Dear Dr. Ding: the Case of the Gas Station Empanadas

Ed. note: the following is culled from a random, mashed-up sampling of [email protected]’s inbox queries from the last 7 days.
Dear Dr. Ding:

What is your favorite “cheat” food?

Also, would you please like to deposit the sum of One Million British Pounds Sterling into my good-as-Viagra penis enlarger for the low low price of $19.99? Fortuitiously, I cannot withdraw these monies from my longstanding and reputable firm’s offshore account, good madam. For it seems that you and your affiliates need cheap Vicodin? $1.99 a bottle, most assuredly? I invite you to try this all-natural male enhancement.

Signed,

WantToGrowABiggerMember

Dear Sir or Madam WantToGrowABiggerMember:

I don’t really cheat, because I am not on a particular diet. However, I do eat about 6 smallish, carb-balanced meals a day, and on Saturday nights I particularly enjoy eating a really great meal in a restaurant, including cocktails and dessert . I have, however, quite recently discovered that the nearby gas station sells empanadas that are truly wondrous. I have to count them as basically two meals and try to only eat them on days when I’m going to be very active or working out hard, because they are chock-full of fatty, hamburgery, deep-fried goodness. The gas fumes make a lovely counterpoint, much like a fine wine.

I’m not certain if you’re asking me to grow my OWN penis, or simply drug myself into some sort of semi-lucid state where all the penii out there look gargantuan. In any case, please just overnight me the Vicodoodles. Your constant phallic spams are giving me the rheumatiz and the lumbago.

Thanks ever so,

Dr. Ding

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