text: Some said that this was a nose candy glorification flick, but short of the original Dr. Hyde's concoction, no drug has yet been developed that can provide THIS effect. If Viagra was the slime mold stage, that white sparkling powder is the Stephen Hawking evolutionary rung (or at least the pharmacist idiot savant branch). This reality show is really about the sacred cows of medicine, seen as was the emperor without clothes. Few of us want to question the health field; both because most of us would not have lived to our current age had we been born before "modern medicine", and because our subconscious hopes that we will continue to live on if we have faith in the helping professions. So the geniuses who produced this movie made jokes out of those Calcutta Bessy's, giving us the sugar that allows us to swallow the modern institution of medicine. The timing was right, and many were able to see the business side of the healing companies behind the curtain of Oz. A decade before, when George C. Scott ranted through the movie The Hospital, my wife and I were sitting in the packed premiere in Oklahoma City. Just as in Jekyll & Hyde's remake, we were almost unable to keep from falling out of our seat, and laughed and howled uncontrollably for the duration. The hundreds of other audience members were deadly silent. They were shocked that doctors, nurses, & the hospital institution were being mocked. It was as if the Pope, Billy Graham, and Gandhi were were sitting in the Animal House, beer stained tee shirts and all, competing to see who could tell the funniest God knock-knock jokes between belches. Had The Hospital been a slapstick comedy rather than a satire, they might have been able to see what was being shown to them. Unfortunately they were like Republicans at a screening of Michael Moore's 9/11. Perhaps smaller golden parachutes would have been given to the corrupt medical corporation leaders, health insurance companies would have had a tougher time denying medical care, and health providers would have been demystified earlier, if George C. Scott had tap danced in a tutu while delivering his terrible truths. But--forget everything I just said. Watch the movie, be consciously made as happy and joyful and full of laughter as the best ever Saturday Night Live skit, and let the subconscious soak in the documentary of the underlying reality. Just don't blame me when "Got to Got to Got to Got to" becomes one of your sayings, or when "Hyde's Got Nothing to Hide" occupies that portion of your brain now paralyzed by "Its a Small World After All". Or when you start calling your local hospital Our Lady of Pain and Suffering instead of Our Lady of Eternal Construction. Even Oklahomans were changing their favorite terrible boss wishbone winner entreaty from "Piss on him and leave him for dead", to "Body in a pit, you in it....." The smell of death...it's gone! Chicken sushi! Mary. MARY. MARYEEEEEEEEEEEEE!