by Mary Tompsett — This month’s fire hose of wisdom is sponsored by items appropriate to the topics, partially to enhance your reading experience, but mostly, so I can pretend to have a pinch of business savvy. Another low-carb serving of DILLIGS?! = “Does it look like I give a sh*t?!”
QUESTION: I’m a med student. Is dermatology a good specialty?
DILLIGS: Funny that you ask. The other day I caught a TV show about a doctor who specializes in popping pimples. We saw videos of Dr. Poppsie digging into leprous volcanoes, along with her stage demo on proper technique by kneading a tire-sized clear pouch filled with white muck. I guess we’ve all been doin’ it wrong because, oh my, what an eruption. So, yes, dermatology is big bucks for big mucks. Go for it. This derma-dig is sponsored by your local bakery, home of bulging cream puffs, leaking eclairs, and bruised jelly donuts— all oozing their innards like a fresh crime scene. So, pop in and scoop some up!
QUESTION: What are the popular baby names in 2019?
DILLIGS: Abigail and Levi are current favorites, meaning classrooms are already stuffed with them. So, darlin’, that train has gone. How ’bout something that sounds Euro-elite, like Nauseamo or Flatulencia? Now, that’s classy. And do resist alternate spellings and nonsensical punctuation. Just for kicks, let’s plant self-worth by replacing apostrophe tinsel with (gasp!) good parenting. No child deserves a lifelong curse by (1) turning a normal Abigail spelling into a “bully magnet” of A’bigg’gal; or (2) shackling a boy to a trainwreck spelling that forces him to bark—until death—“That’s two t’s in lower case, apostrophe, upper case DD, exclamation point…pronounced Ted!”
Golly, we could resurrect classics like Bob, Jane, and that cringe-worthy old clunker, Dick! Imagine a future classroom packed with Aidens and Wyatts, and skulking in the back row is a little Dick. Or a big Dick. Age-dependent, of course. American baby names reflect diversity, merrily blending love and mindless herd behavior in a frenzied national polka, without the accordions.
So, where are oodles of low-mileage names that mean something? In math and science! Consider these scenarios. At the airport: “Polyhedra Jones, please pick up a white courtesy phone.” At the tofu sculpting contest: “Congrats to our winners, Joule and Boolean Schwartz!” And on Facebook: Man’s wedding ring lost at Hooter’s. Engraved: “To Kelvin with love from Amygdala.”
And lo! Thou hast in thy right hand and, lo again, also in the left, the Periodic Table of Elements! Picture a tiny backpack labeled Molybdenum Smith. And what fun to seed a jaunty family pathology by naming the twins Hafnium and Holmium. Plus, each element has its own atomic number—free! Verily, I say unto thee, life is yummy. But again, don’t contaminate the Table names by aberrations like Fos‘F’Rus, or Zzzynque. Instead, vote Yes on the ballot for a national Apostrophe User Tax.
And when we exhaust the Periodic Table, we’ll mine the ingredients in cosmetics, cleaners, and meds. This rambling name nonsense is proudly sponsored by Polyquaternium-7 and Methylchloroisothiazolinone. No apostrophes, no tax.
The air show is always a hit, but March’s performance is short one jet. The Navy sidelined it due to excess weight caused by cookie crumbs and popcorn ground into the cockpit floor mat.
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