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/ Bernard was a young eighty-three, not a gomer, and able to talk. He'd been transferred from MBH \
| (Man's Best Hospital), the House's Rival. Founded in Colonial times by the WASPs, the insemination |
| of MBH by non-WASPs had taken place only mid-twentieth century with the token multidextrous |
| Oriental surgeon, and finally, with the token red-hot internal-medicine Jew. Yet, MBH was still |
| Brooks Brothers, while the House was still the Garment District. For Jews at MBH the password was |
| "Dress British, Think Yiddish." It was rare to get a TURF from the MBH to the House, and the Fat |
| Man was curious: "Bernard, you went to the MBH, they did a great work-up, and you told them, after |
| they got done, you wanted to be transferred here. Why?" |
| |
| "I rilly don't know," said Bernard. |
| |
| "Was it the doctors there? The doctors you didn't like?" |
| |
| "The doctus? Nah, the doctus I can't complain." |
| |
| "The test or the room?" |
| |
| "The tests or the room? Vell, nah, about them I can't complain." |
| |
| "The nurses? The food?" asked Fats, but Bernard shook his head no. Fats laughed and said, "Listen , |
| Bernie, you went to the MBH, they did this great workup, and when I asked you why you came to the |
| House of God, all you tell me is, 'Nah, I can't complain.' So why did you come here? Why, Bernie, |
| why?" |
| |
| "Vhy I come heah? Vell, said Bernie, "Heah I can complain." |
| |
\ -- House of God /
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