Timely Jokes

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Hypochondria and Time

Humor and Jokes

(including cyberchondria jokes) ©

 

Click here to read the Timely Joke of the year for 2001

 

 44. One day the editor of a fringy fruit loop new age publication called Thyme Magazine decided to do an article on who was the most magnificent magician in the world. He gave the job to his apprentice journalist. The following morning the young man was dressed by his mother, and while not old enough to shave, and still wet behind the ears, he left home bristling with enthusiasm. He started recruiting entrants for a contest and a year later 5,326 people had demonstrated their magical ability and been eliminated leaving only 3 in the grand final. The first was Houdini who everybody knows, the second was a geni in a bottle who could grant every wish, and the third was a doctor who said that he could use his x-rays and MRI’s and other wizz bang gadgetry to determine the reality of every disease known to man, and he could also measure their severity. Upon hearing this Houdini walked out of the building and drowned himself again, and the geni withdrew back into his bottle which exploded, but the doctor kept on spinning his magic yarns and casting his magic spells and the whole world kept on believeing him, so the following month his truly magnificent picture appeared on the front cover of Thyme Magazine as the ultimate winner by the mystical process of default.

 

47. The Board is Mightier Than the Pen (Keyboard that is!)

“I haven’t got a ruddy clue about what is going on inside of your mysterious mind and neither have any of the experts that I’ve interviewed; so why don’t you write a letter to my newspaper and explain yourself in words of one syllable?” said the sarcastic pesky journalist; the one who usually asked too many questions for his own good; usually one too many . . . and the cyberchondriac replied “because I haven’t got a ruddy quill.”

 

 

The Humorous Adventures of The Mild Mannered 21st Century Cyberchondriac

 According to the medical literature all patients who suffer from undetectable illnesses are imagining things, and if they try to understand and manage their ailments by studying medicine themselves they are described as being unduly concerned or anxious, or even fearful and generally depressed about their problems. If such patients read medical books they are called hypochondriacs and if they surf the web to find health information they are called cyberchondriacs. Unfortunately the web has been inhabited by a mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac for many years and whenever he hears or reads about these peculiar ideas, especially when they are repeated with apparent new zeal, he always falls to the floor and rolls about laughing uncontrollably. He cannot understand how doctors can be so arrogant as to believe that their instruments can detect everything in existence, or how they can expect all patients to overlook the possibility that a doctor, for any one of many reasons, may be trying to hide something, or how they can expect all patients to do nothing about their own problems which are often ruining their lives; perhaps they think that all patients are completely naive and stupid and lacking in any type of initiative whatsoever.
Recently, in October 2003,Time Magazine presented an article about cyberchondria, and when the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac found it he could hardly contain his mirth and started writing jokes about Time and stuff like that. However he wishes to apologise for confining his jokes to only two miserable webpages. This is the second one; episode 2 of the humorous adventures of the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac, the mildest of them all, the one who is supposed to be anxious and depressed because the medical text books say so; how will he fare against the craft of the craftiest doctor of them all, the one who is too crafty by 95%, and that other silly galah, the pesky journalist, the peskiest of them all, the one who asks too many questions for his own good. Will there be panic and mayhem, will all hell break loose leading to outright war and blood and guts all over the place, and will the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac, the crafty doctor, and the pesky journalist all end up battered and bruised in the same hospital with the truth being the only winner. I can’t tell you yet; The mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac doesn’t know; he has a very, very, very vivid imagination, but he is not a soothsayer; he can’t predict the ruddy future.

 

Timely Jokes about Hypochondria

1. A patient had just returned from having an x-ray and he said; Doctor, doctor, you have to help me, I have a pain which is ruining my life, please tell me what is causing it !!! The doctor then said; I am happy to reassure you that there is no evidence of disease on your x-ray so the pain is trivial and insignificant and you can ingnore it!!! The patient then said; doctor I have just read an article about hypochondria on pages 54-55 of the October 6th edition of Time Magazine, do you think I may be suffering from that problem. It sounds very likely to me said the doctor, can you give me a copy of the article to read please?. Certainly, said the patient, I happen to have a photo copy of it in my shirt pocket, which you can have, and he then gave it to the doctor. Thankyou very much said the doctor, I will read it later. One more thing, said the patient, I would like you to do something for me in return. Certainly, what is that said the doctor, and the patient replied; I would like you to write a letter to the editors of Time Magazine and tell them that their article is trivial and insignificant and that you intend to ignore it. Why should I do that said the doctor. Well, said the patient, I had that copy of the article in my shirt pocket and was wearing the shirt when they examined me in the x-ray room – and there is no evidence of it on the x-ray !!!
2. Question: How did Time get into a double bind . . . Answer: It put three staples in two pages and then put all of cyberworld in stitches.

 

 

The Mythical Interview

(A brief history)

3. Journalist to hypochondriac; They say that the mind of a hypochondriac is a mystery, can you explain yours? . . . ‘Certainly! said the hypochondriac; What would you like to know?’ . . . ‘Well’, said the journalist; ‘where did you get your ideas about hypochondria from?’ . . . ‘Oh! that is easy to explain’, said the hypochondriac. ‘I gathered information from wherever I could, whenever I could, I was not fussy, but I did give preference to the more reliable and credible sources, and then I created ideas on cause and effect, prioritised and evaluated them, stored them all for potential future use, and in the meantime applied the most useful’.

‘How did you suppose you would convince other people that you knew what you was talking about?’ said the journalist. ‘Well’; said the hypochondriac, ‘I thought that it was important to respect other people who may have tried to solve the problem from a different perspective, and who may have been told or believed different ideas, and to consider that some of those ideas may have had merit in there particular context’ . . . ‘And what then?’ said the journalist . . . Well, replied the hypochondriac; It was important to understand the sensitivities of people with other ideas and to be courteous in approaching them . . . But what if all that failed? said the journalist . . . ‘Well’, said the hypochondriac; ‘it was useful to know that there is often great resistance to change so it was necessary to have patience because, you see, change never seems to be happening, but as you can plainly observe, today is different from yesterday, so change is always happening’.

‘But’, said the journalist, ‘What if people were disrespectful and discourteous to you and and ignored you and treated you as a fool, and treated your ideas as worthless, and hoped that your spirit eventually broke?’ . . .’Well, said the hypochondriac; ‘then it was important to keep a sense of humour’ . . . ‘I see’, said the journalist, ‘but what if all that still failed?’ . . . By this time the hypochondriac thought that the conversation was becoming a bit tedious so he said ; ‘Questions, questions, everyone asks me questions, but no-one ever gives me answers, I have to provide them all myself, and you know what never ceases to amaze me’ said the hypochondriac. . . ‘No, what?’ said the journalist . . . and the hypochondriac replied ‘they think that they can study the subject for a week and ask me questions that I have not considered a thousand times before, or that they are considering complex psychological and social aspects that I am not aware of’. However, the hypochondriac admired the curiosity and persistence of the journalist, which he saw as valuable personal qualities so he then said ‘I have only one more thing to say’ . . . ‘What, what is that?’ said the journalist, ‘is it something original, something that has never been done before which I can use as a scoop for the front page of my newspaper?’ . . . ‘Yes, yes, as a matter of fact it probably bloodywell is!’ said the hypochondriac, ‘and whenever, and if ever I stop bloodywell laughing, I’ll bloodywell tell you what it is! ! !’

 Some Timely Jokes to Celebrate the passing of 22-3-04

4. News flash: A rocket scientist has just invented a new fangled device for measuring the speed of Time; he clocked it at zero kph and estimated that it had not moved a centimeter in the past 5 months.

5. An Irishman, an Englishman, and an Aussie became involved in a bragging contest . . . The Irishman said that he had invented an engine which could make a car go faster than the speed of sound, but everyone on the web was bored because it had been done before . . . then the Englishman said that he had invented an engine which could make a rocket go faster than the speed of light, but everyone on the web was bored because no-one believed him . . . and then the Aussie said that he had just beaten the speed of Time by using a pair of old-fangled tennis rackets as snow shoes and everyone on the web said ‘what was the brand of those old fangled tennis rackets’.

6. Student to teacher; ‘Teacher, teacher, how do I pass the test of Time’ . . . Teachers reply; ‘have you answered the questions yet’ . . . ‘teacher teacher said the student ‘can I ask you some questions’ . . . ‘of course you can’ said the teacher ‘but first of all you will have to pass the test like I did when I was young’.

7. ‘How are you going to compete with the power of Time” said the journalist to the hypochondriac . . . ‘Well’, said the hypochondriac; ‘the pace won’t kill me’.

8. ‘What chances do you think you have of convincing anyone that you know what you are talking about’ said the journalist to the hypochondriac . . . and the hypochondriac replied ‘about the same chances there are of Time standing still’.

9. ‘Why are you hurrying said the journalist to the mild mannered man in the street; are you afraid that Time might catch up with you’ . . . ‘Of course not’ said the man ‘but I don’t want to miss my bus’.

10. ‘Are you worried about your hopeless losing streak’ said the journalist to the hypochondriac . . . ‘of course not’ said the hypochondriac . . . ‘but why’ said the journalist, ‘you aren’t getting anywhere’ . . . and the hypochondriac replied ‘I know, but it’s only half Time’.

11. Question; What does Time do in Marches . . . Answer; Oh, you know, the same as it does in Januaries, Februaries . . .

12. A hypochondriac attended a local fete and met a doctor who had just spent a dollar on a lucky dip, and he said ‘I think I have just found the cure for your problems’. The hypochondriac said ‘what is it doctor?, please tell me’, and the doctor replied ‘a sense of humour’. ‘Thankyou very much doctor’, said the hypochondriac ‘it must be my lucky day’. ‘How so?’ said the doctor, and the hypochondriac replied ‘I think I know a journalist who might have just lost his, and I reckon I can track it down’.

13. Three men met for a race to find the cause of chronic fatigue. The first was a doctor who said ‘I will wait until a world famous medical research professor finds the cause and then test it to make sure it’s true’. The second was a journalist who said ‘I will wait until a scientific expert discovers it and I will be the first to report it on the front page of the newspaper’. The third contestant was a hypochondriac who had a severe case of ‘so called’ imaginary exhaustion due to the the effort syndrome and he said ‘I might need a head start, so I’ll get going now and you two blokes can catch up later’.


Some more timely jokes to celebrated the passing of 22-4-04 (6 months from October 6th 2003)

14. Journalist to the Olympic 100, 200, and 400 metre champion; You are the fastest runner on earth in every sprint event, but how do you pass time during the Olympics? . . . Well, said the athlete; in between sprint races I lay down on the oval and watch grass grow.

’15. You must be a miserable sod’ said the journalist to the cyberchondriac . . . ‘I certainly am not said the cyberchondriac, ‘but what makes you say that?’ he added . . . ‘It’s only logical’ said the journalist . . . ‘How so?’ said the curious cyberchondriac . . . and the journalist replied ‘because time flies when you are having fun’.

’16. You know, there are many psychiatrists who believe that the symptoms of hypochondria are caused by some sort of anxiety or fear’ said the journalist . . . ‘I see’, said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘and millions of doctors agree with them’ said the journalist . . . ‘I see’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘and their opinions are being presented in the best magazines in the world while yours are being completely ignored; so why aren’t you panicking; haven’t you got any sense’ . . . ‘calm down, calm down, and relax said the cyberchondriac to the alarmed journalist; ‘there is something that you are not taking into account’ . . . ‘what is that’ said the journalist . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘I don’t scare that easily’.

17. The organisers of a country picnic decided to have a 100 yard race and after only 3 contestants volunteered to enter he announced that the winner would be the first to cross the finish line or the one who travelled the furthest distance within 2 hours. The race began at the sound of the starting gun and was watched by a very enthusiastic and encouraging audience. 2 hours later the announcer stood on the podium to present the prizes. ‘ladies and gentlemen’ he said ‘I am very pleased to report that the third place getter in this exciting event was Slippery the snail’, and clapping could be heard from the gathering, ‘and ladies and gentlemen, second place goes to Tricky the tortoise, and clapping and cheering filled the arena, ‘and, ladies and gentlemen, it is my great pleasure to declare the winner and trophy recipient as none other than Swifty the sleepy lizard’, and the applause was deafening. The announcer finished his comments by saying ‘but it certainly pleases me most that they all finished ahead of Time’, and the whole place erupted in tumultuous applause and a thousand hats were thrown in the air and champagne flowed like the mighty Amazon. Meanwhile, a mild mannered cyberchondriac had put his money on all of the contestants and was slowly nudging his way through the crowd toward the betting booth, with a wheelbarrow.

18. ‘Why are you still writing about hypochondria’ said the journalist to the cyberchondriac. ‘Oh! you know’, said the cyberchondriac ‘just for old Times sake’.

19. ‘Why did you read so many medical books’ said the journalist to the cyberchondriac. ‘Well’, said the cyberchondriac, I was trying to cure some symptoms’. ‘But doctors are already doing that’ said the journalist. ‘How’, said the cyberchondriac. ‘You know, with x-rays, blood tests, CAT scans, and so forth’ said the journalist. ‘And what conclusions have they drawn which are likely to help’, said the cyberchondriac. ‘They have found no evidence of disease and think that your pain is all in your mind’ said the journalist. ‘That is very very interesting’ said the cyberchondriac ‘thankyou very very much for telling me that, but have you got the Time to answer one more quick question’ said the cyberchondriac. ‘Certainly’, said the curious journalist ‘I have Time up my sleeve, what would you like to know’, and the cyberchondriac replied ‘who are they trying to help?’.

20. Journalist to hypochondriac; ‘how long have you been going to doctors for treatment’ . . . hypochondriacs reply; ‘Oh! about 10 years I suppose’ . . . ‘and what type of treatment did you get?’ said the journalist . . . ‘Oh! you know’ said the hypochondriac ”blood tests, x-rays, more tests’ . . . ‘yes’, said the journalist ”you had tests, but what about treatment’ . . . ”Oh!’ said the hypochondriac, ‘you know, yellow tablets, blue tablets, green ones’ . . . ‘Did they cure anything’ said the journalist’ . . . ‘No’ said the hypochondriac ‘but the treatment was very very colorful’ . . . ‘And what else have you done’ said the journalist . . . ‘ I have read a few magazines in search of a cure’ said the hypochondriac . . . ‘and did that help’, said the journalist . . . ‘No’, said the hypochondriac, ‘but they were very educational’ . . . ‘so what are you going to do now’ said the journalist . . . and the hypochondriac replied ‘Oh! I suppose I will just have to read some medical books and try to solve the problems myself’ . . . ‘but what good will that do’ said the journalist . . . ‘I don’t know yet’ said the hypochondriac ‘but if I don’t do that I will just be watching Time pass me by’.

21. ”I think I know how to help you’ said the doctor to the cyberchondriac . . . ‘please tell me doc, what do I need to do?’ . . . ‘You need a sense of humor’, said the doctor . . . ‘how will that help?’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘It should’ said the doctor . . . ‘I don’t think so’ said the cyberchondriac . . .’why not?’ said the doctor . . . ‘well’ said the cyberchondriac; ‘it hasn’t done me much good up to this point in Time’.

22. ‘Did you know that the Google search engine lists more than 900 websites which refer to cyberchondria, and that last week yours was number 2 on that list, yet nobody knows who you are’ said the journalist to the cyberchondriac . . . ‘that is very very interesting’ said the cyberchondriac; ‘but who was number 1?’ . . . ‘the very prestigious BBC news of London’ said the journalist proudly . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘the bb who of where?’.

23. Doctor to cyberchondriac; ‘How often do you think that you have to solve your own health problems?’. . . ‘well doc, just lately it is something which occurs to me from Time to Time, and, so it seems, it will continue to be necessary Time and Time again’.

24. The cyberchondriac invited a journalist to attend a magic show with him. Upon arrival he said ‘the star magician is a doctor during the day so he should be good’. . . ‘Why is that?’ said the journalist . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘because he has an amazing box of tricks, but, best of all he keeps a lot of secret stuff under his hat’. . . ‘Oh!’ said the journalist, ‘now I’m getting excited with anticipation’ . . . When the show started the magician showed an empty cup on his table, nothing up his sleeves, and nothing under his hat, but then he lifted the cup and a frog appeared and turned pink. That’s amazing’ said the journalist, ‘the frog seems to be blushing with embarrassment’, ‘blushing profusely’ added the cyberchondriac, ‘but that does not stop him performing like a trooper’. ‘That is true said the journalist – bravo to the frog’. The magician then flung his arm out, and a pigeon flipped and flapped through the air before landing on the magicians perch. ‘Why did that pigeon fly so clumsily?’ said the journalist, and the cyberchondriac replied ‘well, I suppose it is a bit epileptic’ . . . ‘Oh! I see’ said the journalist, in that case this show is very impressive; Bravo bravo’ he shouted. The magician then removed his hat to reveal a white rabbit tap dancing on his head. ‘Bravo, bravo bravo’ said the journalist ‘how does he do that?’ and the cyberchondriac replied ‘that rabbit probably has St.Vitus Dance’. ‘Oh! that is very impressive’ said the journalist, ‘and by the way, I understand that profuse blushing., epilepsy, and St.Vitus dance are the symptoms of mental illnesses?’ and the cyberchondriac replied ‘I’ve told you many times before, and I’ll tell you one more time, if you want to find scoops for your magazine, you have to stop reading yesterdays newspapers and do yourself a favour’. . . ‘What favour?’ said the journalist, and the cyberchondriac replied ‘You definitely have to get out and about more’.

25. ‘What are you going to do when another one of the major symptoms of hypochondria is found to be real as has happened many times in previous centuries?’ said the journalist to the doctor . . . ‘Oh! you know, the usual things; we have been successfully hiding these embarrassing discoveries from the public in the past and I can see no need to change our tricks at this point in time’.

26. ‘What type of fool would waste their time doing nothing while watching time pass them by when the world’s top experts were failing to solve their problems?’ said the journalist to the cyberchondriac . . . ‘don’t ask me’ said the cyberchondriac ‘I’m not an expert’.

27. ‘They tell me that you are keeping a record of Time’ said the journalist to the cyberchondriac . . . ‘I certainly am’ replied the cyberchondriac . . . ‘have you recorded anything which may interest the public?’ said the journalist . . . ‘I certainly have’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘and what is that?’ said the journalist . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘absolute, indisputable scientific proof’.

28. ‘Look; up in the air; is it a bird, is it a plane?’ said the journalist . . . ‘No! definitely not” said the cyberchondriac ‘so it must be a pig, because time doesn’t fly’.

29. ‘According to all of the newspapers of the world , and all of the magazines, and all of the all radio and television shows, hypochondriacs are whinging fools who complain about nothing. What have you got to say about that?’ said the journalist to the cyberchondriac . . . ”Nothing, absolutely nothing’ said the cyberchondriac ‘I’m not an apologist for yesterdays technology’.

Some more timely jokes to celebrated the passing of 22-5-04 (7 months from October 6th 2003)

30. The world’s craftiest doctor had become so annoyed at the way he and his colleagues were being made fun of in the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriacs humor pages that he decided to do something to bring it to an end so he contacted the cyberchondriac and warned him to be ready. ‘O.K. doc’ I’m ready for any challenge; what are you going to do; are you going to question my sanity?’ . . . ‘No’ said the doctor . . . ‘I see, doctor, then are you going to question my intelligence?’ . . . ‘No’ said the doctor . . . and so the conversation continued . . . ‘are you going to bamboozle me with jargon?’ . . . ‘No’ . . . ‘baffle me with science?’ . . . ‘No’ said the doctor . . . ‘I give up; how are you going to stop me?’ said the cyberchondriac . . . and the world’s most insightful doctor said ‘I’m going to borrow your trick and fight fire with fire by challenging your very, very, very, vivid, but sick imagination with conventional imagination, conventional tactics, and conventional humor’ . . . ‘O.K. doc, but I’m warning you that 20 years ago I was told that my very, very, very, vivid imagination was the only thing I had going for me, and that I should use it to advantage, so I desperately took that advice very, very, very seriously and have cultivated it and I now have a prolific, perspicacious super-callo-frago-ruddy-something-or-other-callo -listico-transmitto-callo-cocious and monochromic but octangulated, multiplaned and polydimensional imagination’ . . . ‘that does not scare me’ said the confident doctor . . . ‘O.K. doc away you go’ said the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac . . . and the doctor punched the cyberchondriac in the arm and broke his humerus bone. . . ‘Oh! damn’ , said the cyberchondriac; that’s bad; you’ve cracked a funny one, but I’ll survive, so what are you going to do now?’ . . . and the world’s craftiest doctor said ‘I haven’t finished yet; now I am going to put you in stitches’ . . . Aahh! you have found my weakness; I think I am going to die laughing for sure’ . . . ‘I certainly hope so’ said the world’s craftiest doctor ‘but I know that you are very, very, very resilient so I haven’t finished with you yet’ . . . ‘Oh no, what are you going to do next doctor; I think I am already mortally wounded but I reckon I can stop myself laughing with will power’ . . . ‘Oh, I won’t let that happen’ said the doctor . . . ‘Oh yeh!’ said the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac rallying to the challenge ‘and what are you going to do to keep me laughing until I expire?’ . . . and the world’s craftiest doctor said ‘I am going to get you plastered’ . . . ‘Oh no doc; I think you’ve got me beaten this time; three mortal blows in quick succession would certainly bring an end to anybody else in the world, and if I have told you once I must have told you a thousand times, I’m just a normal bloke’ . . . The world’s craftiest doctor was feeling a little guilty as he saw the mild mannered 21st cyberchondriac laughing uncontrollably and coughing and spluttering and desperately reaching for his apparant last gasp when the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘you sure know how to hurt a guy’ . . . After the world’s craftiest doctor fainted the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac began to panic so he said ‘wake up doc, wake up, you’ve gotta wake up, please, please wake up’ and in a desperate attempt to revive the doctor he kicked him swiftly up the rrrrr’s and said ‘waky waky’ . . . ‘but why do you want me to recover said the world’s craftiest doctor; do you like me, do you want me to live? . . . ‘well maybe I do, and maybe I don’t’ said the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac ‘ but I have to deal with the best if I am to gain any credibility, so I don’t want to deal with the rest; and without you; cough, splutter, gasp; I, I, I’ll lose my inspiration.’ . . . and the worlds craftiest doctor took a big sigh and recovered, unfortunately with renewed zeal, and launched another critical volley . . . Just at that very, very, very crucial moment the peskiest journalist from ye olde fangled land, and number 2 foe of the 21st century cyberhondriac transported himself into cyberworld and said ‘we’ll join forces doc and I’ll patch up this very, very, very complicated mess for you ! ! !’ and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac panicked and flapped about screaming hysterically ‘Oh no, not you again, please, please don’t entangle yourself in my very, very, very, difficult situation, not again, not again, no, no, no, not again; I don’t think I could survive any more twist and spin without getting terminally dizzy.’
31. ‘What is your secret key to challenging the opinions of the most intelligent professionals on the planet?’ said the curious journalist to the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac . . . ‘Oh! I don’t know’ replied the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac ‘but it is has to be one of these whatsamechallits on the QUERTY thingamejig .’
32. ‘You know’ said the angry doctor to the cyberchondriac ‘if you spent more of your valuable Time trying to solve the problems of hypochondria instead of criticising us you might have solved all of them by now’ . . . ‘Maybe doc’ said the cyberchondriac ‘but have you considered the practicality of your insightful suggestion’ . . . ‘what practicality?’ said the doctor . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac replied ‘how long have you and your mates been trying to solve these problems; how many years; a thou or three?’
33. ‘I think I know how to help you’ said the doctor . . . ‘how?’ said the curious hypochondriac . . . and the doctor replied ‘you need to listen to the quiet voice of reason and think positively about things’ . . . ‘O.K. doc’ said the hypochondriac ‘that sounds interesting’ . . . ‘good’ said the doctor ‘and now I want you to sprint for 100 yards, and then squat down and push a stationary car with all of the strength you can muster, and then, as a general principle I want you to ignore all of your pains and carry on regardless; and when you have proven to yourself that you are in perfect health you will be cured’ . . . ‘Oh, I can’t do that’ said the hypochondriac . . . ‘why not?’ said the frustrated doctor . . . and the hypochondriac replied ‘because the loud voice of experience is shouting and screaming at me at 200 decibels and saying; don’t do it you bloody idiot, don’t bloodywell do it, how many times do you have to make the same bloody mistakes before you learn anything’ . . . and the doctor said ‘Oh tsk tsk, why don’t you try listening to the quiet voice of reason for a change, and ignore the voice of experience, and see what happens?’ . . . and the hypochondriac replied ‘O.K. doc I’ll follow your wise advice’ . . . Thankyou said the softly spoken doctor; now go and do the things I said’ . . . ‘Oh I can’t do that doc’ said the hypochondriac . . . ‘but why not this Time’ said the doctor . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘because the quiet voice of reason tells me that my ears are still healthy and I want to keep them that way; and the earsplitting voice of experience is screaming at me again and yelling ‘remember you bloody idiot, that doctors can talk an awful lot and they can sound logical and sensible, but when the wheels fall off they can’t bloodywell fix anything.’
34. After being made fun of for more than 7 months the craftiest doctor in ye olde fangled world and the peskiest journalist of them all decided to bring an end to their troubles by joining forces against the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac. ‘His most vulnerable weakness’ said the crafty doctor ‘is his desperate craving for sympathy and attention which he cannot live without’. ‘Aha’ said the pesky journalist, ‘but can you be sure of that’. ‘Certainly’ said the crafty doctor, ‘because it says so in ye olde fangled textbooks’. ‘You’ve convinced me’ said the pesky journalist ‘so what shall we do’. ‘ We should deprive him of any recognition and watch him fade away, so we crafty doctors will never ever mention him in our textbooks’. ‘Sounds foolproof’ said the peskiest journalist of them all ‘and we will never ever refer to him in any of our olde fangled newspapers or magazines’. ‘Good’ said the craftiest doctor from ye olde fangled world, and the peskiest journalist said ‘then we are agreed; and we must let him keep telling his silly jokes and pretend we don’t even notice, never argue, or dispute him, or speak any solitary word at all’. ‘That sounds pretty mean and devastating but we will just have to do it’ said the crafty doctor, and then they hatched their dastardly, cold blooded, ruthless, heartless, nastiest and most soul destroying plan . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac lived happily ever after.
35. A young man had just completed his studies at the most respected university in the land, and he achieved the most respectable qualifications and entered the medical profession, the most respectable profession of them all, and he very soon joined a clinic and became the most respected of its young doctors. He was happily walking along the beach on an auspicious sunny day when he strolled past an old man, in fact, a healthy 107 year old man who had never had a days sickness in his entire life. The old man started feeling faint and dizzy and yelled out ‘help, help, will somebody get me a doctor, I need treatment’. The respectable young man said ‘I’m a doctor; what sort of treatment do you want’. The old man replied ‘Oh! you know, the usual stuff that ye olde fangled doctors gave to my long dead mates; arsenic, mercury, marihuana, opium, barbiturates; that sort of stuff I suppose’. The highly respected young doctor then said ‘Oh, we don’t prescribe the same stuff as those old fangled doctors; that poison will kill you, and besides, most of it is now illegal; you know; criminal’. The old man became furious at these comments and lifted his walking stick and belted the young doctor over the head with it and knocked him senseless. Just then the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac came strolling past laughing uncontrollably and he said ‘Good on ya, ya old codger’ and then the old man turned to the cyberchondriac and belted him over the head with his walking stick. After a short time the doctor regained consciousness and said sobbing and wailing ‘why, why, why did you hit me over the head, ya silly old coot, are you senile or something?’ and the old man lifted his walking stick and belted him again. A few moments later the doctor regained consciousness again and repeated his words ‘why, oh why did you hit me with your old walking stick, and the old man replied ‘because you silly young galahs have got no respect for your elders’. Just then the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac regained consciousness and said ‘yeh, but why did ya hit me over the head; I’m on your side?’ and the old man said ‘Oh yeh, sorry about that mate; you was just one of those poor suckers who found himself in the wrong place at the wrong Time.’
36. The crafty doctor was becoming more and more annoyed at being made fun of by the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac so after 7 months he finally cracked and decided to bring an end to it once and for all. He planned to base his sneaky plot on the foolproof principle that if you give a jackass enough rope he will hang himself, so he wrapped up a large and sturdy rope and sent it off disguised as a gift. Upon receiving this package the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac unwrapped it and read the note and the carefully written set of instructions attached. He felt so grateful for receiving this thoughtful present that he shed a heartfelt tear and was torn twixt and twain about what to do because he couldn’t use it and did not want to offend the doctor for his kind gesture by returning it. However after much deliberation he had to make a decision so he repackaged it and sent it back with the following sensitive reply; ‘Thanks buddy, for your very, very, very kind consideration which I truly appreciate more than you may ever imagine, but I have to give it back to you to pass on to someone far, far, far more deserving than myself because I am just a very, very, very, humble and normal sort of a bloke; I’m not a ruddy brain surgeon, and although I tried my damndest, I just couldn’t tie that tricky ruddy knot.’
37. ‘Can you remember when doctors had complete control of the medical literature and could write as much tripe as they wanted about hypochondriacs?’ said the pesky journalist to the cyberchondriac ‘when they described them as pathetic whingers who complained about trivial and imaginary ailments, and were miserable sods with no sense of humour who spent all day and all night crying, and were no-hopers and worthless quitters who gave up easily in the face of the slightest adversity, and were nothing but ruddy nuisances . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘I certainly can’ . . . ‘and can you remember when journalists were stupid morons who swallowed all the tripe they were fed and regurgitated it to the public without digesting it first?’ said the pesky journalist to the cyberchondriac . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘I certainly can’ . . . ‘so what did you do about it?’ said the pesky journalist . . . ‘well’ said the cyberchondriac ‘I read medical books for myself to determine the truth, and then I published my own website to broadcast the truth’ . . . ‘and did that change anything?’ said the pesky journalist . . . ‘not really’ said the cyberchondriac . . .’why not?’ said the pesky journalist . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘because the public are bloody stupid, I suppose’ . . . and the pesky journalist said ‘I’ll bet that makes you frustrated and miserable’ . . . ‘don’t be ridiculous’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘then why doesn’t it annoy you?’ said the puzzled pesky journalist . . . and the cyberchondriac replied in a matter of fact tone of voice ‘because that is the way it has always been, and always will be, I suppose’ . . . and the pesky journalist said ‘then why did you try to change things?’ . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said in a calm and reflective voice ‘because I thought it was a good idea at the Time’ . . . and the pesky journalist, the peskiest of them all said ‘but that’s not funny; that is very, very, very sad’ . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said with tears gushing down his cheeks ‘splutter, sob, cough, gasp, why do you do you want me to be funny all the time; you silly galah; do you think I am some kind of ruddy comedian?’.
38. Doctors say that patients who read medical books to learn about their ailments are stupid and mad; how do you argue with them?’ said the pesky journalist to the cyberchondriac ‘do you use facts, evidence, reason, science, logic, proof or sense like everyone else?’ . . . ‘Oh no, that was a complete waste of Time’ said the cyberchondriac . . . and the pesky journalist, the peskiest of them all said ‘then it is hopeless?’ . . . ‘of course not’ said the cyberchondriac . . . and the pesky journalist said ‘then how do you do it?’ and the cyberchondriac replied ‘by knowing more about the subject than they do’ . . . ‘and what makes you think that that will do any good?’ said the pesky journalist, the one who asked too many questions for his own good . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac replied ‘because I learned what they tried their damndest to discourage me from learning’.
39. You can fool some of the people all of the time and all of the people some of the time, but you can’t fool all of the people all of the time, and you can fool the cyberchondriac once or twice, or even a hundred times, but if you think you can fool him again you need help, and fortunately the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac is always willing to help, so he has put out the following police rescue bulletin ‘calling all cars, calling all cars, be on the lookout for a crafty doctor and a pesky journalist; nobody has heard from them for about 8 months so they must be still on the run and hiding somewhere; perhaps they have gotten themselves into a deep hole; if you find them, give them some friendly advice; keep digging, faster, faster, keep digging’.
40. ‘How can you travel at exactly the same speed as Time?’ said the pesky journalist to the cyberchondriac . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac replied ‘first of all you need to order one of those Time cars, and specify that you want a rocket booster for the engine which makes it travel at 3 times the speed of light, and it also has to have a reverse gear so that when you put your foot on the throttle it arrives back in the 20th century 8 months before you turn the start key’.
41. The 19th century’s peskiest journalist, the 20th century’s craftiest doctor, and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac decided to have a race to see who was the fastest of them all and it was arranged to start at 7 a.m. on Tuesday the 22nd of June. On the way to the event the pesky journalist rode on an old fangled train but it ran out of steam, and the crafty doctor rode on a thoroughbred stallion but his horse fell off the monorail. The mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac decided to inspect the track the night before but he fell asleep at the starting line. The following morning at 7 a.m. he was shattered out of his sleep by the starters gun and was still very drowsy, and when he suddenly stood up he was dizzy as usual and as he staggered about clearing the sleep from his eyes he said ‘which way do I go, which way do I go?’
42 The pesky journalist said to the cyberchondriac ‘Did you know that if you make fun of people, insult their intelligence, misjudge them, and treat them with cavalier disregard you can get yourself into more trouble than you can chuck a stick at?. . . ‘I certainly do’ said the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac ‘I’ve been telling doctors that for years.’
43. “You know, if you are always critical of doctors you will polarise and alienate them against you” said the pesky journalist, the peskiest of them all to the cyberchondriac, and then he added “have you thought of trying the humorous approach? you will be much more likely to influence them” . . . BIFF, BAMM, KAAZUMP, CRACK, THUD, THUMP . . . A week later the pesky journalist staggered out through the hospital doors on crutches with one leg in plaster and a bag of ice on his head. The mild manner 21st century cyberchondriac who was waiting to greet him said “hello buddy, you are certainly looking much better now than you were the last time I saw you: are you feeling well?” . . . “Yes thank you” said the pesky journalist, “much better”. . . “Good, I’m very pleased to hear that” said the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondraic, and as he was walking away he suddenly turned and said helpfully “by the way have you thought of throwing away your crutches and holding the ice bag on your head with one hand and throwing the other arm outwards to keep balance while you hop: I’m sure you will get home a lot quicker that way”.
 44. One day the editor of a fringy fruit loop new age publication called Thyme Magazine decided to do an article on who was the most magnificent magician in the world. He gave the job to his apprentice journalist. The following morning the young man was dressed by his mother, and while not old enough to shave, and still wet behind the ears, he left home bristling with enthusiasm. He started recruiting entrants for a contest and a year later 5,326 people had demonstrated their magical ability and been eliminated leaving only 3 in the grand final. The first was Houdini who everybody knows, the second was a geni in a bottle who could grant every wish, and the third was a doctor who said that he could use his x-rays and MRI’s and other wizz bang gadgetry to determine the reality of every disease known to man, and he could also measure their severity. Upon hearing this Houdini walked out of the building and drowned himself again, and the geni withdrew back into his bottle which exploded, but the doctor kept on spinning his magic yarns and casting his magic spells and the whole world kept on believeing him, so the following month his truly magnificent picture appeared on the front cover of Thyme Magazine as the ultimate winner by the mystical process of default.
A Timely Joked for 2005
45. One day the editor of the nutty as a fruitcake new age publication called Thyme Magazine, the editor with the long grey beard and the walking stick who had passed his used by date, phoned the cyberchondriac with the world’s most vivid imagination and said ” I wish to apologise for our article which described people who surfed the web to find information about their health as having a thought disorder which is now being called cyberchondria”. He then added “My illustrious investigative journalists, the ones who were the very very best in the paper world, may have accidentally offended your intelligence, but it was not intentional because they did not know that you existed”. The cyberchondriac replied “Don’t worry sport; I forgive you; but before your young gung ho whizz kids do another article on the subject could you teach them how to use the internet and tell them to type the words hypochondria and cyberchondria into the search engines and to use their brains before they shoot their ignorant mouths off about millions of people.
46. While walking through the park the cyberchondriac thought to himself “In the 10th century one of the world’s greatest scientist said that the world was as flat as ye olde fangled pancake, and in the 20th century one of the world’s greatest doctors said that many modern diseases were all in the mind” and then the cyberchondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination tripped over and hit his head on a rock and when he stood up he thought with astonishing clarity “I think we normal blokes are going to have a lot of trouble with those silly gallahs for thousands of years.”

47. The Board is Mightier Than the Pen (Keyboard that is!)
47. “I haven’t got a ruddy clue about what is going on inside of your mysterious mind and neither have any of the experts that I’ve interviewed; so why don’t you write a letter to my newspaper and explain yourself in words of one syllable?” said the sarcastic pesky journalist; the one who usually asked too many questions for his own good; usually one too many . . . and the cyberchondriac replied “because I haven’t got a ruddy quill.”

 

 Hypochondria in Time Magazine
 The Cyberchondria Webpage

 

  News Flash Flashbacks for 22-4-04

Cyberworlds answer to predictable and boring newsflashes from ye olde fangled world
(Based on trooooow storeeees from the amaaaazing annollllls of ninnnne-teenth and twen—tiethhh cen—choory medicinnnnnnnn)

1. ‘Did you know that 20th century coal companies hired a time and motion studies expert to get miners to shovel more and more coal each day to increase their profit?’ said the 21st century cyberchondriac. ‘No!’ said the young journalist ‘what happened’. ‘Oh! not much’ said the cyberchondriac, ‘but 10’s of thousands of them developed chronic fatigue’. ‘and did those bludgers bankrupt the companies by claiming compensation?’ said the journalist. ‘Oh! no’ said the cyberchondriac, ‘but why not?’ said the curious journalist, and the cyberchondriac replied ‘because the company bosses changed the name of the industrial fatigue board to the industrial psychology board and told them that their problem was all in the mind’.

2. ‘According to 20th century medical science the common cold is not caused by cold draughts’ said the journalist to the 21st century cyberchondriac. ‘Oh no!’ said the cyberchondriac, ‘will somebody tear up the carpet, throw away that useless bed quilt, rip out the ceiling insulation and throw open the window’ . . . ‘but why?’ said the curious journalist . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘I’d rather die of double pneumonia than have people think that I disagreed with doctors’.

3. ‘Doctors say that the common cold is due to a virus and that there is nothing you can do about it but wait for it to pass; what do you think of that?’ said the journalist to the cyberchondriac . . . ‘Oh!’ said the cyberchondriac ‘I suppose I will just have to stop pasting that useless old menthol vapour stuff under my nose and choke to death.’

4. ‘According to 20th century doctors stomach ulcers are caused by stress and the only cure is well established and proven methods of psychotherapy’ said the journalist to the 21st century cyberchondriac . . . ‘Oh!’ no, said the panicky cyberchondriac ‘Now I will have to throw away those new fangled antibiotics because they might have nasty side-effects’.

5. ‘Did you know that homosexuality is a form of insanity according to official medical, psychiatric, legal, and government opinion?’ said the 1950’s news journalist . . . ‘Is that so?’ said the 21st century cyberchondriac ‘well lets keep it a secret, and whatever you do don’t tell the FBI because they might legalise it, or even make it compulsory, so keep it under J. Edgar Hoover’s hat, or maybe under his skirt’.

6. ‘According to some of the nations top cardiologists the best way to survive heart disease for an extra year or two is to follow the meat, milk, and potato diet’ said the 1950’s journalist . . . ‘Oh no’, said the 21st century cyberchondriac ‘I must have wasted the first year of this past decade curing my angina with a useless vegetarian diet, but I’ll tell you what I will do; if my pain comes back and any of those cardiologist are still alive I’ll send them an email and ask them to post me a copy of their obsolete recipe.’

7. ‘The best cure for constipation is the low fibre diet’ said the 1920’s doctor ‘because vegetable material is rough on the gut which is why we call it roughage’ . . . ‘I see’ said the 21st century cyberchondriac ‘perhaps I should stop using vegetables to relieve the problem’ . . . ‘but why did you try that in the first place?’ said the doctor, and the 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘because I was eating a normal Western diet and emptying my bowels onece a week and 19th century African savages were vegetarians and they shit themselves four times a day’.

8. ‘When our clever modern scientists refined wheat into flour in their new fangled mills there was a lot of husks and stuff wasted so we decided to put it to good use’ said the ship captain who was transporting British troops to Europeto fight in the terrible first world war . . . ‘and how did you do that?’ said the young journalist in 1912 . . . ‘Oh! we fed the good stuff to the cavalry and the rubbish to their horses’ said the captain . . . ‘and what happened?’ said the curious journalist . . . ‘Oh! it was a disaster’ said the captain ‘all the men became constipated and constantly complained of haemorrhoids and were in too much pain to fight’ . . . Oh! that was indeed disastrous’ said the journalist . . . ‘No, that wasn’t the problem’ said the captain . . . ‘what was?’ said the inquisitive journalist . . . ‘well’ said the captain ‘we kept all the horses on the port side of the ship and after their first meal they passed tons of shit and we rolled over and sank’.

9. ‘According to medical science increasing blood pressure is a normal part of the ageing process’ said the 20th century journalist to the 21st century cyberchondriac. ‘Oh, don’t tell the New Guinea Highland savages that’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘Why not?’ said the curious journalist . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘because you could make their belligerent vegetarian chiefs angry and they might send their hypertensive young head hunters to get you’.

10. Cyberchondriac to 20th century journalist ‘Did you hear about the psychiatrist who claimed on the internet that the chronic fatigue syndrome was just tiredness?’ . . . ‘ No’ said the journalist ‘I wonder why?’ . . . ‘I don’t know’ said the cyberchondriac ‘because his state medical board found out, his medical licensing authority was told, his psychiatric association, consumer groups, a few lawyers and so forth soon knew. Perhaps you had your head buried in newspapers when the psychiatrist was busy making excuses, apologising, admitting he was wrong, and begging his patients and the occasional medical critic for mercy’.

11. A 1980’s news scooper attended a pre-trial hearing of Sam the Slasher who had been accused of murdering 326 women. 25,000 pages of evidence was presented proving him guilty beyond doubt when the defence lawyers decided to pay a psychologist $100 an hour to say that he was innocent on the grounds of insanity. The prosecuting lawyer then paid a psychologist $200 an hour to argue that he was sane enough to know what he was doing. Regardless of the confusion the matter went to a full trial and all of the evidence was presented to a jury. The defence then paid a psychiatrist $1000 an hour to give an opinion and he said that the man had serious personal problems since childhood which had made him crazy and that he was innocent because he did not know his own mind. The prosecutors then paid a psychiatrist $2000 an hour and he argued that he knew how to tie his own shoe laces and eat so he did know his own mind and was therefore guilty. The jury found the man guilty as charged but 3 months later he appealed to the supreme court where his defence lawyers paid one of the nations top psychiatrist a million dollars an hour and he said that the man had serious social retardation and was innocent of the charges on the grounds that he was as mad as a cut snake. The prosecutors then paid one of the worlds top psychiatrist 2 million dollars an hour and he presented evidence that the killer knew how to read a street directory to find his victims so he was as sane as anyone else and therefore was guilty of murder. The jury had become so confused by the contradictory evidence that they were unable to make a decision so the judge decided to dismiss the case and declared the mass murderer innocent and free to leave. ‘Why did you do that said a frenzied crowd of journalists and onlookers; are you stupid or something?’ . . . ‘Oh! certainly not ‘ said the judge, and he added ‘but the cost of this case has sent the whole country broke, and even if the blighter is as guilty as sin and we were desperate to hang him we haven’t got enough money left to pay for the escalating cost of bullshit’.

12. In the 1930’s a world famous scientist dispelled the belief that the women of yore had sickly indigestion because corsets twisted their stomachs and split their livers in two. He said that he had been to all of the countries of Europe and all of the states of North America and that his colleagues had told him that all of the women of yore in their countries also had twisted stomachs and split livers so he concluded that they were all normal, and therefore it could not have been the cause. ‘What do you think of that?’ said the journalist to the 21st century cyberchondriac . . . ‘Oh!’ said the cyberchondriac ‘I suppose that millions of the healthy native women of Africa and the healthy kimono wearing women of Japan were all abnormal’.

13. The famous hunchback of Notre Dame ‘Quasimodo’ was a gruesome character who had a huge hump in his back which was much larger on one side. He spoke with a husky and breathless voice and toppled from side to side as he walked. With the passage of time his breathing became more and more difficult until he was on the verge of suffocating so he consulted his doctor for advice. His doctor could not find any reason for his ailment so he referred him to a psychiatrist who proceeded to talk with him for one hour a week every week for five years when finally Quasimodo said ‘doctor, you have to tell me what is wrong and what I can do about it soon because I am running out of money’. . . ‘Well’ said the psychiatrist ‘I still don’t know, but I would like to try a new treatment called psychoanalysis’ . . . ‘O.K. doc’ said Quasimodo ‘what do I have to do?’ . . . The psychiatrist said ‘first of all I would like you to lay down on this new couch’. . . ‘O.K. doc’ said Quasimodo as he proceeded to lay down and carefully rest his lower shoulder blades on the single padded arm of the chaise lounge. ‘Are you ready?’ said the psychiatrist . . . ‘I certainly am’ said Quasimodo . . . the psychiatrist then proceeded to ask him questions about his early childhood and any problems he may have had with his parents and his personal relationships and after an hour he said ‘how do you feel now?’ . . . and Quasimodo replied ‘doc, I feel fantastic, my back feels much straighter, my voice is clearer, I can breath more easily, and I feel much more relaxed’ and when he stood up he felt more balanced. He then turned toward the psychiatrist and said ‘thankyou very much doctor, you have made a very miserable man happy again; what do I have to pay you?’ . . . and the psychiatrist replied ‘Oh! my usual fee – $200 per hour, will be thanks enough! . . . ‘No, no’, said Quasimodo ‘I don’t mean for the talk therapy; how much do you want for that amazing couch!’.

14. ‘According to the good Kentucky doctor of the early twentieth century the best treatment for evident hypochondriacs who complain about chronic fatigue is a good spanking’; what do you think of that said the journalist to the 21st century cyberchondriac . . .’That is indeed a memorable idea and I am sure I can put it to good use one day’ said the cyberchondriac ‘has he scientifically proven it yet?’

15. ‘Some hypochondriacs are called somatizers and according to early twentieth century doctors they subconsciously sought solace, attention and excuses for one thing or another by complaining about an endless succession of aches and pains which resembled an operatic symphony of chamber music’ said the journalist to the 21st century cyberchondriac; ‘what have you got to say about that?’ . . . ‘I don’t know’ said the cyberchondriac to the annoying and pesky journalist ‘go and ask somebody who cares; I’m not a music critic.’.

16. ‘Some hypochondriacs are called somatizers and according to an early twentieth century doctor they subconsciously sought solace, attention and excuses for one thing or another by complaining about an endless succession of aches and pains which resembled an operatic symphony of chamber music’ said the journalist to the 21st century cyberchondriac; ‘what have you got to say about that?’ . . . ‘I don’t know’ said the cyberchondriac but I don’t think his ideas ever cured anything and I doubt that he knew much about Mozart, but I’ll bet he could have made a pretty good jingle out of jargon.’

17. ‘Shellshock, according to modern medical science, is due to the fear of battle’ said the journalist to the 21st century cyberchondriac ‘what have you got to say about that. ‘I don’t know said the cyberchondriac but I do know that a world war 1 soldier was presented with a bravery medal while recovering from shellshock in hospital; how do you explain that?’ said the cyberchondriac. ‘I don’t know’ said the journalist; have you got any suggestions?’. ‘well, I suppose, since you are asking for my opinion’ said the cyberchondriac, ‘unless the medical theories are a lot of old hogwash, he might have been the world’s bravest coward’.

18. ‘According to twentieth century medical theories the symptoms of shellshock are caused by subconscious fear’ said the journalist to the 21st century cyberchondriac ‘what have you got to say about that?’ ‘well’ said the cyberchondriac ‘I recall the example of a world war one soldier who had a bullet zap past his head and he became deaf in one ear and his doctors described that as a classic example of shellshock; how do you explain that?’ and the journalist replied ‘perhaps only one side of his subconscious brain was afraid of battle’.

19. ‘Did you know that Amazon river dolphins emit sound waves to stun and paralyse fish?’ said the 21st century cyberchondriac to the journalist . . . ‘No! I didn’t’ said the craggy old journalist ‘but did you know that in the days of yore when I was covering world war 1 sometimes bombs would explode nearby and, although some soldiers were not actually hit by schrapnel they would be stunned and exhausted and paralysed in the arms so that they could not even pull the triggers of their guns? . . . ‘No. I didn’t’ said the cyberchondriac; what caused that?’ . . . Oh! that was called shellshcok and was caused by the fear of battle and only affected soldiers with personality disorders’ said the journalist . . . ‘Oh!’ said the cyberchondriac ‘how do you know that?’ . . . and the journalist replied ‘ because it says so in the medical textbooks’ . . . and the 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘that sounds a bit fishy’.

20. ‘I always see you writing about the symptoms of hypochondria but I never see you complaining about them’ said the investigative journalist to the surprised 21st century cyberchondriac . . . ‘I didn’t think you were capable of making such subtle distinctions’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘don’t be sarcastic’ said the insightful journalist ‘just tell me why? . . and the cyberchondriac said ‘well, if you must know, I’ve got my dignity and I don’t want to use my symptoms as an excuse for getting sympathy and attention.’

21. ‘I always see you writing about the symptoms of hypochondria but I never see you complaining about them’ said the investigative journalist to the surprised 21st century cyberchondriac ‘why not?’ . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘because I am flat out like a lizard drinking trying to prove my own theories without giving every other galah a free kick’.

22. ‘Did you know that mercury in teething powders is the cause of Pink disease in babies?’ said the journalist to the 1920’s medical researcher. . . . ‘of course I do, it’s obvious’ said the researcher . . . ‘but can you scientifically prove it?’ said the prodding journalist . . . ‘Oh! no’ said the scientist ‘we won’t be able to do that for at least a century’ . . . ‘why not?’ said the persistent journalist . . . and the 21st century cyberchondriac who was doing a bit of investigative journalism of his own said ‘because they have to wait until all of the babies have grown old and died or the doctors who prescribed the powders would be sued for billions.’

23. ‘Did you know that 20th century governments were trying their hardest to fund research into the cause of the chronic fatigue syndrome?’ said the investigative journalist to the 21st century cyberchondriac . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘Yes, I did, as a matter of fact, and all of the funds went to psychologists!’. . . ‘Oh! why was that?’ said the journalist, surprising the cyberchondriac with an insightful question . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘because if medical scientists ever proved the real physical cause it would be too expensive.’

24. ‘According to the top plastic surgeons of the 1980’s their statistics have shown that silicon breast implants can burst and leak gunk into a woman’s chest without causing any harmful side-effects’ said the journalist to the 21st cyberchondriac, and he added ‘I suppose you are going to say that those statistics won’t withstand the ravages of time” . . . ‘They certainly won’t’ said the 21st century cyberchondriac’ . . . ‘and why not?’ said the inquisitive journalist . . . and the 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘Oh!, they were only plastic statistics, not real ones.’

25. ‘According to one of the world’s top medical scientists of the 1980’s their studies have shown that Agent Orange is safe enough to drink’ said the journalist to the 21st century cyberchondriac, and he added ‘what do you think of that? . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘they must have studied the effects of the toxic chemical on guinea pigs from the planet Mars.’ . . . ‘what makes you say that?’ said the curious journalist . . . and the 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘because studies from the 1990’s showed that it caused 16 different types of cancer in humans.’

26. ‘Some doctors say that your problems with physical symptoms are evidence of a thought disorder’ said the journalist to the 21st century cyberchondriac, and he added ‘what do you say about that’ . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘It sounds to me like a non-sequitur’.

27. ‘What causes my neckache?’ said the hypochondriac to the 1980’s doctor . . . and the doctor replied ‘It’s all in you mind’ . . . ‘and what about my fatigue?’ . . . ‘all in your mind’ . . . ‘my chest pains?’ ‘they are all in your mind’ . . .’the breathing problems?’ . . .’all in the mind’ . . . ‘and what about my dizziness?’ said the hypochondriac . . . and the doctor said ‘the symptoms are all due to one problem and its all in your mind, in fact I envy your vivid imagination; look on the bright side and consider it a gift’ . . . ‘but doctor, are there any other possibilities?’ said the 1980’s hypochondriac . . . ‘not that I can think of’ said the 1980’s doctor . . . 20 years later on the balmy eve of the 22nd day of the month of April in 2004 a mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac was struck with a very, very good idea so he wrapped up a parcel containing a note with the words ‘this is the gift you said that you wanted those long years ago doctor, so I am now sending it to you; enjoy’ . . . A week later the parcel was returned with a note rejecting the kind gift saying ‘I really don’t want all of those symptoms, but thankyou for your thoughtfulness anyway’ . . . The 21st century cyberchondriac then wrote another note to the 1980’s doctor enquiring about why he was returning a gift that he had so eagerly wanted 20 years earlier and the doctor replied ‘Oh! you must have misunderstood; I didn’t want all of your symptoms; I wanted your very, very, very, very vivid imagination’. The 21st century cyberchondriac then turned to an inquisitive journalist who he was conversing with at the Time and said ‘I try to be generous, and am willing to give doctors anything they want, if I can, and if it is reasonable, but I’m only a mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac; I, I, I’m n, n, n, n, n, I’m not, I’m not, cough, splutter, I, I, I, I’m, I’m, n, n, I’m not bloody Merlin the bloody Magician.’

28. News flash 1950 – ‘Homosexuals are all evil, stupid, perverted mad men who should all be forced into psychotherapy to make them normal like the rest of, us declared prominent psychiatrist.
News flash 1970 – Aids epidemic sweeps the world, macho-movie stars, FBI agents, lawyers, judges, politicians succumbing like flies.
Meanwhile, back at the office psychiatrists everywhere were in a state of panic. ‘What are we going to do, what are we going to do?’ they said in an hysterical flap. ‘We will have to change our diagnoses’ said one panicky and hysterical psychiatrist. ‘And how are you going to do that?’ said the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac ‘are you going to use science, statistics, brilliant new discoveries?’ ‘No, no’ said the traumatised psychiatrist ‘we haven’t got time for that ‘we will have to take a vote and declare that all homosexuals are officially normal – urgently – before we are all arrested.’

29. 21st century cyberchondriac to 1950’s doctor ‘What do you think about homosexuality doctor?’ ‘Oh!’ said the doctor that is officially regarded as a form of insanity – those people are all nuts – and we treat those types to make them normal like us.’ ‘Thankyou for telling me that doc, I’ll make a note of it for later’ . . . 40 years later the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘doctor, when we last spoke you told me that homosexuality was a form of insanity but now I notice that your new medical association president is a lesbian – what have you got to say about that?’. ‘Shhhhhhh, be quiet’ said the terrified doctor, please don’t say that out loud’. ‘why not?’ said the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac, ‘will she dock your pay, or take away your licence to practice medicine, or sue you for defamation, or have you arrested?’ ‘No, no, much worse than that’ said the brow sweating doctor ‘she will dress up in her fine leathers, round up me and all of my mates, tie us all to bed posts, and whip us to death.’ ‘I’ll make a note of that doc’ said the 21st century cyberchondriac. ‘but why are you taking notes?’ said the curious doctor ‘are you nuts or something’. and the 21st century cyberchondriac replied ‘I can’t tell you now doc, I haven’t got Time – yet.’

30. ‘Doctor, why are you always so vague and ambiguous about the symptoms of hypochondria, you know, a minor twinge, a symptom that most people would ignore etc. why don’t you publish a list specifying them precisely like you do with all of those other diseases?’ said the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac . . . and the doctor replied ‘Oh! we can’t do that’ . . . ‘but why not?’ said the cyberchondriac . . . and the doctor replied ‘because if we did that, then every time we discovered the real cause of another one of them we would look silly.’

31. ‘Why are you so suspicious and distrustful of everything I tell you?’ said the doctor to the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac, ‘are you paranoid or something?’ . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘certainly not doc, but the things you tell me are often different from my own experience; and sometimes different from the things that are written in your own textbooks ! ! !’ . . . ‘but why would that be so?’ said the defensive doctor . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘Oh! I don’t know doc, I suppose it is because you are under a lot of pressure from other groups and individuals’ . . . ‘Name one!!!’ said the bristle haired doctor . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘drug companies!’ . . . ‘Oh yeh! Name six!!!!!!’ said the defiant doctor . . . and the cyberchondriac responded ‘Oh, you know, governments, insurance companies, employers, the army, the toxic chemical industry; is that six yet doc; I’ve got a million of em’ . . . and then the doctor, eager to bring an end to the escalating nature of this conversation, said angrily and abruptly ‘What’s are you getting at?’ . . . and the slightly agitated mild annered 21st century cyberchondriac said gruffly ‘Ya wanna know what I’m gettin at, I’ll tell ya what I’m getting at doc; You carnt tell me da twoof’.

32. ‘What can you do to relieve my symptoms doc?’ said the 1970’s hypochondriac . . . ‘well, we could try valium’ said the doctor . . . ‘I don’t think so’ said the hypochondriac . . . ‘but why not?’ said the puzzled doctor . . . and the hypochondriac replied ‘It didn’t help last Time doctor’ . . . ‘OK’ said the doctor ‘what about barbiturates?’ . . . ‘Oh no doctor’ said the hypochondriac ‘the last Time I tried that it took me within an inch of my life; and 10 years to regain a vague resemblance of normal health’ . . . ‘OK’ said the doctor ‘what about electroconvulsive therapy?’ . . . ‘I don’t think so doctor’ said the hypochondriac . . . ‘but why not this Time?’ said the doctor . . . and the hypochondriac replied ‘it sounds shocking’ . . . ‘OK’ said the doctor ‘what about the Chelmsford sleep therapy?’ . . . “no thankyou doctor; I am already having more trouble with tiredness than I need’ . . . ‘OK’ said the doctor ‘I have got one final suggestion’ . . . ‘what is that?’ said the desperate hypochondriac . . . and the doctor replied ‘frontal lobotomy’ . . . ‘Oh no, that won’t do’ said the hypochondriac . . . and the frustrated doctor replied ‘but why not this Time; I’m running out of ideas?’ . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘well doc, I don’t wish to offend you or all of the best medical experts in the world, but if those are the best suggestions that you have to offer, I, I, I, thin, thin, think, cough splutter, that from this point in T, T, T, Time, I, I’m d, d, d, definitely g ,g, g, go, go, going to need all the brains I’ve got’.

 

Missing Persons Bulletin 6-10-04

Be on the lookout for the editors of Time Magazine who have not been in contact for 12 months. When last seen they were having extreme difficulty understanding why some patients read medical books or surf the web in an attempt to devise effective treatments for their own ailments.

I wish to know what those editors have been doing this past year to scientifically measure the severity of chronic fatigue, or to modify the dietary cure for angina, or to identify the causes of 80% of postural deformities and their associated symptoms which remain officially unrecognised by the medical profession.

If you come across these missing persons sun baking on the beaches of the Bahamas with their doctor friends then please give them the following news flash:

NECESSITY IS THE MOTHER OF INVENTION

Timely Jokes of the Year for 2004

According to an article in Time Magazine one year ago today people who read medical books to learn about their health problems were suffering from a thought disorder called hypochondria, and those who surfed the web for such information were called cyberchondriacs.

If the editors of Time Magazine do not get their health information by reading medical books or surfing the web, where do they get it from? I certainly don’t know but if I was to take a wild guess I could say from 10 minute consultations with their doctor each year, or maybe from psychiatrists, or even scientists, or possibly from newspapers or other magazines, or perhaps from junk food adverts on TV, or they might examine chemical company statistics or official government reports, or they might read the print on the back of aspirin packets at the supermarket.

If any of those editors are still alive will someone please tell them to contact me urgently and let me know how they have survived for a massive 12 months by believing everything they have been fed, because my life would be so much easier if I could do that.

***
Question: How do you measure the distance that Time travels in a year. Answer: with an electron microscope.
Question: What did Slippery the sarcastic snail say to Time. Answer: hurry up speedy.

 Straight From The Horse’s Mouth !!!

According to an article in Time Magazine people who get health information from radio, or TV, or newspapers (or news magazines?), or who surf the web to get information about their health, are suffering from “a thought disorder”. . . Rough translation: “People who read Time Magazine have irrational minds” . . . humorous translation . . . “If you read Time Magazine you must be as nutty as a fruit cake: but if you don’t believe it ask the editor of Time Magazine.

The Great Medical Debating Threat of Cyberworld

What type of creatures show more initiative and courage in medical debate than the editors of Time Magazine? Oh, you know, the typical bunch of lily livered chickens, spineless jellyfish, yellow bellied rock lobsters, rats up drain pipes, lap dogs, push over pussy cats, scardy cats, squealing pigs, squawking parrots, leaping lemmings, stunned mullets, stoned crows, frightened crabs, new born babies, delicate damsels, mother hens, innocent lambs, skulking snakes in the grass, nervous nellies, straw men, Daffy Duck, Porky Pig, Bozo the clown, and extinct dodo birds, and of course, no list would be complete without reference to the most magnificent smooth talking, slippery tongued dummy spitter of them all: the highly esteemed ringleader of the hypersensitive New Zealand tree climbing, bungi jumping bean sprouts.

The 7 Questions Most Feared by The Editors of Time

1. In the nineteenth century chronic fatigue was regarded as a trivial or imaginary ailment and was classified as the major symptom of hypochondria. Is that true?

2. In the 1970’s doctors commonly claimed that there was no scientific evidence of the existence of chronic fatigue, and that the severity could not be measured and was described as “not an officially recognised medical condition”. Is there scientific evidence of the condition and can its severity be measured nowadays and is it now officially recognised?

3. How many years are patients expected to wait for doctors, scientists, governments, and the editors of Time Magazine to tell the truth about disease?

4. If the editors do not answer these questions now, how deep will the hole they are digging for themselves get, and will I let them crawl out of it?

5. Will I let them cheat their way out of this problem by evading or changing the questions?

6. Whose side is Time marching on?

6. How tall am I and am I built like Arnold Schwarzenegger? M.B.

The Times they’re not a changin !!!

 After 12 months of not getting any response to my comments on the hypochondria article in Time Magazine I have changed from being courteous with my enquiries, to being critical, and then humourous, to poetic, and can now predictably report “The Times they’re not a changin !!!”. M.B.

 

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