YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS

The AM is never one to shy away from discussing his rather numerous and unsavory physical ailments. He's told you before of his sexy skin issues, and he may have mentioned his lethal allergies to fish, shellfish, avocados, peanuts, melons, and - now, ladies, don't panic, there are alternatives - latex. In addition, there is the dormant asthma lurking behind every dry ragweed bloom and under every poorly vaccuumed carpet as well as his poor eyesight, his raging eczema and his brittle, frail bones. But today, dear ones, there was delivered to the Mastodon's doorstep a new and more frightening scare: the presumed self-diagnosis of Wilford Brimley disease.

Around lunchtime his body starting getting hot and he felt faint. His feet were sweaty and tingling, and his vision got blurry. Lately, he's been thirsty, tired, and he's lost weight. Do some homework, detectives, and you'll see what this all adds up to: playing Bingo next to some retirees in the local Lion's Club on a Wednesday night and shooting insulin in his thighs every two hours.

Though scientists have not concretely determined what ailment or illness eventually led to the demise of the American Mastodon in North America, there has been a growing consensus among leading researchers that the animal was befelled by a condition commonly referred to as Whatafuckinfuckedup-hypochondriacpussyitis.

As always, the AM appreciates your heartfelt pity.