THE EFFECT OF GAMMA RAYS ON MAN-IN-THE-MOON MARIGOLDS

Could it be that, as a nation, we are simply unworthy of our Very Stable Genius?  Every press conference brings a new medical breakthrough, courtesy Donald Trump.  It’s just too bad our doctors and scientists can’t keep up with him.  You almost feel sorry for Deborah Birx, who is clearly out of her depth in the presence of a man who ranks with Pasteur, Salk, and even Hippocrates himself.

Unlike Donald Trump, I’m not qualified to opine about medicine.  But patent medicine?  That’s a different story.  Patent medicines free us from the tyranny of science and empower everyone to be their own experts.  Is it possible that a long-forgotten nostrum from the middle of the previous century holds the key to defeating COVID-19?  I report, you decide.

The best thing about patent medicines is that they usually don’t kill you.  That seems kind of important.  When you’re trying to decide whether to drink a Clorox cocktail or do a Lysol enema, your odds of survival should be part of the equation.  It’s that old “cure worse than disease” thing.

And with that in mind, it’s time for another trip down memory lane.  My memory lane, anyway, though perhaps not yours.  The time:  1950.  The place:  Louisiana.  The problem:  the populace needs more pep, and the hustler needs more money.  The solution:  Dudley J. Le Blanc, a minor league politician and major league con man, marketed an alcohol-based patent medicine he called Hadacol.  LeBlanc was a lot like Donald Trump, only smarter. 

LeBlanc sold Hadacol as a “tonic” to boost vitality.  It turned out that the folks whose vitality needed boosting the most tended to be southerners who lived in a dry state or dry county.  LeBlanc beat the prohibition against selling alcohol by adding vitamins and herbs to his formula.  But the thing that proved he was a marketing genius was that he made Hadacol taste bad. 

That’s right.  By all accounts, Hadacol tasted awful.  Why was that a feature rather than a bug?  Because then your nosy neighbors couldn’t claim that you were drinking alcohol for enjoyment.  After all, it’s not a sin if you don’t enjoy it, right?  Hadacol’s terrible taste insured that no one would drink it for pleasure.  Nod, nod, wink, wink. 

LeBlanc turned a $3.6 million profit in 1950, which was serious money in those days; and he was just getting warmed up.  In 1951, LeBlanc launched the Hadacol Goodwill Caravan, an old-fashioned medicine show that toured the south with headliners like Bob Hope, Lucille Ball, Judy Garland, and Hank Williams.  The price of admission was a Hadacol box top, and the Caravan drew crowds of 10,000 or more at many stops. 

In a radio interview, Groucho Marx asked LeBlanc what Hadacol was good for. "It was good for five million dollars for me last year," LeBlanc shot back.  That answer would have made complete sense to Donald Trump.  Trump would have understood intuitively that Hadacol was some kind of scam.  Like Trump, LeBlanc calculated that he could make more money if he didn’t pay his suppliers.  He cashed out just in time to leave someone else holding the bag.  Well played, we can imagine Trump saying.

Donald Trump campaigned in 2016 on reviving moribund industries.  I propose adding Hadacol to that list. For medicinal purposes only, of course.  Because if alcohol kills the virus on external surfaces, why wouldn’t it do the same internally?    

After all, we don’t know for sure that Hadacol doesn’t work against COVID-19, and that’s almost the same as saying that it does work.  Our new Hadacol barons will have to tweak the formula, though.  The original 12% alcohol by volume isn’t strong enough.  When the Hadacol factories re-open, they’ll need to pump out bottles that are 70% alcohol.  At 140 proof, this new, improved Hadacol would be among the most potent liquors on the market.  It would pack quite a punch.  Luckily, the dosage – 4 tablespoons a day – is relatively low.

As a bonus, we must not forget the beneficial effects of a good placebo response.  A couple of tablespoons of 140 proof Hadacol would encourage a nice warm, fuzzy placebo effect. 

I’ll kickstart the project by drafting an advertising campaign:  some pep in your step.  Put some pride in your stride.  Drink Hadacol – it may not kill the virus, but it won’t kill you, either.”  Let’s run it up the flagpole and see who salutes.