It’s very hard to keep my promise of not writing about the impeachment trial again this week.
I tried to rationalize it. I almost convinced myself commenting on President Donald Trump’s snub of Speaker Nancy Pelosi at the State of the Union and her tearing up his speech, his subsequent post-acquittal victory lap at the National Prayer Breakfast and afterparty at the White House, and her press conference in which she explained how she shredded his speech because he shredded the truth, would not really be about the impeachment.
(And really, folks, have you ever?)
But I could not make that argument with a clear conscience. By the time the State of the Union started, on the eve of the vote for which the outcome was already known, things had reached a boiling point. The events I just described were all an outgrowth of the mounting tensions that had been building up over the past few months.
But there I go again. A promise is a promise, and I’m done.
Thanks to those of you who took time to send an email to tell me what you were thinking. It’s always heartening to know what hits a nerve. I’ll try to address equally riveting topics in the coming weeks.
To get that started, have you noticed some of the commercials for medications for men?
There seems to be a cottage industry centered around what are loosely called male health products.
My goodness, if my mother were still alive, she would be having none of it.
I remember when I was a teenager, there was a Major League Baseball player who had to sit out an important post-season game because of a bad case of hemorrhoids. My mother went on and on, lamenting how nothing was sacred anymore and how that poor man should not have had to endure such a delicate subject concerning his body being discussed by sports commentators on national television, with detailed diagrams illustrating his “system,” no less.
As a nod toward her strong feelings about heretofore private matters, I’m not even going to mention the ailments, especially one, these medical providers are wanting to help men with.
One of the companies has taken center stage in the past few months. If you have been tuned in to a sporting event, you might know the one I’m talking about. They even sponsored a basketball tournament a couple of months ago.
It’s not the only company of its kind, but it’s the one that seems to be most prominent these days. It’s touted as a “digital health clinic for men.”
What’s particularly interesting about this one is the young man who appears in one of their ads. He’s a millennial type, I’m thinking 30-ish. He introduces his dad, who is a physician with a gray ponytail who looks like he was very likely at Woodstock.
(I’m not saying that means anything. I’m just setting it up for you if you haven’t seen it).
Apparently Millennial Guy, who has the good fortune to have a doctor for a father, went to Dad with a sensitive issue. Dad was glad to assist.
It went so well that the two of them made a business out of it.
Millennial Guy is obviously not embarrassed talking about it since he’s appearing on a commercial airing to millions, but he’s concerned you might be. So he’s here to help.
Rather than having to go to a doc in person and talk about an embarrassing subject, and then pick up a prescription from a neighborhood pharmacist who would now know your business, you can do it all online.
With the privacy of your computer or your smartphone, you describe your symptoms, and in a short time you’ll be chatting with a physician you don’t know. Once your diagnosis is confirmed, your meds are on the way to you in “discreet packaging,” which means even the mail deliverer won’t know what it is.
Also, since the average wait for an in-person doctor visit, according to one of their commercials, is 29.3 days, the speed of diagnosis and treatment must be a big selling point.
(That seems like a long time. I don’t know where they get their data, and I’m not here to argue about it, but I’ve never had to wait that long to get an appointment to see a doc).
Per my cursory online research, everything checks out. The company appears to be legit and they’re backed by a medical board of advisors, one of whom is a former surgeon general.
I’ll leave you to draw your own conclusions, but my mother’s voice is ringing in my head. She’s not impressed.
Bob McKinney is a longtime Brentwood resident, happy husband and proud father, father-in-law and grandfather. Email him at firstname.lastname@example.org.