Dear Otus,
I'm so distraught, I don't know what to do. I want desperately to be a good citizen and neighbor, but I'm now afraid to go out of my house.
My yard is apparently so awful after this long, dry summer that it's come to the attention of the Lawn Doctor. I've always respected doctors and the Lawn Doctor has even hung a flier on my door entreating me to make my lawn "green and weed- and pest-free."
Dare I go against the doctor's wishes? What ever shall I to do?
-- Ima Fuhrayd,
Maumelle
Dear Ima,
It was wholly a pleasure to hear from you, and an additional pleasure to allay your unfounded, if not entirely unreasonable, fears.
Doctors are usually meant to be heeded, but the Lawn Doctor, just like "Dr." Phil McGraw on television, is not a real medical doctor. McGraw has a doctorate in clinical psychology from the University of North Texas in Denton.
Dr. Phil can't write your lawn a prescription, but he can make you bawl like a baby on television, wallowing in a cesspool of pity from years of pent-up bitterness and regressive recrimination.
He's really good at that.
Perhaps you might believe the Lawn Doctor is more like Dr. Oz -- full name Mehmet Cengiz Oz. Dr. Oz is, in fact, an actual medical doctor, although you wouldn't know it from the questionable advice he doles out on his TV show.
Dr. Oz is a triple "winner" of the James Randi Educational Foundation's satirical Pigasus Award. His last honor (in 2012) was for his "continued promotion of quack medical practices, paranormal belief, and pseudoscience."
Dr. Oz, who has degrees from three Ivy League schools, is smart enough to know better. The Ohio-born son of wealthy Turkish emigrants went to Harvard, then got his medical degree from the University of Pennsylvania School of Medicine, and a master's in business administration from Penn's Wharton School.
The Lawn Doctor isn't even like the rapper Dr. Dre (Andre Romelle Young), or Doctor J, Dr. Strangelove, or Doctor Who.
Heck, even Dr. Seuss wasn't a real doctor.
The Lawn Doctor does not take a Hippocratic oath that begins, "First, do no lawn ... without an extended service contract."
Dr. Phil may play a doctor on TV and the Lawn Doctor may have a big white van with a green thumb on the side, but he will not park out front and say, "You cannot change what you do not acknowledge," then force you to re-evaluate your priorities in order to save your marriage and your lawn.
The Lawn Doctor simply wants to sell you a yard care service of fertilization and weed control. The Lawn Doctor even has special services for businesses and churches. And it all comes with a money-back satisfaction guarantee.
Nothing makes the angels smile like a plush, weed-free, fairway-esque church lawn. There is, you see, no Digitaria sanguinalis in heaven. The Pearly Gates are not vexed by microdochium.
Not only is the Lawn Doctor not a real doctor, he's not even a person. The Lawn Doctor is, in reality, a company based in Matawan, N.J., that was founded in 1967.
In the early days the business was known as "Auto Lawn," for some reason, although putting an automobile on your lawn is universally known to do damage to tender vegetation and root systems.
Your local Lawn Doctor is actually a franchisee of the New Jersey company and although the employees may wear white lab coats, if they so choose, they have no more connection to the medical profession than Doctor John, Dr. Laura, Dr. Demento, or Doc Severinsen (kids, ask your grandparents).
The Lawn Doctor does have a mission statement that says, in part, it strives to "enhance [customers'] investment and quality of life."
Granted, quality of life sounds health-related, but it seems suspiciously nebulous, like those assurances that guarantee your house paint job "as long as you are the owner."
What happens when you sell your home? Does the house suddenly realize you're gone and peel like a bad sunburn?
My mission statement is "Take no guff before its time," so, my final advice is, if you can live with a carpet of fescue and hairy galinsoga, then so be it. Call it a "natural lawn" or say you're conserving water.
If not, call the Lawn Doctor for peace of mind. He's also good at "integrated pest management," keeping an eye out for mites, spittlebugs and fungus.
Until next time, Kalaka reminds you that if you do take guff, be sure to take it with a full glass of water.
Disclaimer: Fayetteville-born Otus the Head Cat's award-winning column of humorous fabrication
appears every Saturday. E-mail:
mstorey@arkansasonline.com
HomeStyle on 08/22/2015