Sex & Sciatica: Confessions of Don Giovanni

Cover of "Mozart - Don Giovanni / Hampson...

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The Referral:

Dear Dr. Whelan, January 3, 2006
I am referring a Mr. Giovanni to your office. Donny has been recounting his sexual exploits to me with great glee, with the exception of his recent bout with debilitating sciatica, which is, of course, without aforesaid glee, although he is adapting. Clearly, there appears to be no psychologically detectable defect in him that would point to his onset of sexual dysfunction—though he is quite interesting in his views of societal ills, as he recounts his painful, yet truthful, experiences. The problem seems to be essentially physical in nature, as he is also complaining of low back pain. Dr. Whelan, see if you can find one of those (how do you call it?) “subterraneans” in his body.
Most respectfully referred,
Randy Banter, M.D., F.A.C.S.
Specializing in the state of the art diagnosis of flaccid genitalia associated with episodic low back trauma.

The Thank You Note

Dear Dr. Randy Banter, January 5, 2006 Thank you for referring Don Giovanni to my beautiful office at the heels of the Berkshires. Don presented to my office on all fours, crawling in with his debilitating sciatica. He cried that he was “used to the position, but not the condition.” He seems to have a sense of humor—and rhyme. As you may know (or have suspected), there is a connection between the low back and the genitalia.
Doctors of Chiropractic across the country have had success with patients regaining potency, usually as a byproduct of the adjustments—the gentle vertebral alignments to correct back pain. (My first such case was a man in his 70’s, almost 20 years ago, soon after I opened my office. He thanked me profusely—insisting his wife did too). I will examine Don to detect a subluxation in his spine—which may be causing both his back pain and the pinching of the nerve roots to his genitalia.

Timothy Ross Whelan M.A., D.C.
Doctor of Chiropractic

Testimonial by D. G

I originally went to see Dr. Whelan because of this @#*^ng! lower back problem which led to “radiating pain into my lower leg.” (It was getting to the point of
debilitation and consequently ruining my reputation.) He said that he was happy to see me and said that my “reputation” had preceded me. He was very gracious.
I told him that in fact I was a very spiritual man, in spite of what he may have heard, and then cited some of my favorite scriptural passages (cf), even though I am at times very “frank” in my speech. The Doc insisted that my speech was not frank but “vulg”—before I shut him up.

I then reminded the Doc that every ten-year old going to public schools in Europe and America has heard these words, and that today the girls are getting worse than the boys. Less than one month later I told the Doc over and over again at each visit how absolutely thrilled I was with my steady recovery under his handson spine adjustment care. Actually it didn’t surprise me (being a spiritual man)—even though I saw twelve other specialists who said I had to go under the knife (who also said they’d do the operation for nothing if I’d let them in on my secret—Get lost, scumbags!)

Getting back to Dr. Whelan, knowing that he is also a world un-renowned writer, I told the Doc that I’d like him to put into print some of my recent engagements—they total over a thousand at last count. Coming from a highly romantic background, I insisted that my encounters be encapsulated in poetry, words and sentiment not altered—as my friend Henry David Thoreau had said, to say it in hard words, since otherwise the familiarity, intensity, and intimacy of my encounters would be lost forever.

The Doc first said, “No way, Jose!”—and he was definitely emphatic, and would have scared sh*tless any normal human, but after I made pointed reminders to him of my family business relations in Sicily, he came around, if you know what I mean, and reluctantly agreed, saying he would have to painfully adjust the words from my mouth in order to best align the poetry into the form he would be reporting from my mouth, to reenact the events for time immemorial, which I was requesting. I said that that would be all right so long as it had a strong classical sound to it and lent itself to a nice ping pong, sing-song quality—kinda like Petrarch’s and Shakespeare’s sonnets—but easier and quicker to read— sorta like the headlines with the hot spots and a little action thrown in.

He asked me if I would respect fewer syllables per line than the typical ten. I said, “Oh baby, yes!” He asked if the abab cdcd efef gg rhyme scheme would be to my liking. “Hallelejuh, I chimed.” He asked if I would like the meter to be trochaic, dactyllic, anapestic, or iambic. I said that it would mean the most to me to go with the traditional, time-honored ~x~ iambic form.

He kept questioning me to make sure he did everything to my liking. I guess I roughed him up a little too much. Finally—as it was getting so late, with several wealthy dates waiting, in different Inns—I whipped off a poem, rhyming it abab all the way through and put my foot down, saying that this poem shall serve as the Prefaccio Amore of the book. I said the poems shall be called “sexonnets”, because they are six syllables in line length and fourteen lines—like a sonnet—you know, traditional and newfangled at the same time. (Of course, by now you all know that, along with all my conquests of the fairer sex, I was deeply involved with spreading Freemasonry throughout all of Europe, before I became flabbergasted with that scene.

Some of the fairest of my conquests were the frauleins of Deutschland. There, both words for “six” and “sex” are spelled s-e-x — so I guess that’s where the meter, line, and rhyme got me going). I pressed the Doc saying, “Get started or kiss your cuyones goodbye!” Under this duress the book got underway. I said I would fill in some drawings about the chiropractic (as I understand it—according to my framework) and anatomy he was insisting I learn—because of my back pain and sciatica. I said I’d add some drawings myself of things I found important along the way, you know, on the level . . . He wasn’t taking anymore—all he did was nod.

Bless him.   – Don Giovanni

Download the complete book by Dr. Timothy Ross Whelan  for free only on THE GOOD WORD!

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