This is how the day began at my Misinterpreters’ Disorder Anonymous Meeting:  

Me (to group):                      Hello, my name is David Hardiman and I suffer from  Misinterpreters’ Disorder.

Co-sufferers (collectively):   Hello David.

Me (visibly shaken):               What do you mean “Hello David?” What are you trying to say? I wish I remained anonymous.

With Misinterpreter’s Disorder (MD), the big things (relationships, schooling and parenting) I got. It was the little things (simple greetings, stop signs and expiration dates) I just couldn’t process. They took on a different and wholly unexpected meaning not at all related to my drug use (if you can call watching Hogan’s Heroes drug use). This newly discovered disorder is now covered by ObamaCare along with treatment for people who still belong to the Mark Hamill Fan Club. MD sufferers often misconstrue the cues in their environment and interpret them incorrectly. For example, the other night at a poetry reading, a woman leaned over and quietly sneezed in my ear. Not wanting to embarrass her I calmly said, “God bless you madam.” She looked me at me kind of funny and said, “I didn’t sneeze. I was just asking if you enjoyed haiku.”

You could see my symptoms of MD early on. As a youngster I would often plaster signs all over the neighborhood advertising the fact that my cat was not lost and there was no need to look for it. I’d even offer a reward to neighbors who didn’t call me because kitty was home safe. This aberration is actually a feline augmented offshoot of MD known as Misinterpreter’s Disorder with Pussy Complex or simply MDPC.  

Another time (how else am I going to differentiate these jokes, but by time) upon visiting Paris and viewing the majestic cityscape my wife gushed, “Wow! That’s an eyeful.”

To which I responded, “You’re right. It is an eyeful. That’s why it’s called the Eiffel Tower.”

She slapped me and then kissed me and then slapped me again. Right there on the streets of Paris. Of course this kind of “hurt so good” courtship was going on all around us, so we fit right in. Paris tends to bring out the sensual passion in people. In fact, this “hurts so good” dynamic is now categorized as Mellencamp Syndrome and is covered by ObamaCare.  

Another time (a distinct time from the previous paragraph, but a contrivance nonetheless) I saw a dog and a man walking and just assumed the dog was walking the man. This notion was reinforced when the dog actually cleaned up and bagged the man’s mess. Later on I saw those same two at a park and I witnessed the dog “fake the throw.” So it’s not just me. These things happen all the time. Especially in Wes Craven movies.   

One of the treatments for MD is the judicious use of Medical Catnip to improve one’s cognitive judgment. And once I got my Medical Catnip Card, I immediately began smoking it. And then I realized I had misinterpreted the instructions and had just smoked my Medical Catnip Card. So I had to get another card so I could get the actual catnip and smoke that. After a few hits things did improve. Oh sure there were a few contraindications like when a waitress brings me my meal, I start rubbing against her legs and meowing like a feline in heat. I also developed an irrational fear of vacuum cleaners and will wedge myself under the bed whenever it’s run. After smoking a couple of bowls of catnip I found myself overthinking matters and I’d lament to anyone who’d listen how unfair it was that cats could act squirrely, but squirrels couldn’t act catty. All this, however, was a small price to pay for seeing everything else so clearly.  

ObamaCare Treats All

Under ObamaCare a whole host of otherwise shunned or marginalized diseases are now covered by the Affordable Health Care Act. As a public service I’ve taken the time to research and list some of the little known maladies for which there is now coverage and treatment. No longer will citizens have to resort to back alleys or suffer denial of service because their ailment is not listed in the Gentleman’s Handbook of Socially Accepted Diseases. Now ObamaCare offers a cure for these long ignored and previously shameful ailments:   

• Being a Republican
  • The treatment is painless enough; through sound reasoning and meticulous arguments the stricken Republican is shown the error of his ways. Thus far all treatments have actually pushed Republicans further right.
• I Love My Kitty Way Too Much Syndrome
  • You know you’re suffering from this aberrant behavior when you visit an unlicensed vet to see if you and Whiskers can have that operation to be conjoined (talk about Siamese Cats). Cat social workers often intervene when test indicate that more than 50% of the saliva residue on the cat’s fur is from you.
• Amnesiacs Anonymous
  • The Italian version is known as fuggetaboutit. Toughest part of the cure is remembering to take your meds. Amnesiacs Anonymous support groups schedules meetings, but no one shows up.
• Jesus Hardiman, Give it a Rest Will Ya, Syndrome. aka You’re too Complex Complex
  • An affliction that causes otherwise normal people to write down and then embellish goofy little stories about whatever premise may cross their mind that morning. Although they inflict themselves on other people with unrelenting “think pieces,” reading them is still opt in. However the pieces are so compelling, the Obama Administration is considering making them mandatory. Note: The afflicted must prove they got in line twice when they passed out “overactive” imaginations.
• I Can’t Figure Out These Damn Margins and Spacing Setting Syndrome
  • Actively occurring while I try to space this. See examples below. Thank the Lord for the Undo key. Now if only I could get one of those Undo keys for people aged 18-24. 

• Hogan’s Heroes Infantile Paralysis
  • Affecting only the brain, this malady freezes all sense memories to that happy time in childhood when the good guys won effortlessly and a Frenchman was considered ethnic. Side effects include purposeless tunneling and prolonged celibacy.

• First World Problems Syndrome
  • It’s all there: plenty of food, creature comforts and entertainment galore, but somehow it never seems enough. The cure is a Spiritual Center.

• I Am Afraid to Die Because I Don’t Know Where I’m Going Afterward Panic.
  • No known treatment. Dats juz life baby.   

• I Know My Mother Shouldn’t be all Desiccated in a Rocking Chair up in the Attic Malady
  • What can you do? Mom’s humor was always fairly dry to begin with. And now the last laughs on her.
• So What if I Listen to The Beatles Every Day Addiction
  • This is actually a healthy addiction and as they say in Israel, “You should be so sick.” Only cure is to listen to Revolution 9.
• I Don’t Know What the Hell I’m Doing Here. No One Else Seems to be Panicking so I’ll Just Go Along with Things Too I Guess Disease 
  • Once Again, not an illness. This is how life is lived. So be glad you’re not a microbe at a sewage treatment plant.

 

Oh wait a minute. I see what’s happened here. The Department of Health and Human Services ordered me to write about real health care issues. I guess I just Misinterpreted Dis Order.