Cancer needs a better publicist

Dear Cancer, the Big C, El Cancro, or whatever you are calling yourself these days.

I know you aren’t a zodiac sign or somebody who was born between June 22 and July 21, you are unregulated cell growth.

What you can't do Cancer

What you can’t do Cancer

So, Cancer, I am not sure if you know this, but you really suck. Nobody likes you.

No really, I mean it. I don’t think there is a single person on this planet who likes you.

You can argue that oncologists, drug companies, and sunscreen manufactures may respect you, but only in the sense that one must respect their enemy. But they don’t like you.

I may even venture to say that everybody hates you.  (Read this letter from Linda Bilyeu)

But really, can you blame them? The internet and social media is full of stories of how you have infected and brought down a friend or loved one. In the last six months, I can’t even count the number of people who have reported that their mother/ father/ sister/ brother/ aunt/ uncle/ son/ daughter / grandparent has died or is dying from cancer. Nobody likes that. Oh, and when they post pictures of little kids in the cancer ward with their bald heads and a smile that would melt the heart of any tyrant, it really downgrades your stock.

George Carlin has a theory about how the broccoli people may like cancer. Just watch below (it is George Carlin, so you should probably assume that it isn’t safe for work)

Everybody is asking for prayers, good thoughts, donations, or even just a space to vent. We all rally against you.

Even in my personal life, you’ve taken the life of two of my grandpas (lung cancer), one grandmother (breast cancer), infected the face of my sister (who now wears her scar like a badge of honor), you have taken the breasts of a ultra marathon running friend, the life of my best friend’s dad, gave leukemia to another friend’s daughter, gave Stage 4 lung cancer to the creator of our Dad Blogger group, and killed my dog.

Did you hear me?

You. Killed. My. Dog.

Tallulah, my first running dog. She passed away before the Dashing Daughter was born.

Tallulah, my first running dog. She passed away before the Dashing Daughter was born.

Come on Cancer!  How much of a prick can you be?  My dog was only 8 years old and had at least four more years of good life in her. She was running with me up to 12 miles  until you infected her lungs and her leg. What evil bastard kills good dogs, great parents, friends, and kids? You make good decent people wear things in public that say things like “Fuck Cancer!”

See, you just made me put a swear word on my blog. You Bastard!youbastard

All you are doing is strengthening our resolve to eradicate you.  Billions of dollars are going into cancer research.  People are fighting against you, even when the odds are stacked against them.

So, Cancer, if you want to stick around longer, you really need to change your image. Get a new publicist. First, leave kids and dogs alone. Really, these two groups are sacred in our culture. Not even Hollywood takes out kids and dogs except in rare instances. You should leave most normal people alone too.

What you need to do, Cancer, is focus on really bad people. We need to hear about how you are infecting serial killers, rapists, warlords, pedophiles, and cop killers. Get your publicist to fill social media and newspapers (newspapers? who reads those anymore?) with those stories.

How much would we have cheered Cancer if Osama Bin Laden had to post on his Facebook page that chemo had made his beard fall out? How about if Kim Jong Un (or Kim Jong Il) was forced to give up being a tyrant because he was too tired to get out of bed? Why don’t you start infecting the prostates of the warlords in Africa, like that jack-hole that kidnaped all those girls in Africa? What if serial rapists had to lose part of what makes them men? Of course they would have to deal with crappy insurance and fill out 482 pages of forms anytime they need a treatment or an operation.

Cancer, if you did that, we would be like, “Cancer is just Totes Amazeballs!”  Whatever that means, I heard a teenager say it the other day, so it must the cool/ groovy/ gnarley/ awesome thing to say these days. Know what I’m sayin’?  Word!

See, Cancer, if your publicist can focus media attention on these evil type people, and the suffering they endure than the masses will love you as much as the Kardashians. We  Just leave the good people alone.

Sincerely,

Dashing Dad

PS.  Dear Dashing reader,

Get yourself checked out if you think you might have some sort of melanoma/ tumor/ cancer

For a story on the progression of melanoma (skin cancer) go here

If you want to donate to Oren – please go here.

If you would rather donate to breast cancer research – please donate to the Breast Cancer Marathon

If you want to help prevent childhood leukemia – go to Team in Training

Or general cancer research – American Cancer Society

If you have a cancer story, good or bad, please include a link in the comments (please let me know on my facebook page that you left a comment, so I can fish it out of the spam folder if need be.)

 

 

2 thoughts on “Cancer needs a better publicist

  1. […] Brian S. Marks, Dashing Dad: Cancer Needs a Better Publicist […]

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