 DEAR DR. NOT, Man, I really like peas. Fresh, frozen, canned, any way they come I eat them. I eat peas for breakfast, peas for lunch and peas for dinner. After a day of eating nothing but peas, I usually have a midnight snack of 2 cans of peas, unheated! I’ve been eating peas like this for the last 15 years and I see no end in sight. But lately I’ve noticed some startling side effects. All my teeth have fallen out, I’ve lost my job, and I’m perfectly happy crouched in the cabinet under the kitchen sink thinking about the next time I can eat some more peas. Oh, I almost forgot, the whites of my eyes have turned green too. Anyway, Dr. Not, my question is: Does cigarette smoking really cause cancer? DEAR READER: This is a very perplexing question that has boggled the minds of health care officials since the beginning of time. So I’m really going out on a limb here and say that laboratory rats that smoke two packs of cigarettes a day are found to have stillborn fetuses with traces of lung cancer. Whew! There I said it. DEAR DR. NOT, I am a ninety-six year old man living in a retirement home, with an extremely overactive libido. When not fornicating with my ninety-four year old wife, I’m usually pestering her for more sex. When she tires of my incessant pleading, she locks herself in the bathroom, turns off her hearing aid and falls asleep on the toilet. That’s when I proposition the ladies in the dayroom. Unfortunately, most of them remember that I’m married so I end up snogging the Alzheimer's patients. Sometimes, I’ll spend myself in a cantaloupe or melon I’ve stolen from the kitchens walk-in crisper. Finally, I fall asleep around 4 a.m. with a full erection. Is there something wrong with me? DEAR READER: Absolutely not! Aside from showing that shriveled up hosebag you call a wife you still care about her, you are providing intimate touch to people most of us are sickened to even look at. Besides cantaloupes are a good source of fiber for a man your age. DEER DOKTER NOT, One of the youngins has a reel bad kase of the vapors. Me an the wife done figured owt that sheez alurjek to the five huntin dogs we keep in the back bedroom of the trailer wif the rest of the youngins. Anywhos, is theres sumptin we can give them huntin dogs, besides a flea bath, that will keep hur from havin the vapors so bad. We tryed to trade hur fur sumptin at a swap-meet, but since sheez got that daggone flecsh eatin bakteria all anybodys woud trade was a box ov old noodles. DEAR READER: So, you say you live in a trailer with five hunting dogs and a possible outbreak of flesh eating bacteria? Perhaps this particular case needs to undergo some closer scrutiny. Since the "Dokter" is currently between residences, (his current abandoned cellar is being demolished) he would be more than willing to camp-out on your couch for a week or month or two, so a trained physician could lend an educated eye to the situation before passing on some advice. | DEAR DR. NOT, Recently I was diagnosed with Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Initially, the loud and infrequent gas associated with this malady was more humorous than bothersome to my friends, pets and family. Believe me, a well timed fart during the course of a casual conversation would result in hilarious consequences. But lately this has all changed. My condition has taken a turn for the worse, the odor has increased dramatically. Whereas before it was merely unpleasant, now it’s truly repugnant like a dead body, stuffed with rotten cabbage. My social life is dismal. Nobody wants to come over and watch "Everybody Loves Raymond" anymore. My parakeets have all died and I haven’t been invited to a family get together since that unfortunate incident last Thanksgiving. Is there anything I can do about the pungency? DEAR READER: Sounds to me like you’ve just plain worn out your intestines from farting so much and they’ve died. You may want to consider a transplant from a pig or a cow. Either could be obtained from a slaughterhouse rather inexpensively since they usually chop up that shit up and turn it into balogna or sausage. Or you could just die a lonely stinking asshole watching "Everybody Loves Raymond." DEAR DR. NOT, This is very difficult. The other day I had a wax build-up in my ear and when I couldn’t find a toenail clipping or melon baller to dig it out with, I reached for the next most logical thing, the garden weasel. Well to make a long story mercifully short, the thing got bogged down in all the waxy build-up and now got a garden weasel stuck in my ear. I’ve unscrewed the handle attachment but that damned garden weasel still sticks out a good three and a half inches. Now, will you mind telling me how I’m going to fit my hand knitted Easter bonnett over my head for the Labor Day celebration parade? What if somebody notices? DEAR READER: You sir are a goddamned mental case. Only a person with a brain composed of regurgitated moose placenta would wear an Easter bonnett to a Labor Day celebration parade. Even a mentally challenged pissant knows to wear tinsel garnished toaster cosey with blinking lights to a Labor Day celebration parade. Ya damn hippie!! "Editors Note" Dr. Not is a graduate of many reknowned correspondences course and a self medicating substance abuser. When not fraudulently subscribing to unemployment and welfare benefits, he can be found asleep in his car or antagonizing patrons of any bar he hasn’t been banned from. To put it bluntly, Dr. Not, is not a doctor of anything and his advice should be written off as the insane ramblings of a pathetic ginsop. The views of Vic Demise are soley for his own entertainment and not the views of VIER Magazine. |