Your RDA of Irony

Why I Became a Christian Scientist

I just endured a series of sadistic trials called a check-up.  The aforementioned check could subsidize a trophy wife for the doctor or at least make a down-payment for his offspring’s semester at an Ivy League school.  (Yes, my health care reform would limit the practice of medicine to eunuchs or monks; if that was good enough for Charlemagne, it’s good enough for you!)

The doctor wondered if I might have a case of lactose intolerance.  It apparently is the latest rage among middle-aged Jews, and the doctor didn’t want me to miss out on the fad.  Indeed, being lactose tolerant on the North Shore could label me as a pariah.  An aging SDT could run me over with her BMW, and no jury here would convict her.  I might even be billed for the cost of her interrupted cellphone call.

I explained to the doctor that I am lactose indulgent.  I consume a pint of ice cream a day.  I have done more for Wisconsin than Robert La Follette has lately.  The doctor suggested that I forego dairy products for two weeks; I told him that period of abstinence would put me on a suicide watch. 

Of course, Karen realizes that I am serious.  She also knows that it would take me about 25 years to finish the suicide note.  As in all my writing assignments, I do tend to wait to the last minute. 

So, you all have ample time to buy your copies of “My Calendar of Irony”  and “Theodora”  as well as send a sympathy note to Karen.  (Unless you want to console her for her taste in husbands–in that case, federal express it.)

p.s.  Let’s not forget the historic significance of this day:  https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2008/08/20/on-this-day-in-636/

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