Recently, the author (yours truly) has enjoyed two events that all Americans have grown to know and love since the time that Ben Franklin got syphilis and had all his teeth fall out. In case you don’t understand the reference, I’m talking about holiday parties and the dentist. Recently, it has been pointed out that there are a few similarities between these two seemingly random activities. Some of you might be wondering, ‘What do these things have in common? Am I missing something?” For those who have never had any such inquiries, prepare to have your mind blown.
You know the parties that your parents drag you to every holiday season? How uncomfortable are those things? And then your grandma tries to kiss you. Why in God’s name does she do that? It’s not your fault that your grandfather bit the dust, and she was left alone and horny. And does it get better? No. The holiday punch is spiked with enough Jack Daniels to make an Irish blush. And then your creepy uncle makes the first appearance. Is he a legit member of the family? Why is he here? How come he smells like dead people and rotting fish? All these questions are running through your mind.
And this is the first point of comparison between dentists and your creepy uncle. Every dentist that I’ve ever had smelled to the high heavens. What the hell are they eating that makes them so damn smelly? Shouldn’t dentists have perfect hygiene and extra white teeth? There should be a test in dental school where prospective dentists have to pass a test. Unfortunately, there’s no test for uncles, which is why you get the weirdest individuals in your family.
Here’s another point of comparison. How come dentists have to put you to sleep when they work their magic on your fangs? Could he probably just drug your mouth and do the deed? Probably ,but then how would people come up with sexual harassment lawsuits?
Everyone knows that the creepy uncle at your party tries to cop a feel from every female in the room and sometimes a few of the guys. What’s to say that your friendly neighborhood dentist doesn’t take a few liberties while you’re dreaming about monkeys being astronauts?
Here’s the worst part about having a creepy uncle. They want to have a conversation with you. What’s the deal with that? Is there something they want you to say? This one time, I was talking to a guy who may or may not have been my uncle, and it was the strangest conversation I’ve ever had. I learned some sign language, discussed the politics of Tibet and got into an argument about the state of the American alligator.
Let’s contrast that with a recent conversation that I had with my dentist, keeping in mind that I had all sorts of dental tools in my mouth at the time so that any words garbled enough sounded like the utterances of a drunk platypus that had been on a bender every day for the last three years.
And then, because my dentist was either a sadistic bastard or because he has got the hearing of a 200-year-old, he proceeded to pepper me with questions. Not only was I still groggy from being knocked out for the last three hours but also, quite frankly, I really didn’t want to talk to my dentist. My insurance premiums only cover dental work, not the demented babblings of a dentist.
So in closing, the next time that you hit up that holiday party, beware of the creepy man who claims to be your uncle. You know where else bad things happen the dentist’s office. So please, use caution when you partake in the ritual of teeth cleaning.
Maystrovsky is a member of the class of 2009.
