I am on the verge of disproving god, and answering the ultimate question to life, the universe, and everything(and no the answer is not 42). At the same time i will disprove evolution, and also the existence of atoms, and every other tiny particle that we believe exist. I will essentially become god, although my fact(i.e it isnt a theory) will also prove my own non-existence.

I forgot to mention my medical inventions. There are three and a half of them. They are not inventions, just new ways of using old products.

1. I am diabetic, and as such, bacterial infections occur easily and they are hard to cure. Some years ago I had a recurrent problem with dermatitis, or whatever it was called -- a bacterial infection that attacks the skin, and can be fatal if not treated. It spreads in the body slowly, it is resilient to most antibiotics. I was bedridden for a ten-day period each time I had the infection, which started on my legs -- now I remember the name: cellulitis -- and I was on intraveneous antibacterials for ten days, which was a total pain, as the needle kept slipping out -- too long to explain why. (It's because my sweat has changed its chemical composition twenty years ago, as a side-effect of a medication I'd been taking then for twenty years, and it makes my skin very slippery.)

I had these infections three times a year. I started to use antibacterial soap for bathing and showering, and let's touch wood, the infection has not come back in four years.

2. I am diabetic, and skin tags form easily on my skin. It is horribly expensive to remove them, at least it was until recently. Now liquid nitrogen is available on the retail consumer level, and I burn mine off with that. But before that, it was $10 for each tag, and I have had hundreds under either armpits, and between my legs.

The ones on my upper thighs were painful, they made walking painful in hot weather when I swote, and other times as well.

So I started to experiment on myself with household prodcuts, and the best stuff to taken the pain away was hair conditioner. Yes. You shower, soap, lather, rinse, then you put hair conditioner on the part that rubs with every step you take, and don't dry, but you can get dressed in five minutes.

The pain-killing effect, and pain-preventing effect, lasted minimum 24 hours. You had to take a full body-shower, no getting around that.

3. Nose infections. I was getting bloody nose bleeds, which started on the inside walls, not far from the opening. Also, my goober got dry there and hard to remove.

I applied toilet paper, a very small amount, soaked in -- don't laugh -- household chlorine bleech, for ten days, twice or three times a day for five-ten minute long applications. I still have the goober hardening, but the infection never came back -- five years now. The hardening I used for the longest time to take out with water, but now I realize that vaseline does the job way faster, smoother, and more elegantly.

4. Erectile dysfunction. I was really surprised when it hit me at 45. I tried the oral pills, viagra, cialis, did not make a difference whatsoever. My urolgoist prescribed Muse, and my girlfriend and I wanted to try it, but it did not work. The method to apply is painful, very hard, and easy to miss. The doctor said, now you can try injecting some stuff into your shaft -- I said, forget it, I am not going that far.

Three years ago I remembered a story from one of my classmates in Hungary, who was an emergency room physician, and he told us a story how a man was brought in with a screw nut around the base of his penis, and his penis incredibly hard. The man was screaming in pain, and the staff was rolling in laughter. Apparently the patient had his buddies over, and they each tried the nut on, flaccid, but this guy had the misfortune of thinking of Marilyn Monroe at the same time, and the emergency room was his next spot.

I therefore experimented with restricting the circulation in the base of my penis. I now have perfected it; my erections are large, strong, hard, and last until I ejaculate. Then they penis goes flaccid, even if I leave the restrictive device there temporarily.

By the way, the emergency patient had to have the iron nut sawed off, and it was a precision job, and very awful for him.

5. Personal hygiene. I had moved into a new place, and the landlady was a biitch, and we got into a fight over who ought to clean the washroom and how often. She was full of pride and dignity, and so was I, and our demeanors trampled upon each others, so we were enemies from day 1.

I said, "I will now stop using the bathroom." Which I did, and for seven months I never went near it, and went through the cleanest and most pleasant-smelling period of my life.

I washed my body and hair in drugstore rubbing alcohol.

It did the job perfectly, the wash lasted two minutes, and there was no drying to do.

I made a little washer-thing for myself, because my muscles are very rigid, and therefore I am so inflexible I can't wash my back, or reach my hands in my back.

6. Clothing. When I started to bicycle full time everywhere, my underwear hurt. The seams cut into my flesh as I sat in the saddle. I switched to boxer shorts, and they either would not go round the waist, or they fell off, while still between me and the pants.

So I stapled a strip of velcro on the front, one strip of velcro ont he back, and bought a 100% polyester thin lining material at a dressmaker store. I cut the material into a 3 feet by 8 inches strip, stapled the opposite side of the velcro at the two 8-inch-wide edges, and put it in, and then put on my pants.

7. Clothing. I wear suspenders, coz my waist is narrower than my stomach, and my *** is narrower than my waist. So pants fall off, if I wear belt or something.

The suspenders are inferior technology; the clasps come off easily.

So I cut off the clisps or clasps, or clips, and stapled the end of the suspenders to my waist in the pants.

The suspenders, each, last now 3 years, as opposed to having to throw them out at six months of age before.

And my *** never hurts due to sitting in the saddle.

8. Personal, sit-around air conditioning. The aforementioned landlady had lent me the room, but I could not put in air conditioning. She said the house was, which was true, and they turned it on six times in the entire summer, the hottest summer on record, for three hours each time. And every time when they expected their church friends for coffee.

I was going bonkers. I can't stand the heat, and had lived for 24 years prior to that room in basements, which are much cooler in the summer.

The average temperature in the room was 30 C degrees for two months (90 F degrees), with the peaks reaching as high as 35 (100 F) and the lows at night not falling below 27 (80).

I fanned myself with electric fans, but on extremely hot days I was ready to puke and pass out from the heat.

So I put slightly wet rugs on my skin, and fanned myself.

I felt comfortable.

9. Chairs.

I am a short guy, who is fat. I have bad lumbar pain problems. Couches are too deep for me: the distance between the backrest and the edge of the seat, where my knees ought to be, are twice as long as they should be, for me.

I realized that car seats are comfortable, and I reasoned, yeah, car manufacturers make them for people to spend long and a lot of times in there. So I got a car seat out of the garbage in the neighbourhood, put it in front of my computer, sat in it, and never wanted to get out of it.

To move with a car seat is hard, coz they are heavy, bulky. So I measured the angles of their surfaces; got an ordinary single-mold plastic garden chair from the garbage, cut its legs so that the surfaces are tilted just the right way and to make my feet reach the floor, and bingo, I can sit. A veritable miracle. Put a cushion taken from a garbage-bound couch, and cut it to size. Heavennn!!!

Wux, you are either a genius or you have WAY too much time on your hands. Which is it?

I like to think it's both, but I'll let you guys decide.

All I can say is that I enjoy thinking. A lot of people told me, over the ages, "Andrew, you think too much", and I think, maybe they haven't thought enough.

I don't work, am unemployable, and have had the best years of my adult life since I have become a free loader. I am not cut out to work; work stifles me, stagnates me, kills me. It is so boring that I want to scream. Work is the most horrible of the lifestyles I had to live.

I live on a meagre government disability benefit and on some annuity. Also meagre. But my needs are even more meagre, so every month I have at least a couple of hundred dollars to throw away. Because the g-man forbids me to have more than X dollars in the bank.

So what I do is this:

I started to buy expensive food in expensive supermarkets,

and

I have started to give tips to waitresses that is equal to the amount of the bill without tip.

This latter is fun, even just as a sociological exercise. There are three types of reactions by waitresses:

1. They don't want to take it. It's immoral, it seems, from their perspective. I have to practically beg them, and sometimes bribe them to take the money.

2. They take it and get embarrassed about it. This is the type of waitress that has liked me as a customer, and I think she feels sorry for me, coz she likes me, to take that much money out of me. These girls become a bit hard to take a few of the first time I tip them, because they feel they have to repay me somehow, and that comes out as talking to me in a guilt-ridden voice about things that don't interest me, or giving me forced, and false compliments.

3. The cool girls. They take the money, and don't argue. They first identify the amount, and ask me to be positive that that's how much I want to leave them. After confirmation, they take the money, and thank me. It's all business for them.

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If I like the restaurant or the waitress, like in family-run little holes, or ethnic restaurants, then I leave the big tip even if I have a serious complaint. I leave the big tip, and with smiles I explain to the owner's wife or daughter, who is serving tables, what it was that I really couldn't stand about the place. This is another sociological experiment you shouldn't want to miss.

I really enjoy reading your posts, whether strewn with satire, injected with anecdotes or filled with handy-dandy tips. I thought at one time you mentioned that you are some kind of writer - long time ago.

Anyway, you write entertaining and uniquely informative views. At the very least, you could use your talent to inspire many who deal with chronic conditions to use their own ingenuity to help themselves.

In other words - 'invent' some way to use this talent.

Thanks, that's a good idea.

wow very creative wux and the last one with the wine made me laugh!