Posts filed under “Press Clippings”
Meet the adorable kitten who controls your credit score.
6 foods in your refrigerator right now that could kill you (and one of them’s got a gun)
She heard a noise in the night and got up to investigate. What she found revolutionized the paper-towel industry.
Watch what happens when this drunken fraternity tries to invade Paraguay armed with only a salad spinner
Revealed: The Democrats’ shocking plan to outlaw cheese
Reconcile Aristotelian realism with Platonic realism with this one weird thing
The 4 things in your closet you need to get rid of before they explode
Sir: In my life I have seen many egregious examples of “identity politics,” but I had always thought that the sacred science of Medicine, at least, would remain a refuge from such flummery. How wrong I was! For only last night, at a cocktail party at the home of the well-known socialite Clytemnestra Pnyx, I was introduced to a supposed doctor; and when I began to ask him about the liver spots on my pancreas, he told me—I remember his exact words—“Sir, I cannot help you, as I am a doctor of puerperal medicine.”
As if color had anything to do with a man’s health! What difference does it make whether I am yellow or red or puerperal? Does the color of a man’s skin determine whether he is worthy to receive medical care? I had thought we had fought a civil war over that issue. I had been under the impression that our side had won. Yet now comes this so-called doctor and insists that he cannot help me because I do not meet his preconceived notion of the proper color for a patient of his.
I felt mortally insulted, I can tell you. Yet I did not sink so low as to make fun of the man’s comical speech defect. I for one will not denigrate a doctor on such whimsical grounds. I ask only as much of him, no more. I have a dream that one day medical patients, red, black, brown, yellow, white, green, or puerperal, will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their pancreaseses—their pancreasusseses—by their pancreatic content. Am I an unrealistic idealist? Perhaps. But I will stand up, howsoever unrealistically, for my one ideal, that the science of medicine should not be tarnished by identity politics. Who will stand with me?
Sincerely, Isambard Lemmon III, Jr.
IN SPORTS NEWS, the Oakland Athletics lost to the Fort Wayne Pale Flabby Couch Potatoes, 7-2.
MORE THAN THIRTY televisions in restaurants and waiting rooms around the metropolitan area mysteriously switched to a documentary film entitled “Daniel Burnham, Make No Little Plans.” Homeland Security agents are investigating but a spokesman warned that no one is safe and we should all be very afraid. Patrons at Dunnings Sports Bar in Etna were particularly affected by the outrage, with eight reported hospitalized with cardiac-related problems after an important play in the Bengals/Browns game was interrupted. The only clue to the identity of the mysterious malifactor behind the attack came in the closing credits of the documentary, which identified it as “A Brazo Production”.
Someone who changes his name to “Sol Invictus” in honor of the favorite deity of the Roman legions has a bit of an ego problem. Someone who does so and then, when he speaks to reporters, translates “Sol Invictus” as “majestic unconquered sun” has an ego too big for this continent.
Sir: My daughter Chamaecrista came home from school last week and told me her math teacher said they were going to use Arabic numerals for everything in math class.
Well, I guess the terrorists have won. Good old American numbers were just fine when I was growing up, but I guess now the Islamofascist socialist Nazis on the school board want our kids to learn to hate America and everything it stands for.
Wake up, people! Can’t you see that getting Arabic numerals into our classrooms was just a dry run? If we didn’t object, then those Arabs would come at us with their “algebra” and other unnatural perversions. That’s what happens when you let down your guard for an instant.
Fortunately the school principal is my brother-in-law Alf, so I went straight to him, and he agreed to send that teacher straight to a detention camp in Guantanamo Bay. Of course, after her lawyer got involved, it somehow got changed to early retirement with full pay and a masseur named Bjorn in a beachfront cottage in the U. S. Virgin Islands, but that’s lawyers for you. The important thing was that we showed her the terrorists can’t win. Not while I’m around.
——Sincerely, James XIV, Legitimate King of England of the House of Stuart
Sir: Do you remember how, when we were young, the world was full of love and laughter and brightness and irresponsible joy? Now we are old, and the world is full of pain and illness and bills and worry. From this observation, we can draw only one conclusion: the world is much worse now than it was when we were young. Somehow the world has lost its brightness and laughter and filled up with pain and darkness. Clearly the government is to blame.
So why are the seemingly dozens of presidential candidates infesting our country not talking about the one issue that affects everyone in their generation? Why has not a single candidate gone on the record unequivocally as in favor of joy and against pain? Why has not one stood up to say, “In my administration, there will be no arthritis, and tooth decay will be outlawed”? Where is the candidate who has the courage to promise an end to worry?
As a citizen, I expect my government to provide for my needs. Right now what I need is some cheering up. I demand a hearing from the current crop of presidential candidates. Which one of them will put on a clown suit and fall off a unicycle? Which one will give us a champagne-and-croquet party on his front lawn? Which one will make rainbows light up the sky while pink flower petals drift lazily to the ground? That is the candidate who will have my vote.
——Sincerely, Alain-Yves-Pierre Roulon de la Baguette, Windgap.