Imagine you’ve made an appointment with your family doctor to discuss the shooting pangs in your chest and the fact that your left arm is going numb five or six times a day.
You’re waiting in an examination room in one of those flattering gowns. Suddenly, your doctor pops in wearing in a polka-dotted clown suit, a conical cap and a red rubber nose, laughing maniacally as he hoses you down with his seltzer bottle. Continue reading “Of Consistency and Clown Doctors”