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Basement Musings

Posted by Dr. Huey Lewi DPM on 12/11/00 at 00:01 (034639)

Patrons of the Foot-Board:

Queries have recently flown about upon the foot-board about the formation of the dreaded heel-spur, without reference to the recently-deceased pioneer of the uranium plantar splice, namely, myself. It is a dark, dark day in the annals of chiropody when mankind forgets the lessons of history. Our feet are doomed to repeat them! Alas, I am forgotten in the basement, leaving not even a devoted widow to dust the bust of my father, M.J. Lewi. No pretty interns from the Venerable Institute of Bunions and Calluses to call upon me for my sage advice, no Bangkok Chiropody Conventions, no catalogs from Lane Bryant. It is a lusterless life.

My quiet is interspersed with the febrile ramblings of that Bastard President Taft, who is on his fourth week of droning on about the recent presidential fracas. I say, march them all to the highest gallows, the slack-jaws! It is high-time for a useful tyrant to declare himself Emperor and raze the Capitol to a stubble. On Sunday, Taft and I sneak up to the treatment room for 'Meet the Press,' and I am thrown into apoplexy by the fawning and lisping of these political dandies… I think that this travesty began with female suffrage has ended in a shameful political dunghill, with grown, strapping lads bawling about tiny bits of paper! I feel that if I turn my head, Mr. Patrick Buchannan himself will appear in pearls and tiara! Taft informs me that the vote of a female can be always counted upon to guard the interests of hearth and home, keeping the republic stable. I said to him 'Taft! I have not met one petticoat yet who not trade her suckling child for a pack of menthols and a day at the moving-picture show!' He informs me that I am letting the well of my soul's bitterness dug by my ex-wives corrupt my political discourse. Perhaps. But I say, let the rifles come off their racks, and let's settle this like the wooden-toothed, powdered wig, tree-chopping, stove-pipe hat men before us!

Still, as a mere vapor of my former self, there is little I can do in the realm of practical politics, but I can offer advice to those who have come to trust my sagacity as one of the great chiropods that ever cut upon a bunion. My research continues, and I am pioneering, even from beyond the grave, a way to remove heel spurs through the human nose so as not to leave a scar. I shall call it 'plantarplasty,' and I envision that it will employ a longish sort of wire with a whirling blade involved at one end. I have yet to work out the minor details of the procedure, but stockholders – brace yourselves for a meteoric rise. I shall have you floating around your pools sipping gin gimlets yet! Bangkok Podiatrist-of -the-Year 'Golden Spur' Award: Come to Daddy! I am also working on a theory of the formation of heel spurs that focuses on the over-consumption of cocktail onions. Tipplers, beware.

My research keeps my mind off my aching plantars, so cruelly frayed by my experiments. As you know, I expired only moments before I was to try the Old Basson treatment. I am afraid it is too late, and now I suffer eternally with a bad case of the spurs – and for what, ungrateful patrons? Some would say that the shades of the departed suffer eternally with the misery they have wrought in life… but I say, such are the superstitions of old women and fancy-men. I will find a bassoon around here somehow, and if Taft quits pontificating for a minute we can take a good swing at my heel with it.

I remain most sincerely,

Dr. C. Huey Lewi, DPM

Re: Basement Musings

Nancy S. on 12/11/00 at 00:45 (034640)

Huey . . . darling . . . you haven't forgotten me? Your, er, ex-widow?
Now, I do fear your imagination has moulded in the basement and that your vaporous self is culminating in vapor replacement of the brain. I'm worried about you, Huey, no matter the atrocities you perpetrated upon me when I was your wife.
But buck up, won't you? I found the root-cellar that you locked me in a jolly, festive experience. And I had no Lane Bryant catalogs down there either.
You know full well from your long-ago research that cocktail onions never formed a spur. I recall that you ruled out everything but overconsumption of talking heads.
I am your loving ex-widow. Do you have any money? I'm not talking alimony here, but possibly insurance policies that you may have hidden away before your descent.
Nancy S. Lewi,
the one rightful ex-widow,
still waiting for the merry windfall

Re: Basement Musings

Bob G. on 12/11/00 at 02:33 (034647)

Dr. Huey Lewi,,,

my foot hurts

may I imbibe?

Re: Basement Musings

Dr. Zuckerman on 12/11/00 at 02:53 (034651)

GrandDad please help me solve the world of heel pain. Some days I think that god is there making me look good other days I feel where is the answer I know I have it but where is it. Did you know that the latest theory is that this old spur pokes it head into the plantar fascia. I can't believe I let that go by me but that I was too focused on trying to get it to heal. Last time I went to the local hospital morgue to take a look it was running above the pf and was like a turtle wouldn't poke it head out that day.

Re: Basement Musings

Kate on 12/11/00 at 11:31 (034686)

Hewi,
i find you as pompous as ever.....and do please attend to the mess in the basement. The feathers, the empty bottles, can you never pick up after yourself. I do so tire of being not only Davy's hand made, but yours as well? And perhaps, kind Dr., that if you settled down a little in your after life those pods of yours would heal....heel?....heal?....
As for Taft, please channel to him and tell him that there was a final decision on his last recount, he lost....to George W !

Yours affectionately,
Kate, the green eyed gypsy

Re: Basement Musings

Nancy S. on 12/11/00 at 00:45 (034640)

Huey . . . darling . . . you haven't forgotten me? Your, er, ex-widow?
Now, I do fear your imagination has moulded in the basement and that your vaporous self is culminating in vapor replacement of the brain. I'm worried about you, Huey, no matter the atrocities you perpetrated upon me when I was your wife.
But buck up, won't you? I found the root-cellar that you locked me in a jolly, festive experience. And I had no Lane Bryant catalogs down there either.
You know full well from your long-ago research that cocktail onions never formed a spur. I recall that you ruled out everything but overconsumption of talking heads.
I am your loving ex-widow. Do you have any money? I'm not talking alimony here, but possibly insurance policies that you may have hidden away before your descent.
Nancy S. Lewi,
the one rightful ex-widow,
still waiting for the merry windfall

Re: Basement Musings

Bob G. on 12/11/00 at 02:33 (034647)

Dr. Huey Lewi,,,

my foot hurts

may I imbibe?

Re: Basement Musings

Dr. Zuckerman on 12/11/00 at 02:53 (034651)

GrandDad please help me solve the world of heel pain. Some days I think that god is there making me look good other days I feel where is the answer I know I have it but where is it. Did you know that the latest theory is that this old spur pokes it head into the plantar fascia. I can't believe I let that go by me but that I was too focused on trying to get it to heal. Last time I went to the local hospital morgue to take a look it was running above the pf and was like a turtle wouldn't poke it head out that day.

Re: Basement Musings

Kate on 12/11/00 at 11:31 (034686)

Hewi,
i find you as pompous as ever.....and do please attend to the mess in the basement. The feathers, the empty bottles, can you never pick up after yourself. I do so tire of being not only Davy's hand made, but yours as well? And perhaps, kind Dr., that if you settled down a little in your after life those pods of yours would heal....heel?....heal?....
As for Taft, please channel to him and tell him that there was a final decision on his last recount, he lost....to George W !

Yours affectionately,
Kate, the green eyed gypsy