Rambling Rhodes

Doing the DMC Right

The big news for Rochester, Minn., this year has been the unfolding Mayo Clinic project called Destination Medical Center (DMC). This is an incredibly important project because it’s a 20-year, $5 billion economic development initiative—complete with $327 million in state taxpayer aid—that no one seems to understand or can coherently explain. Even Mayo Clinic’s own Web page dedicated to explaining DMC doesn’t appear to be convinced about what it’s trying to explain.

According to their Web page, DMC is intended “to secure Mayo Clinic’s and Minnesota’s status as a global medical destination,” which suggests Mayo Clinic is somehow hanging precariously on the edge of a cliff, anticipating losing its global clout. As for actual project details, the Web page is remarkably sparse; there’s not even a mention about who, exactly, will RUN-DMC.

*pause to allow that terrible joke to blow over*

Now, if I was handed a check for $5 billion and told to design a Destination Medical Center, I’d include some attractions that would be guaranteed to draw patients from around the world. I mean, people aren’t going to jump on a plane in France to come to Mayo Clinic because its doctors excel at digital rectal exams to check for an enlarged prostate. However, if there was an amusement park ride at the DMC called the “Prostate Pirate Ship,” well, I think that would definitely set Mayo Clinic apart.

For that matter, there’s really nothing entertaining about cardiovascular disease. Patients generally don’t wave their hands in the air and scream “WHEEEE!” when discussing cardiovascular disease. But, if patients could hop on a “Cardiovascular Carousel,” you might realize a more upbeat disposition. Instead of horses, the patients could sit on huge replica aortas, or choose to sit in either a replica atrium or ventricle—right or left.

As long as I’m considering heart conditions, my DMC would include a “Tachycardia Tilt-A-Whirl.” Granted, such a ride would probably aggravate the existing condition, but if you’re going to have an elevated heart rate, you might as well double down and have a good time with it.

And, of course, there would simply HAVE to be an “Obamacare Octopus,” which would be the only attraction at my DMC that everyone would be required to ride. In fact, if people decided not to ride the “Obamacare Octopus,” they’d have to pay a non-riding fee. It would probably be the most unpopular attraction at my DMC, but it would have to be included.

Now that I think about it, with $5 billion at my disposal, there’s no reason my DMC couldn’t include an extensive indoor water park. I mean, patients would absolutely flock to Mayo Clinic if they knew they could splish and splash at “Hippocrates’ H20asis!” People would forget their medical woes entirely if they were enthroned on an innertube, floating down the “Listeriosis Lazy River.” Or, they could further aggravate their tachycardia by taking a ride down the “Fibromyalgia Flume.” Entire families could enjoy a fun ride on the “Bronchitis Bumper Boats.”

All of this could be a part of my DMC design, and I haven’t even made a dent in the $5 billion. Yes sir, if you want a world class medical center that’s guaranteed to solidify Mayo Clinic’s role as a leading healthcare institution that puts the FUN in “functioning pancreatic endocrine tumor,” I’m the perfect candidate to RUN-DMC.

The Stomach. It turns.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present you with "THE WIENER THE WORLD AWAITED!" Should have been Anthony Wiener's campaign slogan. Yes, the world was just sitting there, drumming its fingers impatiently, WAITING for someone to invent hot dogs in a can (SO DIFFERENT IT'S PATENTED). I'm sure the patent office was just swamped with people trying to be the first to patent "Can-O-Dogs" complemented with a "Sack O' Sauce." Yuck. I just threw up a little, in my mouth.

One word: Plastics

What in the name of all that is pure and holy are those comforters made out of? Throw them in the backyard, run a hose over them, and you'd have a perfectly good Slip-N-Slide. The guy is smiling because he just urinated in his bed and it just ran right off onto the floor.

Taco Munching Time

At first, you think, "That's just her knee." But then you study the picture a little more and realize that would require her legs to be 50 feet long. So then you decide that's probably her boyfriend getting frisky.

Death's Sweet Embrace

You know your Saturday nights have hit rock bottom when you're sitting in a wingback chair pondering your death stone. The husband is leaning over with an expression that just radiates "Man, I hope she goes first!" "Rock of Ages" was a 2012 romantic comedy musical, by the way. I'm sure they're not in any way related. But maybe. . .

Soft and Pliable

From an Oct., 1941 issue of "House Beautiful" magazine, two months before the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, or the Germans, if you're Bluto Blutarsky. If you find yourself weighing the family jewels in one hand, and blankets in the other, be sure to give them both a soft squeeze before making a decision.

FACE!

What note-taking secretary wouldn't be delighted when the boss bursts forth from his PRIVATE office to demand she "FEEL MY FACE!"? Nothing creepy about that at all, especially when he's still holding an electric razor he just yanked out of the wall socket.

Prudey Pruddington

From the same magazine. "It's easy to stay slim when you like salads." Yes, and when you wear an outfit that would make RoboCop uncomfortable. Seriously, are those "Gauntlets of Salad Readiness?" Note that IRENE CASTLE McLAUGHLIN was a modern dance exponent AND a prominent feminist leader, yet she still had a candlelit salad dinner awaiting her man. Although, there was no chance of him getting laid because it would take two hours to take that bib off alone.

Bloody McBloodblister

Remember these glass ketchup bottles? You'd hammer on the butt of them until you heard the ominous "BLORP!" at which point your whole plate would be covered in a Heinz crime scene. Did you know Heinz ketchup once had a mascot? I didn't. Apparently, he was the blood blister brother to Monopoly's "Mr. Moneybags." What can you expect from "'Aristocrat' tomatoes" anyway. Lousy 1% tomatoes. *shaking fist*

Father of "The Dude."

Yes, gentlemen, there was a time when it was considered cool to wear a shaggy yellow bathrobe and green ascot on the beach. You could further accessorize the ensemble with stoner green sunglasses AND A PIPE! It makes that ridiculous beach towel seem downright reasonable, by comparison.

I are disappoint

From the days when copper was so plentiful, it was sold by the yard. The woman seems absolutely delighted about something, while the man seems severely disappointed as he looks down at his measuring stick and realizes "She'll never fit in that coffin I made for her. . . "

Keep Him On Ice

"As you can see," said the refrigerator salesman. "Your child is clearly mentally disabled and is rehearsing for a life in prison."

"Oh, yes! Tell us more!" said the parents who ignore their boy at every possible moment.

Get the Lead Out

This made my day. From a Sept. 16, 1939 "Saturday Evening Post." Yep, good old, reliable, neurotoxic lead. Of course, this was back in the day when children probably bathed in lead and gargled with mercury, and THEY LIKED IT. I love the tag line: "You're money ahead when you paint with White Lead." Nowadays, it's "You're pretty much dead when you paint with White Lead." "I hope the lead I'm mining will be used in your paint," is an epic threat, in retrospect, especially when uttered by a half-winking immigrant with a white donkey in the background.

Nag Exhaustion

You know you've been nagged into oblivion when you collapse into a chair and your wife has to break out the smelling salts.

Meme? Yes, meme.

See what I meme?

Naggers Annoy Me

We've all been here, haven't we guys? Nagged. . . to. . . that. . . point! The woman has clenched fists indicating a mix of both triumph and apprehension. The more I look at this image, the more I realize it would make a most excellent Internet meme.

Did I mention clams?

CLAMS! Sweet, glorious, delicious CLAMS! An entire basket of CLAMS! We are truly blessed to be able to partake of a seemingly endless supply of CLAMS! Why am I messing with this pointless fishing pole when there are CLAMS to be had?! Everyone clamors for CLAMS!

Back then, gay meant happy

Let's get the low hanging fruit out of the way first: GAY BUFFET!

*ahem* There's ARMOUR again. You have to appreciate the irony of them naming their dog food "Dash" and their human food "Treet." I'm sure they weren't processed in the same mixing drum or anything like that. . .

ARMOUR ALL

It's fortified with LIVER! LIVER! And dogs KNOW IT and SHOW IT!

ARMOUR. . . ARMOUR. . . where have I seen that before?

Trust me, I'm going somewhere with this.

Norman. NORMAN!

Yes, Mother. Thank you for the watch, Mother. I always think of you, Mother. I plan to preserve your corpse in your upstairs bedroom and stab women in the shower while wearing your clothes, Mother.

In the background is the short-lived hover-plane that didn't require landing gear, and people ascended the staircase into the plane's wing.

Still Alert!

Man, I'll tell you what, I don't know where "Puss'n Boots" found this artist, but he had an unparalleled gift for capturing cats at their most alert alertness. This feline could stare laser beams through a concrete wall.

ALERT!

Back in 1949, they infused cat food with caffeine AND cocaine, apparently, for EXTRA FELINE ALERTNESS! One cat's KEENNESS+ is a another cat's surprise rectal exam.

Incidentally, this cat spawned the cat that spawned the cat that spawned the cat that spawned the ceiling cat that watches you masturbate.

This Little Piggie

A pig with an apple in the mouth is a cliche nowadays, but back in 1953, it was a Christmas centerpiece. I don't know what they replaced the pig's eyes with, but they seem to shout "HOLY CRAP I DIDN'T SEE THIS COMING!" I like that the tail is still there, for that adventurous foodie who likes the truly rare "victuals."

Oh, Big Baby?

"Isn't our freakishly gigantic child just beautiful, honey?" asked Cathy, to her incredulous husband, Jeffrey.

"I just don't know," said Jeffrey. "She doesn't have my eyes, or my spectacular tie. I suspect you may have been cheating on me with the satchel-carrying intruder from the previous blog post."

Feeling Lucky, Punk?

This is a pretty complex question. Who, exactly, is the lucky person here? The cop who has been waiting outside the window to catch the guy sneaking out of the window after doinking his wife?

From a 1948 "Better Homes & Gardens"

If I ever enter the adult film industry, I'm going by the name "Admiral Triple Thrill." Back in 1948, a combination turntable/stereo/television took up an entire wall, and you could put your two trophies of nondescript achievement on it. Nowadays, it's called an "iPod" the size of a deck of cards and you can lose it on a bus. Grandpa sure seems to be enjoying a good bout of fisticuffs while sitting in his tiger-striped chair. In the background, his sons wait patiently for a heart attack and eventual lucrative inheritance.