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The Breadth of Wonderment
I had intended to write about the majesty of our fragile planet, of the way that David Attenburough's voice turns everything into a thrilling voyage of discovery and how if we ever were to establish an exploratory galaxy-spanning force to go boldly where no man has gone before that I would want David to be the narrator of every single trip.
But instead, instead of talking about polar bear cubs tumbling down steep crisp snowy embankments or about gazelles leaping and prancing and defying the predator's jaws with glee, or the albino troglodytes that surving in sulfuric acid and have never seen the sun, instead of talking about any of that stuff, I'm going to talk about the unapologetic sadistic bastards that are dentists.
Bastards.
And I should know, my dad was one before he retired.
Doctors want to heal people when they get sick or injured. Dentists want to lord it over you because you had a few too many sweeties and now you've come crying to them with a toothache. Doctors provide a sympathetic ear and if you're lucky a nurse tucks you in in a starched uniform (her, not you, you've got a gown that shows your bare spotty arse), while dentists get medieval on your skull and the nurse is just another sadist in training.
Lets compare the medical advice from my last check-ups;
Doctor: "You should really drink more liquids, you need to stay hydrated."
Dentist: "Stop drinking fucking fizzy drinks, this is your own fault."
While a doctor might pussyfoot around delivering a diagnosis and offer a comforting hand, knowing full well that nobody wants to hear they have cancer and being generally nice to you, because, well he's a doctor and he's sworn to uphold the caduceus of truth, justice and a second medical opinion, a dentist will instead give you complete no nonsense balls-to-the-wall frank opinions; "its pus" or "hurts, doesn't it?" or even "this'll teach you to not floss, bitch!"
Bastard.
Ow.
I have to go back next Monday though and I will of course say nothing of this to him directly. Instead I will grip the chair and I will wince every now and again to make him maybe doubt in his head that the local anaesthetic has taken full hold and later when he's not looking I'll poke him with his own pokey pokey tool. In the eye. In my mind...
May.15.2007