Doctor F*cking Libby



Silly lady

I'm stepping aside from the saga of the suspicious Scotsman for at least one post, and concentrating on a certain Doctor Libby, who I found on the pages of NZ Life and Leisure.

I should add that it is not my humble self who buys the magazine, but my Beloved, and I came across it when I was having a quiet strain commune with nature.

I came across this article called what's the rush, and to summarise the main thrust of this pile of crap, slow down, enjoy life, do as I tell you and you will live longer and be happier.

WARNING

 

MAJOR RANT

 

THIS RANT HAS BEEN SAVED UP FOR 7 MONTHS, AND CONTROL MAY BE LOST

 

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED...BAD LANGUAGE MAY BE USED...NON PC COMMENTS MAY ABOUND

I've had to increase my intake of both my hypertension medication and whisky after I read this article, and as I discuss it I think you may begin to understand why.

Purely medicinal

The section of this article I am discussing is titled "Dr Libby's health support tips"

Firstly I didn't buy this f*cking magazine to be told what to do.  Actually I didn't buy this magazine at all, it miraculously appeared in the "Magazines to read while communing with nature and don't forget to wash your hands afterwards box" in one of our bathrooms, but the point remains. 

I was being told what to do.

I don't like being told what to do.

Lots of fun

I didn't like it 35 years ago when a certain Lt. Colonel told me that I was going on an abseiling and subterranean exploration course.  I didn't mind the abseiling, and really enjoyed it.  Jumping off a cliff over 350 feet high, with only a thin piece of clothesline between you and a rather messy and splattered death is exhilarating, whilst crawling through mud and rock 150 feet underground is vomit-inducing, as the sergeant instructor found out. 

Not fun

Crawling your way back through a system of poorly lit and mud-greasy tunnels isn't very nice.  It's even very un-nicer when you're soaked in a particularly bile-rich vomit.  But that was his problem, I just followed quietly (but silently screaming inside)

Maybe fun

Anyway, I don't like being told what to do.

So when I read this Health-Nazi-based article, I found I was getting a little annoyed.

I will try and reproduce the list and my responses below. 

If you get offended by my language, I apologise in advance. 
If you get offended by my attitude and responses to the article, then I'm not sorry, and you're obviously a wimp of the first water, a spineless pseudo-mammalian caricature of a real person and probably a pinko-liberal doo-gooder, tree-hugger and all round puke-inducing liberal.

Here we go.

AND YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.

"Dr Libby's health support tips"

Schedule regular times to feed your soul.  You do have time.  What you spend time on is your choice

 FEED MY SOUL?  What f*cking soul?  I don't have a soul, I'm a teacher and a rational being.  What f*cking proof do you have that I've got a f*cking soul? You arrogant hypocritical puissant masquerading as a medic.




Soul?  Never seen it, smelled or tasted it.

And then what do I feed it on?

According to most sources, the soul (if it exists and I'm pretty sure it doesn't) is immaterial.  The most immaterial thing I can think of is smell.  So I can feed my soul with the smell of a bacon buttie?
If this thing called a soul is attached to the host body (it sounds a bit parasitical to me) then it will derive sustenance as the host body digests and metabolises food.  In other words it will feed as you feed, so just f*cking forget it.

Hmmm...feeds everything

Take a walk in local parks, gardens or bush and soak it in.

Soak what in you stupid b*tch? 1080? (The local version of a fluoride poison, airdropped all over NZ to keep the possums under some sort of control) Gorse scratches? Dog shit?  There's more natural bush in NZ than there is cultivated land, so whatever it is we're supposed to be soaking in, I get it just driving to work. Plus of course the added advantage of copious partially oxidised hydrocarbon fumes.

Breathe all the way into your abdomen five times each time you see this list, or while you are boiling the kettle!

Oi, I thought you were a bloody medic.  You don't breath into your abdomen, you breathe into your bloody lungs you daft cow.  And I can't breathe 5 times every time I see this list because I'm too busy grinding my teeth at your stupid vacuous and trite phrases.  Boiling the kettle?  Boiling the f*cking kettle? *smashes head against wall* I'm too busy putting 4 spoonfuls of coffee into a mug and gently scratching my crotch to even think of breathing deeply.

NOTE TO Dr Libby.  The lungs are what we use to breath.  It's the pink bits.

Make a smoothie with banana, kiwifruit and spinach for breakfast.

 Do I look like a poof?  To be fair, smoothies have their place, and it's with very young children to help them increase their fruit intake, or for adult males after a very, very bad hangover, but only after the addition of 50ml of Gin to the mixture.  SPINACH?  Have you gone completely doo-lally.  Spinach fried with some garlic makes a pleasant addition to a well-done steak, but in a SMOOTHIE?
You really are off your trolley dear.

Go for a month without coffee. It's only a month in a long life.

Oh for f*cks sake. Make up your bloody mind. It was only two suggestions ago that you said to breathe deeply while watching a kettle boil.  If you are now telling us to stop drinking coffee, when do I watch a boiling kettle? 

Daft cow. 

No coffee

AND go for a month without coffee?  I suppose it's possible, but I need at least 4-6 mugs of quadruple strength instant to get me through the day.  Expect a sudden increase in "accidental deaths" of school children if this plan is initiated. Plus any teachers that say they "feel a bit ill"

It may be a long life, but it may not.  I could drop dead tomorrow (more than likely if my blood pressure continues to spike as I read this rubbish) and then I would be depriving myself of one of the few pleasures I allow myself

 Do nothing sometimes.  Absolutely nothing.  Slow down.

 Oh great, you are now advocating apathy and laziness.  Have you ever heard of the Protestant Work Ethic?  Some of us need to keep working or the whole f*cking system falls apart.  The only time I'm doing nothing is when I'm asleep, dead drunk or sitting on a committee.

When you stop at traffic lights, don't pick up your mobile phone and check messages.  Notice the sky and think of something for which you are grateful.

I had to take an extra lie down when I read this.  Are you aware, you supposedly intelligent and self-aware cretin, that it is against the f*cking law to use a mobile phone in a car with the engine running on the public highway? So that's not even an option.

NOTICE THE SKY?  It's either blue, blue with white bits or it's grey, but I don't really notice it when I'm stopped at traffic lights. 

Blue

Blue with white bits

Grey

BECAUSE I'M LOOKING AT THE F*CKING TRAFFIC LIGHTS TO SEE IF THEY CHANGE TO GREEN, and I don't have a bloody convertible so I can't see the bloody sky you incomprehensibly moronic version of a (female) human being.

Ah well, I don't mind YOU telling me what to do.

END OF RANT

By Jove, I feel much better now. 

I think I'll go out and kick a few kids in their arses and try to get them to do some work.



I'll return to the epic tale of the Strange Scotsman as soon as I have some time.