Sitting Down With Wilford "Beetus" Brimley to Discuss Angelman Syndrome

Disclaimer:**First of all, Diabetes is a serious medical condition, and this satire piece, is in no shape or form, to minimize the seriousness of it. I have family members with Diabetes, close friends, and witness what they go through on a near daily basis. It is yet another thing that we must cure, and my hearts and prayers are always with people affected by it. As for Wilford Brimley, I really like him. In fact, I've defended him from having Liberty Medical, from putting "imposters" in his stead, with those famous "diabeeetus" commercials during "The Price is Right." Absolutely outrageous to put someone else other than the man with the stache in there, and Wilford Brimley has been a champion for people with diabetes since the Dinosaur age. Finally, if the folks at Liberty or Beetus want to sue me for having this "faux interview", I'm worth all of about fifty cents.




I was intimidated to be sitting in that room in Florida. Yes the balmy, humid air made the mosquitos sweat outside the air conditioned building of Liberty Medical, but I was about to meet one person, that has had profound influence on my life. You can never prepare for these moments, no matter how tough you think you are, or that you have your game face on. Beneath the veneer is apprehension, and sweat trickled down my back. It was 1 p.m. on the clock. The seconds ticked away like hours, and even the kind lady from Liberty, who brought me chilled water and a sandwich, could not calm my rattled nerves. Wilford Brimley. The chance to meet none other than the very essence of masculinity, the studly man who has made women all over the world swoon, and to have this once in a lifetime opportunity to interview him made me nervous.

That towel helped wipe off the sweat. A commercial showing Mr. Beetus, with that famous scene where he is working on horse shoes, made me get even more antsy. The chair legs were shaking. Loosening up my tie, I tried to scour my notes. "Be Prepared". The Boy Scout motto kept being in my thoughts, as the minute hand turned on the clock, and the phones from the adjoining room rang off the hook. It was almost as if the walls were coming closer, like that famous garbage room scene from Star Wars, and there was no Luke Skywalker or Han Solo to save me. Yep, I was on my own, with perhaps the most famous man on the planet. Footsteps were heard. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and with trepidation, I tried to swallow, but just could not. That door opened, and Wilford Brimley was right in front of me. It took every bit of energy, to just stand up, shake his hand. Yet I could not look into his eyes, due to him being the alpha males of all, and virtually the apex predator of all ladies in the world with his panache.

Beetus looked at me up and down, and said, "Good morning." I didn't dare correct him, as he would have throttled me, and left me in a pile of rubble that the NTSB would have to investigate. "Uh Good morning Mr. Beetus." He was wearing his blue sweater, to exude that confidence that he has, and the walrus stache was fully groomed, to show that he was someone "who would not suffer fools easily." He asked for a few donuts, cracked a beer, and just downed it like a college student would at a frat party. Then, he simply crushed the can with his bare hands. After some pleasantries were exchanged, all on my part, he agreed to sit down and talk about Angelman Syndrome. He cracked his knuckles in a leather chair with cow horns that you'd see on an old Cadillac, and just glared in my direction. Here is a following transcript, and although I'm still taking numerous tranquilizers after this encounter, I'm thankful to Mr. Beetus for being involved.

Mike: M Beetus: Mr. B



M: "Mister Beetus, its a pleasure to see you today. Perhaps we can talk a bit. How's your day going?

Mr. B- "I just shoed ten horses, chased my pain in the cushion grandkids away from my O gauge train set, and put on ten ounces of Brut cologne to get rid of the cowpoke ugly cigar odors, how the heck do you think I'm doing?"

M: "Um...okay, I see your point. I came today to see what you knew about Angelman Syndrome."

Mr.B-"Angelman Syndrome? I've never heard of it, even though I just flew in first class on an airliner, and was extremely annoyed by the lack of leather in the plane. No cowboy hats, no Amp or Red Bull for me to drink, and that darned flight attendant made me put out my cigar. Excuse me, I'm Beetus, and I do whatever the heck I want to do. Got it?"

M: "Yes Mr. Beetus. Indeed. Angelman Syndrome is caused by a partial deletion of chromosome 15, and affects one in every 10-15,000 people. It leads to severe developmental delays, including limited to no speech, seizures, and although children with it generally have happy dispositions, don't you think we should find a cure.

Mr.B-"Well, don't mind my unruly manners, while I polish off my oversized belt buckle, but yeah. If I could run the Liberty Medical Bus over it, do you think it would help?"

M: "If it was only that easy. Actually there are a couple of organizations in the United States working for a cure right now."

Mr. B-"Great, so I gotta sit here with the cowpies on my ranch. What on earth are you talkin' about sunny? You young whippersnapper!!!!

M: "Mr. B, would you like a tranquilizer sir? There is the Angelman Syndrome Foundation(www.angelman.org) and FAST(www.cureangelman.org) that are sponsoring multiple research projects. But there are two mouse based ones, based on the works of Dr. Edwin Weeber at the University of Tampa, along with Dr. Ben Philpot at the University of North Carolina."

Mr.B-"Both southern schools, where I can wear my cowboy hat, ride a horse, and find a spitoon."

M: "Mr. B, please."

Mr.B-"That's excellent. Two shots in my revolver are better than one, is that what you are saying? If so, let me show you my trusty .357 magnum, that I'm ready to use at any given moment, especially towards those that put pictures up of me looking like a cat with a moustache, or a blasted walrus!"

M: "Mr. B, okay first point, that's right. But please, keep that trusty Colt in your holster where it belongs. You got the concept though, as having two projects that are working towards a cure, do have that type of chances. Its an improvement for sure, and let's hope that these provide therapeutic help or a cure for Angelman Syndrome."

Mr. B: "That seems as reasonable as shoeing my horses, but without those fancy Nike's you are wearing. A real man would wear cowboy boots ya little punk, don't you think? Where's that swagger in your step?"

M: "Mr. B, with all due respect, aren't you excited that a cure is closer than ever? Will you support their efforts, along with keeping up with Angelman research, at other institutions as well?"

Mr. B: "Yeah, I will. After I'm finished watching this western, I'll be sure to check it out. But its time for me to go, as there are plenty of ladies at South Beach ride now, looking for their stud of all studs to show up. So gotta roll, before I kick your tail where it belongs."

With that, Mr. B left the room. There was no "goodbye," not even a handshake. He is without a doubt, one of the most intimidating people I've ever met. Yet, he showed an interest, and the work going towards Angelman Syndrome, could have far reaching impacts for people contending with Alzheimers, Parkinson's, and a whole host of other medical conditions. Cancer fighting drugs are part of the process, along with other already FDA approved processes. It was sad to leave the empty room at Liberty Medical, and not even get Beetus's autograph, but the key is generating awareness for Angelman Syndrome, along with a cure. The fact that Beetus allowed me to leave the room, is perhaps a reward enough, because this man could simply destroy me with that upper body strength and bastion of masculinity that he's known for.