It's the Doctor - He Says You're Dead

 

Your love is like  a wide open field. Of manure.

Some sort of magic happened and I got to see an honest to goodness doctor in his honest to goodness office. I could tell he was serious, because he wore a mask and one of those welders' masks too. I went into the waiting room and six employees shrieked, "STOP! Wait outside and we'll be right with you." I didn't know I was interrupting pr0n hour.

There was a tiny little sign by the door that said For your privacy, wait here and we'll be with you. That makes perfect sense because if I don't read most words in a paragraph, why would I read any on a sign? Then my brain got to wonderin'... how, exactly, would sitting outside the office, in a hallway, help my privacy? If I needed an operation, would they sit my knocked out body outside the operating room, for my privacy? Or would they do what they always do in that dream: pull down my pants and the whole auditorium breaks into laughter?

A nice lady eventually appeared and took my temperature. Since it's been a while, I didn't know how she wanted to take it. Perhaps pr0n hour caused her to suggest rectally, which I rejected immediately (only Mrs lefty gets to do that). Dying of curiosity, I asked how my privacy was being protected by me sitting in the hall. She told me that there was only 1 person allowed in the 27 person waiting room at a time. Well, that pretty much answered nothing, especially as there was nobody in the waiting room or the hallway but me. I think the doctors tell them to answer with the first thing they think of, which will usually subdue the patient, perhaps playing on their fear of looking Medically Stupid.

How does this protect my privacy?

Well, the window's over there - see - down the hall.

Oh.

But there's nobody here.

We only allow 1 at a time in the waiting room.

But there's nobody in the waiting room.

See, you're the 1:30 appointment.

Oh.

The doctor eventually waddled in, after writing a few chapters of his autobiography, and got right to work, wondering where his tools were. I know the guy's good, so I tried not to look afraid when he came back with a huge needle and a urine receptacle. He performed his magic, I got soaked, and got to elbow bump him. I now know why I was dizzy, feverish, and possibly why I quacked on the half hour. He handed me a copy of my bloodwork and suggested a Mediterranean diet. I told him this was not possible; I love Mediterraneans, but this is against my wife's strict No Dating Policy.

Mrs lefty looked over the bloodwork and said I was so normal it was disgusting. That I was actually quite marketable. Since I like my reproductive gear, I told her I only wanted to be in her market.

SCREEEEEEEECH 

Hold on....

*I* have incredibly normal, if not great, bloodwork and am marketable?

• I work at a desk, sometimes wide awake
• when I'm not working, I'm a zen-like 1 with the couch
• I have 3 food groups: chocolate, pizza, and YooHoo
• I believe exercise causes cancer

and I have great blood results?

I'VE DONE IT! I'VE FINALLY DONE IT!

AFTER ALL THESE YEARS, I'VE PROVEN THEM ALL WRONG!

The sedentary lifestyle is what humans are supposed to live.

I have perfect joints, because I rarely use them.

My beer belly is a healthy one, even if I don't drink beer.

I keep my arms healthy by curling chocolate.

All my relatives died from too much moving about and exercising. WHY?

Dear readers, please do yourself, your family, and me a favor: adopt the sedentary lifestyle, before it's too late! 

Today I identify as  the left side of a zipper that won't go all the way up

• Will the person who made it possible to have emojis on the subject line of email please report for execution. Thank you.

I'd look around very carefully before I crossed streets or lifted heavy objects: I'm writing this because I'm happy. Food shopping does not make me happy. Listening to random songs on my phone's 16gig music folder does. Not a single CLOUD involved. Just tunes. Joe Walsh, Boz Scaggs, Doug Aldrich, and a staggering live version of Revival, by the Allmans [People can you feel it, love is everywhere]. Music has power.  Cardi B ain't gonna take you there.

Dear Mrs lefty:

I am in receipt of your shopping list and will take care of it, since your back is in bad shape. I just have a few questions, since you usually do this:

• do the skies always open up as soon as you decide to leave?
• did you know the kind of ink you use on your list doesn't so much smudge as melt in the rain?
• are there seriously mini and petite carrots?
• there are yellow, white, red, russet, baking, microwave, and single potatoes. What did you hope to accomplish by sending me out for yukon?
• why do we spend exponentially more for dog treats than lefty treats?
• does "buy 1 get 1 free" always translate to "we have nothing you want 2 of"?
• why do you submit me to the math involved in Buy 2 Get 1 Free?
• you might not be aware, but "bleach" comes in 12 different varieties and 13 different sizes. Perhaps we can schedule a knowledge transfer. I suffered from similar issues with "soup".
• how do you decide on soda? Coke is not on sale but you love Coke. Pepsi is on sale but no one will drink it, and they're out of Code Red. I've gone through weeks of work that aren't this difficult.

Dear lefty  

• Why are there fake vaginas and remote dog ovulation sensors?
• this dude needs to sell them to make money on Ebay?

Music and culture naturally changes with time.

Each generation says the next generation's music is noise.

The kids who were always being told TURN THAT DOWN are now saying TURN THAT DOWN to their kids.

Things during the Album Age were different. You'd pay a lot of your hard-earned money for an album, then spend hours poring over the cover to find out who played on it and whatever other details were there. 

In high school, music was your religion, to be displayed on book covers and clothes. This meant something, and you were forever putting together best of bands, with the best of each instrument in it. There were loud arguments over whose lead singer was best. Nobody really got that Freddy Mercury's singing was a wholly different style than Robert Plant's.

Of course things have changed, as they always do. When someone buys an album.. no, wait, when they buy a song, they don't get to read anything about it but it's ok, they don't care. Kids do not wear music logos, they wear corporate logos. They don't argue about who's the best guitarist, they argue about who displayed their twat better in concert. Who had the best social media feud and put-downs. Whose dancers are better. Who is besties with Kim K this week. Whose sex tape is better.

Yeah, things certainly change.