Do Not Resuscitate

Do Not Resuscitate

This is Rob Long with Martini Shot on KCRW.

For years, I have wondered about the huge numbers of people that throng the city in the middle of the day -- driving around, shopping, lingering over lunch, playing tennis, hanging out at the beach. This city is jammed in the middle of the day with all sorts of layabouts and lazybones. This is not Manhattan, whose downtown streets in the middle of the day are neutron-bomb quiet. LA is busy all day long, the golf courses and tennis courts and gyms and supermarkets and shops filled to capacity by mid-morning. Who are these people? I have wondered. I have finally figured it out. They are all television producers, waiting to hear from the network.

One year, while waiting, I somehow became horrendously ill. Hard to do when you-ve barely left the house in weeks. My agent called.

MY AGENT (O. S.)

How are you feeling?

In my wallet, stapled to my driver-s license, I have an organ donor-s card, which means, in the clearest possible terms, that if I-m in a hideous car wreck (which in Los Angeles is a matter of living here long enough), the hospital personnel are empowered, upon my death, to scavenge my body for usable organs. There-s also a box marked DO NOT RESUSCITATE which instructs the hospital personnel on what to do if I-m brain-dead but still clinging to life. I have checked the box. DO NOT RESUSCITATE is my motto, in life, love, and business. It isn-t much, but it-s mine. If I knew Latin, I-d have a coat of arms made up.

Anyone know Latin?

That-s it for this week. Next week, we-ll hire a day player.

For KCRW, this is Rob Long with Martini Shot.