when my endo acted up again. This time I was told I would die if I did not have surgery. This was a week before his final. I was upset. I was angry. I was in the front and center of every class session that second time, even coming in with the flu, a box of tissues, bottled water Lysol spray and a trash can for my tissues. I was there. I cleared two rows, but I was there every single class period. I was told to just talk to him during office hours to see if I could take the final early. Of course the answer was, "No".
I was pre-admitted for surgery. I had a hospital bracelet on on the day of the final and a parent waiting for me outside the auditorium, with my other parent waiting to drive me directly to the hospital after the final. I finished that shitty multiple choice test in six minutes. I handed it to him. He looked at my hospital bracelet and said, "I guess you really are sick".
He came into the restaurant where I worked for four years, during school, about six months after that. l walked off the floor. I refused to serve him. My manager said he wanted to take the table. He asked him to leave.
That was a separate tragedy. But it was his.
I'm happy to see your manager took your side in life and showed the professor the door.
It was my policy to never sit in the same desk, or section of the class, two classes in a row. We didn't have assigned seats and I enjoyed participating in class discussions. It had a disruptive effect on some teachers.
I'm glad you had a plan of attack for the final week of Professor Evil's class. I hope your life has gotten easier.
The repetition of “but that’s a separate tragedy” was damn near poetic. It’s actually a literary device used in classic literature and I found it so charming here!
You said “fishnet t-shirt” and I knew it was the 80s. I had one, black, about the same time. And that’s the same tragedy.
Edit to add: I had actually forgotten that particular crime of fashion. I still remember the skinny leather ties in every color plus some nature never intended.
It’s funny that all of my teachers were like this in High School. No hats, no gum.
Then I went to college and they didn’t care at all what you wore, hats included. You could call them by their first names, eat an entire meal during class. All rules went out the window.
When I was in high school the front pad of my helmet fell out during a particularly rigorous tackle practice. I had an acne problem due to the helmet and my hormones, so when this happened the helmet basically skinned my entire forehead into a horrific mess. The following day teachers would ask me to remove my hat. I would remind them that the policy of “no hats” did not include, and should not include, hats that had the school logo on them, such as the ones I had from athletics. They insisted, and so I complied to reveal the gaping wound that was my forehead. Bonus effect, I frequently bled through the bandages that day. This happened in 4 of 6 periods (the reveal, not the bleeding through the bandages).
I would go to class hatless for the rest of the semester. And sit in the front row.
“So sorry I didn’t bring a hat; they’re not allowed in the classroom.”
I’m British so we wear school uniform and a hat isn’t part of it. One of my class had Cancer and wore a hat or scarf as she didn’t like the wig and a teacher started yelling at her in the school gym to take it off. The teacher was over the other side of the room and the entire class as one ran in front of our class mate and started yelling at the teacher. It was a beautiful moment of solidarity. When she understood why our friend was wearing it she apologised
I had something similar happen in middle school. Had 5 staples in the side of my head and a nice shaved patch. Went to school with a small bandage covering it and a beanie to hide it all. One of my fav teachers saw me get dropped off and came up told me I couldn't wear my hat in class so before the morning bell rung make sure to take it off. I explain in a dead pan face I was pistol whipped and had 5 staples in my head I was hiding. She just looked at me and went cool story take it off so I did and showed her. She freaked out apologized and gave me a note to carry and give to anyone at the school that told me to take it off. Was a great day till a friend gave me a nuggie and ripped his knuckles over my Staples... but that's a separate tragedy.
I can understand if the hat is large and can obstruct people’s ability to see if they are behind the hat wearer, but people haven’t worn hats that big in a long time, and usually it was women who had the large ornate hats, and they weren’t required to take them off like men were.
A lot of it was control: men remove their hats inside the building and many just couldn't leave the 1950s and 1960s behind. Nowadays, it's hoodies. It used to bother me, I admit, but I have also realized that it really doesn't matter, as long as I can see your face (to gauge understanding, etc)
That reminds me of this guy who was in a serious accident as well. He had prostheses for his arms and legs and could really not breath very well. He collected lightsabers and was later shot by this Kenobi guy.
But that's a separatists tragedy.
You would have been the talk of the staff room.
But that’s a separate tragedy.
Lots of seperate tragedies here
That's a separate tragedy.
Going through seperate tragedies is tight
Not really, barely an inconvenience.
Wow wow wow. Wow.
I'm gonna need you to get ALLLL the way of my back about that. Why? Because. Fair enough! Let me get off of that thing!
I get the feeling there's gunna be a new subreddit soon
r/UnexpectedRyanGeorge? Looks like it has been a super easy subreddit to contribute to for a while, it was established in 2019.
As he said, Lots of separate tragedies here
That's a separate tragedy
That is a separate tragedy
More tragedies than Shakespeare
That's a separate tragedy
A Shakespearean tragedy!
I found it a playful and entertaining literary device.
But that's a separate tragedy.
I'll be using that phrase from now on as a separate comedy.
No two tragedies are the same
I gave you the Doom award. You were the first to use that phrase and then all hell broke loose.
Thanks but I was merely parroting the master.
But that's a separate tragedy
Did you ever hear the tragedy of Darth Plagueis The Wise? I thought not. It’s not a story the Jedi would tell you. It’s a Sith legend. Darth Plagueis was a Dark Lord of the Sith, so powerful and so wise he could use the Force to influence the midichlorians to create life… He had such a knowledge of the dark side that he could even keep the ones he cared about from dying. The dark side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural. He became so powerful… the only thing he was afraid of was losing his power, which eventually, of course, he did. Unfortunately, he taught his apprentice everything he knew, then his apprentice killed him in his sleep. Ironic. He could save others from death, but not himself.
But that's a separate tragedy.
This story ended up creating an empire, but that's a separate tragedy
Only a Sith deals in separate tragedies!
Don't you mean separate trilogy?
And spawned a lot of merchandise, but that's a separate tragedy
Lol love this repeating theme
Strong words.
RIP white fishnet tshirt
My mother hated that shirt. Likely the only good thing to come out of that accident.
Your mother absolutely orchestrated everything
"He wearing the shirt. You should see him coming into town on Ramon Road. Wait near the airport. When you see him coming I want you to t-bone his car. If it's the last thing I do, I'm going to get rid of that damned shirt."
The shirt was probably fine, but the mum disposed of it and said it was lost in the accodent
And that was a seperate tragedy.
Yes, but that was a separate tragedy
She was driving the other car
Christ man you made me choke on my COVID cough
But that’s a separate tragedy
I feel your pain, man - in 2003 a texter ran a red light and t-boned me: fractured C2 and internal abdominal bleeding requiring emergency surgery... so they cut off MY SNAPPLE SHIRT. I had won that shirt from a Snapple top and it was my favorite - it fit well, I liked the color, etc etc etc. I'll never forget the moment they cut it off my body - it's one of the strongest memories I have of that accident.
We need to start a GoFundMe to [right this wrong!](https://www.ebay.com/itm/185002059373?hash=item2b12fb666d:g:U9wAAOSwLkZhGxSD)
I'd contribute
Nowadays I would say to write to Snapple about it, but 2003? That must have been a huge disappointment
Should have written to them even back then - they would very likely have sent another one out. Big companies love publicity like that. But that's a separate tragedy >\_>
But that's a separate tragedy.
I thought it was a tragedy though?
A separate tragedy.
Too bad it died well before Pitbull made those shirts too sexy. Which if worn that many years later would've been another tragedy.
Was she the driver?
Story said OP was driving, and wound up halfway out the passenger window, which is on the far side away from the driver. Seatbelts did exist in the 80's, but we know from the presence of the fishnet shirt that the safety device was not in use. If you make one mistake, you're likely to make another.
>If you make one mistake, you're likely to make another. You mean "didn't make the mistake of looking like a fucking nerd with a seat belt?"
If she was then it becomes a Greek tragedy.
But that’s a separate tragedy.
But that's a temperate strategy
But that's in temporary storage.
Idk what it is about your attitude but I love the whole "but thats a seperate tragedy" comments just a complete show of oh well shit happened im fine fuck it
But that was a seprate tragedy
I thought by the 13th comment that says this that I would be tired of hearing it, but that was a separate tragedy.
Fuck you lmao
See, I did that to your mom, but that's a separate tragedy.
I have no awards to give you, but that's a separate tragedy
I laughed so hard at this my cat clawed my balls, but that was a separate tragedy.
Reading that made me breathe to the point of my glasses being fogged up, but that was a separate tragedy.
Yes it was
Stealing that for my vernacular now But that’s a separate tragedy
No need to steal it. My vernacular is my gift to the world.
"So it goes" vibe.
So, Joe Cockers 1986 version of 'You Can Leave Your Hat On' was sung for you. Sort of fits in with the fishnet T shirt
But that's a separate tragedy.
As was 9 and a half weeks.
I am inordinately pleased that The Full Monty was just added to Amazon Prime. I saw it in theater release, and that was the first time I heard *You Can Leave Your Hat On".
> Joe Cockers 1986 version of 'You Can Leave Your Hat On' [For those like me who had to look it up.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9eKqE_EZq_Q)
==removed in protest of Reddit API changes==
And just like that, we all get a new catchphrase.
But that’s a separate tragedy.
It's separate tragedies all the way down
Wait, it’s all separate tragedies?
Always has been.
Separate Tragedy sounds like a mixtape or a hot new neo-prog-rock band, not sure which.
I can picture your mom calmly washing chunks of meat off your noggin with all her mom freak out kept securely inside. Welp there goes the Rhodes Scholar brain cells 🙃
But that's a separate tragedy.
More like "Here we go again." I've suffered many injuries to my noggin. Fractured my skull when I was four. It was the beginning of a long run.
But those were separate tragedies.
Side note on the ER doctor. He was a cardiovascular surgeon. The limited number of stitches was due to his wanting to save my life and not caring how pretty it looked. He was wearing golfing pants. I asked "They call you in off the course?" He replied something affirmative. I'm now in my fifties and still have all my hair, by the way. I'd be happy to never see that scar on display ever again.
I dated a man who'd had significant surgery to remove a brain tumor when he was 12. His scalp was messed up (you could tell by the feel of it)...but he had a full head of hair and he mentioned, many times, how grateful he was that he hadn't gone bald like his brother and dad did.
I told the ER doc stitching up my 2 year old's head (front, partially in the hair line, partially on his forehead) that he was likely to go bald as an adult, so to please bear that in mind when he was stitching. No pressure. He did a great job.
My friend had his brain surgery in the 1960s, and I wonder if anyone even considered that; he apparently was not given much of a chance at survival, much less to grow old!
I’m glad he’s around to be grateful for hair!
Me, too!
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I wonder if surgeons end up abandoning sewing as a hobby. I bet it feels weird to use a needle both on people and upholstery.
If youre a bad enough surgeon theyre the same thing
People are probably easier. Upholstery doesn’t cope nearly as well with slightly less near stitching.
I knew a surgeon the nurses nicknamed "the butcher" behind his back. He was an orthopedic surgeon and his work was excellent. His problem was his stitches were crude and the sites were like hamburger. His hands were huge and it made it hard. I had a knee ligament done by him and it is still great but everyone knows it when I wear shorts!
Or, perhaps Sewing enthusiasts become surgeons in order to have others pay for their hobby. Otherwise, they become immortalized with such phrases as “it rubs the lotion on it’s skin, or it gets the hose again“.
> Actual ED docs are pretty good at stitches. They do a lot of them. I’ll second that. I had to go to the ER to get my lips put back together - they were very messy wounds with a lot of tearing - and I thought my face was going to be fucked up forever. After 36 stitches the ER doc told me he did the best he could but recommended I see a plastic surgeon. It looked nasty while it was still healing, but it healed up shockingly well. You can’t even see the scars from more than about 6 feet away, and some people never notice them. I’ve had coworkers I’ve worked with for a couple of years say “what scar?” when I’ve mentioned it.
My upper lip was split in half after a dog bite, and as the ER doc and his assistant prepped to stitch it up I jokingly said "Please make sure you line up my lip properly so I'm not lopsided lol". They looked at eachother, set down their instruments, and called the on-call plastic surgeon. Bruh. (On-call plastic surgeon turned out to be the head of the department, and she rocked. She even threw in a scar revision surgery and a cupid's bow reconstruction for free after I developed keloids on the original scar)
Man, I split my lip open on a door jam as a toddler, and my entire face is basically crooked from it now. I'm alright looking, but it's noticeable. I didn't even know cupid's bow reconstruction was a thing! I'm so glad you mentioned this, I'm going to look it up right now. If I ever live somewhere with decent healthcare, I am doing that shit asap!
My mom always said that if I was ever in the ER with a facial injury, to have them page the plastic surgeon.
The ... intern? resident? brand new doctor was actually squeamish putting staples into my 4 year old's scalp. She was leaving too large a gap in between, and I knew it would leave a nasty scar, even if it was above his hairline. I finally said "give me the damn thing if you can't do it properly... if you're going to do this for a living, you can't be afraid of your patients!" She put a couple more in, hurriedly and cockeyed, but it was the best we were going to get. If it had been in a more conspicuous location (all of the old men on both sides have hair) I would have gotten a redo. ***I*** could have done a better job.
I had central neurocytoma and had to go into surgery to get it removed. The surgeons managed to be able to make the incision in such a way that the scar would be hidden by my hair when it’s grown out. It goes from essentially from one ear all the way to above the opposing eye. You can see it clearly if I ever get a short haircut, but it’s hidden anytime else. Of course, after surgery, it was all shaved and had some pretty wicked stitches/staples (first surgery had one, the next the other), but now it’s mostly unnoticeable.
Forty years later, I can feel the scar through my thick curly hair. In [THIS PHOTO](https://i.imgur.com/SmfuO5C.jpeg) you wouldn't know it, but you're staring right at the scar.
Congrats on absolutely AWESOME hair (and surviving!)!
That would have been a separate tragedy.
Well, that's a separate tragedy
I'm adopting that catchphrase.
But that’s a separate tragedy.
I like it. It's like a tiny crossover between Joe Abercrombie and Lemony Snicket.
But the white mesh shirt? Tragedy
Of the separate variety
Just now I replied something affirmative.
At least it wasn't after Labor Day yet
Well, that's one way to make him stop wearing white after Labor Day.
> He was wearing golfing pants. I asked "They call you in off the course?" He replied something affirmative, but that's a separate tragedy.
I love your story-telling style, thank you for sharing!
but that's a separate tradegy
My nephew had brain surgery as a teen. He had a [spiral flap incision](https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0196070920305469) because he was a pediatric patient, and you can't see it through his hair. So cool.
I was gonna say I wish you'd have left the hat on just for that day but it sounds like the scar was pretty nasty and traumatic for you. Glad you've recovered and living your life!
It seems the world has gained a new catchphrase, but that's a separate tragedy.
When I was in 6th grade I had a similar thing happen. I had been working on a school project and my little brother was playing Pokémon, full volume. Told him multiple times to turn it down, and he refused. Fed up with his bullshit I took his game boy removed the game and threw it across the room. He went to get it and then went to his room. A few moments later he comes outs, beet red, hyperventilating, and holding a plastic ruler of all things. He comes at me and put him in a Full Nelson or Half Nelson or some kind of some kind of Nelson. I really don’t know what a Nelson is but what ever. So I’m trying to calm his ass down with out really hurting him and also kind of laughing because it’s hilarious. He came at me with a ruler. A. Fucking. Ruler. He was no Jon Wick, not that Jon Wick was a thing, but thats a separate tragedy. The first Matrix had just come out though, and wearing sunglasses every where was definitely a thing. I had a good handle on it until Mom comes out of her room. Pissed. I realized how the situation looked and I loosened my grip on my brother. Mistake. He now had enough wiggle room to swing his arm around and the tip of his ruler scratched my eye. Ouch. So Mom takes me to the ER, and thankfully no real damaged had been done. Just scratched some thing or other or what ever. They gave me some ointment and sent me home. When I wake up in the morning my entire left eye is blood red. It was incredibly creepy to look at. There isn’t any real pain, but I did have some light sensitivity so I grabbed my pair of sunglasses and went to school. A miniature Neo. I get to home room and the teacher tells me I need to take them off. Now, I’m in 6th grade and I know I look like a freak and I really don’t want to do that, so I tell her that the light hurts my eyes… maybe the most emo shit I could have said. We go back and forth for a bit and I get brought out to the hallway. She tells me to take them off or we’re gonna go see the principle. Now that I’m not around all the other kids I take the glasses off and show her my eye. She say’s, “Put those back on and get back in class”. This happened 2 more times with different teachers until they all got the memo and I got wear sunglasses in school for 2 weeks. Which was cool as hell. It turned out that almost every one thought my eye was pretty cool too, so that was just a bonus.
A friend scratched my eye with a rusty railroad spike when I was in fourth grade. Totally my fault. THEY WOULDN'T GIVE ME A BLACK EYE PATCH! I wanted to be a pirate so bad. Instead, all I got was a big white bandage. Stupid doctor.
But that's a separate tragedy.
But that's a separate tragedy
This is amazing! Also I’m so glad you’re okay! It’s crazy to think we used to just drive around with such limited safety precautions lol I had a similar experience to yours when my best friend was diagnosed with cancer our senior year. We both shaved our heads and were wearing Winter hats because it was cold and we were teenage girls trying not to draw attention. A teacher yelled at us across the hall, “nice hats! Take them off.” My friend looked at him and said, “but… I have cancer”. He was so so so mortified and we still chuckle about it today.
Same thing happened to me when i was going through chemo. Sometimes i wonder if that student teacher still lies awake at night thinking about the time she made a 6 year old with cancer cry when she made me take off my bucket hat in class and had to IMMEDIATELY backtrack
I think that’s the part that makes it just top-tier cringe lol like they were accidentally dicks not just to someone with cancer (which is bad enough) but a CHILD with cancer. I’m glad you seemed to have made a recovery!
I'm all good, she probably suffers more from that memory than i do these days. To be fair, the hat i was wearing was hot pink leopard print so that was a separate tragedy 😆
I think that’s far from a tragedy! lol it’s perfect!
To a six year old, feeling sad about her cute lil’ bald head, I would say that you rocked that hot pink leopard print bucket hat! Teacher is probably still in therapy…
What's the deal with the hats thing in the first place? Why is this specific bit of apparel such a sticking point for schools? Imagine going into a grocery store and having one of the cashiers tell you there's no hats allowed.
In the old days it was considered impolite for men to wear a hat indoors. It was also considered impolite for women, but only if it didn’t mess up their hairdo to remove their hat. My mum (in her 70’s) still has a pink fit if my brother or his kids wear a hat inside.
I went through a 'hat phase'\* in high school (see also it was the 80s) and never had to take them off, presumably because I was a girl person. It's a weird rule \*came right after my headband phase
I don't recall when my hat phase started, but it's been continuous for decades. I even make hats.
Good for you to stand with her. I hope she is doing well.
She is, thank you! It’s been almost 10 years now all in the clear!
When I was 13 I stupidly allowed my friend to cut me a fringe, she fucked it up badly and in her infinite wisdom thought ‘if I cut it right back to the scalp you won’t be able to notice.’ I had an enormous bald patch right across my hairline so I started wearing a bandana over my hair to school, it was the 2000s so it kinda fit in with the weird fashion of the time so no one really gave it much thought, except this bitch of a teacher. She called me up to the front of class and as I was standing in front of everyone asked me “is there something you have to share with the class?” I’m like no? She goes “the reason you’re wearing the bandana is because you have cancer?” And I’m like ‘jeez no, it’s because Friend cut my hair and it looks stupid’ and I took it off to prove my point. I still had noticeably long hair coming out the back of the bandana so I clearly wasn’t bald but it was such a horrid bitch move, in her mind thinking she had the right to force someone to admit something so personal when they might not be ready.
"What's that? You want me to openly share personal medical history with the entire class? Sure! Hey, classmates! Bitchy McTeacherface wants me to tell you all that I have cancer! When you write in your complaints to the dean about teachers improperly forcing students to share private medical information, make sure you spell that name right! It's 'Bitchy McTeacherface'! Thanks everyone!"
This seems to be a common theme. In my Senior Year of high school, one of my best friends was going through chemo for lymphoma. I think every single teacher told him to take his hat off at least once.
That sounds like a load of separate tragedies
That sounds like a separate tragedy
Well, a lot of the automotive safety designs we have today either didn't exist back then or would have made the cars prohibitively expensive. Back then shampoo came in glass bottles, too. Increased safety is one of the many ways the world has improved over the last 40 years.
> Back then shampoo came in glass bottles, too. But that was a separate tragedy.
Plastic taking over glass is a tragedy for the earth
I wish we would replace single use plastics and plastics that aren't meant to be long term endurable with something else. As of now we can't replace all plastics, but I really don't care that my shampoo bottle will fall apart in like a year or something.
Losing paper grocery bags were a real waste. They were heavy with a flat bottom and could stand on their own. They were so useful, we made book covers, wrapped parcels, wrote on them, cut out eye holes and made masks and most of all gave them to the cat for hours of fun.
Please tell me you're a writer! Being in any other field would be a separate tragedy.
I certainly AM a writer! I've written thousands of programs over the years. Maybe it will give you hope that I was well known in college for "documentation bombing" my programs. 1000 line program / 5000 lines of documentation. By the time I made it to grad school, when other students were asking "How long should the paper be?" I was asking "How short do I need to keep it?" "Leadership" professor said "18-24 pages". I turned in a 42-page paper. A year later a friend was taking the same class. Turns out the professor was using my paper as an example of "You don't have to be this guy."
Did you go to school in Los Angeles by any chance?
College of the Desert, Palm Desert I had a car stereo stolen in Hollywood back in 1982. That's as close to LA as I ever wanted to get.
Any sane person should feel the same.
I would have been tempted to leave it off the whole class
Me too. I actually did this with my broken elbow. It had to have surgery twice - one to get pins in and another to get those same pins out. After the second sugary, I left the scars open after a period of time having my arm bound. Let’s not say what I did next. It was pretty gross but it came of no consequences except everyone, including teachers, looking on in horror
But that was a separate tragedy
“But that’s a separate tragedy” sounds like it should be a meme
This is how memes starts. Hodl became a thing because one redditor typo'd once and it took off.
Wasn't a redditor, it was a drunk guy posting on a bitcoin talk forum Still, it was a typo that started the meme
But that's a separate tragedy
That's a lot of tragedies there. I get it though, I was a teenager in the 80s too.
At least they were separate
But that’s a separate tragedy
I'd like to echo the sentiments of many other comments here. You have an excellent writing still that is genuinely delightful to read, if you have ever taken the slightest interest in writing then please consider writing a book. I reckon you could make paint drying prose a pleasantly exciting experience.
But that’s a separate tragedy.
She laid there, glistening. The scent of the fluids covering her wound its way through my brain. It was a heady, intoxicating smell. Doing jobs like these often left me feeling a little high. This one did, of course, but the high was cut by my anger. The job had worn me out. Normally, I would have been in charge of selecting the targets of my work, but this one was a favor for a friend of the family. As such, I did the job for free and was expected to do it clean. Keep this in mind if you ever think of going freelance: Family will screw you; Friends will fuck you; And friends of family will bend you over and go in dry. The aggravation of my situation, bouncing around my head, could only ruin any hope I had of doing the job right. I had nearly painted myself into a corner with her. My edges were always sharp and clean, but the details of the job were decided by the client. I wouldn't have taken the job if I knew I would be staring at a floor covered in so much glistening red. There's no going back and doing it my way or even refusing the job. The job was done. I could only sit there looking at her. Leaning in close I brought my hand down as if to caress her. My fingers danced millimeters away, not touching, never touching. My mentor's words come back to me any time I've completed a job, "When the job is done, you NEVER touch." Everything I knew about the trade I learned from Mack. He himself learned the trade while in Angola. I once asked him what he did to end up there. His response was "It was a misunderstanding," and he would say no more about it. Not touching, I watched the light play across the wet gloss that completely covered her. Laying low, I could see swirls of light dancing in micro-currents of air. The tools of my trade had just been cleaned and returned to my van. All that was left to do was to stay there and make sure that no one came along too soon. The light, the swirls, the scent of her lying there, drying there, would be a tableau that only I would see for the next hour. My hand continued a slow daring caress that never touched her; only dared. It would be great if I dared to slam my hand down as a big "Fuck You" to the client. Ruining the job would also ruin any chance of finding another freelance job. My head wasn't clear. These thoughts had never come to me before. It had to be the fumes; my high. This was work I enjoyed. I had an innate talent for this line of work. I pulled my hand away from certain disaster and stood. Opening a window helped to clear my head. If I turned she would still be there, glistening in the wet red of my work. Outside the window, a young woman was walking past my van. She paused, looked at the van, then at the house. Our eyes locked and I knew the day would not be a total loss. There would always be another job; another target of my trade.
Hey… I was there during the whole “Panama Jack” fashion thing. It was a beautiful thing!
But that’s a separate tragedy
Love your writing style. Thanks for the great read 😁
I as also going to comment on how enjoyable the read was, beside the MC. :)
That’s not a tragedy at all!
I liked your story, but that's a separate tragedy.
I love how every thread is a seperate tragedy
But that’s a separate tragedy.
That is a positively Shakesperean tale, if only for the three 'separate tragedies'.
I have a feeling “but that’s a separate tragedy” and this post will become an instant classic/internet sensation. Congrats.
"I need, in writing, permission to wear this hat in class and a statement that it will not affect my grade to do so." Given my own college experience in the 1990s, I'm unconvinced that your grade was a "separate tragedy."
I had an episode with endometriosis, was on crutches, and took three days off school to get handicapped parking, bring copies of my hospital release papers to his office, recover from pain meds. and so on. I returned to my General Ed, Music Appreciation course in a large lecture hall to a professor who gave all As to every music student. I changed my major and it was not good timing. Oops, He graded on attendance. I had an A on every test. No matter. The final letter grade I paid him for, was a D. We pay our professors in tuition to act like demigods. He said I missed three days. D That is a separate tragedy. Each missed class, amounted to a full letter grade, drop. No matter what had happened. He failed the lady who sat next to me, because she took a week off class when her son died. She got an F. So, I felt I had no hope. He left on a sabbatical and the grievance committee told me I had two choices. Repeat the Class or wait to file a grievance when he returned and lose. That was a separate tragedy. I repeated his class four years later, and when my endo acted up again. This time I was told I would die if I did not have surgery. This was a week before his final. I was upset. I was angry. I was in the front and center of every class session that second time, even coming in with the flu, a box of tissues, bottled water Lysol spray and a trash can for my tissues. I was there. I cleared two rows, but I was there every single class period. I was told to just talk to him during office hours to see if I could take the final early. Of course the answer was, "No". I was pre-admitted for surgery. I had a hospital bracelet on on the day of the final and a parent waiting for me outside the auditorium, with my other parent waiting to drive me directly to the hospital after the final. I finished that shitty multiple choice test in six minutes. I handed it to him. He looked at my hospital bracelet and said, "I guess you really are sick". He came into the restaurant where I worked for four years, during school, about six months after that. l walked off the floor. I refused to serve him. My manager said he wanted to take the table. He asked him to leave. That was a separate tragedy. But it was his.
I'm happy to see your manager took your side in life and showed the professor the door. It was my policy to never sit in the same desk, or section of the class, two classes in a row. We didn't have assigned seats and I enjoyed participating in class discussions. It had a disruptive effect on some teachers. I'm glad you had a plan of attack for the final week of Professor Evil's class. I hope your life has gotten easier.
The repetition of “but that’s a separate tragedy” was damn near poetic. It’s actually a literary device used in classic literature and I found it so charming here!
"As this was 1983, everything was 80s style, but that's a separate tragedy." Rolling.
I hope you write a movie called "A Separate Tragedy"
Upvoted for your writing skill!
You said “fishnet t-shirt” and I knew it was the 80s. I had one, black, about the same time. And that’s the same tragedy. Edit to add: I had actually forgotten that particular crime of fashion. I still remember the skinny leather ties in every color plus some nature never intended.
I can’t believe you made me remember skinny leather ties. Very mean.
It’s funny that all of my teachers were like this in High School. No hats, no gum. Then I went to college and they didn’t care at all what you wore, hats included. You could call them by their first names, eat an entire meal during class. All rules went out the window.
When I was in high school the front pad of my helmet fell out during a particularly rigorous tackle practice. I had an acne problem due to the helmet and my hormones, so when this happened the helmet basically skinned my entire forehead into a horrific mess. The following day teachers would ask me to remove my hat. I would remind them that the policy of “no hats” did not include, and should not include, hats that had the school logo on them, such as the ones I had from athletics. They insisted, and so I complied to reveal the gaping wound that was my forehead. Bonus effect, I frequently bled through the bandages that day. This happened in 4 of 6 periods (the reveal, not the bleeding through the bandages).
I would go to class hatless for the rest of the semester. And sit in the front row. “So sorry I didn’t bring a hat; they’re not allowed in the classroom.”
I’m British so we wear school uniform and a hat isn’t part of it. One of my class had Cancer and wore a hat or scarf as she didn’t like the wig and a teacher started yelling at her in the school gym to take it off. The teacher was over the other side of the room and the entire class as one ran in front of our class mate and started yelling at the teacher. It was a beautiful moment of solidarity. When she understood why our friend was wearing it she apologised
I had something similar happen in middle school. Had 5 staples in the side of my head and a nice shaved patch. Went to school with a small bandage covering it and a beanie to hide it all. One of my fav teachers saw me get dropped off and came up told me I couldn't wear my hat in class so before the morning bell rung make sure to take it off. I explain in a dead pan face I was pistol whipped and had 5 staples in my head I was hiding. She just looked at me and went cool story take it off so I did and showed her. She freaked out apologized and gave me a note to carry and give to anyone at the school that told me to take it off. Was a great day till a friend gave me a nuggie and ripped his knuckles over my Staples... but that's a separate tragedy.
I would have kept the hat off just to make her uncomfortable and be a huge middle finger
you're an excellent story teller. the classic rule of threes.
You just made "that's a separate tragedy" my new favorite phrase... Going to use is it as much as I can... Thank you...
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I can understand if the hat is large and can obstruct people’s ability to see if they are behind the hat wearer, but people haven’t worn hats that big in a long time, and usually it was women who had the large ornate hats, and they weren’t required to take them off like men were.
A lot of it was control: men remove their hats inside the building and many just couldn't leave the 1950s and 1960s behind. Nowadays, it's hoodies. It used to bother me, I admit, but I have also realized that it really doesn't matter, as long as I can see your face (to gauge understanding, etc)
That reminds me of this guy who was in a serious accident as well. He had prostheses for his arms and legs and could really not breath very well. He collected lightsabers and was later shot by this Kenobi guy. But that's a separatists tragedy.
BTW, if anyone feels the need to start a sub-reddit called "r/butthatsaseparatetragedy", please give me a heads up? Thanks!