During a physical my doc pushed his tortoise shell spectacles high on his expanding forehead, exhaled in that weary professional demeanor, and, while tapping my medical file on his crossed knees, wondered if I was having any exacerbating problems?
I replied with a coy exhale of my own: “Glad you asked. You got the rest of the afternoon free?”
Dr. Matt and I went to the same erudite Dickinson College. So he knew I could be like one of those effusive, shirtless football terrorists painted for war.
But instead, I got laconic. And cut to my most pressing concern: “When is my winky ever going to get up again, doc? For months now, trying to have sex has been like shooting pool with a rope.”
Dr. Matt, who sort of reminds me of that bug-eyed actor Marty Feldman playing the hunchback in ‘Young Frankenstein’, tried to suppress one of those insidious smiles — this one, no doubt, being retribution of the geeks who actually studied in college.
He then orated about a lot of debilitating possibilities and maladies that didn’t register on my Richter scale, until he got to ‘stress’. And indeed, stress wilts just about everything – like your testosterone.
So he ordered up some blood work and a bunch of other pathology investigations usually conducted by the coroner – right after you suddenly stop sucking oxygen. And a few weeks later he called me with duh news: My testosterone was so low I was practically transgendered.
Just what the world needs: Another guy with useless cannon balls.
You know, like our Secretary of State. As well as his two predecessors…
You must be under a lot of stress, Dr. Matt postured, sanctimoniously suggesting the obvious: That stress is a main factor in keeping most men’s winkys from elevating off the first floor. You know: Flaccid.
Nah, not moi, doc, I deadpanned in my notorious open-wound of sarcasm. I’m the only guy on the planet without problems. I understand, I reminded him, that reality is the leading cause of stress – for those in touch with it. But I don’t own a TV. Threw it out duh top floor window years ago. Sumbitch was virtually trying to kill me.
Nevertheless I prattled off a couple of my top 20 realities as not-seen-on-TV.
Such as: Until recently I had a future-ex-wife who kept trying to kill me until the physicians finally found it a tad suspicious. I have a ‘changeling’ son who is dying a thousand deaths. And an older son who figures I am the worst father alive – even worse than the biologic father who abandoned him after his first year.
My projects in Russia and West Africa were self immolating. I spent six days as a guest of the city before the DA finally figured out that my ex is a pathological liar when she’s not on psychotropic drugs – but not before three very strange bedfellows provided me with free dental work.
Do you want me to continue, Herr Doktor, I wondered, as the sparse, wayward hirsute atop his chrome-dome seemed anxious to hop a fast train.
He said he got the gist.
The gist is that hell is not only other people, but a fool’s paradise that is hell on all of us. There seems to be very few remaining whose wits haven’t gone totally dim from watching three consecutive football games over a case of beer while belching from a Barcalounger.
And, meanwhile, every coffee house psycho is telling me to ‘just-get-over-it, man.’ And I retort: ‘I am: I have been schtooping your mother. Now you just get over that, man!’
But at 4AM I keep getting wake-up calls from my broken teeth in need of root canal and such. And I already spent $5,000, 15 months and 26 visits just to get one fixed. So how much bloody time is it going to take to get everything fixed so that I can get back to just getting over it!
Excuse my ‘postal’ moment… If high testosterone levels have been linked to higher crime rates, then what I got left is merely criminal.
Meantime, on top of all this – and so much, much more — we are verging on Armageddon with Syria. At the same time the Persians are much too wily for an ingénue like Obama. And our government — in case anyone actually noticed the difference – officially shut down.
Aww… what duh hell, what duh heck most of us are simply getting screwed, without the sex – or even being kissed.
What jobs there are out there barely pay enough to afford the processed food that only hastens our becoming cadavers for Big Pharma medics. We aren’t educating our future. Our past is crumbling with our bridges and highways. And the present is stymied by malnourished dreams.
And all common sense seems to have gotten lost in the din, and the fog of lies, liars and the politics of anything but the truth.
So, where is the reckoning?
No wonder half the country is on Viagra, Cialis, pornography and such. No wonder 90 percent of men – including moi — can’t get their winkys up! We be stressed out, man. We need to smoke sum weed. Drink more cheap whiskey. And enjoy every bite of a Twinkie.
Isn’t this the ultimate in capitalism? They are force-feeding us the stress-producing crap that is making us flaccid, and then selling us the pills that promise to remedy the wreckage.
And you wonder why I don’t own a gun? Don’t worry, I don’t wanna kill nobody. I just wanna beat a few – make that a lot — so badly they’ll need a shoehorn to get their hats on.
Look, our political system is broken. The only difference between Republicans and Democrats is that Democrats don’t beat their slaves.
And the Republicans – especially those Tea Party reprobates being fueled as fodder for the Koch brothers – got us thinking that all government is bad.
Well… yes and no.
But it was the government that got us to the moon, wasn’t it? It put us on internet. And installed health controls that enable most of us fools to far outlive our brains. Split the atom. And provides relief from man’s flim-flams as well as nature’s wham-bams .
Look, let’s have a little reality check here before man’s entire stockpile of testosterone gets so wilted we all get transgendered. And women grow balls. In other words, become kings.
The Republicans haven’t formulated any working alternatives to Obamacare — except to try to castrate something that has constitutionally been mandated by law. And I am not disagreeing with a large part of the public who don’t know what the hell Obamacare amounts to. That is, if it is as egregious as the Republicans proclaim or as wonderful as Obama promotes.
What I do know is that in its present form it is little more than gender confusion coming down the birth canal. That is, it is anything but great. But so what? Anything at all has to be far, far greater than what we have now for a health care system that is absolutely, positively horrendous.
So, would you rather keep the devil you know… or try a strange piece of cheery pie… Or, in my case, any piece?
To put it mildly – and anyone with a pulse should already comprehend this – the whole health system needs an overhaul. It is inefficient and hugely expensive for the services it delivers. That overhaul would save money for everybody: households, businesses and the government.
As I read recently from a noted economist:
Good health care requires seamless connections among the family doctor, specialists, hospitals, diagnostics units and others. Instead, we have a horrendous maze of separate organizations, insurers, and providers, each on its own accounts and information systems. The result is a waste, fraud and abuse of hundreds of billions of dollars each year, and a happy, overfed health industry employing legions of highly paid consultants, lawyers, accountants, managers and bankers.
And if we aren’t already aware of this then it is true of us hoi-polloi: We die at age 25 and merely hang around to 75 to get buried. We gotta start somewhere to clean up this deleterious, venal toxic healthcare mess. And Obamacare is somewhere.
In case you haven’t notice, there definitely is something different about the rich: They don’t need Viagra or Cialis. Their testosterone ain’t stressed out. They got good health care. And the only thing worse than the health system we poor overpay for is our overpriced weapons systems and deployment strategies that cost $1 million per solider per year in places like Afghanistan.
To quote again:
If ever there ever was a bloated, corrupted budget, it’s that of the military-industrial complex, which picks our pockets as we salute the flag.
Obviously we’ve got plenty of money to misspend on the rich getting richer. Now it is time to redirect that spending so that the rest of us can, at least, get healthy – before they kill us with bad credit ratings, bad pills and ‘badly’ enough to live on.
There is something terribly wrong here, there and everywhere. We don’t have foreign enemies. We are our own worst enemy. And we keep re-electing these gerrymandered cannibals to feast on our body parts – even before we’re dead.
Nah, Dr. Matt. I ain’t got no stress. There’s nothing left of me to be stressed out. I’ve been gestated… amputated… masticated… regurgitated… discombobulated… annihilated… and commutated until the world decides there is nothing left of me to screw.
I guess I am like one of those overvalued homes sold on bundled derivatives by bankers who smile when they take your money – and then, at the same time, ‘hedge’ their bets against you.
Hell is each and every one of us. And I must note that the biblical hell must be empty because the devils and evils are all here. And to tell you the truth, duh whole truth… or, whatever you want to believe: I don’t know if we are making a heaven of hell or a hell of heaven. But I am passed caring. Like Shakespeare wrote in the Prince’s elegy of Romeo and Juliet:
‘See what a scorn is laid upon your hate; that heaven finds a way to kill your joy with love. And I, for winking at your discord, have lost a brace of kinsmen…. ALL are punished!”
And meanwhile my winky is flaccid and my testosterone has decided to hide from a cruel, cruel world.
Nothing that a little puddy wouldn’t cure – especially in America where sex is an obsession, instead of a mere fact.
And dats yDrewIS on dis penal colony…