Classic Hoya Suxa: I Have a Terrible Medical Condition

My name is John Thompson, III and I have a terrible medical condition. I don’t really tell people about it, but everyone usually finds out about it eventually. I try to hide it the best I can, but a terrible medical condition like this ends up written all over your face. There aren’t many people with this terrible medical condition, so I’m oftentimes alone in my plight. It’s just me against this terrible medical condition, and it has crippled me from deep within my being, forcing me to bear a cross that no man should be forced to carry.

I have had this terrible medical condition for 45 years and only now do I have the strength to let the world know of my affliction: I have John Thompson, Jr.’s DNA inside me. It’s true. I have gone to countless doctors over the years to try and have this terrible medical condition taken care of and they all say that there’s nothing they can do. I’m told that there isn’t a cure for this terrible medical condition, but that has not deterred my belief that someday — hopefully before I become an incurable curmudgeon — some scientist-type will mix the magic elixir to get this terrible DNA out of my body.

This terrible medical condition has some pretty terrible symptoms, although the pathological circumstances are often varied. There will be times when, just out of the blue, I get the urge to practice cursing. “Shit. Ass. Shitass.” Oh, what have I done to deserve this, God?!? I’ll just be walking down the street to my favorite hot dog stand and come across a lady in a black and white blouse. Then, totally out of my control, “Aw, hell to you, you asshole!” I can’t control it; it’s like the disease takes the reins of my brain and synthesizes the world as a constant affront-peddler.

Then there’s the times when I go to the park to unwind. (You know, to try and get away from basketball and my terrible medical condition.) The problem, though, is that there’s no “out-of-office” reply for my terrible medical condition; it follows me wherever I go. I could just be sitting on a park bench feeding the pigeons and all of a sudden I start accosting the pigeons that aren’t eating the seeds fast enough. I can’t stop it! “How are you going to beat the Syracuse pigeons to the South if you don’t work on your beak-seed technique?!?” Oh, what a miserable life! Intuitively, my terrible medical condition makes me think that my berating of the pigeons is a form of motivation, but it’s just my terrible medical condition being a terrible medical condition. I think that my terrible medical condition would be pretty perfect for a pigeon coach, but it’s pretty terrible for a guy that just likes park benches and avoiding basketball practice.

What’s really scary, though, is that those aren’t even the worst side effects of my terrible medical condition. The worst byproduct of my terrible medical condition is when things don’t happen exactly as I want. That’s when my terrible medical condition really takes over and cripples my ability to live a normal life. Take last summer, for instance. I was in the park watching/berating pigeons and I got hungry. I decided to have a pizza delivered to me because my terrible medical condition was busy encouraging the pigeons to not read the newspapers about their seed-eating abilities because writers are full of lies. I had explicitly told the pizza guy on the telephone that I wanted sun-dried tomatoes on my pizza, not the regular icky kind of tomatoes. Well, when he brought me my pizza it was full of the regular icky kind of tomatoes. Rather than just sigh and accept the delivery person’s error, my terrible medical condition kicked in. I sat on that park bench for four days and my terrible medical condition made me intimidate those regular icky tomatoes into becoming sun-dried tomatoes. I couldn’t stop! I was all sunburned and dehydrated, but my terrible medical condition told me that it was okay because I had intimidated those icky regular tomatoes to become the sun-dried tomatoes that I wanted! We must find a cure for this terrible medical condition!

I do have to admit, however, that my terrible medical condition does have one perk: I got this really cool job that Dad told me I could have after some doctors found out the guy who had my job last didn’t have the same terrible medical condition that I have. But, other than that, it’s a pretty terrible medical condition.