Joe Demicoli... the best medicine

I am going to be brazen and tell someone what to do. And the target of the day is.. Demicoli. Yes, it's Joe Demicoli time again. There I was, really heartbroken, so sad and helpless that I actually forgot about my Tuesday evening ritual, which is, tuning in to his radio programme. Until a good friend called to tell me she was having a blast listening to him. And I was the one who had told her about it in the first place. Sorry Joe, I didn't feel like tuning in, but I did. And I'm so glad I did. My tears have dried up, I'm smiling now, and I dare say I've also had a few laughs. Good laughs. So here is why I think Joe should change profession. He's brilliant at his act, but my guess is that comedians do not get a fat pay check. Shrinks do. And he's done the same job for me, the same job a shrink would have done, only, probably a shrink wouldn't have succeeded in making me laugh so successfully. Talk about mood disorders being rectified in five minutes. He has been my saving grace tonight. And he hasn't even prescribed me any meds, or presented me with the bill. Demicoli has been the best medicine after all. So I'd suggest, and hoping he won't take offence, that he kits himself with a doctor's bag (just to look the part), grow himself a beard (also just to look the part), eat a little bit more (also to look the part), and set up his front room as a clinic. It would pay more, and still be satisfying. I thought that nothing would stop my tears tonight. But Joe Demicoli just did. And watching a sad person being transformed into a happy one in five minute is more than a shrink could hope for. Perhaps you could prescribe me something for the pain... the pain that comes with hilarious laughter, the side-splitting pain, the kind of when you think your heart is about to stop with pleasure. Go for it Joe. You'd get the pool too. And oh, thank you so very much. I owe you one.