Many secrets may lie in those ‘miracle cures’
THERE’S an old story about a salesman who arrived in a small American town and set up his stand in the square and began touting the amazing properties of his “miracle cure”. It was made according to an ancient recipe locked for thousands of years in an Egyptian pharoah’s tomb, he said, and could offer the promise of everlasting life. “I have been taking my miracle cure every morning and I am now 336 years old and feel as fit as a 20-year-old. My lovely assistant here will sell you a bottle for only two dollars!”
One doubter in the audience went up to the pretty young lady and asked: “Is it true that he has lived for 336 years?”
“I can’t honestly say,” she replied. “I’ve only been working for him for the past 95 years.”
There have always been “snake-oil salesmen” offering miracle cures for every ailment imaginable. I often find pamphlets in my letterbox from sangomas offering to improve my virility, make my boss promote me, free me from witchcraft and help me win the Lotto.
It sounds like a real bargain and I always have a small chuckle before tossing the pamphlet into the bin.
We may chuckle at some of the old scams, but there are more snake-oil salesmen about these days than ever before. Just take a look at he remedies and cures offered every day on Facebook and Google. You’ll find an endless stream of advertisements offering cures for ailments as varied as obesity, erectile dysfunction, cancer, hair loss and crotch itch.
If you click on any of them be prepared for a long session. The secret lies in a pure natural ingredient that has been used for centuries by the natives of Baroongolu Island, where cancer and crotch itch are virtually unknown. After a 10-minute sales pitch, you will be offered the secret in a book which would normally cost you $100, but is being offered for a limited time at only $20 with a complimentary jar of patooti berry syrup thrown in free. “Hurry and order your copy now before the pharmaceutical profession shuts me down.”
Most of them say doctors have known about his miracle substance for ages, but have been unwilling to share it because “Big pharma” makes too much money selling us chemicals which are actually designed to keep us sick.
As a young reporter, once I was almost persuaded to write the story of a man who had discovered a simple cure for cancer, but was receiving death threats from the medical profession, who did not want the facts revealed. He even promised to introduce me to people who could swear they had been cured of cancer the doctors said was terminal.
I’ve often wondered whether I should have taken him more seriously. What if he was right?
Last Laugh
A visitor stopped in a small, drought-stricken Karoo dorp in the blazing summer heat and went to the local bar for a beer.
“Tell me,” he said to he barman, “does it ever rain here?”
“Well, yes, it does,’” came the reply. “You remember that time when it’s recorded in the Bible that it rained for 40 days and 40 nights?” “You mean Noah’s flood?” “Ya, that’s the one! Well, they say we had nearly an inch and a half that time.”