Thursday, March 19, 2015
I was happy when I went to my doctor the other day. He had given me a series of shots six months ago that kept my creaky knee working and I was back for another round. He walked into the room with needle in hand.
When he saw my Chuy button he smiled that terrifying smile. You know, the smile those killers have in the movies I never go to see. The smile was the least of it. He launched into a lecture about how dumb it would be to vote for Chuy. It was at least ten minutes of rat-a-tat bullying. This is my Doctor!
What a nightmare. I felt as if Rahm himself appeared as my M.D. Wait . . . isn't his brother one of those doctors on TV? One of those "medical authorities.?"
Here's the worst of it. I have to go back for two more shots. Maybe I'll think of something clever to say. But then, he has the needle, doesn't he?