Party M.D.

I just got back from my second visit to the chiropractor that is hopefully going to cure me of my Achilles tendonitis once and for all. His last name is spelled M-a-b-e-e and pronounced "Maybe," which means I am officially seeing a doctor with the last name, "maybe. " This, of course, has brought myriad jokes to mind.

"Doctor, will I ever get better?"
"Maybe."

"Doctor, do you think more stretching would help?"
"Maybe."

"Doctor, are you a complete fucking lunatic who is going to come to my apartment at night and sabotage my Achilles tendon while I sleep?"
"Maybe."

Am I afraid of this guy? Maybe (read: definitely). One thing I'm wary of, for example, are all the pictures he has of athletes on his walls: soccer players, rugby stars, curling aficionados--even a violin player, with little notes next to them that say things like: "Thanks Dr. Maybe, I couldn't have done it without you!" "You're the best, Dr. Maybe!" "Thanks for fixing me, Dr. Maybe. I love you!" etc. etc.
Today when I went in, however, I experienced a terrifying feeling. What if all those pictures were fake? What if Dr. Maybe just gets random pictures of athletes and then has his secretaries write cute little notes next to them and sign fake signatures so that people will think he is an accomplished chiropractor who has cured hundreds of people when in reality he is just someone who has recently escaped from a local mental health clinic? There's one picture of a black soccer player, for instance, that looks like a magazine cut-out of Pele from the 1960's. Dr. Maybe wasn't even alive in the 60's. Even if the picture were taken in the 70's he still would've been a mere fetus, certainly incapable of performing Active Release Therapy on a full-grown athlete.

So will I continue to see Dr. Maybe? Maybe. Actually, definitely. There is nothing I want more than a healthy Achilles tendon, so fuck it: if a guy with an ambiguous last name who may or may not sit at home with glasses on cutting sports clippings out of magazines and pasting them to poster board has to be the guy to cure me, so be it. All aboard the "maybe" train! Next stop: insanity.

-Boosh Clown

Like of the Day: V8

Dislike of the Day: Tobacco

Song of the Day: "Coming in From the Cold" by The Delgados.