Who’s Reflection Is This, Anyway?

Have you seen the commercial for bladder control where the man is missing out on important photo opportunities with his buddies because he always has to leave to take a piss? This is interesting. He is playing golf and misses out on a group shot because he’s stuck in the 8th hole bathroom. Then he’s at a baseball game. Great photo of all his buddies, but his seat is…empty. Why? Because he’s in line at the pisser. This gentleman definitely needs some bladder control medicine, sure. But not before he gets some new fucking friends. The day my friends don’t wait for me to take a picture because I’m taking a leak is the day I kick ‘em in the nuts and wish them farewell. I advise he does the same.

Ahh, the world of advertising invites us into it’s perfect trap. Their world becomes ours. I’m fearful now that I’m missing out on the good things in life because I have to piss too often. Hell, most of the time they don’t even take the time to tell you what the medicine is for. They just strongly advise that you ask your doctor about Confusiplex. Then they show you how to ask your doctor. Why? Because the truth is they can’t get people to do what they want them to do. They can’t get the doctor to sell their products by name, so they decided fuck doctors, we’re going right to the people. But then they realized that people aren’t cooperating either—doesn’t matter how good your dick hardener pill is if the patient never asks for it and won’t fess up to the problem.

Here’s something. The easiest way to have a bladder control conversation with your doctor is to take a piss on the floor when she asks you the reason for your visit. That’s right. Just get it all out there on the table. If you’re there for some Xanax, instead of complaining about how stressful work is, why not put the doctor in a chokehold until he figures it out himself? Don’t let him go until he finishes writing out that prescription—and hold out for 6 months of refills and an extra Mg on the script.

For now though, we’re getting soft encouragement by way of 30 second commercials. Make ‘em feel comfortable talking to their doctors. Make ‘em feel comfortable about their inability to get their dick to resemble something other than a sock filled with warm pudding. Show them catching their reflection in the window on the way to the doctor’s office. Show them the internal conversation they don’t know they’re having. The one where their insecurities and embarrassment are getting in the way of their ultimate happiness. Getting in the way of a Crucial Conversation with a doctor who doesn’t give a shit about them anyway. It may work. People may start initiating the conversation themselves. And this would be good, because most doctors are socially retarded pieces of shit who can’t take a hint in the first place. But until the manufacturers of these drugs can sell us new friends and a hot piece of ass, even if we buy the medicine, the root of the problem is still unresolved. Where’s the pill for that?