It’s official, America’s favorite celebrity doctor has finally established himself as a successful solo artist. The certified guru of personal health is now a permanent fixture of the Oprah Winfrey Network, dishing out the latest developments in medicine on a daily basis. Dr. Oz has become the Elvis Presley of doctors among his predominately female followers, and continues to drive the health craze nail deeper into my eyeball with each passing episode. Thank you, thank you very much.
The constantly evolving theory of the correct way to diet, exercise, and prevent disease is quickly becoming a bit obsessive-compulsive for my taste. I think it’s safe to say that we’ve finally reached the summit of mount paranoia when it comes to personal health in this country. Being that we’re in the midst of yet another mass-craze, as usual, I’m waving at everybody riding by on the band wagon. Have a nice trip. Bring me back something nice.
All Aboard the Band Wagon…
At one end of the spectrum are the hypochondriacs. Like a bunch of wandering vagrants trying to score a dope fix, the crazies flood the internet with queries about their health, hoping to stumble across something to ease their worried minds. There they sit, pale-faced in front of a computer monitor, digging for info on freckle borders, out-of-place pimples, and dry tongue. At the other end of the spectrum are the urban soldiers that spend half of their lives in a sweaty warehouse, flipping tractor tires and snacking on raw spinach. Can we have a meeting of the minds here for a second?
Personally, I take everything with a grain of salt. I’m naturally skeptical, especially when it comes to things that people do in massive numbers. No matter what it is, it always seems to have such a Jerry Jones cult feel to it. I get itchy just thinking about it. Speaking of skepticism, I have an excellent conspiracy theory to share:
It’s a Conspiracy I tell ya…
Dr. Oz is actually a robot that was created by a Japanese firm, and purchased by Harpo productions to instill fear in the minds of an impressionable audience. The manufacturer model name is actually “Ozmotron 5000”. When not in operation, the Ozmotron 5000 doubles as “safety guy”, belted into the front seat of Oprah’s car. Since its introduction, her pharmaceutical stocks have soared because of the massive uptick in anti-anxiety medications being prescribed to people like me. The robot is operated by Verne Troyer.
Far-fetched? Not really.
Here are a couple reasons why I’d like to duct tape Ozzie to the ceiling:
1.) First of all, he’s a spin-off of the Oprah Winfrey show, and I’ll be damned if she gets any royalty cash because of my viewership. Conservatively, she’s probably worth more than the entire European Continent. It’s a safe bet that she’ll be the first celebrity goofball to go on a space tour when that whole mess takes off. I can picture her with her helmet on, waving hysterically from the shuttle window at all the poor people before launching into the stratosphere. Hopefully she’ll get stuck orbiting the moon. Transmission from space: “Harpo, we have a problem.”
2.) Secondly, he makes me feel guilty about everything I do. Stop it man. I would much rather eat a burrito than a cup of walnuts and a block of tofu. I couldn’t imagine being called on stage during one of his tapings. It would be awfully intimidating to explain that my lunch the day before was comprised of a half a sandwich and four cigarettes. At least it was wheat bread, dude.
3.) And lastly, Dr. Oz talks about regularity a little too much for my liking. Good god, I haven’t heard this much talk about crap since the Two Girls One Cup fiasco. It seems to me that colon health trumps all other topics, bar none. Are people really that desperate to go often? I’m not a doctor by any stretch of the imagination, but if you ask me, crapping more than once a day is a health risk.
If I bought into his regularity diet I’d have to apply for a janitorial job to insure I’d be within five feet of a toilet at all times. As a matter of fact, I probably wouldn’t leave the toilet without being strapped to an adult diaper. Give me a break man. Who the hell can lead a productive life when you’re eating five gallons of cherries a month? On top of the janitorial position, I’d have to find a source of secondary income (probably a work at home job) in order to afford the mile of toilet paper per week it would require to stay tidy.
I will admit though, there is one thing that impresses me about Dr. Oz — that being his uncanny ability to influence. Whatever he says goes (no pun intended). Truthfully, I didn’t even know women farted until I watched his show. However, call one down to the center stage and she’ll gladly share every detail about her bowel movements in front of the entire U.S. Frequency, color, girth — it doesn’t matter. I can picture a desperate fan, sitting on the bathroom floor like a closet alcoholic, chugging prune concentrate while the septic tank guy is banging on the door again — all for the sake of living up to the Doctor Oz regularity diet. That’s what I call mind control.
A Few Final Thoughts…
The way I see it, it’s an unhealthy addiction whether you’re at one end of the spectrum or the other. That’s not to say that healthy living shouldn’t be a priority, but it definitely shouldn’t come at the expense of your health. I think having a balanced disposition might be the best advice I could ever prescribe. Being consumed by anything to the point of obsession takes away from the whole life experience, doesn’t it?
The health craze is being driven by a number of outside forces, each of them competing for a chunk of your money. Fear is an excellent motivator. After all, it’s what’s kept our species alive for tens of thousands of years. Never underestimate it. “But that’s impossible, the earth is only 9000 years old?” We’ll get to that some other day.
Until that day comes, keep your head screwed on tight.
Please share your thoughts!
-Happy Blogging, you Bowel Loving Bitchers!