Congressman Says Hairy Eyeball Fueling Dollar’s Decline

WASHINGTON, D.C.  Congressman Barney Frank, chairman of the House Financial Services Committee, took the Federal Reserve to task yesterday, saying the eyeball atop the pyramid on the US dollar was causing it to decline against other world currencies.

Frank:  “Currency traders are scared to death of that hairy eyeball thing.”

“Speaking frankly, as I always do, if I had a choice I wouldn’t take US dollars either,” the Massachusetts Democrat said to Benjamin Bernanke as the Fed Chairman appeared before Congress for his quarterly scolding by grandstanding legislators.  “The hairy eyeball is a real problem in world financial markets.”

Notice how it follows you around when you try to save it.

Bernanke said the Fed was only playing the hand it was dealt by a world-wide conspiracy of Freemasons who plotted to include the eyeball in the great seal of the United States in the 18th century.  “The all-seeing eye is the symbol of God, the great architect of the universe” Bernanke explained, reading from a prepared text he had pulled off the internet shortly before entering the hearing room.   ”Either that or it’s an Egyptian god that was brought to America in a UFO.”

Bernanke:  ” . . . and when the doors to the mother ship opened, out popped a one-eyed pyramid.  Really.”

Frank suggested that the Fed hire a good interior decorator to redesign the dollar to reflect current tastes.  “Right now, the dollar bill is as cluttered as a Provincetown antique shop,” Frank said, referring to a predominantly gay community at the tip of Cape Cod that lies outside his district.  “I would dump the pyramid and the scrollwork, which looks like the carpet in the lobby of a Motel 6.”

“I’ll give you $200 for a Domino’s Discount Pizza Coupon!”

The dollar has declined precipitously against other currencies recently, improving the nation’s balance of trade but making foreign goods and services more expensive to US consumers and businesses.  “At some point the dollar will hit bottom,” says currency trader Bill Ortwein of Forex International.  “Until then, I would suggest moving into tangible commodities such as Rice Krispies Treats and Star Wars collectible drink cups.”

A number of the Founding Fathers including George Washington were Freemasons and the eye and the pyramid are commonly-used symbols in the rites and lore of that secret society.  “Like most other lodges, the Freemasons are primarily an excuse for men to get together and drink,” says William Thain, an expert on American fraternal societies.  “The eye is often depicted inside an enclosed pyramid, which translates rebus-style into ‘I want to get out of the house’.”

Copyright 2007, Con Chapman

Can Giant Mutant Tapeworms Conquer Childhood Obesity in America?

Like many children who grew up in the late 1950’s, I was exposed to countless hours of television commercials pushing candy, soft drinks and sugary cereals on my impressionable young stomach.  As a result, I became–there is no other way to put it–chubby.

Howdy Doody and Buffalo Bob:  “Don’t move, kids–we’ll be right back after this message from–I SAID DON’T MOVE!”

The power of advertising was such that a boy who watched enough Howdy Doody or Captain Midnight would develop a craving for confections which, if described to him without the aid of seductive black-and-white imagery, he would reject out of hand as no more appealing than brussels sprouts.  Example: Chocolate Coconut Mounds and Almond Joy candy bars.  In a word–bleh. 

Captain Midnight: ” . . . and remember to drink your Ovaltine!”

President Kennedy’s national physical fitness program tried to reverse the incoming tide of obesity, but for many it was too late.  You got out of school at 3:30, you had homework to do, dinner was at 6, and bedtime was 7:30.  What’s a young smart-aleck going to do with that precious hour of free time–play touch football or watch Rocky and Bullwinkle? 

“Practice hike–HIKE!”

The thing that scared me skinny wasn’t one of those stupid faux-French “parcourses” that appeared overnight like mushrooms across America at the height of the physical fitness craze, only to be ignored until they collapsed decades later from the cumulative effect of years of dog pee.

Parcourse:  ” . . . and if we cut through here, we can be home in time to watch Underdog!”

No, what shook me to the marrow of my bones was an eerie tale told by an older sister who was taking high school biology class.  Left to cook hamburgers one night when my parents were at bridge club, she put the greyish-brown lump of dead cow flesh down in front of me and proceeded to tell me about tapeworms.

“We don’t want to know about it!”

Tapeworms are a human intestinal parasite that can grow to lengths of thirty feet, and can live in the human body for three decades.  They have hooks, spiny structures or suckers on their heads.  Ask your doctor which is right for you!

“You kids keep eating take-out hamburgers you’re going to get tape worms!”

As told to me, tape worms entered the body through undercooked meat, and the only way to lure them out once they got in was to put a pan of warm milk on the victim’s stomach, which would entice the worms to crawl out through the nose.  Warm milk is that exciting–if you’re a tape worm.

Not surprisingly, I didn’t finish my hamburger that night.

How much of this tale was true, and how much was typical big brother-big sister sadism inflicted on a younger sibling, has never been clear to me.  But from that night on, vegetables didn’t sound so bad.  And except for a brief period after I attained legal drinking age and no longer had to depend on toothless winos to buy me beer, I have kept my weight below recommended maximums.

Tape Worm Man

Which raises the question–could a carefully-planned program of widespread panic fueled by hysterical tales of tapeworm infestation solve America’s childhood obesity problem?

One thing is for sure–exercise won’t.

“That light from outside?  That’s called ‘the sun’.”

Just try and sign your kid up for an elite junior hockey league that plays sixty games between July 4th and Labor Day and the same schoolmarms who are up in arms about childhood obesity complain about too much emphasis on sports.  You can’t win.

Giant tube worms

The task of scaring kids with tales of tapeworms has been made easier by the discovery of giant tube worms on the floor of the Pacific Ocean.  These marine invertebrates have few predators because, frankly speaking, they are some of the most disgusting things alive.

All it would take to end our children’s addiction to fatty meats would be a low-budget health class video that discussed the risk of tapeworms and depicted giant mutant worms wiggling on the ocean floor.  Afterwards, teachers would lead class discussion with thought-provoking questions such as ”Do you want your stomach walls to be coated with the suckers of eight-foot giant worms, or do you want to try the salad bar?”

It would mean the beginning of the end of the Big Mac and the Double Whopper with cheese, in much the same way that “Reefer Madness” turned a generation of kids away from marijuana.

Copyright 2007, Con Chapman

Study Says Immoderate Wine Drinkers Feel Less Pain

BOSTON, Mass.  An article in the New England Journal of Medicine released today indicates that people who drink from 8 to 16 glasses of wine per day, particularly red wine, feel less pain and have fewer worries than teetotallers and social drinkers.

New England Journal of Medicine “Holiday Party” edition.

“People who are immoderate in their consumption of red wine tend to be happier and oblivious to minor injuries that do not result in the loss of vital organs,” said Dr. Alicia Winegarten, one of the study’s co-authors.  “They have redder teeth and often forget to fill their cats’ food dishes, but we were not able to establish a causal link for these phenomena.” 

“I am sending you a very important message by telepathy–MY BOWL’S EMPTY YOU WINO!”

The study examined the drinking habits of 2,700 volunteers divided into three groups; white wine, red wine, and a “control” group that was given a placebo drink consisting of warm Jello gelatin.  The white wine drinkers formed book groups that read novels about men who were unfaithful to their wives, the red wine drinkers finished their bottles and went out for more, and the Jello drinkers took several chimpanzees who were participating in an unrelated experiment hostage.

Dr. Allen Thomson, a practitioner of participatory experimentation, in which the scientist takes the dosage administered to subjects and records his or her own reaction, was confident that the group’s findings would withstand rigorous peer review.  ”This ish the best, frigging exshperiment anybody ever did on thish subject,” he said as he finished off a precocious petite syrah with overtones of vanilla and undertones of menace.  “And everybody at the New England Journal of Medishine is just beautiful, you know what I’m saying?”

Copyright 2007, Con Chapman

Your Guide to Internet Dating

The internet was invented by scientists who were concerned that the human race would become extinct if people just sat around all the time watching flickering images on their TV screens.  Now, people sit around all the time watching flickering images on their computer screens, but can “hook up” with others through the miracle of internet dating!

Early internet user, with dial-up modem.

Not everyone you meet on the internet is right for you, however.  Take, for example, the former Nigerian government official who says he is sorry he could not make it to Applebee’s last Saturday night, could you please deposit $25,000 in his bank account, he will buy you the Grilled Chili-Lime Chicken Salad when he sees you this Friday after work.  Do not trust a man who would use a two-entrees-for-the-price-of-one (some restrictions apply) coupon on the first date!

Applebee’s casual dining whets the appetite for romance.

You need the assistance of an experienced navigator if you are to avoid crashing on internet dating sites, and lucky for you, Your Guide to Internet Dating is here to help.

Dear Internet Dating Guide:

I responded to a profile on eDating.com for a man named “Lloyd” who teaches high school band and said he was a big jazz fan.  Guide, I am 38 years old and getting a little desperate, so I told him I liked jazz too.  With people dying every day around the world is that such a crime?

Ambrosia salad: FDA-certified aphrodisiac.

We met for lunch and he said “So you really like jazz?” and I said “Sure” and he said he would ”burn” me a disc of his favorites and I said I’d really like that why don’t you come to dinner at my place and we can listen to it.  He said okay, and Internet Dating Guide, I haven’t been so excited in years.  I was expecting something soothing like Smooth Jazz 96.9, which I sometimes tune into by mistake when I am looking for swap meet announcements on the radio.

John Coltrane

Anyway, I made my special mandarin orange ambrosia salad and was prepared for an evening of romance with Lloyd and met him at the door in a very clingy red cowl-neck sweater.  He says here’s your disc, so I put it in my CD player expecting to set a sensuous mood when out of my Radio Shack speakers came a noise like domestic violence between two Missouri mules!  I said “Oh, who is this Lloyd?” and he says it’s John Coltrane’s ‘Ascension’–do you like it?”  I mean, what could I say?  I’m not getting any younger, so I lied. 

“Kitzi, don’t jump!”

Well, Lloyd was a gentleman and left after he helped with the dishes and I said I was tired, but as soon as he was out the door I turned off the stereo and went searching for my two long-haired cats, Kitzi and Mitzi.  Kitzi was hiding under the bed and Mitzi’s fur had fallen out in clumps.

Internet Dating Guide, I need a man in my life but I can’t live without my cats.  Do you have any suggestions?

Barbara Jean Wehrli,  Otterville, MO

Dear Barbara Jean:

In a recent Downbeat Magazine poll Kenny G’s “Most Romantic Melodies of All Time” was chosen as Album of the Year in the Lonely Women With Too Many Cats Category.   Show Lloyd you, Kitzi and Mitzi have an ear for jazz too–domestic bliss awaits you!

Dear Internet Dating Advisor:

I recently met a man on the internet whom I will call “Ernie” because his full name is “Ernest” and I have trouble remembering aliases when I write in to advice columns.  I was impressed with his profile–he is a small business owner who said he was very thrifty, and my first husband Warren pissed away his 401k at the dog track.

We were having a drink before dinner and I noticed that ”Ernie” kept asking the bartender for more snacks, and when they said our table was ready I could tell he had been emptying the peanuts and party mix into his pockets, he looked like a squirrel getting ready for winter!

“Are those peanuts in your pockets, or are you just glad to see me?”

I sorta cooled on him after that, and when the check came I sure as hell had no intention of paying anything because I hate cheap people.  “Ernie” takes a look at it and says “It’s $60, but you had white wine and I had beer so your share comes to $40 and mine is $20.”  He puts down a twenty and three ones and I said “That’s not very polite of you” so he reaches into his pocket and pulls out some change.  “That’s 15.5%” he says as if the tip was the problem.

I could see I wasn’t getting through to him so I put down fifty bucks and got up to leave, and he says “Aren’t you going to wait for your change?” and I said “You insensitive clod” or something like that and walked out of the restaurant and out of Ernie’s life, or so I hoped.

Internet Dating Advisor, Ernie has been pestering me with emails ever since, saying “What did I do wrong?” and so finally I told him he was not very chivalrous and should have paid the whole tab.  He says he “begs to differ”.  I’d be interested in your opinion, even though I don’t think I’ll ever see a penny out of Ernie.

Chloe Rice, White River Junction, Vermont

“That tickles!”

Dear Chloe:

The first date is “Dutch” in internet dating unless your partner plays “footsie” with you when the check comes.  Ernie was doing you a favor by leaving future contact, on top of or under the table, up to you.

Dear Internet Dating Lady:

I recently replied to a man whose screen name was “Tom” on the partners4life! on-line dating service.  His picture was quite handsome and his profile said he was in the entertainment business and many people had compared him to Tom Cruise, even though he was not a Scientologist.

Well, we met for lunch and I have to say ”Tom” did not look at all like Tom Cruise, and when I said “You don’t look like a movie star” he got defensive and said “Television repair is an important part of the entertainment business, just ask anybody who owns one what they do when it’s on the fritz–Tom Cruise is no good to you then.”

My girlfriend tells me it is possible to alter one’s picture by something called “Photoshop”.  Is this permitted under the rules of internet dating?

Sheree Pfeiffer, Buena Vista, California

“Attractive men are apparently waiting to meet me!”

Dear Sheree:

We all contribute, in our own special way, to the universe of internet dating.  I for one see no problem in making the world a better place by altering an unflattering photo of one’s self to make it more attractive, thereby reducing the number of homely faces that others have to look at.

Ms. Internet Dating Guide:

I recently took a woman named “Chloe” out after meeting her on the internet.  When the check came she just sat there like a bump on a log and refused to pay for her share.  I thought there was some kind of unwritten rule that you go Dutch on the first internet date.  I am not Dutch, but I didn’t think that mattered.

Ernest Holcomb, Queeche, Vermont

“Sorry, lady, I don’t take American Express.”

Dear Ernest:

Right you are, Ernie, although what is considered “Dutch” often depends on local folkways and customs.  In an effort to promote uniformity the Association of On-Line Dating Service Providers adopted a Code of Ethics at its annual convention last summer, which states as follows in Article XI, sec. 4.2(a):  ”‘Dutch treat’ means a fifty-fifty split of food, alcohol and gratuity unless one person drives up to the restaurant in a really nice car and the other has to beg a guy with a tow truck to please give him/her another week to make last month’s payment.” 

Copyright 2007, Con Chapman

Huckabee: Romney Uses Foreign Oil on His Hair

AMES, Iowa.  The sniping between Republican presidential candidates Mike Huckabee and Mitt Romney escalated yesterday, with Huckabee saying that Romney’s hair style would increase America’s dependence on foreign oil and Romney countering that Huckabee was a “wolf in bass player’s clothing who will ban teen dancing.”

Romney:  “I do not use foreign oil on my hair.  It’s blubber from endangered whales.”

If elected, Romney would be the first president since Richard Nixon to use hair cream.  “After Nixon resigned, slicked-back hair came to be associated with a certain slippery quality among voters,” noted David Sargent, a professor of political science at Quinnipiac College.  “Mormons never got the memo, as they had stockpiled enough Wildroot Cream-Oil in the hills of Utah to last two centuries in case the Anti-Christ had blow-dried hair.”

Wildroot Cream-Oil:  The real thing.

Huckabee is an ordained minister in the Southern Baptist Convention, a Christian denomination that forbids its members from dancing, playing canasta or drinking beverages from cans with pull tabs.  “Unlike Mormons, Baptists can drink Coca-Cola,” says Dr. Roger Clarke, a professor of theology at Randolph-Macon College, “but they have to use a church key to get at the stuff.”

Teen-center dancing fun.

The choice between two candidates who are eager to use their personal religious fervor as a way to win votes has created a dilemma for many church-going voters.  “They’re both good Christian men,” says Wanda Jean Peters, who attends the New Hope Baptist Church in Lone Jack, Missouri.  “Except for the ‘turn the other cheek’ part.”

Copyright 2007, Con Chapman

Will Your Relationship Survive the Holidays?

The holidays are a stressful time of the year, straining both long-term relationships and brief flings that begin as drunken come-ons at office parties.  How does one cope with competing and often conflicting demands of “significant others” that clash with family obligations, year-end business demands and last-minute shopping?  Ask your Holiday Relationship Advisor, that’s how!

“Mmmfffttthngg!”

Dear Holiday Relationship Advisor:

For eight years I have been living with a man named Darren Fletcher, who I will refer to as “Bud” to preserve his anonymity.  Bud is a homebody and does not like to travel since he is on the road so much for his job as a saleman for Arch Pneumatic Fasteners.  This year Bud surprised me at Thanksgiving by announcing that he wanted to go see the Grand Canyon for Christmas.  I was overjoyed and I told him so, but he said “Uh, Earleen, I want to go by myself.”  I was hurt, but I realized if I am ever going to talk Bud into marrying me I have to be tolerant of his “quirks”.

“You’re right–there is some kind of beetle in your ear!”

Anyway, the night before Bud was going to fly out of KC International a woman shows up at our door and asks is this where Darren lives and I said yes, who are you?  She says she is Judith Marie Oehrke and is going to the Grand Canyon with Darren–I mean Bud.

Well, I was polite and told the woman to have a seat and I went in and gave Bud “what for”.  He says calm down, it’s a charter flight and Judith Marie has driven up from Camdenton, we’re going to ride to the airport together to save gas.  Okay, I says, I understand, although I was a little bit “put out”.

After dinner, which was Pork Chops Hawaiian Luau-Style with Kraft Miniature Marshmallows on top, Bud says he’s tired and is going to get a good night’s sleep, and Judith Marie says me too, so I says “You two go pack your bags I’ll clean up,” which I did.  When I was finished I went into the bedroom to get some sheets for the pull-out couch and what do I see but Bud and Judith Marie under the covers together big as life, she’s reading a Southern Home magazine from my nightstand!

“We’ll buy you a souvenir at the Grand Canyon gift shop, okay?”

Well, there was probably smoke coming out of my ears by then, but Bud just looks up at me and says “What?”, as if he can’t understand why I’m mad.  I nodded my head at the “interloper”, and he says “There’s plenty of room and you wouldn’t want Judith Marie to sleep on the couch–she’s gonna be stuck on a plane all day tomorrow.”

Take care of your spit curls, and they’ll take care of you.

I didn’t want to make a scene, so I brushed my teeth and put on my nightgown and Scotch-taped my spit-curls to the sides of my head and climbed over Bud and got in the middle.  I was not going to let my two “vacationers” turn my bedroom into a “bridal suite”, if you know what I mean.

Next morning I get up and fix them breakfast and say goodbye in the driveway, but now I am haunted by the fear that I may be losing Darren.  Am I wrong to be suspicious?

Earleen Walters, Knob Noster MO

Dear Earleen:

I’m afraid I’m going to have side with Darren and Judith Marie on this one, Earleen.  If we as a nation are ever going to end our dependency on foreign oil, car-pooling is a must.  Don’t let your feelings for Darren get in the way of energy conservation–or we’ll all be the losers, not just you!

Dear Holiday Relationship Advisor Lady:

A few months ago a new fellow started working in our mail room, his name is Keith.  I will be right up-front about this–I have a gigantic crush on him, and I think the feeling is mutual.

Keith delivers our mail every morning around 11:30, although he is actually supposed to get it done by eleven under his job satisfaction goals.  He is very “social” and likes to talk to people as he makes his rounds, this slows him up–or down.

Yesterday Keith came by my cubicle and handed me an inter-office memo, the goldenrod-colored kind with the holes in it.  He was giggling when he gave it to me, and said “Here’s something for you from the guys in the supply room.”  I squished it in a couple places to see if I could figure out what was inside, but I gave up after a while and unwound the string.

Office supply room:  Men go mad from the tedium, if not the pressure.

Holiday relationship lady, I nearly fainted when I unwrapped the white tissue paper inside and a white mouse with a red ribbon around its neck jumped out at me!  I squealed but by then “Keith” was gone and Jim Ray Houchens and Ernie Bott from the supply room came out from around the corner and started laughing at me.

Needless to say, I filed a grievance with Human Resources and now Jim Ray and Ernie have named Keith as a witness.  Do you know any way I can avoid dragging Keith into this mess?  I don’t want to spoil my best chance at romance since that stupid fishstick Ray West dropped me for the hostess at the Round-Up Steakhouse.

Maureen Eberly, Paducah, Kentucky

Dear Maureen:

Jim Ray and Ernie have a constitutional right to a fair trial, and they did use an envelope with holes in it so the little animal could breathe.  I see no way out for the “object of your affection”–perhaps you and Keith can set up a “deposition date” where you prepare for your testimony while you share a late-night dinner of take-out Chinese!

Living the dream.

Hello Holiday Relationship Person:

I have a question for you.  Last month you told “Confused in Chillicothe” that he should not give a Best Buy gift card to a woman on their first Christmas together because it was “impersonal”.  I beg to differ–giving a woman a gift card lets her know exactly where she stands with you, she can see it right on the card.  She gets to pick out whatever she wants and doesn’t have to waste time returning something she doesn’t like.  She also doesn’t have to lie to you when you go over to her apartment and say “Hey, where’d you put that print of the tiger and the reflecting ball I gave you for Christmas?”

I don’t know where you get off trying to run people’s lives.  Maybe that’s good advice in the “ivory tower” where you live, but not for regular folks down here on the ground.

Clint Weller, Jr., Stillwater OK

Dear Clint:

I certainly didn’t mean to offend you or “Confused in Chillicothe”.  All I meant to convey is that women appreciate it when a man puts a little thought into a gift, instead of just plunking down his credit card at the check-out counter of a soulless, big-box retailer.  If you have had success with pre-paid gift cards by all means continue to give them to your girlfriends.  Or you might just use cash, and get yourself a real hooker.

Copyright 2007, Con Chapman

50 Cent Softens Image With “Happy Gangsta Xmas”

FARMINGTON, Connecticut.  Rapper Curtis Jackson, better known as “50 Cent”, says he always gets sentimental at Christmas time, which may explain why his first release of holiday tunes–”A Happy Gangsta Xmas”–is winning him fans beyond his usual base of hard-core hip hop aficionadoes.

“Have a Merry effin’ Christmas or I’ll bust a cap on ya.”

“I got a little guy, you know?” Jackson says of his ten year-old son, Marquise.  “Christmas is for kids, that’s what I tell the mall cops when I go shopping.”

“I just need to see what you’ve got in the bag, Mr. Cent.”

Jackson’s street-hardened image undergoes a makeover on the album, with wistful tunes that deck the holiday season in sentimental trimming.  “Sorry I Have to Blow You Away On This Holiest of Days” is an anthem to those who, like the cocaine dealer Jackson used to be, must work on Christmas.  “I feel for guys at gas stations and toll takers on the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge,” Cent says.  “If I was mayor I’d give ‘em all the day off.”

Rudolph:  “Ouch–that’s gotta hurt!”

Jackson takes his listeners on a joyous ride through his home turf of Brooklyn on “We’ll Be Pistol Whippin’ Santa After Hijacking His Sleigh”, a rollicking tale of a posse that stops Santa on his way to Manhattan and distributes high-end toys from F.A.O. Schwartz to children from the ghetto. 

Ho-ho-ho.

Jackson, who was shot in the face at close range in 2000, says he had time to think about the meaning of life as he lay in the hospital for thirteen days recovering from his wounds.  “I said to myself, Fitty, you all the time rappin’ about ho’s.  Maybe you could do an album of Christmas tracks with ho-ho-ho’s.”

“Fitty–don’t shoot!”

Is there a possibility that Jackson could go mainstream after such a collection of easy listening music?  “I’ll be keeping it real,” says the rapper with the perennial scowl on his face, “but I gotta think about my career.  I may go on Sesame Street and have it out with Oscar the Grouch.”

Copyright 2007, Con Chapman

“101 Diseases to Get Before You Die” Unites Hypochondriacs

BOSTON.  At the Borders Bookstore in downtown Boston, the lines snake around the building with holiday shoppers making last-minute purchases.  Sometimes the contrasts are striking, as ramrod-straight businessmen stand next to tattooed and pierced Goths, but the chilly social distance New Englanders are known for often melts away when two apparently disparate individuals discover a common interest.

“You’re reading ‘101 Diseases’?  I’ve heard it’s great,” says Alton Boyle, a senior vice president at a commercial insurance company, to Amy Weintraub, a poetry slammer who likes to dress up in medieval costume by night, but who is a sales clerk in a greeting card store by day.

Amy, off-duty

“It is,” she replies.  “I’m buying one for my friend Susan, who’s home sick–sort of–in bed right now.”

“Please sign it ‘To my incredibly sick friend’.”

The book the two unlikely conversationalists are discussing is “101 Diseases to Get Before You Die”, a variation on the “101″ publishing format that has already produced the best-selling “101 Places to Visit Before You Die”, “101 Things to Do Before You Die”, and, for men, ”101 Women to Have Unfulfilled Fantasies About Before You Die”.  Author Rob Watson says he wrote the book to give hypochondriacs a sense of purpose that is often lacking as they try to summon up the will to fight imaginary illnesses.

Author Rob Watson

“People tend to think of hypochondriacs as slackers, but it’s a real disease,” Watson says from his living room couch as he nurses a bad case of either Osgood-Schlacter’s Disease or Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, he’s not sure which.  “For many people it’s the tip of the iceberg, or the cherry on the sundae, since they also suffer from one or more fictitious ailments.”

Baron von Munchausen, before he died of his own personalized disease.

The term “hypchondria” refers to an excessive preoccupation with one’s health, often characterized by imagined symptoms and a tendency to discount physician’s assurances of one’s well-being.  It is distinct from Munchausen Syndrome, a psychiatric disorder whose victims feign disease or illness in order to call attention to themselves.  There is no known cure for Munchausen Syndrome, which causes thousands of agonizing imaginary deaths each year.

“Sue Ellen Minorkle is out today–can you take over on the quarter-inch nut driver thingy?”

Employers often fight worker’s compensation claims for hypochondria, saying it is a drag on productivity and unfair to other employees who must wait until real disease strikes in order to use their sick days.  “We try to be sensitive to people who are congenital liars, but hypochondria just kinda sticks in my craw,” says Ellen Eustis, head of human resources at Alta-Star Wing Nuts in Amarillo, Texas.  “I mean, seriously–if you’re gonna get sick have the decency to go out and get a real disease.”

Copyright 2007, Con Chapman

Study Says Lysdexics Make Best COEs

NEW YORK.  A study released this week indicating that people who suffer from dyslexia are more likely to rise to the top in the corporate world has business leaders buzzing and headhunters riffling through resumes to identify candidates who suffer from the learning disorder which causes the mind to transpose letters.

“If we can rudece our costs, our prifots will go up.”

“This is a major breakthrough in terms of shareholder value,” said analyst Jane Seymour of J.T. Lipton Securities.  “We are putting a strong ‘buy’ recommendation on companies with senior executives who can’t spell.”

“First quertar sales were up dramatacilly!”

The study, by Yale University professor Sally Shaywitz, argues that dyslexia has beneficial aspects that cause individuals who suffer from the disability to succeed in business.  “If you have dyslexia, you have very little patience for boring ten-page, interoffice memos,” she notes.  “You tell someone else to read them for you, and you concentrate on firing the goof-offs who are holding the company back.”

“In order to succeed in business, it’s impartont not to get hung up on tirvia.”

Dyslexic CEOs agreed with the study’s conclusions.  “Absulotely,” said Robert Melker of Amalgamated Standard, a manufacturer of industrial doo-dads and thingamabobs.  “If I spend my time worrying about whether ‘i’ should come before ‘e’, I’m not working to the best of my ibalities.”

The study has raised concerns on business school campuses that Americans could be at a disadvantage when compared to Asian students who immigrate to the U.S.  “Every time we go out for Chinese food I notice there’s a lot of typos in the menus,” said Aaron Hempstead, who attends the Stern School of Business at New York University.  “There’s no way I’m going to be able to compete with someone who could write ‘Make mouth happy with plaesant wegetable sipruses!’”

Copyright 2007, Con Chapman

Couples Find Anatomical Gifts Pay Off for Both Spouses

EVANSVILLE, Ill.  Beth Dennis, a slim, 44 year-old mother of two, is dressed in surgical scrubs this morning, but she’s not a doctor or a nurse.  “Neil was there for me when I delivered the kids,” she says of her husband, “and I want to be with him all the way today.”

“When you wake up, we’ll both look better, honey!”

Neil is about to undergo breast reduction surgery to correct what Beth joshingly calls his “man boobs”, a drooping condition that affects men’s useless mammary glands as they age.  “I was starting to look like Bib the Michelin Man,” Neil says with a laugh that seems a bit strained.  “I’m doing this as much for Beth as I am for myself,” he adds as he is wheeled into the operating room.

Bib the Michelin Man:  He puts a little weight on over the holidays, okay?

While Neil’s parting words might seem defensive, in his case they are literally true since the excess tissue that is removed from his breasts will be added to Beth’s as the couple recycles unwanted body mass from him to her.  “Having kids and getting older takes a lot out of you,” she says, her eyes misting over with tears.  “I’m just so lucky to have a husband who’s willing to suffer so that I can have the big knockers he craves.”

Man Boobs

According to entertainment lawyer Norman Schwein, Neil and Beth’s saga “is like something out of an O. Henry story.”  He is referring to ”The Gift of the Magi”, in which a husband pawns his watch to buy combs for his wife’s hair, while the wife cuts her hair off to buy herself an early version of the Black and Decker DustBuster. 

“We’re looking at a movie-of-the-week, maybe an ‘as-told-to’ book,” Schwein says as he speed dials an assistant vice president at Oprah Winfrey’s Harpo Productions.

Anatomical gifts were illegal in much of America until the American Law Institute promulgated the Uniform Anatomical Gift Act in 1978, and twenty-seven states quickly adopted the model statute in the hope of reducing holiday traffic jams.

Veriform appendix:  “I absolutely love it!”

“Anatomical gifts can be great stocking stuffers if you find yourself short on presents for someone you love,” says professional shopper Nan Kane O’Riley.  “Who wouldn’t love to find an appendix under the Christmas tree, as long as it’s packed in a styrofoam cooler with plenty of dry ice?”

For Beth Dennis, this Christmas will be one she’ll never forget.  “Neil’s gift will be one that I’ll wear proudly wherever I go,” she says, “unlike some of the stupid sweaters he’s given me in the past.”

Copyright 2007, Con Chapman