In my last column I was making a point about what a no-brainer it was to come up with Tiger Woods jokes and happened to make an off handed reference to Jay Leno and Conan. I just want to say right off the top that I’m terribly sorry and that I had no idea it would come to all this. It’s probably a good thing I didn’t happen to mention anything about Haiti, or people would be calling me Nostrabonus. Speaking of which, Youtube is running a clip of a Conan show that aired about 6 years ago in which Howard Stern warns Conan that Leno will never give up his show and if he does he’ll figure out some way to take it back. You should look it up, it’s total Twilight Zone. I guess Jay lured “stuttering John” away from Howard with big NBC money and never bothered to mention it to Stern. To those who care it’s widely known that Johnny Carson had tapped David Letterman to be his successor to the Tonight Show throne. However, Jay Leno managed to weasel his way in and snatch the torch by means of a lot of unscrupulous back-stabbing. Since then it’s become something of a showbiz truism that, most comedians (though they must appear on the show) have little other use for the man and a low opinion of his comic skills.

                Though this is an opinion I share, before I proceed, let me just say this about Jay Leno: First off, I totally get why people watched his show. While Jay himself is a shameless hambone, he made his show fun by bringing in a lot of funny people (Kevin Smith, Howie Mandell, Ross the Intern, et. al.) to do those great field report bits. Jay-Walking was usually funny, but just so you know, the Battle of the Jay-Walk all-stars was a sham. It was all staged and those answers that were so hilariously dumb were all written and the participants were shills. Headlines was Johnny-jacking, which leaves his monologue. Uh hmm. I’ll admit that I watched Leno more because the television was on that station than out of choice, plus that way I didn’t have to change the channel when it was time for Conan. Remotes – where do they go? I mean Jay was okay – like vanilla ice cream is okay. Nobody hates it but it does help to mix it with something. The bottom line is that as much as I loved Letterman 25 years ago his show got a little stuffy, and there was just enough zip to the Tonight Show to stop me from thrashing through the covers in pursuit of the elusive remote.

                The real winner in this whole deal is Tiger Woods. Talk about the perfect time to have a career-threatening sex scandal. Between Conan, Haiti and Jay, he dropped off the map with a bang, thud I meant – thud. Thank goodness he’s not some sort of womanizing creep, turns out he’s just a sex addict. That’s a relief. I mean, how nutty is our world going to get? I thought it was pretty much a running joke that, to some extent, all men are sex addicts? That’s just a notch down from oxygen-addiction. “Honest Hillary - I admit I’ve tried it, but I didn’t inhale.” Speaking of sex addicts (or, as they were called in the '90s, Mr. President). You may have noticed that sex addiction is mostly a matter of economics. If you’re rich you’re a sex addict, if you’re middle class you’re a pervert and if you’re poor or altogether broke, you’re a fiend. 30 years ago, you were a scumbag, and that was that.

                Because of television we all know quite a bit about addicts and alkies and interventions. I’d love to see a sex addicts’ intervention: “Look man, we’re not here to judge you, okay – just take it easy. We’re all here because we love you. We love you, bro - it’s just, we want you to get help, we want you to stop screwing everybody.” It’s just hard to imagine the process, much less the goal. “Okay people we all know why we’re here - so let’s just cut to the chase. First of all, uh, Mr. Woods. I think the first step for you would be to do something about that name of yours. We’re not gonna get anywhere until we tame that name, okay?” You have to wonder what they do in there? How do you go about fixing that? Do you just go “cold turkey” or do they slowly “wean you off?” It’s a good thing he can afford a private room, because nothing sucks worse than to have somebody walk in on you while you’re “weaning off.” “Mom, can you knock!?” I mean, Dr. Drew.

                When you think about it, it’s pretty much common knowledge that alcoholics and so forth have to just kiss the drinky-poo goodbye, altogether. Because if they have so much as a sip, they go careening off into a ruinous binge and end up facedown behind a bowling alley. There’s no middle ground, they can’t just be social drinkers. They’re done. Which is what I don’t quite understand about the goal of sex addiction treatment – how are you supposed to give that up altogether? It seems like at the very least you could still be a social finker. I don’t mean to offend. I’m in a mood, I just watched Conan’s last show, which was something I had no plans of giving up ever.

                It’s like Obama got everybody fired up about change, but everything that’s changed sucks and everything that sucks is coming back or still going strong. Between the new nudist in congress and that absolutely unfathomable decision handed down by the Court jesters Supreme, any chance of getting anything fixed with our colossal farce of a healthcare system just went south for good. That racket is just dug too deep, they/it/them are untouchable so get used to it. Big money will always win, and thanks to the highest court in the land, that sad fact is a country mile beyond repair.

                I know I’m not that funny when I get pissed off, but I just do not enjoy paying $700 each month for what - some half-assed sense of security? My insurance ream-ium went up 100 bucks the day I turned fitty, for the same lousy coverage that’s every bit as . . . shitty. Happy finkin’ Birthday. My wife is the best hair-dresser in this town (if you don’t like your hair, it’s your own fault. There’s an ad in the paper, do yourself a favor. She rocks.) Anyway, I love to hang out in the salon because her clients are just amazing, hilarious people who just love to come in and dish it out with candor. The other day, one of her regulars was talking about a disagreement she had with her doctor, I guess he got cheeky and told her, “You treat me like a drug dealer.” And she tells him “No shite, Sherlock, that’s exactly what you are. I come in here and you sell me drugs – am I missing something? You’re the one doing the prescribing, I didn’t ask you to - what else have you ever done for me? If you’re having some sort of moral dilemma or crisis of conscience tell me now, because there’s a telephone book full of drug dealers who will happily take my money.” Just like you probably are right now, I was kind of taken aback. But I started thinking, y’know, I’ve been going to the same guy for ten years or so and he’s a good man, but, aside from taking my blood pressure, all he’s ever done is sold me drugs. Antibiotics here and there, but mostly my nightly sleep-aid that I’ve been taking forever. I can go to Smiths and take my blood pressure.

                I know this must read like a blanket indictment, but the truth is, I have all the respect in the world for blankets. Obviously most doctors are great people stuck in a lamentable system. My kids' doctor, Marty Nygaard, is one of the finest people I know, and his staff are the kindest people I’ve ever had anything to do with. But try going to Instacare, (if you have a booboo that doesn’t fall within the 9 to 5 Mon-Fri.). That place sucks. Shirts going through the dry cleaners get more humane treatment.

                I still get hot under the collar when I think about how my poor grandmother was prescribed to death. They started off with drug A, which helped with condition 1, but it caused condition 2 which was countered with drug B. Sadly Drug B resulted in conditions 3 and 4, which necessitated Drugs C, D and E. Ironically. the chief side effect of Drug E was Condition 1. And around she went on this medical merry-go-round seeing one horse's ass after another. By the time she’d handed 10 specialists their pound of flesh, she was taking so many pills each day that it soaked up every penny she ever saved, and meanwhile, she was shaking like a tambourine. It’s really quite a miracle that more doctors don’t get shot. Look at the quack who probably killed Michael Jackson. True, he was just giving MJ what he asked for, but it wasn’t in his patient’s interest. He was, in every sense of the word, a drug dealer.