Project Mayhem

I have a dentist appointment tomorrow.  I hate going to the dentist. 

Dentistry seems to have been doing the medical industry’s impression of a deer in headlights for the last two decades.  While other medical fields have been doing such things as, oh, discovering DNA, completing the human genome sequence, cloning animals and using lasers to help the blind see, dentistry has been pumping Air Supply’s “Lost in Love” through headphones so you can’t hear the drill.   

I decided to investigate what dentistry has been up to.  Let’s see, there’s “air abrasion,” a method of “removing dental decay with a high-powered spray.”  Reports are that that’s not very effective.  There’s also laser treatment, but it doesn’t appear very common.  (Does your dentist use one? Case and point.)  And then there’s “photo imagery of the teeth” so they can “instantly be shown on a computer screen.”  Kodak has been doing that with disposable cameras since the ‘90s.

Near as I can tell there are only two things that have changed since I started going to the dentist in 1965:  the chair’s a little more comfortable and they now have cable TV.  Oh, and they don’t give you suckers anymore – a bit counterintuitive, I guess.  Otherwise, all the crap is still the same:  a needle the size of a yardstick, a foot-controlled drill, a dime-size mirror on a stick, a metal squirt gun and Scholastics Magazine in the lobby.  (Was it just me, or did Gallant always seem like a total lame-ass wuss compared to Goofy?) Oh, and they also started putting a protective vest on you during the X-rays.  The fact that I was given no such vest during the first 25 years of my dentist-going days is somewhat disconcerting.  And all those years I thought I was going prematurely bald because of genetics. 

Yo, what up, dentists?  Where’s the creativity?  Come to think of it, maybe that’s why the industry has been sited as the profession with the highest suicide rate.  (Apparently, though, that’s just an urban legend, fueled by a Seinfeld episode.  The American Dental Association claims the suicide rates among dentists are no higher than the national average.  For the record, the Center for the Study of Suicide and Life-Threatening Behavior at the University of South Carolina says that, “occupation is not a major predictor of suicide.”  It is worth noting, however, that PR people were not included in that study. As far as I’m concerned, the case is still open.) I digress…

Dentistry needs creative help, and I’m not talking toothpaste with fluoride, I mean serious creative, like push-button robotics that drill to precise depth and dimensions, eliminating my dentist’s hand in my mouth.  Hell, I’d be happy if they could find something other than those razor-sharp cardboard torture cubes they put in your mouth to take an X-ray.  After they position the jagged little suckers to perfectly pierce the roof of your mouth, they have the gull to demand, “Bite down.”  Seriously?  That’s like a doctor holding a scalpel against you and saying, “lean into it.” 

I know this all probably sounds like a man with dementia – I’ll blame it on the ton of lead I still have in my teeth.

C’mon, for all the whining that goes on about how steroids is cheating and ruins the integrity of sports, has anyone stopped to consider that they just might be good for athletics?  Indeed, there’s a whole new niche just waiting to be discovered: The Supplemental Games, the ultimate extreme sports.

Don’t be naïve; regulators are never going to stop athletes from juicing anyway, given that blood doping is often undetectable.  And even if they do, somebody somewhere will come up with a way to beat it, so why not just legalize it? Under strict supervision of the American Medical Association, the MLB, NFL and NBA create spin-off leagues where “juicing” is an integral part of game strategy.

The Supplemental Games is the chance in a lifetime for average players who don’t have Shaq’s power, Reggie Bush’s speed or the endurance of Greg Maddux.  Now, no-name players like Domenik Hixon of the Giants, Brad Snyder of the Indians and Jason Maxiell of the Pistons can begin snagging multi-million-dollar endorsement deals, too, for brands like the Milk Advisory Board, because, of course, “It Does a Body Good.”

Seriously, aren’t you a bit tired of hearing about Kobe, A-Rod, Tom Brady and the likes?  Wouldn’t it be great to finally root for somebody other than the typical cast of stars who were dealt a winning genetic hand at birth?  Yes, The Supplemental Games would be a victory for Average Joe’s everywhere.  Steroids would do for the average guy in sports what Viagra did for the average guy in bed.  Now everyone’s a hero. Grab your bats, gentlemen, and let’s play ball!

In an industry where careers have such short lifespans, it’s time to move over and give average guys a chance.  Average guys like me, for instance…  I was always good in sports, but not great; good enough to make the team, but not good enough to start.  While the stars got all the glory – and the girls – all I managed to pick up was eight stitches on my lip while serving as a tackling dummy. (Till today, I swear I got them while scoring the game-winning touchdown.)

Now, instead of sitting on the sidelines for a good part of their careers, average players become superstars — or supped-up stars — with advanced abilities, bigger paychecks, more fame, and the admiration of fans.

And the athletes aren’t the only winners.  Brands that had no place in sports are now center stage.  Instead of Gatorade Jugs on the sidelines, the multi-billion-dollar steroid industry has its own “Juicing Stations.” Take a little hit; hop back on the mound and fire a 108 MPH fastball … in the eighth inning!   And because of the juiced-up nature of the games, entire new structures will need to be built to house the required new stadium dimensions: 140-yard football fields, 13-foot-high basketball rims, 110-feet gaps between bases, titanium bats, etc.  That puts even more people to work.

New sponsors will undoubtedly sprout up to proudly display their names on the side of buildings, such as Anabolic Park and BALCO Field. And ad-income will soar with the influx of creative new advertisers: “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up … but as long as I’m down here I’m cranking out 20!”

That all sounds good, you say, but what about the record books and the embarrassing disclaimers next to the athletic accomplishments?  No worries.  After all, it’s the Supplemental Games, we embrace our heritage.  Our noted Hall of Fame building would be called “The Asterisk” and would be an extension to the Cleveland Clinic, just down the road from Canton.  And speaking of the Hall of Fame, steroids would even give us back our favorite retired athletes.  Cal Ripken, Joe Montana, Larry Bird, all the babies who cried during their retirement speeches can now come back to shatter their own records.  Imagine the turnout on game day!

Hmmmm … this sounds so good that maybe even I’ll come out of retirement.