fter weeks of suggesting that patients who had gone blind while using the company’s best-selling erectile dysfunction drug were pussies, the pharmaceutical giant Pfizer has assumed a new tack this week, as explained in the recent publication of the company’s informational packet entitled “Viagra Doesn’t Cause Blindness, Yanking Your Wank for Five Hours Causes Blindness.�

“Not only does Viagra work, sometimes it works all too well,� Pfizer spokesperson Dennis Baylor chuckled knowingly in explanation. “And sometimes it takes a little ‘self control’ to get that horse back in the corral, you know?�

Baylor continued to speak in baffling euphemisms for several minutes.

“Like if a business meeting’s about to start, or your wife’s pulling up in the driveway and you’ve still got your pants off and the Ken dolls and Candyland pieces strewn around the bedroom, well then it might be time to take matters into your own hands, if you know what I mean,� Baylor inferred, possibly speaking from personal experience.

“But too much of a good thing can be a bad thing,� Baylor continued. “And the old wives’ tales might be right about how being a little too friendly with your member might just lead to a little condition we like to call the blind man’s buff.�

Doctors like to call the condition non-arteritic anterior ischemic optic neuropathy (NAION), or in English, the sudden, permanent loss of vision due to swelling of the optic disc. Pfizer argues for a coincidental association, given that the NAION condition is most common in the sadly overweight and the diabetic, both prime markets for the company’s dick pills.

Pfizer’s Viagra has been for years the leader in the lucrative Erectile Dysfunction market, known as “ED� to everyone but guys named Ed. A serious health side-effect like blindness could torpedo the company’s profits, since being blind is nearly as much of an obstacle to scoring chicks as is not being able to get it up. Add the two together, and you’re in some serious deep shit.

Baylor was evasive when asked to clarify, in simple terms, what exactly the company was blaming for the incidents of blindness.

“What, are you daft?� Baylor balked. “Choking the chicken, slamming the ham, paying a visit to Peter O. Johnson, tree-hugging, the friendly fist!�

“Uh… spanking it, giving a slap-down to the little man, torquing your tuna, performing the holy handshake!� continued Baylor, growing frustrated and less nice by the minute. “You know, kid, dong massage!�

Unable to get a clear answer from Pfizer, this reporter turned to men’s men on the street for answers.

“Yeah, my mom always told me that would happen,� explained disco-ball installer Trent Yardbird. “Going blind because of, you know, taking your little buddy out for a skipper. Pulling the pud, slapping the salmon. The man’s crank handshake. You know what I’m talking about.�

This reporter’s further requests for clarification were all met with a withering “Man, you stupid.�

However, this reporter will not rest until he finds the truth, commune readers. At the suggestion of commune editor Red Bagel, I’ve scheduled an interview with my high school health teacher, Mr. Thorpe, as I continue my dig for the truth. Apparently Bagel believes he may have inside information relevant to this investigation.

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A quart of bad milk later and I'm on the way to the hospital. "Stomach pump, stomach pump," that's all I heard on the way up there. Then I threw up in the doctor van and felt better instantly. They didn't even take me all the way to the hospital. I didn't even get a lift back home either, and I told them I didn't mind riding home in the same van. They were pissed or something, but it's not my fault. Or I suppose it is. But it's not my fault in the way that all of our destiny is predetermined.

Did you know they call those hospital vans ambulances? Learn something new every day, and about once a month something sticks. But all this crap got me thinking about ambulances.

I didn't know this, but those guys who ride around in the "ambulances" aren't doctors at all. Sure, they got some medical training, they're licensed to perform CPR and they can sell drugs out of the back, but they're not full-fledged doctors. Which stinks. I don't want some guy who smells like exhaust and trucker speed to work on me if he's not a doctor. That's where I got my latest idea—they should make doctor training easier. Make it so half the people in the world can be doctors. It's basically the same thing they did with public school courses. More people pass, more people are certified, and everyone feels better since we have the false idea everyone's properly trained.

Really, how often are you going to need a real fully properly-trained doctor anyway? Once in a blue moon, at least, and let's face it, you were probably going to die when he left his watch in your chest anyway.

So the next time someone is choking at your local restaurant, you can raise your hand and tell them, "Excuse me, I'm a doctor." Then cut their neck open and just take the McNugget right out with your bare hands. I'm not sure what's involved in sealing the neck back up so it works right, but that's the kind of training we don't need. Let the super doctors or whatever the regular guys are do that. We'll just freeze the neck so they can reattach it later. You can freeze things and reattach them now. It's just one of our modern medical miracles, and I saw it on the TV.

Come to think of it, is there really any reason we have to drive sick people around in a van? None, so far as I can tell. It's just more to clean up when they throw up and don't get to go to the hospital anyway. Most of these guys probably aren't going to make it anyway. I say we should buy Camaros and Thunderbirds, all sorts of really cool convertible cars. For one thing, then everyone would suddenly want to be an ambulance doctor—they might even go through the full hard training! But the main thing is, if you're choking on a McNugget and about to die, and you're not going to make it anyway, wouldn't you rather be going full speed toward the hospital in a car like the Knight Rider rather than some big clunky van that can't even drive on its side wheels if it needs it? I know my answer.

If you see me zipping by you on the freeway, driving a really hot car with some guy turning purple in the passenger seat, you'll know I made my dream a reality. But keep your windows rolled up, in case he pukes.

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I've never been one to player hate; you all know that about me. And sibling rivalry is so last decade. So you know I'm serious when I tell you that those of you worshiping my brother are making a big mistake.

Phil's got good hair, I'll give him that. That's always been his strength. And I can understand people seeing that, and thinking "You know, that guy's got great hair. I bet he's got it all figured out" right before they shave their heads and start wearing the periwinkle jumpsuits.

But hold on one second, Philgrims. Have you really thought about what you're doing here? Don't throw your life away worshiping a second-rate deity. For one, Phil grinds his teeth in his sleep. That's the truth, honest to Phil. Take it from someone who's shared a bunk bed with the man. Grind grind grind, all night long. And I don't think you'll find any reference to rubber sleeping teeth-guards that in your precious Gospel According to Phil.

Secondly, this isn't the first religion Phil has started. I know, the truth hurts sometimes, but you people aren't his first followers. The Philologists were the first, and those guys had it way better than you.

The main difference between Newphilonomy and Philology was that back then Phil didn't have a mustache, and you were allowed to eat meat. I know, don't you envy those lucky bastards? They could grill up a juicy porterhouse any old time they liked, without any celestial recompense. While you poor suckers are left eating warm oats in mushroom broth. You ask me, and I say you guys got the shit end of the Phil's-religions stick.

I mean, what can you do for fun? You can't play dominoes. And no water-skiing, you know that's out. And I'm not sure I understand why, but somebody told me humming is totally forbidden. Hmm. Oops, sorry, didn't mean to blasphemize.

And I can't imagine anybody really likes going door to door, selling condoms. I don't know whose idea of a religious hallmark that was. Or rather I do: Phil. And aren't you guys tired of wearing those adult diapers all the time? I don't care if a fallen angel invented the toilet; I'm still going to shit in one. And you should too. You really should, especially if you want to be invited into my house ever again.

Sure, I understand Phil's got his pleasant attributes, but have you ever considered Roger Andrews? That's me. I'm doing all right, and you could certainly worship worse. Like that fat guy from Korea, what's up with that? I'm way better-looking than him and his creepy eyes.

And my religion is way less uptight than Phil's, you can trust me on that. Actually, I'm taking suggestions right now, how's that for flexible? So what do you want the modern Church of Roger to look like? Smart outfits with matching shoes? Done. Holy Communion with nacho poppers instead of bread? Gotcha. Sermons in under 35 seconds? I can do that. Let's see, what else? We've got to ban something. How about oatmeal cookies? Never liked those. And I'm allergic to pecans. But I'll leave that part up to democratic vote at the next meeting of the Rogerists.

So remember, for your worshiping needs, why not consider Roger Andrews? He's like the savior's cooler brother who just got back from Europe. Say, that's kind of catchy. I feel a bumper sticker coming on.

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