After looking over the lack of cool, original art on dentaleggs, I’m now looking for cool, original art for dentaleggs.
I can’t afford to pay you but I’m hoping your artwork will be hit with a plethora of positive traffic and future freelance work and my site hit with anyone willing to read absurd dental stuff.
Read some of the pieces from dentaleggs and see where your mind goes. I don’t believe in censoring art so go for it.
Thanks and I look forward to receiving your work.
Hello, everyone,When you have a moment, please read the following link or other trustworthy news sources regarding CISPA (Cyber Information Sharing and Protection Act). The bill has passed the house on Thursday. Please ask yourself what internet privacy means to you and the millions of other internet users across the globe. Thanks for reading.
To Lovely Patients Everywhere:
When I come across a patient who has a truck load of the blackest, most tenacious tartar on every tooth in their mouth I’ve ever come across, my hand writhing in pain because even my most powerful dental instrument isn’t able to remove it, I’m not saying to myself, “Poor thing. I’m so glad this patient is getting the proper treatment they need so I can get their gum disease under control. Their life is going to get so much healthier. God bless you.”
I’m really saying to myself:
“Goddamn, mother fucker! How the fuck did you let your mouth get this bad? Do you live under a fucking rock or something? Jesus christ, there are millions upon millions of packets of floss across the country. Why… why the fuck didn’t you get some? Now I can’t get this goddamn tartar off your teeth… dammit! Fucking… goddamn… tartar! Tartar! You! Tartar! Come off, already! Stupid… god… DAMN IT! Why is your god such an asshole?!”
So, when you notice beads of sweat dripping off my head and neck, please know I’m working extra hard for you — my lovely patients — and your oral health.
It’s just that… please don’t ask me how I’m doing during your treatment. I don’t want to release the voice inside of me.
And don’t forget to floss, you big sillies! *eyelids twitching*
Update: spelling errors corrected… sorry.
Hello and thank you for visiting dentaleggs.
For the past few weeks, I’ve been educating myself about lobbyists; what you people do, how you influence others in government, who hires you, etc. It’s an intriguing job. My stars, you work so very hard.
After not one iota of rational thinking or any clear perspective on this issue, I’ve decided I want to become a professional dental lobbyist to support the creation of dental therapists or mid-level providers in Illinois. I need you to show me the dental lobbying ropes because I think I can totally do what you folks do.
I mean, I’ll need a quality shot of whiskey and an eight-ball to kill the pain then I could do what you people do.
Now, from what I gather, a professional lobbyist is self-explanatory; an interested entity that believes my influence is worth ‘x’ amount of dollars.
People would listen to me; perhaps even ‘fear’ me. Fear means I would be respected.
My supreme ability to entice government officials for a ’cause’ that would put big money in their pockets, as well as mine, would become legendary.
My family and I would be able to pay off our bills. I could pay off the rest of my school loan. We could refinance on our house. Hell, we could finally work on the house.
Perhaps, we could even gut our cute, 1947 country kitchen, renovate the hell out of it and turn it into a 21st century, 3500 square feet, gourmet/plutocracy-inspired kitchen that would have its own bank and a velvet rope to keep out the cat.
Maybe, when the money starts rolling in, I could stop cleaning our house and hire someone else do it for us–weekly. Then, after I pay the cleaning woman her meager pay for wiping our shit off of our $5,000 toilet, I would go shopping at Restoration Hardware and simply point to the overpriced items I must have shipped to the house because I’m late for our daughter’s birthday party/dress rehearsal the party planner is charging $500 per hour for.
Then, after realizing our house is simply not big enough for hosting parties of 50+ guests, we purchase a bigger house–equipped with two butler pantries, a natural swimming pool overlooking Lake Michigan, and a 5500 sq. feet dance studio because our little one really needs to work on her pliés during her private lessons.
Wow. ‘Waking up’ politically is quite special and unique for each person, isn’t it? Huh.
In this era we live in we need money to fight the man! And I will fight!
And, apparently, I won’t come cheap. Booyah!
Respectfully and totally fired up,
E. M. Watson, RDH
P.S. Should I wear a push-up bra and v-neck sweaters for this gig?