From the Proceedings of the National Congress on Medical Quackery, held October 6-7, 1961, sponsored by the Food and Drug Administration and the American Medical Association:
“The Keys to Quackery”
William H. Gordon, M.D.
Luncheon speaker—
There is an abiding belief among “con men” that the easiest “mark” is one who believes himself to be “hep.” They demonstrate the soundness of this premise countless times each day. Most people living in the United States believe themselves to be “hep.”
…
Our…scene takes place in a girl’s bedroom, one that could be found in many homes throughout this land. Our star is a girl in her early teens. Invading her privacy, which had been insured by securely locked doors and tightly drawn curtains, one encounters a scene, which if it were not filled with such bright dreams and destined to end with bitter tears of chagin and dissapointment, would be highly ludicrous.
Our player, unattractively clad only in a pair of panties draped over winged hip bones, has knobby knees, spindly legs, and a thin little body with all the curves and contours of a match. She is standing in front of her dresser, looking not in the mirror, but down at two little nubbins on her chest that for all the world have the appearance of two fried eggs. With the magic lotion that arrived only today she is carefully massaging these tiny protuberances, and as she does, her glance falls upon the printed label, “Bust-O-Fill,” price $3.95. What a fitting title! What a reasonable price!
….
The third scene takes place in a second floor back bedroom in a third or fourth rate hotel. Our player, a man no longer young but refusing to accept this obvious fact, has devoted his life exclusively to horses and women. Things have been going rather badly of late. He had cashed in on a lucky pick in the third at Narragansett, but who could remember when he had cashed in on a dame.
While these sobering thoughts were flashing through his mind, he was standing in front of a cracked mirror attached to a knobless dreser. He touched some gret showing through at the temples, removed frayed threads from his cuffs, and casually brushed the toes of one shoe on the back of the other leg.
Our player thoughtfully thumbed through a men’s magazine to something that last night had caught his eye. He read it again: “Men! Why Grown Old? Regain Your Youth. Youth is Yours if You Act Now.”
Into an addressed enveloped went two well handled ten’s and a coupon with a return address. His key was desperation — cold, soul chilling desperation.