In the spirit of fair play, to preserve the mantra of our super hero, and for the sake of “truth, justice and the American way,” I share the following thoughts:
During the last forty-eight hours I’ve been needing to laugh more and reflect less. The reflective, moody one is my “third person.” It is a depressing fact that whenever I let my third person move into the driver’s seat I am certain to crash and burn.
This morning my first thought was to jump head first into a first person satirical monologue on the dangers of mass hypnosis, the plague of yellow journalism, the phenomena of the “talking heads,” and the truth behind Big Brother.
Needing a good laugh, however, I would rather talk about advertising in general and television commercials in particular.
I looked at the tube to see a woman shaking her leg under the table at dinner, at the movie while her mate scowled, in her recliner while she tries to watch her favorite reality show. Up and down her legs shook, rolling in her bed, they revolved on the pedals of an invisible bike.
Do you suffer from RLS?
What the hell is RLS you ask? It’s Restless Leg Syndrome. Happily, the ABC Drug Company has the cure.
Having spent my entire life with all of me restless and in need of a good mode of transportation, I laughed until I cried. My mother’s cure was to send me to grocer to get fifty cents of bologna for lunch.
She kept me running the streets and crossing the avenues, from the baker to the butcher, and when that didn’t work, she gave me hobbies. By adolescence, I had accumulated more rope rugs, potholders and key chains than any kid in South Brooklyn.
I read a book in the eighties which lamented the shame of our “credentialed society.” On top of being a society blemished with over consumption, abandoned recklessness and raising a generation of hedonistic youth, it appears we had also become a society that places too much value on the letters before and after our names.
I am convinced the heads of the Research & Development Departments at PDour giant drug conglomerates read this book and decided a PhD or an MD could not compare to a COD, an ADHD, an RLS or a combination of dyslexic, anorexic, bulimic, bi-polar disorders, more fascinating than alphabet soup … or my favorite a PD.
In case you didn’t get the last. Think about your granny or your old maid Aunt Mabel sitting with their knitting. They hear the strains of romantic music and look up with a smile at their twelve-inch RCA to see a man and a woman gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes.
Do you or your mate suffer from penile dysfunction?
You can’t make this stuff up folks.