Oh, the National Review, how I don’t envy you. You are the definition of paternalistic, elitist, country-club Republicanism. You are the Donna Reed Show trying to remain relevant and meaningful against the counter-programing of the Modern Family of the liberal establishment’s and the snuff film that is the Trump presidency. And that will never change no matter how many articles you publish with headlines that start with the phrase “Take a Deep Breath, Leftists” and argue that everyday liberals are just as bad as Donald Trump and Steven Bannon. And your comment section is very quickly becoming the curb against which alt-right know-nothings are more than happy to shatter your head against. In fact, today’s DWP was one of the nicest, most publishable alt-righter comment I could find (identity concealed because NR uses Facebook for it comment platform and even Deplorables don’t deserve to be defined by their worst online moment):
Without taking his eyes off the patient history he was pouring over, Doctor Marcus Grayson stubbed out the last quarter-inch of his cigarette in the large glass ashtray that occupied the bottom right corner of his home office desk.
Dr. Grayson was absolutely stumped. The patient had shown up early the previous evening complaining about “I don’t know. I just really, really don’t feel good.” He then passed out in the E.R. He was stable now, but for how long? He had no specific ailments, just a wide ranging laundry list of general ills. Constant headaches, frequent trouble breathing. Chronic constipation, nightly acid reflux. Persistent chest pains, coughs that wouldn’t go away. Tingling in the extremities, dizziness, fatigue, sore throat, congestion, regular bouts of insomnia and a persistent cough running on three months now. Diagnostically speaking he suffered from morbid obesity, extremely high cholesterol, dangerously high blood pressure, alarmingly low bone density, muscle atrophy and the kind of circulatory problems normally only seen in the old and diabetic.
The question now was how? Dr. Grayson could not understand how this patient ended up such a time bomb. It was a mystery he was so eager to put to bed that he barely even tasted the smoke he drew in from a fresh cigarette.
The patient was overweight and 58. He and Dr. Grayson shared a birthday and trivial as that was it stuck out in the doctor’s mind as being somehow significant.
The Patient reported that his average day involved data-entry at a desk, breakfasted on sausage routinely at pizza for lunch and generally supped on Chinese take-out. Candy bars and colas filled out the rest of his diet. He didn’t exercise. In fact he described his physical activity as being pretty minimal, all in all.
Dr. Grayson coughed a series of hard, staccato coughs that rattled his body. He took a moment to wipe spittle off from around his lips with a monogrammed handkerchief and then a further moment to find the last word of the evaluation he had read before the coughing had thrown him off.
The patient had no spouse or children. His parents were dead. His aunt was listed as his emergency contact although the area code of her phone number was unfamiliar to Dr. Grayson and most likely put her at least a few states away. So, no support system, emotional or otherwise, to speak of.
The tickle at the back of Dr. Grayson’s throat that had been troubling him all day was beginning to burn, irritated no doubt by the influx of smoke from another new cigarette. Dr. Grayson unwrapped and popped a honey lemon lozenge into his mouth, manipulating it with his tongue while puffing absentmindedly on his cigarette.
The patient reported drinking three to four times a day, and odds were that he was lowballing that figure. He smoked a pack a day, again a low estimate.
Another series of coughs derailed Dr. Grayson’s investigation. He recovered, after some time, and dabbed at his lips again with his handkerchief. He noticed this time that the cloth came away spotted with blood. No matter. There would be time enough for Dr. Grayson to focus on his own undoubtedly minor health concerns once he had gotten to the bottom of what was killing the patient.