Saturday, January 07, 2006

I’m not sure what the first cream does, but the second is essentially a topical numbing agent. I rub it in, and my asshole goes to sleep. If I ever found myself up on Brokeback Mountain, this is the cream I’d want to have in my rucksack… and in my asshole.

But hearing my asshole was rebeling against me wasn’t nearly as disquieting as the info the doc imparted regarding the creams he’d prescribed: “In a few weeks,” he said. “You’ll feel 50% better.”

I was quietly outraged. Was this the best modern medicine could offer? 50% better in a few weeks?! I don’t wanna hear about anything less than 100% better in a few hours, if not “After I tap you with this magic wand, your asshole will not only be instantly healed, but from now on, it’ll periodically release a pleasant scent that’s a natural aphrodisiac.” And failing magical cures, where are all the “Star Trek” healing lasers and shit? We’re in the 21st fucking century, people! I wanna walk into a doctor’s office, lay on the table, and say “Bones, run that light-thingee over my bung-hole and high-tech my fissure shut, post-haste!” And then I want to shoot a fucking Klingon.


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