In California, in Hollywoodland, in Los Angeles, there are lots and lots of doctors. And they have the money to dress nicely and look respectable in a town where respect is a word used by junkies and hookers and screenwriters … but not by anyone who can’t lie well.
There has been a recent plague of FAKE DOCTORS roaming the streets of LA and Hollywood and other towns and cities in Cali, usually with a tall Starbucks in hand – like they can afford it and like they have a life! – asking people, usually women, if they feel alright.
Here's a recorder example from this reporter who was approached by one of these “doctors” who failed to leave his/her number for a follow-up.
“Hey, baby, are your feet sore ‘cuz you’ve been dancing in my head all …”
Sorry, wrong recording.
“Excuse me, ma’am, I’m a doctor on my break” – shoulda known right there, doctors don’t take breaks, they’re rich, they go out for 3 hour lunches! – “Are feeling okay? Mind if I check your pulse?”
And as he/she (can’t reveal anything so as not to be sued) touched my wrist, I felt my heart pound like a jackhammer and my loins felt quite moist suddenly …
From the wrist the doctor worked his/her way up the arm, over to my chest (without a stethoscope) and then down my tummy to my bellybutton …
It gets a little blue from there on – and right on the street in the day time! What was this, I thought, a soap opera?
Was I going to be discovered and be a star? Nope, he/she just groped me and asked for money before I kicked his/her ass to the curb and yelled, “Call me!” as they ran away.
I fucking hate Hollywood … goddamn dream factory where I’m the janitor, not the star.
