Take two Smoogs and call me in the morning

You may not know this, but I happen to be a crack diagnostician. I'm not allowed to advertise this ever since a group of very angry men in bomber jackets and badges raided my bedroom and took away my prescription pad (all right, my psychiatrist's prescription pad, but let's not split hairs), the vintage x-ray machine, and my cordless drill, but that's purely the result of professional jealousy. After all, my genius has led me to attain this level of expertise without ever setting foot inside a university, donning a labcoat, and incurring hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt in the name of higher education. Sadly, I wasn't given any piece of paper that told me what letters to put after my name. However, since those seeking the talents of crack diagnosticians love to see pieces of paper on the wall and plenty of letters strewn everywhere, I've put my genius to further use and happily obliged. You can see there on the wall my certificate of completion of the correspondence television repair course from St. Jude's Educational Institute and Deli. My business cards are extra wide in order to fit all the letters I have accumulated after my name. I've arranged them in sonically pleasing combinations for easy recitation. Who knew a Scrabble bag could come in so handy?

It's been suggested that my medical expertise is bestowed upon me from on high. I've looked up very hard for long stretches of time, but other than periodic blind spells from staring into the sun, I've been unable to find this on high person everyone keeps talking about. However, they must be right, for the knowledge comes to me spontaneously the moment I am asked any medical question. I am asked many, many medical questions by a wide range of diverse patients. In every office I have ever worked in, I have been regularly swarmed by co-workers asking me what that twinge in their side means or how they can cure the horrific rash and blistering that has suddenly covered their entire body. Of course my answers are instantaneous. Tricksipholia, the build-up of leftover Spam in one's pancreas! Tampafecis, a severe allergy to unsavoury suburban homes in Florida! This is why they always come to me, for I am, as you now know, a crack diagnostician.

They know they can trust me with their most festering of physiological secrets because they overheard me chatting at lunch about how Prader-Willi syndrome makes a person want to eat rotting garbage and soggy cardboard. Only a crack diagnostician would have that kind of knowledge at their fingertips. They do not go to their family doctor. Who needs to go through the tedium of waiting 3 hours in an office just for someone with over a decade of university education to tell them what's wrong when I am available in an instant? It didn't take me any time at all to look up Prader-Willi syndrome on Google. Obviously if a person has to spend over a decade figuring this out, you really can't trust their judgement, now can you?

When you ask me, your crack diagnostician, for a crack diagnosis, I will immediately spend the next 15 minutes using very long, very Latin words that sound ominously lethal. I will do this while holding your arm and carefully prodding the bend in your elbow with a pencil tip. If you yelp, squirm, or simply squeak quietly, I will interrupt my dissertion on the interstitial verisimilitude of pusillanimous cardiopulminary excretions to say "hmm" in a deep, brooding tone. Then you will know that I, your crack diagnostician, am sympathetic to your every ache and pain - that I can, in fact, predict your future health over a span of 25 years using pretty plots, graphs, and grotesque cross-sections of diseased body parts off to the side with incomprehensible captions and big arrows pointing to the plots and graphs importantly.

Obviously whatever you're suffering from is completely benign or horribly lethal, which I, being a crack diagnostician, will be able to reveal to you. There will be no need for you to follow up with a visit to your GP. A GP will only tell you things you don't want to hear, which is why you come to me, your crack diagnostician. I will always tell you what you want to hear, and will in fact tailor my diagnosis to suit your individual personality type. There is a disease for every person, which of course I know intimately. If you are a rabid hypochondriac, you will have a multitude of potentially lethal illnesses that will demand the special attention of a multitude of specialists, some even overseas. I know you are special, and that special people need special attention. You will leave me, feeling relieved to know that you're not paranoid at all - every disease really is out to get you. If you are a fitness freak, you will of course have nothing more wrong with you than the ache of a body that knows it is truly spectacular.

So please, come visit Dr. Smoog. I may be eating a ham sandwich or licking envelopes at the time, but don't be shy. Even while collating financial summaries, I can heal you of all ills and make you all better simply by saying so.

Of course, you already knew this, since I am, quite obviously, a crack diagnostician. Why else would I be wearing this lamp on my head?

make idle gossip (7 comments so far)

come hither - back off

Last 5 entries:
01.14.2007:Finally, a support group we can all get behind
01.09.2007:The City That Ever Reeks
01.08.2007:Waiter, there's a uterus in my soup
01.03.2007:Long Lost Mummy of Nefertiti Found in Smoog's Apartment
12.30.2006:New Year's resolutions we can actually keep

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