I remember growing up in Munster, Indiana (see 'armpit of chicago' in the USA atlas) there was this kid around the street named D.J. which I think stood for Doug Johnson. I guess he was my brother's age, and as much as my brother was a misfit problem child (read: had more fun than I did), D.J. made my brother look like a cherub. He was also, as I recall, diabetic, and a real stupid one. I remember seeing him inject himself with insulin a couple of times, and I also remember him being really really mentally unstable, which I'm guessing was caused by his blood-sugar levels getting all out of whack, because as far as I recall he didn't do any of the things diabetics are supposed to do, specifically watch what he was eating.
I remember back in those days of Munster, the summer mosquitos as big as baseballs, whenever we screwed around my mom would scold us with a "don't be like D.J." so now it's my turn to give my mom the same advice!
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