The Doctors Telling Us Not To Drink Our Urine Probably Just Want It For Themselves
Let me start by saying I’ve got nothing against doctors in general. My niece is a doctor. Most of them are warm, professional, and highly educated people. But lately I’ve noticed a very troubling trend: Almost every doctor I see goes out of their way to tell me not to drink my own urine. This happens so often, in fact, that I can only conclude they just want to keep it all for themselves.
Hear me out.
No doubt at some point you’ve gone to a doctor, maybe it was for your annual checkup, and that doctor has asked you to produce a urine sample. So far, so good. But have you ever wondered why, instead of having you drink your urine, they ask you to leave it behind with them?
Think about it. They have you pee in a cute little cup that’s the absolute perfect size for a quick shot of delicious urine, and then right when you’re about to put it to your lips and gulp it down, they get all worked up and tell you to stop—sometimes even shouting and waving their hands! Pretty soon you’re getting a lecture about how drinking urine supposedly isn’t good for you, how it’s not actually sterile but toxic, and how it’s time to hand over your pee.
For them. To keep. How very convenient.
I’ve tried switching primary care physicians, but it’s the same thing every time. They ask me why I smell like urine, and I say I don’t smell anything. They ask me if I’ve been drinking it again, and I just smile back at them. They try to act disappointed, or even disgusted, but you can tell they like what they smell and what they really want is to guzzle it all down right then and there.
It makes sense. These doctors know how good urine tastes, and they’re worried that if we ever found out, there’d be no beautiful golden-brown liquid left for them. Many are so desperate they’ve resorted to scare tactics. Have you noticed this? The other day my doctor told me with a straight face that consuming too much urine can cause dehydration and bacterial infections. Okay, doc! Sure thing. I’ll be sure to take that under advisement.
GLUG, GLUG, GLUG!
It’s gotten so ridiculous that at the hospital I’ve recently been admitted to they’re trying to make me give them even more urine samples so they can screen for kidney disease. This is because—they claim—my kidneys may be damaged from having to process all the so-called “toxins” in the many gallons of urine I drink each week. Yeah, right. Look, if they want to take my pee and run their little pee tests on it, fine. But they should give it back to me when they’re done instead of passing it around to all their buddies at one of those big urine parties they throw with all the samples they collect.
It’s my urine, okay? Drink your own.
I know what’s happening the moment we leave a doctor’s office. As soon as we’re out the door, our precious u-juice is cascading down their throats. I can picture the way it froths at the corners of their lips and how, just before a driblet escapes, they lap it all up with one big sweep of the tongue. They love the stuff and drink every last tangy-sweet dewdrop they can get their hands on. But this patient, for one, has gotten wise and will no longer be providing any “specimens” for their “labs.”
Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve been sitting here for quite a spell, so I believe I’ll get up and go sample this mouthwatering batch of bladder wine I’ve had brewing inside me for the past few hours.
Jesus Christ is King
