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"Always grab the reader by the throat in the first paragraph,
sink your thumbs into his windpipe in the second, and hold him against the wall
until the tag line."
- Paul O'Neil
All Original Site Content
Copyright © 2003-2004
Phil Elmore, all rights reserved.
Dear Doctor Endwell,
I've been bleeding out of my eyes for about six months now. It's starting to worry me. Should I see someone?
Thanks,
Going Pale in Jersey
Am I the only person who is disturbed by those write-in doctor columns in the newspaper? I've reached the point where I don't dare even read the headlines on these for fear that I'll hear about yet another exotic ailment about which I never even knew to be worried before. Every week, people whose skin is mysteriously sloughing off their bodies are writing to ask if there's anything unusual about that. Housewives are bursting into flame and writing to ask if there's an herbal supplement that soothes the burning. Office temps from the Midwest are sending letters, curious to know if having pens lodged in their skulls is something that can be fixed at home without bothering to bill their insurance.
More worrisome than these people who apparently can't figure out, without the help of a mail-in medical columnist, whether they should see their doctor when they've been struck repeatedly by lightning or bitten on their faces by rattlesnakes, are the people for whom television medical commercials are targeted.
Zoboflax is not for everyone. If you have kidney failure, a serious heart condition, terminal cancer, or a space alien living inside your sternum, tell your doctor.
Shouldn't your doctor already KNOW about these things? I mean, who goes to their doctor and says, "Doc, I was watching Friends the other night, and during the commercial break I was informed that I should ask you if Zoboflax is right for me. Oh, by the way, my immune system isn't normal because I'm dying. I thought that might be relevant."
Frankly, when I go to my doctor, I'm not about to give him any ideas. I see visits to my doctor as a kind of game in which I test his ability TO KNOW WHAT MIGHT BE KILLING ME without my input. That's why he went to school, right? If I have an alien living inside my sternum, I figure it's his job to pick up on that - and it's also his job to prescribe something that I don't have to tell him about.
"Gosh, Mr. Elmore, you've got an alien."
"Yes, I was wondering when you'd notice."
"I'd prescribe something, but to be honest, I'm fresh out of ideas."
"How about Zoboflax? Is it right for me?"