Comments on: Life Signs http://jhfarr.com/farrfeed/2008/08/04/life-signs/ Living Planet Mystery Tales Fri, 9 Jan 2009 20:31:14 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.7 hourly 1 By: K.J. Webb http://jhfarr.com/farrfeed/2008/08/04/life-signs/comment-page-1/#comment-1555 K.J. Webb Wed, 06 Aug 2008 01:32:16 +0000 http://jhfarr.com/farrfeed/?p=563#comment-1555 I've got a missing upper molar myself. Dr. Mengele, D.D.S., tells me I should have an implant, but I don't see why. Dentists are only wanna-be doctors anyhow. They're the guys you shunned in high school because they were inappropriately ambitious for the level of their intelligence. In college they were young Republicans. Their fathers sold used cars. Why should I trust them with a drill and a needle in their hands? Anyhow, I've got used to that smooth little gap on the upper right side. My tongue fits into it nicely. The remaining chompers click on all cylinders and reduce the stuff in my mouth to a satisfactory mush. As for the cosmetics - not even my closest friends of the female persuasion can guess the secret of my creeping toothlessness. Maybe I just don't like undergoing surgical incisions and/or paying the price of them. Cowardice and stinginess complement each other nicely in this as in so many departments of life. So I reckon I'll soldier on with ever-diminishing pearlies until the count of missing in action reaches a half dozen or so. Then, dear friends, haul my carcase off and plant it. As Shakespeare said, sans hair, sans teeth, sans everything. I’ve got a missing upper molar myself. Dr. Mengele, D.D.S., tells me I should have an implant, but I don’t see why. Dentists are only wanna-be doctors anyhow. They’re the guys you shunned in high school because they were inappropriately ambitious for the level of their intelligence. In college they were young Republicans. Their fathers sold used cars. Why should I trust them with a drill and a needle in their hands?

Anyhow, I’ve got used to that smooth little gap on the upper right side. My tongue fits into it nicely. The remaining chompers click on all cylinders and reduce the stuff in my mouth to a satisfactory mush. As for the cosmetics - not even my closest friends of the female persuasion can guess the secret of my creeping toothlessness.

Maybe I just don’t like undergoing surgical incisions and/or paying the price of them. Cowardice and stinginess complement each other nicely in this as in so many departments of life.

So I reckon I’ll soldier on with ever-diminishing pearlies until the count of missing in action reaches a half dozen or so. Then, dear friends, haul my carcase off and plant it. As Shakespeare said, sans hair, sans teeth, sans everything.

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