The following are excerpts from my new book, entitled
How to live your life (and other bullshit you’ll believe because I wear glasses).
Hello. My name is Doctor. You don’t need to know my last name. It’s simply not important. Just call me “Doctor”, because I’m a doctor and you’re not. To explain it in terms you’re more likely to understand, “Shut up”.
I’m sorry I said that. But really. You’re reading a book. Stop being such a cynic. I’m a doctor. There, it’s in print. It’s REAL. I wear glasses. I also carry a briefcase filled with money. That’s pretty much what all doctors do. You know that clipboard you see us carrying around? That doesn’t have your medical info on it. No, that’s a special doctor’s coloring book we carry around to entertain us while we listen to sick people whine about their spleens and whatnot. The last thing I drew in it was a picture of my briefcase—you know, the one with all the money in it.
I have a lot of money, and it’s awesome. I, myself, am also pretty great. When I walk down the street, I hear the words “dang” and “Shooooo” quite often. It’s a good life. And I’m sure you’re very jealous. Well, don’t worry.
In this book, I’m going to share with you all of my doctorey secrets. Why should you take advice from me? Well, for one, I have a big piece of paper on my wall which proves that my opinion really matters, unlike yours. I have “credentials”, which essentially means I read a whole buncha books and I walk around with one of those sweet clicky-click pens. Isn’t it about time you started living the clicky-click pen sort of life? You always lose your clicky-click pens, don’t you? That’s what I thought.
It’s inevitable. Someday, you’re going to be a an old piece of shit. No one wants to face that fact, but it’s just a part of life. Kids, and especially teenagers are going to make fun of you, flaunting their blooming loins and youth in front of you like assholes while you jam prunes into your equally wrinkled face just so you can manage to use the toilet without giving yourself a hernia. It sounds depressing because it is. But there are things to do that can distract from the disgusting pile of bones and sagging flesh that you’ve become.
Be Rich. Having money makes you seem distinguished as opposed to pathetic.
If you have children, constantly allude to your mortality and guilt trip the fuck out of them for not visiting you more often. Come up with new ways to subtly fake your own death to keep those jerks on their toes.
Invest in a wheelchair. I don’t care if you don’t need one. Wheelchairs evoke sympathy (and sometimes money or food) from strangers. Also, they’re fucking mobile chairs. Enough said.
Take up a hobby to distract yourself from how ugly you look, like knitting, collecting spoons, or loitering around the kitchen supply store at the mall recounting rambling, incoherent stories of things that used to “cost a nickel” to strangers.
Become a wet drunk and talk about the war a lot. But only with your mailman.
Collect cats and forget to feed them. The incessant meowing will probably incite a visit from a neighbor, which will be a nice distraction from the newfangled crap on the TV.
Pretend like you need a respirator, but figure out a way to use it for smoking pot.
Invest in a good pair of binoculars and spy on the neighbors. You can’t trust anyone these days. They’re probably also smoking pot, and know where to get some.
Blackmail someone. It’s fun. Use your binoculars to watch them freak out.
Dress up like a Witch or a Wizard sometime long after Halloween and go hang out at the local park. Scaring kids will give you a real sense of power and purpose.
Go to the Pharmacy and play with that blood pressure thingy- pretend to get caught in it and scream for someone come save you.
Tell your Grandkids lies about their parents, like, “Your dad was born with a tail, you know. I never told him, because I didn’t want him to feel different than the other kids, but I did have an affair with a bobcat that summer.”
Vans: Invest in your Future.
You can’t get through life and be seen as a cool, cool winner without wheels. Not roller-skates, idiot. I know what you were thinking. And no, they’re NOT “great for exercise,” they’re just a way to make yourself look like a real moron. What would happen if you saw your boss whimsically glide into the office on some roller-skates? I don’t even care if he was fucking killing it on those things, he’d still look like a massive freak-show. My skin crawls with embarrassment at the thought of it!Any-time someone feels embarrassed for you, that’s pretty much the murder of any respect they had for you as a human being. Sure, they’ll pity you, but you don’t really take orders from some-one you pity, now do you? Fuck the skates.
The kind of wheels I’m talking about belong on a big pile of luscious metal and greasy working parts that make a lot of noise. A heathen of the roadway. A motherfucking VAN.
Think about the last time you were in traffic and you saw a car that looked like it was clearly up to no good. Was it a Honda Accord? Maybe a Dodge Neon? You bet your ass it wasn’t. No, chances are, that trouble maker was a van.
The best kinds of vans are brown, or sometimes white with scuffed up paint and bad exhaust systems. The kind of look that says, “I might have come into this world shiny and new circa 1984, but now I’m dangerous as fuck.”
Imagine you’re innocently driving to the grocery store, when suddenly some bastard car jacker intercepts you, stealing your car—and more importantly, your dignity. Now you’re just some loser on the side of the road looking panicked. What if the person who you recently slept with and are still waiting to hear from sees you? Don’t let that happen.
See, that kind of thing wouldn’t have happened in a van. You know why? Because that car jacker wouldn’t have targeted a van, as its owner is about 75% more likely to be armed. This includes more modern vans, driven by rich soccer moms.(They’re notoriously hyper-vigilant).
Bottom line? You want whatever you’re driving to convey that you might have a gun. It’s sort of the same thing as when people put those “Beware of Dog” stickers on their fences when it’s obvious that they don’t own a fucking pet. Just the mention of a fake dog scares bad guys and pesky neighbors alike. A fake gun, or your sweet-ass van accomplish the same.
What to do about Ghosts
Ghosts. They’re scary. They fuck shit up. But most importantly, they’re watching you masturbate in the shower. Seriously. Ghosts will watch you. They will watch you and laugh. Have you ever had the suspicion that nearby, someone was chuckling at your expense? Well, they are. All the goddamned time. When you tripped down that staircase at work and thought nobody saw? Wrong. The ghost of Terrence Malcomb saw you, and he laughed his ass off before running to tell all of his ghost buddies. You’re probably being haunted right now, as a matter of fact. How do I know? Do I really need to drop the “D” bomb again? Ok, fine. Because I’m a fucking. Doctor. Sure, sure, I know you can’t get a medical specialization in ghosts, but you bet your bottom dollar that if you could, I’d have it. I’d have it all day long. I know ghosts. I’ve even examined one as a patient because he thought it would be funny. It was. I was like, “well, you’re looking a little paaale…” We laughed and laughed. That ghost, Larry Treehorn is his name, what a guy.
Now before you get all paranoid and start scanning your room for boogie men, remember- ghosts are just the souls of idiot dead people hanging around because they’re obsessed with something that happened when they were alive and can’t let go. Losers of the netherworld. They can’t really do much except be annoying. And if you know how to deal with them, they can actually be really helpful. Ever wanted to rob a bank without getting caught? I’ll bet you could if you were fucking invisible. And guess what? Ghosts can’t go to jail. Booyaaa! Suddenly having a ghost friend is sounding pretty sweet, huh? So how do you make that happen? Well, I’ll tell ya.
Whenever you feel you are being haunted, never directly ask a ghost to “Show itself”. Ghosts find this expression to be trite and stupid, and will basically try to scare the fuck out of whoever says it.
Ghosts really love cookies, crackers, or anything crumbly they can pretend to eat, because the crumbs make a huge mess and draw ants and mice. The ghosts just think that’s another way of fucking with you. A haunted house is one thing, but a mouse-roach infested dump filled with ghosts is super uncomfortable. See, if they don’t like you, they’ll do whatever they can to scare you away so they can inhabit the house on their own.
If you want to be friends with a ghost, try singing a really sad Irish lullaby in a high pitched voice. It lures them in. Then look around, wave, and say hello- let the ghosts know that you know they’re watching and that you’re O.K. With it. When you embarrass yourself in private and you think the ghosts are watching, give them a little nod and smirk of acknowledgment, as if to say, “Did ya like that?” Ham it up a little with a dance. Maybe the next time you’re “getting busy”, look up and make boastful gesture, like, “I’m totally getting some right now.” Ghosts are perverts. Just go ahead and get used to them being around every time you have sex.
4. The ghosts really like it when you refer to them as “Spooks”, because they want to get you in trouble for saying such a racially sensitive word. Try not to say “Fuck you, Spook,” in public.
5. Ghosts will respect the hell out of you if you are able to outsmart them, so a well-planned prank really impresses them. One move I like is telling them that you’re going on a long trip and pretending to pack a suitcase, because they all just try to jam themselves in there, and will wait there for you to leave, thinking they’re getting a free vacation. They’ll just be sitting inside your suitcase, getting antsy and starting to fight amongst themselves for days. They have no concept of time, so it takes them awhile to figure out that you’re not actually going anywhere and that they’ve been huddled inside a suitcase for nothing.
6. When you have a party, invite them. Tell them to do funny shit to your guests, and gossip about people with them. They love that. You’ll have some loyal ghost buddies for life if you can throw a good shin dig. Sometimes, I’ll even just throw a ghost party in their honor, which basically just looks like me dancing alone in my room while getting wasted. But I’d be doing that anyway.