When brain surgery isn't brain surgery

Other people's smarts will only get you so far. Our mind-numb humorist explores the limits of anti-elitism.
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Other people's smarts will only get you so far. Our mind-numb humorist explores the limits of anti-elitism.

After my wife recovered from the shock of me being diagnosed with malignant arteriovenous malformations, she found the silver lining:

Judith: At least the world's best neurosurgeon lives on this block.

Steve: I don't plan to use her.

Judith: Why not?

Steve: She trained at Harvard Medical School. She may be elitist.

Judith: So what?

Steve: Also, she may be too intellectual.

Judith: That's a problem?

Steve: Absolutely. She's not "down home." People don't connect with her.

Judith: You don't want to use Priscilla Johnston, the world's best neurosurgeon?

Steve: No. Priscilla doesn't get it.

Judith: What do you mean "get it?"

Steve: She doesn't understand my problems. She doesn't know what it is like to go through life with a third-rate intelligence.

Judith: So who will operate on your brain?

Steve: Bobby.

Judith: Bobby who?

Steve: Bobby Burpa.

Judith: The boat mechanic?

Steve: Right.

Judith: But he is not a doctor.

Steve: Yes but he knows a lot about NASCAR. I'll bet Priscilla couldn't name three NASCAR drivers.

Judith: Any other qualifications?

Steve: He has experience trying to fix things.

Judith: He can't even fix a boat. In fact, he can't even remember to bring the right tools.

Steve: That's what I like about Bobby. He's a regular guy. Makes mistakes just like the rest of us.

Judith: You know, Bobby might just improve your brain.

Steve: Bobby is the salt of the earth. Small town. Pro-life. Flies the flag on holidays. Not too bright, but a great jet-skier.

Judith: Bobby certainly understands the problems of living today with a room-temperature IQ.

Steve: Bobby gets it. He has a house full of guns.

Judith: You don't use guns for neurosurgery.

Steve: Best of all, Bobby doesn't think he is better than the rest of us.

Judith: With reason.

Steve: I bet Priscilla thinks she's better than me just because she's the world's greatest neurosurgeon. Those doctors think they're so smart. Using Bobby will show them a thing or two.

Judith: Well, it's your funeral.

Steve: That reminds me. If something should happen to me, hire Billy to direct the funeral.

Judith: Billy who?

Steve: The gardener who works next door.

Judith: He's not a funeral director.

Steve: No. But he's a great soccer dad and he can field-dress a moose.


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