The World O' Crap Archive

Welcome to the Collected World O' Crap, a comprehensive library of posts from the original Salon Blog, and our successor site, (2006 to 2010).

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Monday, February 21, 2011

Storytime, With Dr. Mike, Ph.D

This week, Dr. Mike has a dream! But instead of being a dream where men are judged by the content of their characters (one can understand why Dr. Mike would consider that a nightmare), Dr. Mike dreams about smelly college students who don’t like him very much. And the twist is … [spoiler] … it really wasn’t a dream!

Dr. Mike tells the story as only he can (in a manner apparently designed to make you want to kick him in the crotch), but we’ll just focus on a few selections from it, so as to not give anyone a Dr. Mike overdose. (Warning: your tolerance for Dr. Mike may vary, so you are advised to consult a Dr. who isn’t Mike before reading any further.)
Planet U-MASS::By Mike S. Adams
I had a dream that I was invited to give a speech on feminism at The University of Massachusetts-Amherst. And in the dream I accepted the offer, largely because I wanted the money to buy another gun.
Sure, it’s not as gripping a beginning as, “I had a dream that featured talking penguins, skeletonizing lasers, and a dozen sexy cheerleaders, all of whom were Trent Lott, and they were doing naughty things to Jonah Goldberg,” but Dr. Mike has learned from experience to dream small.

Oh, and before we go any farther, let’s learn more about what Dr. Mike’s part-time job as a third-tier speak for the Young America’s Foundation. Interesting enough,while Ann Coulter costs over $20,000 a pop (I guess she can charge more because she doesn’t advertise her 1.8 GPA), Dr. Mike can go for as little as $1000 for a speech on “How to Win Friends and Irritate Feminists.” Thus, we can see that Ann Coulter’s gun collection must be at least 20 times better than Dr. Mike’s, which must be rather galling to him.

But back to the dream . . .
And in my dream I arrived at the student union to give my speech. Immediately, I saw droves of gay students marching by wearing dresses.
They were arriving to protest my appearance.
The dresses were arriving to protest Dr. Mike?

(And on a side note, is it really possible to march by merely wearing a dress? If so, wouldn’t that be a big labor saver for the army?)
Others wore black masks and marched in unison – much like the Hitler Youth in Nazi Germany. Still others wore the communist Red Star upon an outer garment.
Okay, I’m a little confused here – is it the dresses who are wearing black masks, or is it the droves of gay Nazi commies?
And in my dream I walked into the room some twenty minutes before my speech was to begin. But I could not stay. The stench of body odor was too great for me to bear.
Another annoying speech squelched, thanks to Ban anti-deodorant!

But wait, Dr. Mike isn’t done recounting his dream, as apparently the body odor didn’t actually keep him out of the auditorium, because he really, really needed that $1000.
When the speech began, I told a story about a racist who referred to blacks as “coons.” Though condemning racism, the radicals and self-described communists began to hiss and interrupt my speech.
Uh huh. Those commies hissed at you, Dr. Mike, merely because you condemned racism. Do go on.
When I spoke of a drug raid – one I participated in nine years before – members of the audience booed and asked whether I had ever smoked pot in high school. I suggested that if they allowed me to finish a sentence, they might determine that I shared some of their libertarian beliefs on the drug war.
While we can’t actually be in that audience with the smelly commies, the dress-wearing Nazis, and the scary feminists, you can read the story for yourself. And as you do read it, watch for Mike’s stated libertarian beliefs about the drug war.

Some years ago, one of my so-called colleagues heard me tell the story of a drug raid I went on in a working class neighborhood in Wilmington. I approached a crack house with a law enforcement officer who had instructed me to purchase one crack rock from a man in a wheelchair who was on parole. Just before we got inside, someone drove up to buy some drugs. We circled the block until the transaction was completed.

Halfway around the block we decided to cut through two houses and watch the place for a few moments before entering. When we did so, we were able to see two lookouts jumping out of a tree that we had been standing under just a few minutes before. They were young and did their jobs poorly. The second they realized there was about to be a bust, they ran towards their homes in the nearby projects.

When the coast was clear we went inside. Before long, the drug agent was given consent to search the parolee’s room. Needless to say, he was in possession of numerous crack pipes, some used recently. And so the agent cut a deal.

In order to be spared from a trip back to prison the parolee had to provide information leading to a bigger catch before the evening ended. Because of the constant influx of prostitutes, users, and other dealers that wasn’t hard to do. In fact, it was a small time heroin dealer – a friend of the parolee’s – that intervened and led the agent to an amount of heroin sufficient to divert his attention from the handicapped felon.

I had hoped it would only be a few minutes that I was left there in the crack house while the agent went to check out the lead. But I sat through an entire HBO movie while the crack heads drank and smoked everything in sight – but not any crack as they assumed I was an agent. I couldn’t figure out how they managed to pay the cable bill while the doors were falling off the hinges and the cockroaches crawled up the walls.

By the time the evening ended the drug agent had what he wanted.
So, nine years ago (back when he was a liberal), Dr. Mike acted as a narc, planning to buy some crack from a parolee in a wheelchair. But apparently that plan didn’t work, and the cop left Dr. Mike in the bug infested, run-down crack house with the lazy, good for nothing, HBO-watching crack heads while the cop nailed the friend whom the crack dealer had given up. A truly inspiring story that teaches us a valuable lesson about how Dr. Mike’s colleagues are all racists (well, that’s the moral that Dr. Mike says we should take from it.)

But anyway, you can now see why some of the students in the audience might have booed Dr. Mike, and why others might have wondered about his own use of drugs.

But back to Dr. Mike’s dream, which is in smell-o-rama!
But then a young radical shouted “We aren’t libertarians!” She didn’t know how to use the terms “libertarian perspective” and the “Libertarian party affiliation.” Nor did she know how to use soap or deodorant.
Since this is just a dream, we’re going to assume that Dr. Mike learned all about the young radical’s personal hygiene later, in one of those sexy moments that often occur (in soft porn movies, at least) when sparks fly between a middle-aged dork and a feisty coed. (Because even Dr. Mike couldn’t expect us to believe that he could ascertain the bathing habits of one student in the crowd from his position on stage).
In my dream, a Muslim student seated in the rear of the auditorium shouted “you’re an asshole” and left the speech without giving a reason for his anger.
However, I find this part of his story entirely credible, and imagine that similar incidents happen to Dr. Mike on a daily basis.
At another point in the dream, the subject of homosexuality was broached.
You’ll notice the lack of clarity about just who broached the subject – this kind of fuzziness is typical in dreams. (Especially dreams about hordes of Nazi dresses.)
A student shouted “Jesus was a bisexual, read the Gnostic Gospels!” I still thought that it was merely a dream.
So, maybe Jesus was the one who broached the subject of homosexuality (it’s just a dream, remember).
But let’s skip ahead to the thrilling conclusion.
When a physical altercation broke out, I slipped out the back door between two body guards. [Note: in future recountings of this tale, we imagine that Dr. Mike breaks up the altercation singlehandedly, thanks to his many guns and his manly competence.] After the microphone was reclaimed, they were about to resume the Q & A. But, in my dream, the speech was over.
I could hear the chanting of “racist, sexist, anti-gay; right-wing bigots go away” as I walked down the hall away from the room. Later, when I woke up in the Lord Jeffery Inn, I realized that it had not been a dream.
I was in Amherst, Massachusetts – a place somewhere in America. Or so they say.
Nice try, Dr. Mike – but my dream about rescuing Brad Pitt and Katie Holmes’ baby from a cage at the pound was a lot more interesting, and offered many more lessons about life and stuff.

Anyway, that was this week’s Storytime with Dr. Mike. But if you happen to have been one of those smelly U-Mass students who chanted at poor Dr. Mike (or if you just happened to have dreamed about it — or had any interesting dream that might be relevant to anything Dr. Mike had to say), we’d like to hear from you. After all, that’s the fair and balanced way.

41 Responses to “Storytime, With Dr. Mike, Ph.D.”

Sounds like someone got wasted on Target’s Orange Wine Cube and passed out in front of a scratched copy of “The Wall”.
And, really, Dr Mike *always* makes me want to kick him in the crotch.
Later, when I woke up in the Lord Jeffery Inn, I realized that it had not been a dream.
Of course he slept in the Lord Jeffrey Inn. A tip of the hat to his lordship, I feel sure. Too bad he didn’t get his blankets direct from ol’ Jeff, the way the Indians did — full of smallpox.
Are you sure 1.8 is Ann Coulter’s GPA, and not her I.Q., multiplied by 5?
Other than to mock him, why would anyone invite Dr. Mike to speak at a university? I’m sure Dr. Mike could pull a lot more than $1,000 if, instead of offering to speak, he volunteered to be in a dunking booth. Over a sewer.
On the second day of the War Against Christmas, my true love gave to me
droves of gay students
and a partridge in a pear tree.
These loons are just warming up.
Dr. Adams PhD Professor – proof that affirmative action for conservative academics exists. (No, he’s not a libertarian, despite his protests.)
Sis wants to know if Dr. Mike has ever stayed at the Lord Jeffrey Gannon Inn aka The White House.
Uh, regarding all that: WTF?
Was he ever in law enforcement. I mean why the hell would an agent use a civilian for something so potentially dangerous.
Well, checking the amherst daily collegian, it looks like the fisticuffs and fracas were mostly coming from: the college republicans. Who\’da thunk it?
 Student becomes physical in protest – News
Was he ever in law enforcement
Sure, he’s with the crack Pathological Liar Squad. In fact it is only his microscopic celebrity and his, uh, obvious otherwise-slanted proclivities which prevent him from making regular blue-light traffic stops of single women on lonely roads throughout the Greater Wilmington area.
Speaking of pathologies, ain’t it fascinating how the old charlatan comes up with the dream schtick at the very moment he’s involved in an actual verifiable adventure?
Is this a poor attempt to channel Hunter S Thompson?
Was he ever in law enforcement
You betcha! He’s the Huggy Bear of the UNC criminology department!
I do have a few questions. Such as:
But then a young radical shouted “We aren’t libertarians!” She didn’t know how to use the terms “libertarian perspective” and the “Libertarian party affiliation.”
I doubt Dr. Mike is so obtuse as to think that saying you are not libertarian is the same as saying you are not registered with the Libertarian Party. Hell, the Ole Perfesser still refers to himself as a libertarian. Almost every right wing blogger I read claims they are libertarian, to distinguish themselves from the Jerry Falwells of the party. But the lady wasn’t talking about party affiliation, oh, I give up, I have no idea what the fuck Dr. Mike is talking about.
In my dream, a Muslim student seated in the rear of the auditorium shouted “you’re an asshole” and left the speech without giving a reason for his anger.
I know it’s just a dream (or is it?), but how did Encyclopedia Dr. Mike know someone from the back of the auditorium was a Muslim?
Answer: Encyclopedia Dr. Mike saw that the man was brown, not black. Since the man was not wearing a sombrero, Encyclopedia Dr. Mike concluded he could only be a Muslim!
Actually, my guess was going to be “He assumed the man was Muslim because he had just said something horribly offensive about Muslims and the man took it personally”, which aside from the probability of it being true, kind of trashes Dr Mike’s innocent “I don’t know WHY he got mad!” deal.
The “gays-in-dresses” bit annoys me, which is what I suppose Dr. Mike had in mind. Of course, he was fairly unspecific. I assume he meant gay men, otherwise, it’d be lesbians in dresses, which would be kinda… “biiiiig deal.” But, anyway, the “gays-in-dresses” stereotype bugs me because, like the “gay-pedophile” stereotype, crossdressing is no more common in the gay community than in the straight one. It’s often more openly on display, so if you want to get a frightening idea of how common it is, just stick your nose into a few local gay bars on a Sunday afternoon. But, obviously, the vast majority of gay men don’t crossdress, even on Halloween. The comments I directed at Patsy Boone a thread or two down also apply to Dr. Mike–in spades.
Oy. I’m still relatively new to the incoherent dream world of Dr. Mike, so when I read that the speech was about “How to Win Friends and Irritate Feminists”, I assumed that was snark. I won’t make that mistake again, thanks.
BTW, what happened to the “win friends” part? Is that what he needs the gun for?
I’m not terribly fond of college liberals (or for that matter college conservatives). I find all campus politics screechy and immature. But at least I don’t judge people by how they act/smell in my dreams.
I love the fact that the cop just left Dr. Mike at the crackhouse. I’ll bet the Q & A session there was awesome !
I can’t help it. That was so bad I have to offer the Billy Madison quote:
“Mr. Madison, what you’ve just said is one of the most insanely idiotic things I have ever heard. At no point in your rambling, incoherent response were you even close to anything that could be considered a rational thought. Everyone in this room is now dumber for having listened to it. I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul.”
Not “Smell-O-Rama,” dear, it’s called “ODORAMA.” Pioneered by director John Waters in his masterpiece “Polyester” starring Divine (who would have gladly shown up for this event, I’m sure, in his best pink taffeta and no deodorant.) The audience received scratch & sniff cards, and the on-screen cues told folks when to rub off the next square.
We’re still waiting for an online equivalent that actually works!!! Just think how much better the above post would have worked (not to mention your previous ones about kitten diahrrea. Yeeeesh!)
Brad Pitt & Katie Holmes had a baby? That will come as a shock to Tom.
I had a dream that I was invited to give a speech at the University of the Future, Tralfamadorian Campus. In my dream, I accepted the invitation, largely due to my desire to buy another toaster. In my dream I arrived at the student union immediately I saw droves of bisexual giraffes marching by wearing underpants. They were arriving either to protest my appearance or to advocate underpants-wearing.
In my dream, I walked into the room some twenty minutes before I was to give my speech, but I couldn’t stay, as the stench of pop-tarts was overpowering.
When my speech began, I told a story about a steroid dealer who referred to weightlifters as “muscle-bound freaks”. Though condemning weightlifers, the giraffes immediately began to boo and hiss. Or perhaps they were only deflating. When I spoke in detail of a shopping trip to Safeway I made nine years ago, they began to act confused and frustrated.
In my dream, a Kalahari Bushman seated in the rear of the auditorium shouted “you’re an asshole” and left the speech without giving a reason for his anger.
At this point in my dream, as always, the subject of hot, sweaty nasty lumpy hairy man-sex…er, homosexuality came up. The giraffes acted further confused and even more frustrated.
When a physical altercation broke out, I retreated to the back of the stage between two bodyguards and watched the violence while touching myself. I could hear the chanting of “We don’t want to hear your rants, we want to see your underpants” as I walked down the hall.
Then I woke up, and I was still in county custody and all the prune-o was gone…
Damn, Mikey, I think I have that same dream over and over again.
They’re cuttlefish in combat boots in my dream. Mikey, that was sublime. And surprisingly more coherent than Dr Mike, PhD.
I’ve had the same dream, Mikey, only there were unicorns and Bill O’Reilly involved in…well…falafel is a menace to society.
The cops left Adams with the crackheads.
Oh. That’s awful.
Those poor, poor crackheads.
Maybe the University won’t grant Dr. Mike full professorship because he loathes the students and insults them constantly, comparing them to Hitler Youth and calling them “drunken sluts” and such. I mean, you wouldn’t put Mel Gibson in charge of the ADL, would you? Maybe the University thinks that the students need helpful professors with senses of humor rather than cold little men that hate their guts for being Liberals.
here ’tis:
Does this guy really have tenure somewhere?
The cops left Adams with the crackheads.
Oh. That’s awful.
True, but that’s where Dr. Mike learned all the “hip” “street” lingo that makes his columns so appealing.
Oooh. Mebbe that shoulda been “make.” Meh.
Thanks gjdodger. A couple of thoughts:
1. That was hardly an auditorium. It looked like a classroom.
2. There were a lot of guys in dresses.
3. There are people who hate Dr. Mike as much as Bill S. and I do.
Oh, I’m not sure you hate him as much as I do. Do YOU want to kick him in the balls until he coughs them up-assuming you could find them in the first place?
I read the whole thing, but really liked the 1st paragraph the best, because I just finished reading a novel wherein the lady park ranger shoots a guy who acts exactly like Dr. Mike in the leg. (He immediately threatens to sue.)
Every time someone equates gay man with crossdresser, I want to tell them about the time my grandmother, as a docent for a historical site, showed around a bus full of crossdressers and their wives.
Seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever met a single gay cross-dresser, with the exception of drag-queen performers. Usually it’s guys who like girls so much that they wear their clothes :D
Dr Mike writes: I approached a crack house with a law enforcement officer who had instructed me to purchase one crack rock…
Heard at the station house earlier that evening:
“Hey, guys, you know that Mike Adams wannabe who’s constantly following us around with his cop scanner and trying to talk shop at the bar every night? Just for laughs, whaddaya say we park him in a crack house all night, haw haw … “
that’s where Dr. Mike learned all the “hip” “street” lingo that makes his columns so appealing
I think ‘makes’ is right, Marq. ‘Lingo’ is singular… the plural is ‘linguini’.
I had a dream the other night, that someone had set the Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus to music and turned it into an opera. Possibly the Delivery department fucked up and sent me a dream clearly intended for a Wittgenstein scholar. So who got my dream?!
Mikey, lemonheads, Dr. Bimler….
So this is where the SadlyNo’ers go when AA hijacks threads. Cool! I’ll be back, for sure.
I ride the bus with UMass students every day.
They do not smell.
Mikey, lemonheads, Dr. Bimler….
So this is where the SadlyNo’ers go when AA hijacks threads.
Hey! That’s a severe undercount of mutual S, N!/WO’C regulars! I actually started commenting on WO’C at some point in ’04, and joined the motley crew over at S, N! shortly thereafter. There are several dozen commentaters that leave comments, at least on occasion, at both blogs.
Dear. Dr. Mikey,
It’s axiomatic that the existence of some assholes that dislike you does not imply in any way that you are not a major asshole yourself.
I must also add that I believe maybe one word out of three (excluding ‘and’ and ‘the’)in Dr. Mikey’s bullshit dream story. I has the distinct reek of the “salt-of-the-earth cab driver who agrees with everything his conservative blogger passenger says” stories.

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