Well, you have heard of the bird flu, the West Nile virus, the swine flu, now named the very controversial H1N1, so presented to the public that it panics the minds of any and all age groups.
Well, guess what? I have just discovered another one. Perhaps I should patent its discovery and sell it to the multi-national drug companies, so they can screw up the minds of our medical profession, and have it covered by OHIP.
It’s called the C-Nile Virus and it devastates the thinking power of all age groups, attacking memory – or was it the mammary? Or maybe it was the harmony? I can’t remember. But does it matter? I think there is a good buck to be made here, by indirectly mining the deep pockets of the taxpayer by lobbying to have it covered by OHIP.
The only pill yet known to control it, known only to those in the upper echelons of the medical field, is the placebo.
That could be cheaply manufactured by recycling outdated cheerio’s. What a savings that would be. We would be able to sell them at a probable cost of less than $20 a pill.
So my advice to you is to avoid it like a plague. It could become a pandemic. So stay away from crowds, don’t talk to friends, don’t stay alone. Don’t have anyone keep you company. And last but not least, make sure you wash your hands and comb your hair before you look in the mirror. There is no reason to cause panic to the one assessing your worsening condition through the magic of the mirror. But I would definitely inform them that it also spreads by text-message, email and telephone.
This C-Nile Virus has so affected me that I can’t remember whether I’ve written an article to meet this week’s deadline or not, so just in case I did or I didn’t, I have delved deeply into the depths of my chuckle bucket and this is what I eventually came up with. It’s a special little poem for older folks, who will, no doubt in my mind, soon go down in the history books as the gullible pharmaceutical addicted pill popping generation. It’s titled:
Ah, the Golden Years
A row of bottles on my shelf
caused me to analyze myself.
One yellow pill I have to pop
goes to my heart so it won’t stop.
A little white one that I take goes
to my hands so they won’t shake.
The blue ones that I use a lot
tell me I’m happy when I’m not.
The purple one goes to my brain
and tells me that I have no pain.
The capsules tell me not to wheeze
or cough or choke or even sneeze.
The red ones, smallest of them all,
go to my blood so I won’t fall.
The orange ones, very big and bright, prevent my leg cramps in the night.
Such an array of brilliant pills,
helping to cure all my ills.
But what I’d really like to know …
is what tells each one where to go.”
Just to prove to you that this C-Nile virus has really affected me, here is a little Thanksgiving wish that I intended to put in last week just prior to Thanksgiving, but I obviously forgot.
May your stuffing be tasty,
may your turkey be plump.
May your potatoes and gravy
have never a lump.
May your yams be delicious and your pies take the prize.
And may your Thanksgiving dinner stay off of your thighs.
So there you have it, folks. Or maybe you don’t have it. I can’t remember whether I sent it or not. But maybe I did. Damn that C-Nile disease.
Take care, ‘cause we care.
barrie@barriehopkins.ca
519-843-4544
Correction
Last week’s column about MPs resulted in a local MP contacting the Advertiser to state the charges have reached the status of urban myth – and are simply untrue. The Ottawa Citizen has also issued a disclaimer, stating it never published the charges.