Step Away From the Internet, Sparky

I am getting older. Perhaps that explains how I dream this shit up…

My annual breast exam will be conducted at Hooters.
Directions to my doctor’s office will include, “Take a left when you enter the trailer park.”
The tongue depressors will taste faintly of Fudgesicles.
The only proctologist in the plan is “Gus” from Roto-Rooter.
The only item listed under Preventive Care coverage is “An apple a day.”
My “primary care physician” is wearing the pants I gave to Goodwill last month.
Zanax will come in different colors with little “M”s on them.
“The patient is responsible for 200% of out-of-network charges” is not a typo.
The only expense covered 100% is embalming.
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Blanche Needs Help

According to the ads to the right of my precious FB real estate, I should pay attention to my real age, my jam box, and something about playing the hottest game for the hottest girls. If this is some sort of opt in/out research, can I make mega bucks participating, or should I be content in the knowledge that these are only subliminal messages designed to prompt me to insert a screwdriver into my eye?