I was coming home the other night and a little sports car shot by. The plate read MIND DOC. Now, I know you may have jumped to the conclusion that this was a Psychiatrist, right? But let’s think for a minute. Would you, as a sensible, literate, American individual trust your mental health to a Board-Certified quack with the plate MIND DOC. A joke? Not acceptable. Mental health is no joking matter. And mental health professionals should be distinctly bland and particularly serious. You know, like Peter Bogdanovich on the Sopranos. Uptight. Wussy. The kind of guy who likes how he looks in an ascot.

No, this was no head shrinker. It was clear to me that MIND DOC could only be one thing. A super villain. Don’t laugh (be a humorless shrink for a minute and consider). This was a flamboyant plate for a flamboyant person. This was a plate for the kind of person who would use his enormous intellect (probably enhanced by some sort of complicated encounter with radioactive space debris) to develop a sinister plot that would put all humankind in fearful jeopardy. This was some serious shit. A brush with MIND DOC.

 You can laugh at me now, but in a few weeks, when there’s a doomsday ray pointed at the White House, and MIND DOC is demanding a billion dollars or he’ll vaporize the president…ok, bad example. Maybe the ray is pointed at the United Nations, or a box full of newborn kittens. The point is, when that doomsday ray is pointed at something we actually want to save, you remember you read it here first.