A man goes to the doctor complaining of tennis elbow. The doctor tells the man to take a cup home and collect his first piss of the morning. The man reminds the doctor that he has come in for a case of tennis elbow and that the urine specimen would be highly unnecessary.
The doctor insists, the man leaves the office, calls his insurance provider, discovers this doctor is not in the network and goes to another doctor who proscribes Motrin and to take it easy with the arm.
Tom goes to the doctor complaining of sever headaches. The doctor (without needing a urine specimen) puts the man through several tests. The doctor calls Tom back several days later and says, “I’ve got it, but you won’t believe it. Come in Tuesday and we will talk.”
Tom does as requested and the doctor tells him that he has a rare condition, that his balls have not decended fully and are pressing against his coccyx bone on occasion, hitting a nerve, and causing the headache.
“What is the cure?” Tom asks.
Grimly the doctor replies,“total castration. It is the only way.”
Tom agrees, and two weeks later he feels better than he ever has. He feels like a new man, and feeling this way, he wants to look like a new man. Tom enters the first haberdashery he passes on his walk.
“Greetings, sir, how may I help you?” an elderly gentleman exhales as Tom enters the shop.
“I would like a new suit, best you got.”
“Stand straight up,” the shopkeeper requests.
“Jacket 42 Long, Pants 38 by 41, shirt collar 17 inches,” the tailor recites as he looks at Tom.
“That’s amazing,” Tom shouts, “How did you know my sizes?”
“Sir, I have been in this business for many years. I can tell many a man’s size by looking at him. Now how about some socks and underwear? You wear a size seven sock, and a 40 inch waist on your boxers.”
“No,” Tom said, “I prefer briefs.”
“Whatever the gentleman prefers, he shall have.”
Tom pays for his new clothes and goes home.
SSG Schwartz
