Reverse Anti-Semite, Doc
This entry is dedicated to Sharon Stone's 1/4" nipples. Can't wait to see them in 'Basic Instinct 2.'
Never, ever, ever again will I go to a doctor who isn’t Jewish. Like Homer Simpson, I like my beer cold, my gays flaming and my doctors hard core Old Testament devotees.
Let’s say I’m looking for a new gynecologist. I’d pick Benny Cuntsman’s House of Slippery Vagina Examinations over Dr. Morten McTitty or Dr. Sheila Willinghore, O.B.GYN any day. My mature medical savvy didn’t begin until I discovered Jewish doctors. They’re the best ever. To think what I’ve been though with the likes of Dr. Bertagni, Dr. Sommers, Dr. Lakso and Dr. Feelgood. Oy!
Why do I feel this way? Why do I insist that my health care be provided by those who observe Shabbes? Off the cuff—don’t scrutinize my policy b/c it cannot withstand strict analysis—I just trust them more. When it comes to bedside manner, there’s nothing like ‘em. They’re so doting, attentive, gentle and accommodating. They’re warm and tender. I don’t feel vulnerable, cold and terrified when I’m naked and they’re pasting leads onto my chest for an EKG. They’re willing to listen to me drone on and on and on about this pain and that weird noise my jaw makes. I like seeing their faces scrunched in empathy. “Poor baby.” When I joke about how I should have been an I.V. drug user because my veins are incredibly visible (my skin is transparent), they laugh like I’m Seinfeld. I have a theory for the origin of their prowess: it’s all about Mom. , I’ve met enough Jewish mothers to know that, in their estimation, the highest level their offspring can achieve, the most holy and revered status possible, is Doctor. And Jews live to make their mothers happy. It’s the WASPS who die trying to impress their cold, withholding fathers. That’s why they’re never happy no matter what loafers they’re wearing or how long their yacht is or how many board memberships they’ve got. There’s a higher rate of suicides amongst WASPS, I’ll betcha. I’d rather be looked after by guilt-ridden yet hysterical neurotics than by uptight, cranky and righteous Aryans. So when I open my mouth to say, “Ahhhhhhh” as directed, I prefer that a Jew be on the other end of the tongue depressor.
This is my solemn vow: Never shall I appear before a Shikseh, Gentile or Goyem wearing a paper gown for the remainder of my days on earth. My kingdom for a Jew in a lab coat!
posted by Shannon E. Ennis at
Friday, March 31, 2006
Never, ever, ever again will I go to a doctor who isn’t Jewish. Like Homer Simpson, I like my beer cold, my gays flaming and my doctors hard core Old Testament devotees.
Let’s say I’m looking for a new gynecologist. I’d pick Benny Cuntsman’s House of Slippery Vagina Examinations over Dr. Morten McTitty or Dr. Sheila Willinghore, O.B.GYN any day. My mature medical savvy didn’t begin until I discovered Jewish doctors. They’re the best ever. To think what I’ve been though with the likes of Dr. Bertagni, Dr. Sommers, Dr. Lakso and Dr. Feelgood. Oy!
Why do I feel this way? Why do I insist that my health care be provided by those who observe Shabbes? Off the cuff—don’t scrutinize my policy b/c it cannot withstand strict analysis—I just trust them more. When it comes to bedside manner, there’s nothing like ‘em. They’re so doting, attentive, gentle and accommodating. They’re warm and tender. I don’t feel vulnerable, cold and terrified when I’m naked and they’re pasting leads onto my chest for an EKG. They’re willing to listen to me drone on and on and on about this pain and that weird noise my jaw makes. I like seeing their faces scrunched in empathy. “Poor baby.” When I joke about how I should have been an I.V. drug user because my veins are incredibly visible (my skin is transparent), they laugh like I’m Seinfeld. I have a theory for the origin of their prowess: it’s all about Mom. , I’ve met enough Jewish mothers to know that, in their estimation, the highest level their offspring can achieve, the most holy and revered status possible, is Doctor. And Jews live to make their mothers happy. It’s the WASPS who die trying to impress their cold, withholding fathers. That’s why they’re never happy no matter what loafers they’re wearing or how long their yacht is or how many board memberships they’ve got. There’s a higher rate of suicides amongst WASPS, I’ll betcha. I’d rather be looked after by guilt-ridden yet hysterical neurotics than by uptight, cranky and righteous Aryans. So when I open my mouth to say, “Ahhhhhhh” as directed, I prefer that a Jew be on the other end of the tongue depressor.
This is my solemn vow: Never shall I appear before a Shikseh, Gentile or Goyem wearing a paper gown for the remainder of my days on earth. My kingdom for a Jew in a lab coat!
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home