The Liniment That Saved My LifeCommentary • ISSUE 30•03 • Aug 28, 1996 By T. Herman Zweibel, Publisher Emeritus (photo circa 1911) This Saturday I'll be observing my 112th birthday, and the well-wishes and accolades have been pouring into my vast plantation-estate. The King of Spain, the Sultan of Brunei, and the great Kaiser Wilhelm have all sent their warm regards. To hell with them! Where were they when I had piles so bad my anus had become a wormhole to the very bowels of Hell? While those bejeweled potentates were sipping their tea, I was wracked with agonies Lucifer himself would be hard-pressed to conjure. I would surely not have been alive today but for a miraculous remedy: Dr. Klimpt's Poultry Liniment. My mother, God rest her soul, used to apply it to my chest when I had the croup as a lad. It worked then and I hoped and prayed it would work in my dotage. The difficult part was applying the liniment to the affected area, as my left side is entirely paralyzed. Fortunately, my stableboy Augustus was able to duck in as my nurse cleaned and polished my bedpans. He turned me over on my back, drew my legs apart, and dutifully applied the salve to my seared rectum. It was as though an icy blizzard had swept through my nether regions, instantly putting out the raging fire that burned within! I felt a new man. With tears of joy I thanked young Augustus, who served his master well in his time of dire need. Rest assured, Augustus and the rest of his family in the village will receive an extra yam for Christmas. Next day I telegraphed my broker, urging him to purchase all controlling shares of Klimpt Medicinal Company. A folly, perhaps, but I wanted to champion the cause of this marvelous ointment. He then replied that the company was bought by a larger firm over 80 years ago, and that they stopped manufacturing Poultry Liniment in 1948! Now I lay daily in cold fear that my fiendish piles will return, and I will have nothing with which to soothe them. Oh, Dr. Klimpt, if only you were alive to mix up a batch of your wonderful salve, and perhaps even apply some to my poker-red anus! It is my only real birthday wish, but alas, it can never come true.