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Window To The Body

March 20, 2013

Searching For Mr. White

Ever wonder why the whites of your eyes aren’t always white? In his new book, Dr. Salvador Oleander explains how discoloration in the whites of the eye may indicate more serious illness. He concludes that if more doctors were trained to recognize the signs that appear in the whites of the human eye that the rate of serious illness in the United States could be cut in half.

“They say the eyes are the window to the soul,” he writes in the introduction, “but I say they are the window to the body.”

Many in the medical community have been critical of his analysis.

Dr. Victor Filigree, ophthalmologist and fellow at Dawn Hopkins University, was quoted in the Internet Times-Picayune as saying that “diagnosing a patient by looking into their eyes is quackery of the highest order.” He continues: “Not satisfied with the failure of iridology, Mr. Oleander has moved on to the sclera.”

The criticism has done little to slow down sales of Dr. Oleander’s book. It has been at the top of the Publisher’s Charts for the last three weeks. It has received celebrity endorsements from both Republican Senator Odie DeBloom and Gina Turner, the comedienne turned actress who won the Anthony last month for her portrayal of Virginia Rappe. She credited Dr. Oleander with saving her life during her acceptance speech, boosting preorders of his book significantly.

The air in the boardroom crackled with tension. Every shift in the seat, every rustle of clothing, even the gentle smack of lips separating seemed to echo loudly across the room. All heads were turned toward Eric Wattkins who sat at the head of the table. His palms were pressed together under his nose and his chin was in his chest. His eyes were locked on the man at the other end of the table who had just finished speaking. The tension became unbearable, an infinite silence that roared in the ears of the gathered board members.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” said the man who had introduced this horrible tension into the room.

Eric Wattkins raised his chin.

“I wasn’t sure you had finished talking. It’s hard to tell where nonsense begins and ends.”

“It wasn’t nonsense, Mr. Wattkins, and you know it. All I’m asking for is information. We have a responsibility to our stockholders and I want to make sure we’re doing our due diligence.”

“And you thought you would do that by accusing me of corporate malfeasance?”

“I did no such thing.”

“You are questioning the way I have allocated funds and resources.”

“I just want to know why we’re paying to have some quack put on the bestseller list when he isn’t even published by our publishing arm. You putting money into the pockets of our rivals.”

“In business,” interrupted Amanda Guichard, sitting to the right of Eric Wattkins, “there are no rivals, only customers.”

“Nevertheless, we are spending money without making money. It’s unsustainable. Do you know how much it costs to get an Anthony award-winning actress to mention a product in her acceptance speech? I just want to know why we’re doing this.”

“You have one job, Jim,” Wattkins said dryly. “You’re the CFO. You worry about the finances; I’ll worry about the vision. You’re never going to understand the artistry that goes into making money.”

“But we’re not making money with any of this!”

Every head whipped toward Eric Wattkins anxious to see how he would react.

“This might just be your last board meeting, Jim,” he said slowly. “You always ruin everything but I will give you what you want. Amanda, if you please. It should go without saying that what you are about to see does not leave this room till after the product launch date which is planned for the end of next month. Amanda.”

Amanda Guichard pressed a button on a remote control. The lights dimmed and the gathered board turned to the screen that was hanging behind Eric Wattkins. He watched their faces as they watched the video. It was a commercial.


“I still don’t get it,” Jim said after the lights had come back on. “Eyeball whitener?”

“Not just eyeball whitener,” Amanda Guichard answered. “iWhite Eyeball Whitener.”

“So all this has just been about selling some eyeball whitener?”

Eric Wattkins was standing. He paced as he answered.

“You just don’t have the vision, Jim. We are selling snake oil. We’re about to make a whole lot of money because we are selling snake oil on a massive scale. With just a few well-placed dollars we find ourselves on the eve of the future. Think about it. We are telling the public what to buy and they will buy it. Whoever thought that someone could feel self-conscious about the color of their eyeball? They will. They will because we told them to. We are creating a market and dominating that new market all in one synergetic move. I predict that in less than a year, you will be buying your daughters fifty-dollar bottles of iWhite. But since you will be out of a job, you will have a hard time keeping your daughters happy. And when that happens, Jim, I will allow you back into the building to apologize. Amanda will send you the details of your exit package.”

He left the room abruptly. The board slowly shuffled out in stunned silence. Jim slumped in his chair. Amanda Guichard stopped beside him on her way out.

“You look terrible,” she said. “You need some iWhite.”

She smiled maliciously and left him alone to ponder his future.

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