RECORD
“Te World’s Oldest Humor Magazine” or
World’s Most Humorous Old Magazine” Join us! Email chair@yalerecord.org HOW DO THE HORSE RUN SO FAST WITH ALL THAT GLUE INSIDE THEM?
Dear Lady,
What if you tried to stop being a woman?
Dear Doctor, My stomach hurts so much. I think I’m dying. Urgently, Lady DOCTOR CURIOUS WHY YOU DIDN’T COME IN EARLIER FOR ALL THIS PAIN YOU’RE IMAGINING PRO-CHOICE MAN CLARIFIES THAT CHOICE IS HIS RIVAL TOURIST OUT-GASPS YOU AT BEAUTIFUL MONUMENT IF THE POPE’S IN THE HOSPITAL, THEN WHO IS THE MAN IN MY BED? BIRD’S GRIEF INDISTINGUISHABLE FROM ITS JOY RED FLAG? YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHER HAS PROFESSIONAL PORTRAITS
Best, Doctor “MY LEGS ARE COLD” SAYS LYING MAN WITH HIS PANTS ON FIRE
MURDEROUS DOLL FORTUNATELY INCAPABLE OF MOVING
Dear black bear,
Should I lie down?
Best, Camper
Dear Opposition, Are you dying on this hill, or can I have it?
Best, Your opposition
Dear opposition,
Posthumously, Your opposition
Dear Camper,
Girl do you know how rhymes work?
WANTED:
WebMD but in my mind.
STATISTIC INVENTED TO CONVEY DEEPER EMOTIONAL TRUTH
Medical license. Please pay my debts. FOR SALE:
PRO-CHOICE MAN CLARIFIES THAT CHOICE IS HIS
PUPPETMASTER SOOTHES SENTIENT PUPPET
”YOU CAN FOLLOW VEHICLE LAWS OR YOU CAN FOLLOW PEDESTRIAN LAWS, BUT YOU CAN’T JUST PICK AND CHOOSE,” SAYS OFFICER
Obituary Correction
No correction. No obituary. We’ve been eating our apples.
Did You Know?
Male gynecologists shouldn’t exist.
PAPER CUT IS WOMAN’S
FINAL FUCKING STRAW; WANTS PLASTIC STRAWS BACK
Dear Reader,
I’m Dr. Conklin, and I will be curing you today. Ideally, there is nothing wrong with you, but there’s always a chance that you’re here for a reason. Either way, I will be onto my next appointment in 15 minutes. You look fine to me. Have we met before? Oh, yes, of course, I remember every detail of our interaction, especially your medical history, but refresh my memory. I’ll actively listen while I check my Instagram. Would you mind if I use an app to transcribe our conversation? It’s on my PC. If you see me on WedMD, don’t think about it too hard. I rely on a more accurate reference: Reddit.
Reddit is a medical dictionary. For the sake of transparency, I go directly to the primary sources that fill the pages of the thread U/Hypochondriac. Safari works faster than my brain can. If you have wifi, you do not need to get to a doctor’s office, because there’s a little doctor in every one of us, and her name is Self-Esteem, but don’t spread that, or I’ll be out of a job.
Like many connoisseurs of the internet, I firmly believe that I can identify the source of your ailment with just one search. Watch me. If you have asthma, you probably have lungs. If you have boils, you upset God, so he sent a plague. No need for another joke; I can get my point across without the ruleof-thirds. This is not supposed to be funny. A doctor with my reputation does not joke around with her patients.
I have a level-headed qualification to make that will help you trust me: Reddit can occasionally be wrong. The website advised me to liquidate all of my assets because I saw a black cat run across the street. Reddit told me to put “premium” in my Toyota Corolla that runs on “regular” when it deserves a “treat.” That’s why I was late for the appointment, but for the most part, the
site has a reputation as strong as mine.
Because of my supreme bedside manner, I can tell that your body language indicates that you want to learn more about me. That’s why you’re here. I scored very well on the MCAT, but my most important contributions to the medical community are my fantastic listening skills. How are you? Why are you here? What is your name? Before you called us, did you try drinking water and going to bed early? A routine helps.
Though you seem to expect me to consult my medical deggree, I encourage you to consider the fact that research can be proven wrong. A bird in the hand is not worth one in the bush because you might own the bush the birds are kiki-ing in. An apple a day does not keep the doctor away because there is cyanide in the seeds. Time does not heal all wounds, so I should get you a bandaid.
You might be overthinking your injury. Have you considered that the symptoms you are experiencing might all be in your head? Most of the time, ailments
Amelia Herrmann ’26 Chair
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you experience will go away with time. Our ancestors knew this. Modern practice has conditioned us to forget such truths, but I am well aware that the best medicine is usually laughter. The swelling will go down if you reconnect with your family. Do you have a significant other? No? Have you tried the apps? We can work around your “look.” Real beauty is on the inside, which is why I will prescribe you injectable Botox. I’m also pretty much a dermatologist. You seem frustrated. Maybe you should dip your toes into meditation instead of medication. What is your greater purpose? Mine is medicine because my parents told me it should be. Your sense of self will help you more than any doctor can, especially because our 15 minutes are up. We’ll send you out with some complimentary antibiotics. Stop taking them whenever you feel like it.
L. Conklin Editor in Chief
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WHAT MY DOCTOR SAID AS MY ANESTHESIA KICKED IN
“I can’t wait to retire.”
“Dude, I’m getting crazy visuals right now.”
“This will finally show you, Susan.”
“Is this the vasectomy or the hysterectomy?”
“We’ve been moving really fast and I want to talk about where things are at.”
“Nurse, I use the scalpel for this part, right?”
“Give me a sec – no Susan, I can’t take the kids right now… Oh and somehow that’s my fault…”
“Okay we can flip this guy over now.”
*Hard slap on the thigh*
“WHAT’S up guys welcome back to another Surgery Sunday–”
“This is the ugly guy with the fucked up balls?”
“Alexa, play Skyfall by Adele”
“This is the end… hold your breath and count to ten.”
“Nurse, take his socks off.”
“Nurse, that wasn’t poison gas was it? I’m just jok…”
“Nurse, will you make me the happiest man in the world?”
“Guess what Susan, I don’t need your nagging ass any more!”
“Imagine we just didn’t do the surgery, like how would he know?”
“Goodnight my sweet.”
*Tender kiss on the cheek*
—E. Bacal & R. Shivakumar
HOW TO MAKE YOUR BABY STRONGER
Tactics for Stage 1 (Baby in Belly)
Stay pregnant twice as long
Eat nothing, so the baby learns to feed itself
CRISPR gene editing
Antibody denial; baby should be body positive
Add extra wisdom teeth
Infuse placenta with fertiliser
Irradiation
Ask it to absorb twin
Tactics for Stage 2 (Baby out of Belly)
Stainless steel pacifier
Breast milk/skim milk bulk and cut cycles
Childhood trauma
Hamster wheel
Unhappy marriage
Raise on diet of unpasteurised ox milk
Trolley problem
Divorce
Lay under light of full moon
Give baby new baby to babysit
Get back together for the kids
Nevermind, divorce again
Evil stepmother
Pathetic stepfather
Mowgli
—Staff
HEALTH FOODS OF THE FUTURE
- Kale, but only if you don’t frown while eating it.
- VeggieTales characters (especially the annoying tomato)
- Suspiciously acquired cobalt and lithium dissolved in PeptoBismol
- CRISPR pills to turn on your cool gene
- Brain tapeworm, acquired by kissing Robert F. Kennedy, Jr.
- Lexapro-infused avocado toast, except instead of avocado, it’s Lexapro, and instead of bread, it’s even more Lexapro
- Your hospital bills
THE LIFE-CHANGING QUALITIES OF RAW MILK
“It’s funny you ask that. Raw milk, I’ve found, is actually the best option for your health and wellness. Ever since I was a child, my mother would supply me with USDA pasteurized milk, but I knew the harsh boiling practices were robbing me of nurturing nutrients and lovely lipids. One day, a cow appeared at my doorstep. Yeah, four legs and everything - the full package. Look, I know this sounds hard to believe, but I took in this cow. Yes, right here in town. I took this cow in my backyard and now every morning I go out to my Bertha—that’s the name she identifies with.
I go out to my Bertha like a child to its mother, or calf to its cow, I suppose. Well at any rate, I drink her milk directly from the teet, for I am her very own. Yes, directly from the teet. I know that sounds strange, but I haven’t bought a pail yet. Put that on the list I suppose! But at any rate, since I’ve started to drink directly from the teet I’ve noticed all sorts of changes. What changes, you ask? Well let me tell you. First, and this was truly unexpected, I have grown a quarter inch in height. Yes, a man of my age is still growing! It’s some kind of miracle. And look, some people to whom I’ve mentioned this sudden growth say, ‘you know you’re taller in the morning right?’ but I had this confirmed to me at my last physical with my general practitioner. A whole quarter inch, can you believe it?
Now, the second change has been in my love life. For years I felt myself ugly, undesirable, and having an overall off putting effect on the other sex. But since drinking—and again I must press this point—directly from the teet, I have quickly become the ‘Belle of Ball’, so to speak, at the various bars and social gatherings I frequent. Women swoon at my very word, and while I haven’t taken any as a wife yet, I am sure this will come along soon enough.
The final change I’ve noticed since drinking straight out of the teet of dear Bertha has been an increase in wild and spontaneous bowel movements. But, and I seem to always have to remind my friends this, it’s not something to worry too much about, because the alternative is the constipation which defined the first 47 years of my life. I am not him anymore. My life is with Bertha now.”
“That’s all very nice sir, but again, would you like whole, skim, or oat?”
“None, please.”
—R.
HYPOCHONDRIACS, TRUST YOURSELVES
Look, I get it. Your doctors and everyone around you constantly say that your VERY VALID HEALTH CONCERNS are all in your head. It’s like, “Thanks for your input, Doc, but I am absolutely positive that the person hacking on the other side of the Motel 6 pool has whooping cough,” I say to you doubters. Every rational person would obviously take precautions to ensure they’re safe from most deadly diseases. It’s called survival. Do I go a bit overboard? Perhaps, but I pride myself on being an overachiever (I know ladies, but keep it in your pants until I’ve seen a clean dated STI test since your most recent sexual encounter).
Recently, I developed this terrible condition. My face started feeling warm, which is an early indicator of death. I began my typical regimen to protect my health, taking a dose of DayQuil and Advil every four hours to kill off those pesky bacteria. Then, I started noticing a rash on my face. At this point, I pretty much saw the light, and it wasn’t just because I stared at a lightbulb to cleanse my retinas. I was dying. I clearly had some incurable disease that likely could have been prevented with full herd immunity. I called my doctor who told me, through exasperated sighs, that I was seeing things and that I needed to actually take my anxiety meds.
BUT SHE WAS WRONG!!! In the next few days, I developed a high fever, my respiratory system was messed up, and I even saw white spots in my mouth. My girlfriend, also through exasperated sighs, said those were probably from the rice I had at lunch, but I knew she was lying. I was dying. This was shocking considering I take very good care of my health by washing my hands, taking my temperature regularly, and staying at home when I don’t feel well.
At this point, I knew I had to take action. I drove to the emergency room and announced that I was dying and needed immediate medical attention. Janet, the emergency room nurse on Tuesdays from 12pm-1pm, didn’t even look at me before asking if I had taken my medication. I told her that I clearly had other things going on and was too busy dealing with MY IMMINENT DEMISE to swallow a tiny pill! It probably couldn’t even fit down my
swollen throat, Janet. She looked at me and her jaw dropped. She threw on a mask then rushed me into a room where my doctor met me shortly after. He said that I had measles (see reader, I was right). Apparently, my parents are anti-vaxxers. What did I learn from this experience? That I am always right. All hypochondriacs are right. All mild symptoms are indicators of a terrible disease.Trust yourself because you will be right eventually. One day, when the careless, “normal” humans are dead, they won’t be able to roll their eyes anymore.
—A. Garcia
HOW TO: MAKE ASPIRIN THE OLDFASHIONED WAY, CIRCA 1915
Hey mister, you look like your head’s been driving you crazy! Is the bossman asking for more while the wifelady’s asking for less? Don’t even get me started on those devilish urges to just passionately kiss another man! Well, sir, I actually did it. I kissed a man — with tongue, no less! So, I created “Aspirin” to forget those two most tender minutes of my life and get back to crafting legislation against universal suffrage. Here’s my exact formulation:
1. Go down to the soda parlor and ask the soda man for a small vial of jumpin’ powder.
2. Put the jumpin’ powder in some milk and Coca Cola and snort it right up.
3. Congratulations, you just ingested “Aspirin”!
Immediately after taking “Aspirin,” you should kiss as many men as possible. If you feel nothing, it worked! But, if you still wish to leave the missus behind and jump into the arms of a strapping fella, just take some more “Aspirin” and try again.
I seriously recommended it, mister. Say, I can be your first kiss once you give it a go!
IF
IT WALKS LIKE A DUCK AND TALKS LIKE A DUCK, IT’S A CHIROPRACTOR!
NOTES FROM THE PEANUT FREE TABLE
In an attempt to maintain the privacy of all individuals involved, certain parts of this testimony have been redacted. All names and identifying details have been removed and/or changed. Any similarities between this account and actual events is merely coincidental.
—The School Nurse, aka “Bitchy Tina,” Esq.
SALLY ANNE: The day was November 3rd. No, wait, November 6th. Um, you want me to describe my relationship to the victim? Well, Timmy picks his nose a lot. I like the color green. We got along quickly. He was my best friend — no wait, that’s Mary. You could say he was my second best friend before…you know…the incident.
JOHN M: John M, line leader, at your service. It was a day like any other. I was rounding up the kiddos at the tail end of lunch, deciding how I’d format the line that day: shortest to tallest? Order of birthdays? Divorced parents to stable marriages? The possibilities of line order are truly endless. You want me to stay on topic? Yes ma’am *salute.* I was standing near the peanutfree table when it happened. Jared had opened his thermos, and it smelled rank. Then Timmy started to like, do a Fortnite dance or something.
MEREDITH: Jared is my boyfriend. And yes, we have held hands. Twice. I’m his first girlfriend, but he’s NOT my first boyfriend. Before him, I dated John M, Jack B, Jimmy, and Jebron James. John M was too rigid for my taste, and he purposely missed our scheduled hug after school on Tuesday. I needed someone a little more devious, someone who could… break the rules. You know how those J-name boys are.
KYLIE: I have 32 allergies. Yes, that is correct. What are they you may ask? Well wouldn’t you like to know, you saucy little scallywag. My best friend is Lousia. We sit together every day at the peanut free table and eat our gluten free, peanut free, jelly free, bread free, sugar free, air free, sunlight free, PB&J sandwiches.
LOUISA: Kylie’s annoying as fuck.
JARED: I didn’t do it okay? I’m not squawking until my lawyer gets here. I will say I’m completely innocent — Meredith did it. She’s as crazy for peanut butter as she is for me. Wait, John said what about me? Son of a —
TIMMY: I hwath an alwergic reacshin to peethnuts. My mouwth ith swolen. Jared ith a dead man.
—A. Siciliano
TIME AWAY AT THE COAST
I have anxiety, but who doesn’t, am I right? I’m kidding; the lifetime prevalence of anxiety disorders is only 30%. My worries have begun to interfere with every element of my life, from internships for this summer, internships for next summer, internships for the next-next summer, and the big internship in the sky (a real job). Considering that I’m unable to swallow pills on account of my childhood trauma (a pill stabbed my pet guinea pig), my doctor recommended another treatment: time away at the seaside.
Admittedly, I was skeptical when I arrived in Mystic as the wet ocean air healed my cracked lips and untangled my curls (it carried a Wet Brush)... As I walked into my $20k-a-month Airbnb, complete with a butler, tutor, and complete network of financial advisors, I was offered a champagne glass full of slightly green liquid. I asked my butler, Franscico, what the liquid was. He said it was absinthe: the intellectual’s Fireball. As I sipped, I could slowly feel my anxiety melting away. I spent two months at this glorious estate, drinking that delicious elixir from my lovely champagne glass and binge-watching Sex and the City.
By the end of my two months in Mystic, my anxiety was cured. I didn’t even bother taking my Lexapro anymore. The time at a fully paid, gorgeous estate with no outside responsibilities was reformative. I am now addicted to absinthe, but I no longer find myself ruminating on intrusive thoughts. I truly think that everyone should pursue this treatment course if they’re able. After all, what’s a few million and half your prefrontal cortex if it makes your life so much better?
—A. Garcia
u/Michael_Mancini_1936
I’m the Old Naked Guy in Your Gym’s Locker Room, AMA
Hello! My name is Michael, and even though I’m eighty-eight, I love going to the gym! I go with my grandkids, Seamus and Connor, who helped me make a Reddit account so I could share my story. I haven’t picked up a dumbbell since the Korean War because I don’t believe in that bodybuilding nonsense. Take it from me: The secret to longevity is being naked in an LA Fitness locker room until they force you to leave. Ask me anything!
u/Terryrexx2404
Hi Michael! Why does it look like that?
Michael_Mancini_1936 OP
Great question! After holding off the Reds for three weeks on Paektu Mountain, my platoon ran out of ammo. Knowing we were dead men, we kissed polaroids of soon-to-be-widowed wives, rigged our grenades to explode, and charged into their front line yelling like devils from the foulest pits of Staten Island. Unfortunately, the only grenade that exploded on my body was the one I had strapped to my hog. Next question!
u/white_ford_broco405
Do you not own any towels?
Michael_Mancini_1936 OP
Why buy towels when you can just rotate around a hand dryer? This is why you millennials can’t afford a home.
u/seemus_rulz
Grandpa! Who’s your favorite grandson? It’s me, right?
Michael_Mancini_1936 OP
I love you both equally! You boys crack me up.
ALTERNATIVE AMBULANCE SERVICES FOR UNDER $5,000
A really old man driving for Uber
An even older man pulling a cart
A sled pulled by 23 buff toddlers
A hearse (with stripes, to make it go faster)
A stretcher balanced between 3 lame miniature ponies
A Subaru owned by an after-market fiend
A hammock strung between two unicycles
68,038,855.5 highly motivated ants
Walking
—H. Murray-Nelson
ALL THE DISEASES MY MOTHER HAS
Trench Foot
Smallpox
Scarlet Fever
Polio+
Bird Flu
Bird Bone
Rigor Mortis
Syphilis (1945 - 49)
Leaky Cholesterol
Reverse Digestion
Syphilis (1986 - 91)
Gums Where Teeth Should Be
Gums Where Feet Should Be
Lactose Intolerance
Milk Addiction
Thirst for Human Flesh
Syphilis (2020 - Present)
Essence of Evil
Ungrateful
Won’t-put-me-in-will-itis
The Sniffles
I CAN’T HOLD MY PEE, AND I REFUSE TO SEE ANOTHER DOCTOR
Doctors want me. Urinals fear me. This is my story.
Ever since I was a wee lad, my mother told me I have a bladder the size of a walnut. I think she’s a liar. I just drink a lot—then Kool Aid, now liquor. Not to mention,
I hate walnuts, so why would my bladder ever be the size of one? Ever hear of mind-over-matter? Truthfully, I think she’s working for big urology — all mothers are. Well, if you’re a urologist, get my mother out of your pissedsoaked pockets! Not only is it disgusting, but your pockets aren’t even soaked with your own piss, like mine are.
I went to see a doctor once. I told her I needed to piss 10-15 times daily. She told me to pull down my pants. Ever since, I’ve been eating an apple each time I piss, cyanide poisoning be damned. You’ll take me to the doctor again over my dead body.
I don’t consider myself the type to have close personal relationships, except for the one I have with my restroom. Have you ever spent so long looking at a urinal that it started speaking to you? One time, my urinal said, “What the Hell are you doing?” Wait, that wasn’t my urinal. That was the guy who was using it in front of me. You can’t stop nature’s call.
I guess it isn’t technically my urinal. It belongs to the public, which means it’s probably being secretly siphoned off by greedy urologists, as if they don’t have enough. If you’re a urologist, you’ll never be able to steal my piss again — I stopped using that urinal last week. Now, I store it in my pants.
—T. Harris
WEIRD THINGS I SAID WHEN I WOKE UP FROM ANAESTHESIA
Long hair’s not just for protecting tits. Drip me onto you prisoner princess. Too pretty for beer, said Adrian. Or was that me?
Niii kolai!
Joe and Mike, this white customer died three months ago, wasn’t even fifty, he rode a motorcycle but also had a car but his moto, he loved thai noodles. Did he ever have the scallion pancakes?
—A. Lin
HIDDEN HOSPITAL FEES
When dealing with hospital bills, it’s always best to ask for an itemized receipt. This way, you can see all of the pesky hidden fees being tacked onto your care! Here are some of the hidden fees I saw on my last hospital bill: Look out!
1. Extra Apple Juice
Okay, I did ask for this one, but can you blame me?
Those little cups with the foil top are just so delicious… and the nurse asked if I wanted another. I didn’t even realize they came with apple juice. I just wanted that sweet, sweet plastic.
2. Ultrasound/Sonography Services
This one came as a surprise to me, considering I checked into the hospital for strep throat. I definitely don’t recall getting an ultrasound… I mean sure, it’s something that I’d like to experience at least once in my life… but it doesn’t make sense for this procedure.
3. Annoying and/or Weird Patient Fee
Okay, I’m sure this one is a mistake… I’m positive I hit it off with my doctor. I showed her a few five-minutelong videos from my camera roll, and she seemed to really enjoy them. She was being so humble about it too, like “That video of your middle school choir concert is great, but you should probably get some rest” and “I can’t hear your heartbeat over the sound of this video essay.” She was sooo into me.
4. Birth/Delivery Services
Once again… Not sure about this one. I definitely did not request this. Glad I caught it in the receipt!
5. Employee Subject to Awkward Conversation Fee
Definitely a mistake. I had some of the most engaging conversations during my stay at the hospital! My talk with the nurse about rock and sediment formations was riveting, she basically let me talk the whole time, which is great because I know a lot about rocks. She even drifted off into a light slumber during my rant on igneous vs. metamorphic rocks… My voice must be so soothing! Not awkward at all.
6. Diapers, Blankets, Stroller…
Okay. Fine. I took a baby home. What’s wrong with that? Giving birth fascinates me! I had to get to the heart
of it. I had to get in there, out in the field, a firsthand experience. Yes, I am a man, but that doesn’t mean I can’t request an ultrasound. That doesn’t mean I can’t ask the delivery nurse to reenact a birth, just once, for me. So I took it. I took a baby from the nursery, and we’re going to start a beautiful new life together!
—L. Rael
HOW TO GET AWAY WITH MEDICAL MALPRACTICE
It’s easier than you’d think, and for the 81.87% of Yale’s undergraduate class majoring in MCDB, this is great news. To be fair, medical malpractice happens accidentally. And given that our future doctors are using ChatGPT on their calculus psets and scouring campus for crochet whales instead of studying for their Chem 167 midterm, medical malpractice isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
But this doesn’t mean you should be legally and financially liable for your inevitable negligence. Prospective doctors, fear not. Here are four helpful tips for evading a malpractice lawsuit:
Gaslight. It’s shitty when my ex-boyfriend does it, but your career and financial well-being are on the line, so it’s excusable. Make sure your patient thinks their newfound discomfort is their fault or that nothing went wrong in the first place.
• “You said you feel some internal bleeding? Blood is supposed to be inside you.”
• “That’s actually a totally normal side effect of breathing.”
• “You said the resident and I burned our initials into your uterus with electrocautery? How would you know that? Ma’am, I’m not even sure that constitutes ‘medical malpractice’...”
Use Convoluted Medical Terminology. Does it look like your diabetic patient got a medical degree? Probably not, so feel free to abuse obscure medical terms as much as you can. The second course of action is confusing your patient into submission — they can’t sue you if they have no idea what to sue you over. For starters, I recommend rebranding your (perhaps) life-threatening mistake as an “iatrogenic complication” because the
phrase really makes you out to be a mere bystander in the whole ordeal.
• Don’t say, “I messed up your surgery.” Instead, say, “we had an unexpected iatrogenic complication that led to a minor procedural deviation. Nothing to worry about.”
• For cases in which your patient questions an obvious misdiagnosis, try this: “Sir, your presentation was consistent with subclinical atypical pathology.” (Translation: Shit, my bad; I don’t know what’s up with you either.)
Network. No, connecting on LinkedIn didn’t end once you got out of residency and started working at Memorial Sloan Kettering. To be this bad at surgery, you have to have friends in high places, so you should become well acquainted with hospital admin and a few guys on the medical board. The best doctors aren’t the ones who save lives, but the ones who know a guy to save their ass when they inevitably remove a spleen instead of a liver (it happens to the best of us).
Pro Tip: For current MCDB majors, consider befriending Poli Sci majors because those are your future lawyers, and “oopsie” isn’t a great legal defense.
Relocation. Pull a me and change your entire persona. Get a haircut, pay for another fake ID, and alter your genetic makeup altogether. (I hear CRISPR is becoming popular.) Better yet, leave the country. At the rate the current administration is ruling, you might want to move out anyway.
Remember: as doctors, it’s our duty to follow the Hippocratic Oath: “Do no harm (to your crippling student debt and medical reputation).” Happy malpracticing!
—S. Herbert
POINT: OVERWORKED DOCTORS PERFORM WORSE
As a top researcher of medical research, I can definitively conclude all the findings add up. Contrary to popular myth, doctors who see seventy-two patients a day and work seven eighteen hour shifts a week should not be respected, admired, or revered. No, those doctors will kill you.
As preposterous as this may sound, our latest studies
have revealed that there exists this concept called “sleep,” and that if one is deprived of “sleep” for a sustained period, their brain will turn into soup. “But doctors must be immune to this!” one might say “Isn’t that what med school is supposed to be training them for?” As it turns out, not getting enough sleep actually worsens your memory, rendering a decade of cripplingly expensive med school utterly useless.
So hospitals, while it may be tempting to force your doctors to only drink White Monster, sleep deprivation would actually decrease their overall performance. Between sleep deprivation and long-term depression from never seeing their families, doctors become—at best— more prone to mistakes and—at worse—actively evil. So, I say this as a doctor and friend: Don’t overwork doctors! You wouldn’t want to see the evil me.
COUNTERPOINT: KEEP WORKING, LAB COAT BOY
Nah, we’re good. You guys can keep working. It makes us, like, a ton of money that we don’t give you. It’s actually quite entertaining for us; we have this running bet of how many hours we can make one doctor work a week before they turn evil. So far, the highest anyone’s been able to go is 133. That’s a lot of hours we don’t have to pay for another doctor to cover!
So yeah, you can keep moaning and groaning about “sleep” or whatever, but here in the real world, we like profiting off of suffering. Next time you have thirteen patients back-to-back in the span of two hours, know that we’re getting a hell of a kick out of it. Your evil pales in comparison to ours, loser.
Good luck!
—S. Lanz
