Essays and other excerpts from Roy Kleins writings.

THE UNITED STATES OF WHO?

(Politics, Religion and Other Funny Stuff in Today’s America)

By: Roy Klein (2005)

Acknowledgements

Acceptance speeches are the most boring part of television award shows, and that’s saying a lot. Let’s face it, no one wants to hear the winners drone on about their agents, lawyers, acting coaches, personal trainers, parents, significant others, second-grade teachers or the bevy of other unknown individuals (I’m sorry if I left out anyone) who made this moment possible. Not to mention all the “little people” (are we in Oz or Lilliput?). Even those folks being acknowledged stop paying attention. So I’ll spare you.

I only want to thank my research assistant, Google, who was always there for me. As for my inspiration, you already know who you are.

Backward

I don’t want to sound too forward about this. The fact is, there’s only one thing I know about marketing a book. Unless you’re a famous person yourself (like Amy Fisher or Jenna Jameson), it’s important to find one to write your introduction for you. Although you can’t judge a book by its cover, a cover that boasts, “Forward by [fill in name of beloved celebrity]” can only help sales.

Alas, I’ve never been a Long Island Lolita or a porn star. So before I wrote a single page of this book – in fact, before I even had an idea for it – I realized that I needed to get myself a celebrity forward-writer.

My first choice was J.D. Salinger, but I couldn’t find him anywhere. Then I decided that Mark Twain would be a good catch, but it turns out that those reports about his death weren’t greatly exaggerated after all. Things pretty much went downhill from there. The only person who expressed any interest at all was former president Reagan. For some reason, though, he seemed to have a lot of trouble staying focused. And then the Gipper up and died, too. So, I guess you’re stuck with me. Oh, well, might as well get started:

According to the talking heads, America is more sharply divided than ever before. They see a chasm wider than the Grand Canyon; a continental divide greater than the Continental Divide. And this schism – they claim – was colorfully demonstrated by the results of the 2004 presidential election. It seemed like Nixon’s “Silent Majority” of the early ‘70s had morphed into Jerry Falwell’s “Moral Majority” of the ‘80s, swarmed en masse to the “Red States” during the not so gay ‘90’s and re-emerged as George Bush’s margin of victory in 2004. So our glib media – ever-searching for the next catchy moniker – re-named us “The United States of Jesus.”

Is this true? If so, what does it mean for the future? And, if it’s not true, then what in God’s name is going on?

I have absolutely no idea. I’m just an ordinary citizen. I don’t even understand why you’re asking me all these questions. Which probably makes you wonder, “Who does this guy think he is, writing a book on politics and religion like some self-important pundit?” Now that’s a question I can answer.

The truth is, I didn’t start out intending to write this book. No, my dream was to write the great American novel. There were only three minor obstacles – I had no plot, I had no characters, and I have no attention span. I have enough trouble concentrating long enough even to read a book, let alone write one.

But friends and family kept telling me how smart, funny, articulate, inquisitive and insightful I am. How well I write. And how I’m such a keen observer of the human condition. Actually, they probably used the term “keen observer” as a euphemism for lazy voyeur – like “those who can, do; those who can’t, watch.” Still, they gave me an idea. I could write essays on whatever topics tickled my fancy, and compile them into a book.

The more I thought about this, the more sense it made. I realized that I’m not the only one with trouble concentrating for more than a few minutes at a time. To the contrary, just about everyone I know complains about having problems staying focused. They channel-surf while watching television, station-surf while listening to their car radios, web-surf while on the Internet. They TiVo and tape-record television shows to watch in bits and pieces later. They watch movies at home on DVD, where they can pause or skip whenever they want. They get their news in tiny sound bites.

So a book of essays seemed like an idea whose time had come – the perfect new medium for the 21st Century. Just read the ones that interest you – in any sequence you choose – and gloss over the others. Gives a whole new meaning to the phrase, “It’s a real page-turner.”

Within hours of experiencing this epiphany, I had topics for more than 30 essays. And as I kept on writing them, I realized that most – in one way or another – had something to do with politics, religion and other important stuff in today’s America. And, just like that, The United States of Who? was conceived.

Some of the essays are funny, while others are serious (hopefully, you’ll be able to tell which are supposed to be which). Some deal with the silly and mundane minutiae of daily life, while others address the great issues of our times. My modest goal is to be entertaining and thought-provoking at the same time. And you get to decide whether I’ve succeeded.

Is there any point to all this? I think so, but I’m not going to tell you what it is. After all, this is America, where you get to think for yourselves and draw your own conclusions. (Psst! That was a hint or, at least, some foreshadowing.)

Wow. I just thought of something else on the book cover that would really help sales – “By the best-selling author of [fill in title of beloved, successful book].” Maybe for my next book (I can dream, can’t I?).

Until then, it’s time to experience America’s newest pastime – essay-surfing.

The Fine Print

1. Although this is a non-fiction book, I haven’t thoroughly researched any facts. I tried to a couple of times but, as I’ve already told you, my attention span’s too short. My mind kept impatiently wandering into ideas for other essays. And anyway, if I cluttered up my essays with too many facts, you’d probably stop paying attention, too. So I decided to keep things simple and rely mostly on my own recollection and perception of things.

2. If you agree with anything you read here, please feel free to contact me. If not, please don’t.

3. Finally, any similarities between me and any other person, real or fictional, are purely coincidental.

PART ONE – POLITICS

“I may disagree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it” (attributed to Voltaire).

“Dissent is patriotic” (ACLU bumper sticker).

It takes both Red States and Blue States to make our purple mountains’ majesty

(the author)

I. WE THE PEOPLE

[12 essays on the Constitution, including the sample below]

Of Guns And Magic Bullets

Recently, there was a surprise bestseller out about – of all topics – punctuation. Among other things, the book discussed how the placement, misplacement or non-placement of punctuation marks in written phrases can completely change their meanings.

For example, we all know that a panda bear “eats shoots and leaves.” But when we insert just one little comma, the phrase becomes “eats, shoots and leaves” (the title of that punctuation book, by the way). This doesn’t describe the eating habits of a panda at all any more. Rather, it seems to be talking about the behavior of a guest at a fund-raising dinner for the National Rifle Association – you know, the folks who think “gun control” means keeping both hands on the handle as you pull the trigger.

Behold the comma: language’s magic bullet.

I was thinking about this the other day when I came across the following phrase: “A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.” Look familiar? It should. It’s the Second Amendment to our Constitution. The one causing all that debate between gun control advocates and those folks who eat, shoot and leave at NRA fundraisers. And, in case you didn’t notice, there’s a problem with it. As written, it doesn’t make any sense. I’m not even sure it’s a real sentence.

Why? There are too many commas. Three to be exact. In a sentence of just 27 words. These magic bullets separate the sentence into four phrases, none of which seems to be connected to the others.

How in the world did this happen? No one can say for sure, but my theory is that the scrivener who recorded the sentence for posterity (maybe one of James Madison’s less accomplished relatives) was using a leaky plume, causing two random ink droplets to fall onto our precious Bill of Rights. Or maybe Jimmy’s wife, Dolly, dripped some of her chocolate ice cream on the manuscript. Whatever. For more than two centuries, legal scholars have erroneously read these smudges as commas, thus obfuscating the meaning of the Second Amendment.

It’s about time we correct this typo (okay, technically a “write-o”), once and for all. The Second Amendment should read like this: “A well regulated Militia being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms shall not be infringed.” There. That’s better. Now it makes perfect sense. In fact, it’s a no-brainer – like what happens to a person when someone uses a pistol to shoot him in the head at close range.

A militia, of course, is a military force that is not part of the regular army but is subject to call for service in an emergency – like our reserves or National Guard. Back in 1789, the fledgling federal and state governments simply didn’t have the resources to supply weapons to their militiamen. When citizens were called for duty, it therefore was a case of B.Y.O.M. (bring your own musket). So our drafters wanted to make sure that no one could prohibit the people (i.e., citizens and potential emergency militiamen) from owning guns. Fair enough.

The drafters couldn’t have been clearer (at least once we got rid of those two ersatz commas). There was only one reason not to infringe upon the people’s right to bear arms – the necessity of a militia for the State’s security. Does that reason still exist today? No way. Our federal and state governments have more than enough weapons for everyone – pistols, rifles, grenades, machine guns, bazookas, flame throwers, hand-held laser-guided missiles. Thanks to American ingenuity, we have the best and newest killing machines that money can buy. Soldiers and reservists no longer need to bring their own weapons for use in wars or other national emergencies (like shooting students during anti-war protests on college campuses).

So, all you gun nuts out there, it’s time to bite the (magic) bullet. Gun control legislation is perfectly fine under the Second Amendment. Please don’t shoot me. I’m just the messenger. And remember that commas don’t kill people. People kill people. Too often, they do so using guns.

II. THE CAMPAIGN TRAIL

[Eight essays on our political process]

III. HAIL TO THE CHIEF

[Seven essays on the Presidency]

IV. INTERNATIONAL AFFAIRS

The world’s become a global village. So let’s get to know some of our neighbors.

[Nine essays on the topic, including the following sample]

There Oughtta Be A Law!

We Americans agree on very little. But there’s one issue on which we’re pretty unified – we have way too many laws. We’re over-regulated and over-supervised. And the bureaucracy created to enforce all the rules has become bloated, expensive and inefficient. As to which laws should stay and which should go, well that’s the subject of endless debate.

But have you ever considered the consequences of living in a society where there aren’t enough laws? Take, for example, Holland.

The Netherlands are famous for Rembrandt and Van Gogh, silver skates and wooden shoes, windmills and tulips, and a brave girl named Anne Frank. The country’s also known for its permissiveness. Prostitution is allowed there. So is the use of certain mind-altering drugs. And unsolicited toe-licking is allowed there as well.

Yes, you heard me right. I said unsolicited toe-licking is permitted in Holland. No, I’m not making this up.

According to CNN.com (August 6, 2004), a man spent some three years sneaking up on women at Rotterdam’s parks and beaches and licking their toes. The police finally nabbed him but had to let him go when they realized that he hadn’t broken any laws. The opposition Labor Party demanded immediate remedial legislation. It expressed outrage that littering is a crime but unsolicited toe-licking isn’t. (I guess they could have prosecuted the culprit had he been caught throwing garbage at his victims’ tootsies instead of licking them).

Anyway, I hope the Dutch draft their new law carefully. Otherwise, there could be loopholes. For example, what does “unsolicited” mean? Does the law apply to toe-kissing? Toe-sucking? And what about fingers? When I was in college, our school newspaper ran a story about a serial fingernail fetishist. He would ask coeds for the time and, when they raised their arms to look at their watches, he’d grab their hands and pull back their fingernails. It seems logical that – especially in this digital age – any toe statute should cover fingers, too.

So, personally, I think the new Dutch law should read something like this: “It shall be unlawful for any person to lick, suck, kiss, fondle or otherwise touch the toes or fingers of any other person without such other person’s prior express written consent, a copy of which consent shall be filed in the local police station. However, nothing herein shall preclude any person from engaging in the game of ‘this little piggy’ with a child under the age of four to whom such person is related by blood or marriage.”

That should do it. Or, maybe the Dutch simply should require all citizens to go back to wearing those wooden shoes (and wooden mittens, too), for their own safety and peace of mind.

Oh, in case you’re wondering. To my knowledge, there are no ATLS (“anti-toe licking statutes”) here in America. Not to worry, though. Any American toe-licker presumably could be prosecuted under our garden-variety assault and battery laws, which generally ban any act of offensive touching. I don’t know why the Dutch didn’t think of doing that, unless they don’t have an assault and battery law either, which would be truly permissive of them.

I’m sure the local authorities in my college town used the assault and battery law to finger and nail that fingernail fetishist three decades ago. Unless he somehow managed to slip through their fingers and tippy-toe over to Holland, where he’s been operating in cognito ever since by growing a Van Dyke beard and changing his focus from the hands to the feet. Hmmm. I wonder whether the Dutch will extradite him back to the States for prosecution.

FOOTNOTE -- According to May 6, 2006, news reports, a man was arrested in New York for licking and kissing the feet and toes of female NYC subway riders. Maybe it was a copycat crime -- he was following in the footsteps of the Crawling Dutchman. In any case, he was arrested. Unlike his Dutch counterpart, he presumably will be prosecuted for violations of our criminal laws.

PART TWO – RELIGION

You gotta have faith, along with some good-natured irreverence and a healthy dose of skepticism.

I. IN THE BEGINNING

[Three essays on the roots of monotheism, including the following sample]

God

Whoever first decided that God looked like man clearly misconstrued Genesis (the Bible, not the Phil Collins pop group). The truth is that man created God in his own image. Please don’t get upset, you fundamentalists out there. I’m not trying to deny the existence of God. I’m just saying that our Supreme Being is not an elderly, white-haired Caucasian male.

Of course, I can’t empirically prove this any more than you can prove your opposite view. But I think I do have a logical argument. So, God willing, I hope you kindly hear me out.

When early man first developed the capacity to think, three crucial questions immediately occurred to him: (1) Where did I come from? (2) What is the meaning of life? (3) How do I get everyone to follow the rules? As at least a partial answer, the ancient Greeks and Romans came up with the idea of a de-centralized bureaucracy of deities – there were a bunch of gods up in the heavens, each of whom had different responsibilities (kind of like our presidential Cabinet). These gods – despite their superhuman powers – looked like men and women and even had human frailties. They freely interacted with us and meddled in our affairs, often with tragic results for us and for them.

Having all these gods was inefficient and unwieldy. Kind of like Congress. So the monotheists came along and refined the concept. We were created by one almighty God, they decided. Our purpose on this earth was to live virtuous lives. If we succeeded, we would be rewarded upon our deaths with eternal life in heaven.

But who was this new solo version of our Supreme Being? The Lord apparently was much shyer and more reclusive than the earlier Greek or Roman versions. Didn’t meddle nearly as much in our lives. To the contrary, only spoke rarely, and then just to a very few select individuals. Like when Moses received the Ten Commandments (a/k/a the "Bill of Wrongs").

Okay, so now we finally had the answer to those three great questions. God created us, our purpose was to live in accordance with the Ten Commandments so we could spend eternity in heaven and, if we didn’t follow these rules, we’d end up in hell instead. But what did God look like?

The Vatican helped clarify things for us during the Renaissance. It commissioned the great painters and sculptors of the day to create artwork that depicted various scenes and stories from the Bible. Of course, the Church hierarchy, the artists and – indeed – just about all the Christians in Western Europe at the time were Caucasian. And the hierarchy and the artists were male. So it naturally stood to reason that God was shown to be a white man. Since He was wise (all-knowing), it also made sense to portray Him as an older man. And everyone went along with it, so that it became the universally accepted image of God for hundreds of years.

When, as a little kid, I thought about God, I imagined Him up in heaven, hanging out with George Washington, Abraham Lincoln and all my dead ancestors, watching my every move through some unexplained window in the sky (which I now realize was the much-publicized hole in our ozone layer). It was both comforting and scary at the same time.

Now that I’m an adult, though, I’ve come to this conclusion: How arrogant and presumptuous of those people to depict God in such a way! Why in the world would God be an old white guy? Even at the time of the Renaissance, white males didn’t make up a majority of the people on earth. And they’ve become an increasingly smaller (there’s an oxymoron for you) percentage of the world’s population ever since. It’s far more likely that – if God is a being at all – He would be black, or Asian, or an animal, or something that looks like E.T., or (God forbid) maybe even a woman!

But If God did depict Her/It/Him-self like that, She/He/It/Them (and please don’t make an acronym out of that) would be showing favoritism to one race or gender to the possible prejudice of the others, which would be kind of un-Godly. That’s why I prefer to believe that God is not a being (something incarnate) at all. Rather, God is an ephemeral energy force from which we all emanate and to which we all return. Hard for an artist to capture that on a canvas but, when you think about it, it’s a lot more spiritual than the traditional view. And it also explains how God can be everywhere at once – much more comforting than the thought of some wizened old man watching us through a hole in the sky.

As for you skeptical fundamentalists, this description of God is entirely consistent with the famous line in Genesis. Man was created in God’s image. But image doesn’t mean physical form. It means a spiritual state of goodness and morality.

And here’s the best part: My explanation actually resolves the age-old debate between the Creationists and the Evolutionists. They’re both right! God’s energy force created our universe by detonating a portion of itself and sending its life-energy everywhere – i.e., the “Big Bang.”

But how is it possible for God to be on both sides at the same time during a crucial contest – like a war or a football game? It isn’t. The truth is that God isn’t on anyone’s side. Rather, as Lincoln put it, we’re all supposed to be on God’s side.

Are any of you traditionalists just a little bit persuaded by this analysis? Thank God!

II. GOD’S CHOSEN PEOPLE

Dear God: On behalf of my fellow Jews around the world, thanks for nuthin’! I mean, really. Nearly six millenia of suffering and persecution? If we’re the chosen ones, then what the hell do you do with the unchosen? Oh, that’s right. Hell. Okay, then. Never mind.

[Four essays on Judaism]

III. ONWARD, CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS!

[Six essays on Christianity]

IV. ECUMENICALISM

[Four essays on other “religious” things, including the following sample]

The First Church Of Atheism

When someone once asked Abraham Lincoln about his religion, the man from Illinois answered like this: “When I do good, I feel good. When I do bad, I feel bad. That’s my religion.” Imagine that! No politician today could get away with such a statement. Why? Because Lincoln was admitting that he was an atheist. Well, sort of.

You see, Lincoln’s statement succinctly summarized the credos of such organizations as the Humanist Society and the Ethical Cultural Society. These groups espouse living moral and ethical lives – not at the behest of a Supreme Being to ensure their places in heaven – but because it’s the right thing to do in the here and now; part of the inherent social contracts we have with each other. And these Societies have always been associated with atheism.

Of course, there are other atheistic movements as well. For example, as a child I attended a secular Jewish Sunday School. We learned about Jewish history, culture, tradition and holidays. We even learned some Hebrew and Yiddish. They just left out all the God stuff. For our graduation ceremony (at age 13), we had to present research papers on some aspect of Jewish history in lieu of being bar or bat mitzvahed. Mine was on Russian-Jewish immigration to America in the early 20th Century.

Like the Humanists and Ethical Culturists, Secular Jews embrace the Judeo-Christian values embodied in the Bible and the Ten Commandments. And you thought all atheists were two-headed, hedonistic, immoral, devil-worshipping commies!

But back to Lincoln. Was Abe right? Could atheism possibly be a religion? Let’s see what the dictionary says.

Hmmm. One of its definitions of religion is “a set of beliefs, values and practices based on the teachings of a spiritual leader.” No mention of any Supreme Being there. And Honest Abe himself could qualify as the requisite spiritual leader. Another definition is even broader: “a cause, principle or activity pursued with conscientious devotion.” That certainly includes the Humanists, the Ethical Culturalists and the Secular Jews, among many other atheistic and agnostic groups.

Okay, then. It’s official. Atheism is a religion. Boy, is this going to wreak havoc with the ongoing debate over the Establishment Clause of the First Amendment to the Constitution. I mean, keeping references to God on our money and in the Pledge of Allegiance would unconstitutionally establish theistic religions. On the other hand, removing such references would unconstitutionally establish atheistic religions. Quite a quandary! Think I’d better leave this one to the Supreme Court to figure out.

But maybe there could be a compromise. Our money could say, “In God and Nobody we trust.” The Pledge of Allegiance would mention “One nation, under God and Nobody, indivisible.” You know, something for everyone.

In the meantime, I’m looking forward to the media coverage of the inaugural service of the “First Church of Atheism,” to be held on some Wednesday evening in a log cabin in Kentucky. I can just see the tabloid headlines now: “Congregants Respond To Sermon With Enthusiastic Non-Belief.” And can we have an “Abe-men?”

PART III – OTHER FUNNY STUFF

I. WORDS

Communication is the cornerstone of civilization. And language is the lifeblood

of communication. Herewith, some blood tests.

[15 essays on language, including the following sample]

A Brief History Of Time

I never read Stephen Hawking’s book about our universe. I was too worried that trying to understand the cosmos might – quite literally – blow my mind. In fact, it starts imploding whenever anyone reminds me that the “speed of light” is actually a distance – not a speed – and that, if you’re moving at the speed of light, time is standing still. Wow. That’s heavy, man!

Anyway, I’m having enough trouble understanding time in the here and now.

Take, for example, the words “soon” and “later.” “Soon” connotes a shorter timeframe than “later,” right? Of course it does. But look what happens when you compare these two sentences: “I’ll see you soon” vs. “I’ll see you later.” Suddenly, the words have switched meanings. “Later” (i.e., sometime during the same day) now connotes an earlier timeframe than “soon” (i.e., sometime in the indefinite future).

Now compare these two sentences: “I’ll be there soon” vs. “I’ll be there later.”

Wow! They switched places again. “Soon” is back to being earlier than “later.”

And here’s one more: “Sooner than later” urgently suggests some time in the near future. “It better get done, and sooner than later.” But just change the “than” to an “or” and the urgency has been replaced by relaxed diffidence. “I’m sure I’ll get to it, sooner or later.”

What in the world is going on here? Is there some kind of linguistic black hole? I bet even Doctor Hawking couldn’t explain it.

I think the problem is this: for a culture that puts such a premium on time, the words we use to describe time are very subjective, imprecise and sometimes downright inaccurate. Let’s face it. You’re just never going to “be there in a second” unless you’re Samantha from Bewitched or you have one of those transporters from Star Trek. And a promise to “get to it in a little while” could mean three hours to the speaker (the future ex-husband) but five minutes to the listener (the future former wife).

This is because a “while” is an undefined period of time that theoretically could be anywhere from a nanosecond (a long word describing a short time period) to an eon (a very short word describing a very long time period that also can be spelled aeon; we apparently need two alternative spellings for a tiny word). And even though we can have a “little while,” there doesn’t seem to be a corresponding “big while” in our vocabulary.

“Regularly” is another one of those imprecise words. It means “at fixed intervals.” But those intervals again could be every second or once in a blue moon (which, since I’ve never seen one in my lifetime, I assume to be a pretty infrequent occurrence).

So, if our fixed interval is every minute, then changing to every hour would be “less regularly.” But if our fixed interval is every day, then changing to every hour would be “more regularly.” No wonder we’re confused about time. Not to mention the fact that no one really knows whether “every so often” is less regularly or more regularly than “once in a while.” Or whether they’re really the same (more or less). And where does “from time to time” fit in?

Then there are those phrases whose meanings have changed over the years. “When man walks on the moon” used to mean never. But then it actually happened. I guess the phrase “when man walked on the moon” now means something old or passe, like “when dinosaurs roamed the earth.”

Anyway, as a public service, I’ve taken the liberty of organizing common words and phrases about time into three handy categories:

Sooner (within the next few hours) – In a second, in two seconds, in a minute; in a New York minute; in a flash, in a jiffy, in a blink of the eye, in a heartbeat; in two shakes of a lamb’s tail; before you can say “Jack Robinson”; before you know it; immediately, at once, forthwith, as soon as possible, right away.

Later (within the next few days) – In a couple of minutes, in a few minutes, in a little while; soon, later, shortly; you mean now?

Never (never) – As soon as I’ve finished what I’m doing; when I get around to it; at some point; when I find the time; when the game’s over; at the next commercial; whenever; someday; one of these days; when hell freezes over; when pigs fly; don’t hold your breath; I can’t hear you; are you talking to me?

It’s kind of interesting that we seem to have more words and phrases for “sooner,” even though we rarely get around to doing things until “later” or “never.” And there’s one phrase I just couldn’t categorize: “In no time at all.” Is that something that happened already? Or maybe it’s how time goes by when you’re traveling at the speed of light. Dr. Hawking? Help!

I realize that the list still needs work, but at least it’s a start. I plan to write a comprehensive dictionary on the subject. . . sooner or later.

II. THAT’S ENTERTAINMENT

Is the media still the message? Let’s turn on our sets and see.

[Nine essays on Television, including the following sample]

And Now, A Word From Our Pharmacologist

Watching commercial television, we learned at an early age the purpose behind advertising – to persuade consumers to go to the store and purchase a particular product. Advertisers try to do this in two ways. By creating demand for a new product (“it’s a fully automatic instant camera”). And by creating demand for their particular brand of an existing product (“Winston tastes good like a cigarette should”). Perfectly logical.

But a new trend in T.V. advertising makes absolutely no sense. I’m talking about the recent spate of commercials for prescription drugs. Consumers obviously can’t just walk into a store and buy them. So what kind of demand are the advertisers trying to create?

The answer seems to lie in this line, which appears in every prescription drug commercial: “Ask your doctor if Vazzexxoffinol is right for you.” Are they kidding? This marketing strategy is flawed for so many reasons that I’m not even sure where to begin. But I’ll try.

First of all, these people apparently have never been to a doctor. If they had, they’d realize that the only way you can ever ask your doctor anything is by calling for an appointment to see her, which will be scheduled in about three months. By that time, you won’t remember why you made the appointment in the first place.

And if by some miracle you do, you’ll never remember the name of the drug. They all sound pretty much alike, and they all have lots of v’s, z’s , x’s and f’s to make them seem new and high tech. Bad idea. The names should describe the condition being treated, so people can remember them. Like “Burnbegone” for an acid blocker. Or “Achoonomore” for an allergy medicine. Or “Donutsarefineafterall” for a cholesterol drug.

These practical issues aside, the drug commercials themselves have all kinds of problems. The first generation of ads didn’t even tell us what condition the drug was supposed to treat. One commercial showed the earth from outer space while the “Underture” from the rock opera Tommy played in the background. What was that for? A drug to improve your pinball skills if you’re a deaf, dumb and blind kid? I never found out.

Another ad showed a man standing on the edge of a smouldering, burned out canyon. After taking the medication, however, the canyon was transformed into a beautiful garden. Only because I happened to be taking this drug myself, I knew it was an acid-blocker for the treatment and repair of esophageal lesions. Still, it was disconcerting to imagine a garden blooming in my stomach lining. I immediately hired a gardener to treat me for weeds and slugs.

Most of the early drug ads seemed to use the same imagery – people running joyfully through fields of wild flowers as peaceful music played in the background – regardless of the purpose of the drug. This scene apparently covered every condition from depression to anxiety to heartburn to allergies to high cholesterol to genital herpes to the heartbreak of psoriasis. It was impossible to tell what the particular commercial was for.

These ad campaigns just caused confusion. For example, when I finally saw my doctor, I obediently did what the commercials said. I asked him if Vazzexxoffinol was right for me. Turns out the drug is used to treat yeast infections in women.

Maybe the big ad agencies figured out there was a problem, because the newer commercials are starting to identify the conditions that the drugs are supposed to treat. Proudly pointing the way are the commercials for the erectile dysfunction drugs, which bluntly explain their purpose. It figures! That’s the one condition where discretion might be the better part of valor and some imagery would be called for – something like rockets blasting off into space or scenes of the Empire State Building and the Washington Monument. Instead, we get attractive, horny-looking couples flirting shamelessly with each other. Sometimes, the woman – who is absolutely glowing – gushes “I make sure my man takes Vazzexxoffinol.” It’s enough to make me sick.

If the drug companies really want to create consumer demand for their medicines, the most important thing they can do is tone down the discussions of the potential side effects, which invariably sound like the symptoms of the bubonic plague. Interestingly, the side effects of almost every drug are the same, and they often include contradictory symptoms: “Vazzexxoffinol may cause diarrhea, constipation, lethargy, nervousness, drowsiness, insomnia, dry mouth, excessive sweating, confusion, unusual clarity.” No thanks. I’ll just stick with my illness.

The side effects of some drugs include the very symptoms that the drugs are supposed to treat. Acid blockers may cause stomach pains. Antihistamines may cause upper respiratory infections. Anti anxiety drugs can cause excitability. And some anti-depressants may cause suicidal thoughts. What kind of marketing campaign is this? Would you buy a detergent that admits it might make your clothes dirtier? A deodorant that could make your armpits smell worse? Of course not.

The erectile dysfunction drugs provide a refreshing exception: “An erection lasting for more than four hours – while rare – may require immediate medical attention.” Now you’re talking! A little more information than I needed, but thanks for letting me know.

The drug interaction information in the commercials is also confusing. “Before taking Vazzexxoffinol, tell your doctor if you are currently taking any drug containing an MAO inhibitor.” Shouldn’t he already know that? He’s looking at my chart and he’s the one who wrote my prescriptions in the first place.

And here’s the scariest part: “If any of these symptoms worsen or persist for more than three days, call your doctor immediately.” Again, they think my doctor’s just sitting by her phone, waiting for my call. They never learn.

Ad agencies should be focusing their prescription drug campaign on the real consumers – the doctors who prescribe the drugs: “Tell your patients that Vazzexxoffinol is right for them. But downplay the side effects, which usually are pretty rare anyway. And don’t forget to check your chart to see if the patient is already taking a drug containing an MAO inhibitor. If so, tell the patient to discontinue that drug right away. Remember, for every 100 Vazzexxoffinol prescriptions you write, you receive a free golf lesson. And, you become eligible for our grand prize – playing with Tiger Woods at next year’s Vazzexxoffinol Pro-Am Tournament in beautiful Bermuda, courtesy of the PGA and the FDA.”

That might work. But television commercials for prescription drugs aimed at consumers are a complete waste of time and money. They have taught me one thing, though: Never take a drug containing an MAO inhibitor. No one knows what it’s for, and it doesn’t get along with any of the other drugs. Anyway, I prefer my MAO to be completely uninhibited.

III. HEALTH & WELLNESS

They say that laughter is the best medicine. So, just maybe, an essay a day will

keep the doctor away.

[Ten essays, including the following sample]

Hospitality

Most people hate hospitals so much that they wouldn’t be caught dead in one. Not me. In fact, nothing makes me happier than being a hospital patient for a few days. It’s one of my favorite places on earth. Here’s why:

First of all, your every need is taken care of. They even bring your food right to your bed. And what a bed it is! One of those fancy ones that you can move into all sorts of comfy positions with just the push of a button. Where else can you get one of those? And if you’re too sick to eat, they feed you intravenously to make sure you’re still getting those essential nutrients. How thoughtful!

Too weak to walk? No problem. You don’t even have to get up to go to the bathroom. Sometimes, if you’re really sick, they put tubes in you to remove your waste products for you (they really pay attention to every detail). Otherwise, they give you a bedpan so you can do your business right there. They’ll even draw your curtain to give you privacy. Oops, missed the bedpan? So what? Just call for help and – at no extra charge – they’ll clean the bed (and you). Presto! Crisp, fresh sheets.

If you have an appointment to go somewhere – like for an invasive, embarrassing test – they put you in a wheel chair (or, sometimes, a gurney) and off you go. You don’t ever need to log on to Mapquest.com for directions. And you never have to worry about what to wear for such meetings. Just throw on one of their complimentary nightgowns. They open in the back for quick and convenient access to those hard to reach body parts.

And everyone’s so concerned with your well being. They take your temperature, pulse and blood pressure every couple of hours, something you probably don’t do for yourself for months “on the outside.” They keep testing your blood and urine. Your doctor visits once a day, just to find out how you’re doing. This is the same guy you normally get to see once a year, usually two months after calling for an appointment.

All this medical attention makes me feel very confident and secure about my health.

The hospital folk believe in Ben Franklin’s credo, “Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.” So they make sure to wake you at 5:00 a.m. (often to give you a sleeping pill). Then it’s lights out by 8:00 p.m. But don’t worry about being bored during the day. You have your own remote control color television and your own phone. And the librarian comes by regularly to offer you books or magazines to read.

While in the hospital, you don’t have a care in the world. Your family, friends and employers expect nothing of you. After all, you’re sick. This good will sometimes lasts for weeks after you’ve gotten out: “Don’t bother him with it, he was in the hospital last month.”

If you’ve had surgery, you’re extra lucky. Because you’ll be in horrible pain. And that means one thing. Drugs. Hardcore drugs. The kind you could never hope to get on the street, at least not legally. It just doesn’t get better than that.

But wait. Here’s the best part. If you have decent health insurance, your hospital stay could cost you absolutely nothing. It’s like getting a free vacation at a five star resort! Simply amazing.

Of course, nothing’s perfect. The food choices could be a little more diverse. The T.V.s could be equipped with premium cable and pay per view. And it sometimes takes a while to get used to the sounds and smells emanating from your roommate.

Still, a hospital stay is probably the closest thing to heaven on earth. That’s why the nurses wear those white uniforms with the funny hats that look like wings with halos. No wonder people call them angels.

Then again, this could just be the Demerol talking.

IV. FUN AND GAMES

Because all work and no play makes Jill a dull girl.

[Six essays on sports and recreation, including the following sample]

Bad Sports

My working definition of a sport is this: An athletic contest that requires strategy and at least two of the following physical skills – strength, speed, quickness, agility, endurance and hand-eye coordination.

Pretty inclusive, isn’t it? Covers all the major team sports (baseball/softball, football, basketball, ice hockey, field hockey, lacrosse, soccer, volleyball, rugby). It also applies to many individual contests – running, swimming, rowing, cycling, weight-lifting, gymnastics, ice-skating, skiing, archery, tennis, racquetball – including just about every event in the summer and winter Olympics. It may even extend to bowling.

But, as you might have noticed, my definition doesn’t cover golf. Why? BECAUSE GOLF IS NOT A SPORT! Golf requires virtually no physical skills at all. All you need to be able to do is drive an electric cart, get out to hit a little ball with a lightweight stick and then get back in the cart to drive it to the spot where your last shot landed. Then you repeat the process.

You can snack while you play, drink while you play and even smoke a cigar while you play. You can cheat, and no one will notice. Midway through your round, you can stop for lunch before continuing. You can discuss business and make deals. Maybe this is a recreational activity, but it is certainly not a sport.

Golf even can be played by overweight, out of shape middle-aged folks and by octogenarian men and women. These people may be hobbyists, but they are certainly not athletes.

Now that I think about it, golf is a hobby – an expensive, time-consuming, self-absorbing, boring pursuit – like collecting rare coins.

By the way, did I mention how bad I am at golf? Humiliatingly bad. So bad that I can’t even compete against those octogenarians. This is extremely surprising and frustrating to me because I’ve played ball all my life and have always considered myself to be a well above-average athlete. And I usually pick up new games quickly. But no amount of practice has helped me with golf. I’ve even taken lessons, which finally enabled me to hit a ball off that little synthetic mat at the driving range with some degree of consistency. As soon as I go back out on a real course, though, I make an utter fool out of myself all over again.

&nbs