Sales of HerpEase STD Treatment Skyrocket

he pharmaceutical niche player Algor released startling fourth-quarter projections this week, a reversal of fortunes many in financial circles attribute to the company renaming many of its medications for the treatment of sexually transmitted diseases. Realizing that social embarrassment may play a part in the afflicted avoiding treatment for their cursed states, Algor saw fourth-quarter sales of their best selling herpes treatment ClearVue skyrocket after the drug was changed from its longstanding name of HerpEase.

Finally bending to pressure from marketing experts, Algor has begun renaming its other not-quite-popular-enough drugs under the now commonplace industry practice of drug names that have nothing to do with a condition or its treatment. By the beginning of 2005, the company hopes to offer a complete line of attractively-named treatments for the unfortunately STDed.

GonorRid, the company's industry-standard drug for the treatment of puss-laden malcontents suffering from gonorrhea, will be shipped to pharmacies under its new label of SmoothOperator beginning in January.

A similar fate awaits the company's pride and joy, Crabex, Algor's floundering treatment for pubic lice. After months of focus group testing, Algor has recently decided to rename the drug PartyZone.

Last but not least is SyphiLess, the company's breakthrough treatment for syphilis sufferers. Though Algor has yet to make an official announcement on the renaming of this drug, early leaked reports indicate that the drug will be called either Blissex or PissFree in 2005.

But will Algor's new approach be a success? To answer that question, we went straight to STD sufferers for the real dirt.

"Oh yeah, I'd definitely buy more if it was named something like Smurfies or something, that would definitely boost sales," according to porn impresario Tori Anus, a frequent Crabex user. "Then I'd stop getting those dirty looks from the dried up old bags at the Wal-Mart pharmacy. They'd just think I'd been fucking Smurfs or something."

Determined to dig deeper into the beans of the story, this reporter conducted further research among the loose women of 1-900-HOT-DATE, likely to be experts on the treatment of cock-borne illness. In addition to providing hours or stimulating conversation, Misty and Chakra also provided great advice about writing off the cost of the toll call as a business expense.

"Algor definitely has a hot idea on their hands there," insisted Misty, a buxom brunette with smoldering green eyes. "You're getting me hot just talking about it."

"Hot and naughty," agreed Chakra, a Thai-Scottish delight who insisted on conducting the telephone interview in the nude.

No doubt the executives at Algor have done similar research, since it's loads more fun than the alternative of company execs experimentally contracting STDs themselves to see if they feel embarrassed about getting treatment. So the New Year looks to be a happy one for Algor shareholders, who haven't heard news this good since the company changed its name from Cock Rot Ltd. in 1999, amid reports that investors were too embarrassed to purchase their stock.

Iraq blah blah blah Suicide blah blah blah Dead

Big Whup: Whale Swims Across the English Channel

Heather Graham’s Career Found Dead in Apartment

Polish Roof Falls in Following “Drinks Are on the House” Debacle

As many of you good people may know, I am a small man, but I am overfilled with confidence. I move with a sureness many others in the world lack—whether justified or not, I am secure in every single thing I do and have ever done. Of course, like most people, I may have a few regrets here and there, but what is important at heart is I don’t regret anything I’ve ever done. Perfect? No, I’m afraid not. But I come damn close. All except one gargantuan elephant-in-the-room exception: My appearance.

Yes, whether it’s my miniscule, stocky body or the train wreck sitting on my shoulders that is mockingly called my face, I am a hideous man. Or, as my ex-wife Arvelyn used to say, before the divorce, I am insecure about my looks. Since the divorce she calls me Leatherface. So I prefer to remember before the divorce. And you know, I thought—she’s right. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with my features, at least not individually, even if they make a nauseating mess in the specific way they’re compiled. I merely lack the confidence in my looks to enjoy them.

It’s not my fault I feel bad about the way I look. Years of screams and crying children have made me believe I am not easy on the eyes. Like whiny women complain, I have been held up to unrealistic images presented in the media, or in my case, everyone else in the world surrounding me. If it were not for the people standing by, silently declaring differently, I would be quite a handsome man. Well, that may be going too far, but I at least wouldn’t notice I frighten animals. I might even be able to destroy all the world’s mirrors and reflective surfaces and forget the plight covering my skull.

But enough of this sad-sack moping, I thought. I have spent too many years assuming the worst about my mug, and it was high time I proved the world at large wrong. The opportunity came with a cable that runs right into my house. Yes, since moving back to these United States, we have acquired the Inter-Net in my house. If you haven’t received it yet, you should really look into it. Ask your doctor, or whoever needs to be asked about getting it. In addition to receiving great offers for mortgages at reduced interest rates and exciting new pornography, the Inter-Net is a great source of information. In my case, I can post my pictures on websites and find out how I rate on the "Hot/Not Hot" scale. I didn’t even know there was such a scale until a routine search for Tabasco products enlightened me.

What a tool! That’s how the Inter-Net installer Mitch referred to it. Or possibly to me, the specificity was quite uncertain. But I agree, with the former. The Inter-Net finally allows anonymous strangers to tell each other they completely conform to society’s expectations. No more needless posturing about the substance of a person. We can now know instantly whether or not we’re desirable in ways that people really care about. Some disagreeable people—hippies—might tell us the inner beauty of a person really matters. Get real. How many sites on the Inter-Net rate your personality? I don’t care. I’m not interested. All Rok Finger needed to know was: Hot or Not?

Well, I’m not. Not hot. Not at all. Quite amazingly non-hot, according to the numerical ratings. Some of the weaker-stomach sites refused to even post my pictures. The "thong of the day" site filed a lawsuit just for my mailing Polaroids.

It’s a hard, brutal truth, like a White Castle hamburger, very difficult to swallow. But I’m tough, and forget many things quickly. I’ll find a way to suck up my misery and get past it. In fact, I think as a treat to myself I’ll order that Inter-Net that everyone’s been talking about.

º Last Column: Camembert in Love
º more columns

Boris does not like the out of doors. Boris mother say for to go outside and play with stray dogs, but Boris doesn't not like such things. Outside is big, and with many temperatures. Plus, outside there is always big bee to tease and chase Boris all the times, not to leave Boris alone. Even to follow Boris to America. How does bee do this? Does not know. Maybe to hide in box or in nose of sleeping person. Big bee is sneaking like this.

All times Boris is thinking of way to get rid of big bee. Man tells that bird is what chases and bothers bees, so this is what Boris buy. But when Boris open cage for bird to get and eat bee, bird fly away like big pains in ass. That is when Boris thinking it is good to tie string around neck of bird. But is too late for this good idea now.

Whenever Louis say for Boris should go out of doors, Boris does open door and yell "Oh shit! Is bee!" and close door loud before big bee can invade inside apartment. Louis doesn't not see bee, but is because bee is sneaking. Him likes to hide behind tree or in car when persons is looking, so bee can pop out for scare of Boris. Such is way big bee is mean.

Louis tell of dog Skippy from when Louis is child. Skippy is dog which loves to eat bees. Him runs outside when door is open and sound is like snapping noise as Skippy tries to eat bees out of the air. Sometimes Skippy only bite air, but sometimes Skippy bite bees. Yes! This is sounding good for Boris.

This is part which interest Boris. Bee eating dog is like Christmas presents for Boris, given from God of all Dogs. This is Big Dog thing with wings, like dragon with hairs. Is good thing.

But, oh bummer, Skippy is dead. Him get old and dead like dog does. But good news is Boris is so sad about no Skippy dog who eats bees that Louis go and get Boris dog named "Similar to Skippy." Is long name, but fits dog.

Louis does not get dog for Boris at pet stores, like what the chumps does. No way says Jose, who is friend of Louis. Louis does find dog tied to parking meter in front of restaurants. This is way for persons to say "Hello! Is free dog for you!"

So now Boris has dog for to eat bees. But, is funny because Similar to Skippy is also afraid of big bee also like Boris, so him stay inside all times with Boris. Is funny ending, or as Louis say, "Goddammit!"

º Last Column: In Matrix is Boris
º more columns