Oh, Oh, Oh Placebo!

 

Oh, Oh, Oh Placebo!

"I used to be suffering from any one of a half dozen chronic diseases.  But then my doctor prescribed Placebo and now I'm feeling great!

Or maybe I'm not.

Or maybe I'm already dead."

 Oh, Oh, Oh Placebo!

Placebo costs you almost nothing.  Because it's nothing but sugar, ragweed, and a little bit of Red Dye No.3 for coloring. (That's the red die that's been banned for serious health reasons.) Placebo is perfect for folks who have a shitty Medicare Advantage Plan with super high deductibles or absolutely no health insurance whatsoever!

Placebo is not for everyone. Depression and anxiety may result if one day you realize that all along you could have been taking real medicine that might have actually helped you get better. Don't take Placebo if you're allergic to Red Dye No.3 or if you've caught on to us!  

In clinical trials using Placebo and a placebo, over 75% of participants had the same result, and not a good one with Placebo or the placebo. The other 25%, well, maybe they just lucked out. WTF!

"With Placebo, I'm talking my life into my own hands.  And I've even lost a little weight, because I'm literally wasting away." 

Oh, Oh, Oh Placebo!

Ask your doctor about Placebo. 

 And hopefully he has the same level of scruples as the doctor who used to prescribe Quaaludes for Perry in the 70's.

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If Leonardo da Vinci Had A Goofy Sidekick

 

                                    

(In the hallowed tradition of If Moses Had a Goofy Sidekick  and If Henry David Thoreau Had Added a Goofy Sidekick to Walden, I hereby humbly present this to you, the third installment in "The Goofy Sidekick Annals." 

Who knows?  Maybe next time I'll write "If You Had a Goofy Sidekick.") 

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"I've just completed this prototype drawing of a flying machine," said Leonardo da Vinci aloud, "and I think at long last mankind might take to the skies!

 

But there's the possibility if I were to build one of these it might crash and send anyone I could talk into climbing aboard to a fiery doom. But where can I find  someone so gullible, so naive, so downright stupid as to take such a foolhardy risk?"

"Hey, Leo, open up! It's your old buddy, Farky Noodleman!"

"Farky, Farky!  Y'know, I was just thinking about you."

"How's the Renaissance treating ya, Leo?"

"Fine, Farky.  Glad those Gothic Middle Ages are finally over!"

"Goths creep me out too!  And I'm sick and tired of being picked last whenever the guys suit up for jousting practice."

"Say, Farky, let's go into my studio, got some interesting work to show you."

"Holy crap, look at that!"

"That's the statue of David, on loan from my friend Michelangelo."

"Well, that certainly makes me feel inadequate, especially as a Jewish guy!" 

"Hey, Farky, here's something I just completed."

"Twelve guys eatin' out?  I hope they knew to ask for separate checks."

"It's The Last Supper."

"If they haven't gotten separate checks and left a decent tip, it will be the Last Supper! Hey, Leo, ever think about doin' a painting of 'Doges Playing Poker?'  Could be your masterpiece."

"Umm, maybe next time.  Right now I've got a young woman coming over whose portrait I'm going to paint.  Oh, here she is now."

"Hello, Mr. da Vinci."

"Hi, Clara. Meet my friend, Farky Noodleman. Farky, say hello to Clara Schwartz."

"Hello, Mr. Noodleman.  Pleased to meet you."

"Charmed I'm sure, Ms. Schwartz!  Say, did I ever meet ya on a J-Date?"

"I don't think so."

"Hey, Ms. Schwartz, if you don't mind a suggestion, you might wanna put on some makeup for the painting.  Maybe some lip gloss. Or a little blush."

"Thank you, Mr. Noodleman, but I prefer a natural look."

"Well, then just give us a big broad smile for the camera, Clara!  I mean, for the palette."

"No, Farky, I want The Clara Schwartz to be known forever for her enigmatic smile."

"Well, okay, but I'm not diggin' the name."

"What do you mean?"

"How about somethin' a bit cooler than Clara Schwartz? Like Mona ... yeah,  maybe like ... say ... Mona Lisa?"

"I like that very much, Mr. Noodleman."

"So do I, Farky. 'The Mona Lisa,' it is!"

"Glad I could be of service, youse two.  Now, Leo, let's talk those Doges Playing Poker!"

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Leonardo da Vinci's Doges Playing Poker.

They Given You a Number and Taken Away Your Name

 

It’s a strange experience these days, and it has been for quite some time, whenever one attempts to make an appointment with a medical professional. It's somewhat disconcerting for anyone of any age, but especially so for those of the Baby Boomer persuasion.

Recently I sought to make an appointment for a annual checkup with my Primary Care Physician, Dr. Kropotkin. I punched in the number and spoke to the Physician's Assistant, a woman named Tiffany.

"Hello," I said, "I'd like to make an appointment for my annual physical. What dates does Dr. Kropotkin have available?"

"Oh, of course," she replied. "What's your birthdate?”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

"Don't you want to know my name first?"

"No, I want to know your birthdate first."

"But shouldn't my name be first and my birthdate secondary?"

"No, sir. Your name is totally insignificant and hardly important. We can figure that out from your all important and all-consuming birthdate!"

(Now there's a theme song to a TV show from the 1960's called "Secret Agent" starring an iconic actor named Patrick McGoohan which featured the lyrics "They Given You a Number and Taken Away Your Name."

In the show the lyric was applied to a British Secret Agent named John Drake.

It was not applied  to a Jewish guy from the Philly suburbs attempting to make an appointment with Dr. Kropotkin.)

Resuming the dialogue with Tiffany, I said "So you say you can figure out my name from my birthdate, eh?"

"Yes, sir, that's correct." 

"What if I lie?”

Then your appointment will go to a 25-year-old named Ashley.”

“…. well, then, it’s September 12 … September 12 .... Nineteen ...”

"Spit it out, sir!"

"All right, god damnit, it's September 12, 19 fucking 50!"

“Oh .... well, in that case ... why don’t we wait a bit and see if the appointment turns out to be necessary.”

"Let's just take a wild stab, and assume maybe it will be necessary!"

And so far -  so far - it has been.  

I don’t know about next year.

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                            What does my birth year say about me?

                                                   Don't Ask!