Dr Marcus Welby: Yes I have finally perfected my secret formula. It is the essence of Spanish fly, the vaginal sweat of guest star Stella Stevens and the blood of a rabid weasel. I have perfected a formula that will cure male sexual dysfunction.
Dr. Steven Kiley: Really Doctor. I find that hard to believe.
Dr. Marcus Welby: Well you wouldn’t find it hard to be hard if you try this stuff. I mean if you take it I bet you could even get it up for Barbara Streisand.
Dr. Steven Kiley: Not bloody likely.
Dr. Marcus Welby: You know you’re right. Back to the drawing board.
Dr. Steven Kiley: Really Doctor. I find that hard to believe.
Dr. Marcus Welby: Well you wouldn’t find it hard to be hard if you try this stuff. I mean if you take it I bet you could even get it up for Barbara Streisand.
Dr. Steven Kiley: Not bloody likely.
Dr. Marcus Welby: You know you’re right. Back to the drawing board.
9 comments:
Money is a much overlooked aphrodisiac.
Well, that exp--nah, the last time I talked about money and sex it caused all kinds of crap.
To talk about money and sex is untoward; simply talk about money and the sex will follow.
"I have perfected a formula that will cure male sexual dysfunction."
Too late!
Money is a much overlooked aphrodisiac.
Money is THE aphrodisiac.
Leave Babs alone.
Very mean and sexist.
I can't stand for that.
Relax titus, it's not like we're slamming Barry Manilow or Beth Midler.
This reminds me of a poem
For years and years they told me,
Be careful of your breasts.
Don't ever squeeze or bruise them.
And give them monthly tests.
So I heeded all their warnings,
And protected them by law.
Guarded them very carefully,
And I always wore my bra.
After 30 years of astute care,
My gyno, Dr. Pruitt,
Said I should get a Mammogram.
"O.K," I said, "let's do it."
"Stand up here real close" she said,
(She got my boob in line),
"And tell me when it hurts," she said,
"Ah yes! Right there, that's fine."
She stepped upon a pedal,
I could not believe my eyes!
A plastic plate came slamming down,
My hooter's in a vise!
My skin was stretched and mangled,
From underneath my chin.
My poor boob was being squashed,
To Swedish Pancake thin.
Excruciating pain I felt,
Within it's vise-like grip.
A prisoner in this vicious thing,
My poor defenseless tit!
"Take a deep breath" she said to me,
Who does she think she's kidding?!?
My chest is mashed in her machine,
And woozy I am getting.
"There, that's good," I heard her say,
(The room was slowly swaying.)
"Now, let's have a go at the other one."
Have mercy, I was praying.
It squeezed me from both up and down,
It squeezed me from both sides.
I'll bet SHE'S never had this done,
To HER tender little hide.
Next time that they make me do this,
I will request a blindfold.
I have no wish to see again,
My knockers getting steamrolled.
If I had no problem when I came in,
I surely have one now.
If there had been a cyst in there,
It would have gone "ker-pow!"
This machine was created by a man,
Of this, I have no doubt.
I'd like to stick his balls in there,
And see how THEY come out.
Painfully true, Lucky. I think they persist with this nonsense of mammogram torture so we do the worthless self-exams more often.
I know that MRI's are still expensive, but I LONG for the day when this particular 'new 80's technology' falls to the price points that have preceded for calculators, computers and the like.
YES! I want a laptop MRI!
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