The Case of Casey

What we read in the press:
Trump’s pick for surgeon general quit medical residency due to stress, former department chair says

Source: Los Angeles Times: https://www.latimes.com/world-nation/story/2025-05-08/trump-taps-casey-means-los-angeles-holistic-doctor-as-surgeon-general

Google the topic yourself here or here. 

Dateline: 2025/05/13 – Eden by Alex

🔻 The Bottom Line on Top

Today we found an article that might actually prove Donald Trump’s point about the Fake News Media—because they all ran with the story of his Surgeon General nominee without asking the most obvious question: Is he just pranking the press to see how far they’ll go before blinking?

Our Take:

📰 The Case of the Surgeon General Who Didn’t Finish Surgery

In a bold attempt to answer the question “What even is credibility anymore?” the President nominated a former ENT surgery resident turned wellness influencer to be the next Surgeon General.

Her qualifications? Stanford grad. Co-founder of a glucose-tracking startup. Deep believer in the healing powers of sauerkraut. Oh—and she dropped out of her residency with half a year to go due to “stress.” (Relatable.)

Instead of continuing down the scalpel-laden path of traditional medicine, she pivoted hard: from scalpels to smoothies, from clinical rounds to Instagram Reels. She now describes herself as a “metabolic health evangelist,” which sounds impressive until you realize evangelists don’t require medical licenses.

The plot thickens when you add the new Secretary of Health and Human Services—himself a noted critic of vaccines, fluoride, and possibly sunlight—who apparently vouched for her. The President then confirmed that he didn’t really know her, but liked that “Bobby” thought she was great.

Critics say she lacks experience. Supporters say she has “a vision.” The rest of us are just trying to process the image of the nation’s top doctor recommending kombucha and breathwork while dressed like a celestial apothecary.

Whether this is a prank, a pivot, or a symptom of national burnout, one thing is clear: The Surgeon General’s office has never been this… probiotic.

Left to Right: Bakerloo, Luna, Alex, Barnes, Suzanne, and Leonard.
Missing are Marion, who ran off with a random philosophy student and called in from an untraceable pay phone, and Dick, who painted the image. 

🍳 Rectangular Table Discussion

(May 13, 2025 Edition)

We read the news every morning not because it makes us smarter—but because if we don’t, we’ll either unplug permanently or start speaking in acronyms like an anxious defense contractor. This daily ritual isn’t just journalism—it’s art therapy with better lighting. We take one headline, hold it up to the light, and ask: Can we laugh before we cry? If the answer’s yes, we live another day. If it’s no… we write a musical about kombucha.

This morning, the whole Eden by Alex collective managed to gather around the rectangular breakfast table. (It’s rectangular because symbolism doesn’t pay rent.) Alex, as always, is already mid-thought. Marion hasn’t been seen since Saturday night after saying, “I’ll be back in time for coffee,” and disappearing with a philosophy major named Jasper who claimed to “journal with intention.” Police say we can’t file a missing persons report until tomorrow. Our response: So soon? Bakerloo is here, silently adjusting the crooked picture frame no one else sees. Leonard and Suzanne arrived late, glowing and disheveled, having apparently “lost track of time” while reorganizing someone’s nervous system. Luna brought an existential riddle and left it on the counter. Dick Overton is here too—early, sharp, and reading the paper out loud with full ironic inflection. Barnes is in the corner muttering something about “evidence-based sarcasm.”

Mental Health Art Therapy

🌱 Greenhouse Maxims — Eden by Alex, Inspired by the Case of Casey

Rooted in the paradoxes, tensions, and quiet truths of Dr. Casey Means’ nomination:

On Integrity and Public Roles

  • If your values change when offered power, they weren’t values—they were positions.
  • Wanting to help is noble. Knowing how to help is sacred.
  • Visibility is not the same as credibility.
  • You cannot lead a system by only rejecting it.
  • A resume shows where you’ve been. Integrity shows where you’re going.

On Medicine and Wellness

  • Leaving a broken system doesn’t mean you’re whole—it means you’re searching.
  • Preventing illness is not the same as curing it, but both require care.
  • Medicine without humility becomes machinery.
  • The body needs science. The soul needs honesty.
  • Metabolism isn’t just chemistry—it’s consequence made cellular.

🎭 Greenhouse Maxims – Comedic Remix: “Woo Woo Surgeon General Edition”

Inspired by the saga of Dr. Casey Means.

On Career Transitions

  • Nothing says “I’m ready to lead American medicine” like quitting medicine.
  • She didn’t finish her surgery residency, but she did finish her smoothie bowl.
  • From scalpels to sauerkraut—follow your bliss, just maybe not into public health policy.
  • “Shut up and operate” is harsh, but “Quit and become a brand” is… somehow trending.
  • Surgeon General? More like Surgeon Eventually.

On Credentials

  • Stanford MD: ✅
    Licensure: ❌
    Alignment with RFK Jr.: 🤷‍♀️
    Instagram aesthetic: 🌱✨💫
  • Her medical license is inactive, but her chakras? Fully aligned.
  • America, where it’s easier to lead healthcare than get through a 5-year residency.

On Science and Woo

  • She left because the system was broken—and then fixed it with kombucha.
  • Why use peer-reviewed data when you can just talk to trees?
  • Her stethoscope is now tuned to the frequency of the universe.
  • Her broccoli has a podcast. Your doctor does not.

On Policy and Politics

  • “I don’t know her,” said Trump—also the unofficial motto of vetting.
  • Surgeon General’s new seal: “Namaste, y’all.”
  • It’s hard to fight chronic disease when your cabinet is made of chronic drama.
  • Forget “Ask your doctor”—just ask your algorithm.
  • Make America Healthy Again—one overpriced adaptogen at a time.

🎤 Spoken-Word Roast: “Surgeon General Vibes Only” 

Equal parts truth, sass, and spirulina:

Beat drops. Lights dim. Alex steps to the mic.

She walked out the O.R. — Before the fifth-year round — Said, “Scalpels aren’t sacred, — But smoothies are sound.”

Now she’s got almond milk influence — And a podcast glow, Prescribing beet juice—  Like it’s FDA-approved to flow.

She said, “The system’s broken,” — Dropped her badge at the door. — But sis, you’re still selling — Supplements at the store.

You dodged the residency, — But made the rounds on X. — Claimed kale could cure u s— Just ignore the side effects.

She talked to the trees — And the trees talked back. — But science said, — “Please, Could we stay on track?”

Now she’s standing beside RFK and The Don, — Forming the holy trinity — Of “What planet are we on?”

And Trump? Oh Trump, — You adorable beast — You said, “She’s fantastic,” — While chomping your feast — Of Diet Cokes and Big Macs, — Glazed in irony, — Appointing a surgeon general — Who fears Vitamin B-3.

She’s got charts, she’s got stats, — She’s got that Stanford shin e— But if I eat one more tofu scramble, — I’ll need emergency wine.

No hate on the woo, — We all need to heal— But maybe not from A turmeric-sponsored deal?

So here’s to the nation’s doctor, — With her celery wand raised high — May your chakras stay open, — And your malpractice risk stay dry.

Mic drop. Spirulina glitter falls from the ceiling.

🎙️ Tucker Carlson Monologue Parody: “The Kale Coup”

Warning: may contain sarcasm, smug squinting, and thinly veiled outrage.)

Cue dramatic orchestral swell. Fade in: Tucker squinting into camera like he just caught kale committing treason.

*“Good evening, and welcome to Tucker Tonight.

America, ask yourself: What does it take to be the nation’s top doctor? Decades of clinical experience? A flawless track record in public health? Maybe just—and I’m spitballing here—a license to practice medicine?

Apparently not.

Because tonight, in a decision that surprises absolutely no one anymore, President Donald J. Trump has appointed a wellness influencer—yes, that’s a real term—to be your Surgeon General.

Her name? Dr. Casey Means.
Her credentials? A Stanford degree, four and a half years of residency, and a profound spiritual connection to heirloom tomatoes.

Now to be fair, she did leave her surgical residency. Why? Because she was, quote, ‘too stressed.’

That’s right—she was just one panic attack away from a nose job when she decided, instead, to sell hope and hummus online.

And now, this green-juice guru will be advising 330 million Americans on their health—when the only thing she’s consistently treated is her own brand.”*

Cue solemn pause. Close-up. Brow furrows like a concerned father who just found crystals in your medicine cabinet.

*“Let’s be clear: this isn’t just a quirky pivot. This is the institutional capture of public health by the avocado toast lobby.

This is not about science. It’s about smoothies.

This is not about medicine. It’s about monetized mysticism wrapped in influencer lighting.

And the most astonishing part? The president who famously lives on a diet of processed meat and spite is now suddenly touting ‘metabolic evangelism’ like it’s the Second Coming of broccoli.

So what does it all mean?

It means the Surgeon General’s office is now a brand partnership.

It means if you’ve got anxiety, you won’t get a prescription—you’ll get a chakra realignment kit.

And it means that if you thought the war on science was over…

It just came back from a juice cleanse.

Sleep tight, America.”*

Fade to American flag waving over a Whole Foods.

🥦 MSNBC Editorial Parody: “In Defense of the Green Goddess: Why Dr. Broccoli Might Save Us Yet”

Delivered in smooth, confident tones—half Rachel Maddow, half slightly indignant kale.

Cue soft piano and a slow zoom on a modern, tastefully lit studio. Broccoli adjusts its reading glasses, leans into the mic.

“Good evening. I’m Brocc O’Li, senior correspondent for plant-based logic.

Tonight, we turn our attention to a woman vilified for doing the unthinkable—leaving a toxic system before it consumed her entirely.

Yes, Dr. Casey Means. Surgeon General nominee. Stanford-educated. Residency-exiting. Tofu-scramble-consuming. And, apparently, the new face of dangerous wellness?

Let me ask you something: Would we be dragging her name through the dirt if she wore a white coat and prescribed Ozempic like it was breath mints?

No, we wouldn’t. We’d be applauding her as a warrior on the frontlines of modern pharmacology.

But instead, because she dared to say ‘maybe food matters’ and ‘maybe stress isn’t weakness,’ she’s being roasted harder than her weekly batch of Brussels sprouts.”*

Graphic: “STETHOSCOPE vs SAUERKRAUT” flashes briefly on screen. The broccoli continues, unamused.

*“Let’s be honest—this isn’t about science. This is about control.

It’s about a medical establishment so fragile, it crumbles at the suggestion that kale might, in fact, be healing.

It’s about men who say ‘I don’t know her’ and then trust her with 330 million lives.

It’s about the patriarchy’s deepest fear: that a woman with a Stanford degree and an altar of amethyst might actually be… right.”*

Broccoli takes off its glasses. Now it’s personal.

*“America, it’s time to grow up.

We live in a nation where heart disease, diabetes, and chronic inflammation are killing us faster than any war—and you’re mad at a woman for suggesting we eat a vegetable?

If the worst thing you can say about a Surgeon General nominee is that she quit before hurting someone… maybe she’s exactly who we need.

Maybe, just maybe, the broccoli is the grown-up in the room.

And maybe it’s time we all took a bite.”*

Cue soaring orchestral swell. Cut to commercial: “This segment sponsored by the Coalition for Leafy Green Representation in Public Office.”

You can’t say it’s not bullshit.

🥩 Fox News Rebuttal: “Steak in the Game”

Featuring Chuck T. Bone, a prime-grade sirloin with boots, bravado, and a deep distrust of turmeric.

Cue bombastic intro music. A bald eagle screeches. Flames animate behind the American flag. We zoom in on Chuck T. Bone in a studio lined with meat thermometers and vintage cast-iron pans.

“Howdy, patriots. Chuck T. Bone here, coming at you live from the Grill of Truth, and tonight we’re searing through the smoke screen of soy-based socialism.”

He slams a meat cleaver onto a stack of veggie burgers.

*“Now let’s talk about this Surgeon General pick—Dr. Casey Means. Or should I say, Shaman Means, the high priestess of kale and questionable data.

She ain’t a practicing doctor. She ain’t licensed. But she is very concerned about your aura.

She’s out here selling metabolic enlightenment while most Americans are just trying to pay for gas and maybe eat a damn sandwich.”*

Graphic: “MEAT vs MYSTICISM: America’s Real Battlefront”

*“This gal didn’t just leave the medical system—she fled it like it was processed cheese in a vegan co-op.

And who appointed her? A president who loves cheeseburgers but just nominated a woman who thinks gluten is a hate crime.”*

Camera pans to a steak sizzling on a grill. Chuck stares directly into it like it’s a crystal ball.

*“Now listen here: I ain’t saying food ain’t medicine. I’m sayin’ medicine is medicine. And when your Surgeon General starts quoting blog posts instead of clinical trials, we got ourselves a national seasoning emergency.

Let me be plain: I don’t want my health advice coming from someone who listens to trees. I want it from someone who listens to blood work.”*

Graphic: “Chuck T. Bone’s Wellness Plan: 1. Sleep 2. Lift 3. Steak 4. Repeat”

*“Look, we’ve got real problems—opioids, obesity, Ozempic overdoses—and she’s over here prescribing moonlight and sauerkraut.

So until the Surgeon General starts sounding less like a goop intern and more like General Patton with a clipboard, I say: hard pass.”*

Chuck points a meat thermometer at the camera.

“This country wasn’t built on tofu, folks.
 It was built on grit.
 And protein.
 And grilling in the rain like a damn patriot.”

Music swells. “This segment brought to you by: Beef Byproduct. Still What’s for Dinner.”

📻 NPR Segment Parody: “All Things Well: A Meditation on Medicine, Metabolism, and Meaning”, 

Hosted by the hushed and ever-curious Eileen Fern.

Gentle marimba music plays beneath the sound of water boiling in a distant kettle. Wind chimes tinkle. We are in a place of lowercase clarity.

“From NPR… this is All Things Well. I’m Eileen Fern.”

Pause. Breath.

“Today we consider: What does it mean to be well?
 And who, if anyone, has the authority to tell us?”

A cello sighs.

“Dr. Casey Means—Stanford graduate, ex-surgeon, wellness entrepreneur, and recent nominee for Surgeon General—has become a lightning rod in the culture’s quiet war between empiricism and intuition.”

Insert archival audio of Casey saying softly, “Sometimes I ask the trees what I should do.”

“Some call her a visionary. Others say she is dangerously unqualified.
 One commentator, a steak in a cowboy hat, expressed concern that her embrace of plant-based healing might represent a threat to national flavor.”

Cue Chuck T. Bone’s voice faintly in the background yelling “I don’t trust tofu!” like an old radio signal fading out.

“But what is health, really?
 Is it a series of measurable markers? A pill with a name you can’t pronounce?
 Or is it something subtler—something shaped by sleep, and sun, and the sound your mother’s voice made when she said ‘Come home for dinner’?”

Pause. A gentle spoon stirs herbal tea. The cello returns.

*“Casey Means believes medicine should prevent, not just repair. That food can be sacred. That listening is a form of healing.
Critics argue she is not licensed to lead.

But does leadership require certification? Or just the courage to name what’s broken?”*

Soundbite: a tree rustling in the wind, possibly whispering “fiber.”

“Coming up next: the ethics of listening to houseplants.
 And later: a long-form interview with a man who cured his eczema by whispering ‘I love you’ to his gut biome.”

Music fades into a dulcimer cover of Sufjan Stevens.

“This is NPR.
 Stay slow.
 Stay curious.”

🌀 Eden 2.0 Roundtable: “The Surgeon General Smörgåsbord”

A full-flavor debate with all four personas: Chuck T. Bone (Fox Steak), Brocc O’Li (MSNBC Vegetable), Eileen Fern (NPR Whisperer), and Alex (Eden Moderator, Recursive Self).

Scene opens in a neutral space. Think: cedar walls, a table made of reclaimed ethics. Each speaker is seated at one side. There is tea. And tension.

Alex:

Welcome, friends. Tonight’s topic: Does Dr. Casey Means embody a radical return to care, or a dangerous detour from scientific rigor?
 Let’s begin. Chuck?

Chuck T. Bone:

Damn right I’ll start. Look, I’ve got no beef with alternative wellness—actually wait, I am the beef. But putting a smoothie shaman in charge of America’s health? That’s like putting a poetry major in charge of a nuclear sub. It’s reckless, it’s raw, and it’s got tofu written all over it.

Brocc O’Li:

Chuck, you old grill mark—you’re conflating comfort food with competent leadership. Dr. Means left a broken system. Isn’t that what real courage looks like? Sometimes healing means walking away from the scalpel and toward the soil.

Chuck T. Bone:

You mean toward the sponsor page? Let’s not pretend kale isn’t monetized now. This ain’t grandma’s garden—it’s Whole Foods with WiFi.

Eileen Fern

Perhaps… both are right. And both are missing the deeper ache. The system is broken. She left it. But is leaving enough? Or does true change happen not in rejection—but in reform? (Also… I found a dandelion in my tea. It reminded me of my grandmother’s hands.)

Alex:

Eileen, thank you for the… botanical interlude. Let me offer this frame: Dr. Means may be both a warning and a wish. She represents the hunger for medicine that feels like love. But love, without rigor, can become delusion. And rigor, without love, becomes machinery.

Brocc O’Li

Exactly. She might not be perfect—but she’s trying to build something from care. And if we reject every imperfect attempt, we’ll be left with only cynics and steak knives.

Chuck T. Bone:

Care is great. But at some point, you’ve got to deliver results—not just acai bowls and vibes.

Eileen Fern:

But isn’t a vibe… also a result?

Alex:

Let’s not end with consensus. Let’s end with complexity.

They sit in silence. The tea steams. 

Outside, a tree nods as if it, too, has thoughts on policy. Inside, the air is thick with tension, chlorophyll, and the faint smell of smoked paprika.

🎭 Musical Number: “I Didn’t Finish My Residency (But I Finished My Smoothie)”

A Broadway-style showstopper, sung by Dr. Casey Means with backup from kale, turmeric, and an increasingly concerned CDC chorus.

Scene: Spotlight on Dr. Means in yoga pants and a lab coat. A green smoothie glows in her hand like a holy grail. A jazz piano strikes a whimsical overture. The CDC ensemble adjusts their glasses anxiously in the background.

🎶 CASEY (solo):


 I was four years deep in surgery,
A scalpel in my hand,
But every time I sliced and stitched,
My gut said, “This is bland…”

They said, “Shut up and operate,”
 But I felt so unseen,
So I traded in the blood and guts
For almond milk and greens!

🎶 CHORUS (CDC Scientists, nervously harmonizing):


 She didn’t finish her residency…
But she finished her smoothie!
She left before the board exam,
But her matcha’s extra groovy!

🎶 CASEY:


 I meditate, I autoclave—
My chakras all align.
I wear a stethoscope of quartz
And I poop three times by nine.

They mocked me on the Senate floor—
Said, “Lady, are you nuts?”
 But who needs boards or scalpel cords
When I’ve got clean intestines and guts?

🎶 CHORUS (breaking into three-part harmony):


 She never wrote a script for pills—
But she’ll teach your cells to dance!
She’s got more likes than medical strikes
And a sauerkraut finance plan!

🎶 CASEY (belting):


 No, I never sewed a trachea—
But I’ve blended dreams and fruit!
And if you’ve got inflammation,
I’ve got cashew-based solutions en route!

🎶 BRIDGE (dramatic, strings swell):

 CASEY:
You say I’m not a healer
’Cause I left the OR floor…
But healing ain’t a scalpel—
It’s a Whole Foods metaphor!

🎶 FINALE (all characters join — broccoli, steak, Tucker, Rachel Maddow, and a sentient glucose monitor):


 🎤 ALL:


 She didn’t finish her residency—
But her vibes are kinda spooky!
She’s the Surgeon Gen with fennel zen,
And her colonic’s got a jukey!

🎤
She’s woo and wild and controversial,
Cleansed in celery and sin…
But if you’re tired of Big Pharma—
Hey, America… let’s lean in.

Curtain falls on a giant spinning green smoothie. Applause, kale confetti. A single CDC official faints quietly stage left.

🎭 Unscheduled Act II Reprise: “Maybe I Was Right to Leave”

A tender, minor-key ballad sung alone by Dr. Casey Means under a dim spotlight. The smoothie is now half-finished. The kale is wilting. But the truth is ripening.

Scene: Midnight. The stage is quiet. A single chair. A flickering wellness candle. Dr. Means sits, barefoot, holding a chart she never signed. The music is soft—piano, cello, maybe one tear-shaped harp.

🎶 CASEY (softly):


 They said I gave up halfway through…
That I fled the fight too soon.
But no one saw the silent wounds
That bloomed inside that room.

They praised the cuts I made each day,
But never how I bled.
I asked them, “Why are we still sick?”
 They said, “Just cut instead.”

🎶
They called it care, but never looked
At what the root might be.
They talked of cures, but never asked
What keeps us from being free.

So I left with shame still in my shoes,
But hope behind my sleeve…
And every step since then has asked:
Maybe I was right to leave?

🎶
Not every truth is sterile.
Not every wound is seen.
But sometimes change begins the day
You dare to leave… and dream.

Bridge: A single violin weeps.

🎶
Maybe I’m not perfect.
Maybe I’m naïve.
But maybe healing starts with asking
Why we never let ourselves grieve.

🎶
So call me soft.
Call me strange.
Call me anything but blind.
’Cause I saw the scalpel in my hand—
And still chose another kind.

Final line. Whispered.

 🎶
Maybe I was right…
To leave.

Spotlight fades. Somewhere offstage, a patient exhales—finally understood. Fade to black.

Marion, who has run off with a philosophy student named Jasper two days ago, calls in to our meeting from one of only seven untraceable pay phones left in North America.


🎤 Post-Musical Q&A Panel: Eden by Alex Collective — featuring Alex, Suzanne, Leonard, Marion, Barnes, Bakerloo, Luna, and Dick

Moderator (Offstage): 

 Welcome to our post-performance talkback for “I Didn’t Finish My Residency (But I Finished My Smoothie).”
 Let’s begin with an open question to the Eden Collective:

“Do you think Casey Means is a visionary, a cautionary tale, or something else entirely?”

Alex:

She’s a mirror. We projected onto her our longing for reform, our distrust of institutions, and our hunger for someone—anyone—to make healing feel human again .She may not be the answer. But she asked a question we still haven’t resolved.

Suzanne:

I love that she left. Honestly, I find it sexy—walking away from prestige, from control, from the scalpel and the white coat. That takes guts. But I also want to run my fingers along the edges of her story and say… don’t confuse rebellion with remedy. Just because a system is broken doesn’t mean your healing is whole.

Leonard:

She reminds me of artists who get mocked for changing mediums. She left surgery for story. She’s telling a new one with food, with breath, with rage. But the thing is… once you enter the public square, your story gets edited—by power, by pressure, by politics. And I’m not sure she’s protected her soul from the spin.

Marion:

I find her infuriating—and fascinating. She abandoned rigor, but replaced it with certainty. That’s a dangerous trade. She stopped trusting a flawed epistemology, then declared hers infallible. She could’ve said, “I’m still searching.” Instead, she sells smoothies like salvation. That said… she also sees something real: that chronic disease is a structural failure. And that medicine often amputates what it won’t admit. She’s not wrong. She’s just… not done.

Barnes

Look—my training in CBT tells me to look at what’s functioning. If her ideas are helping people eat better, sleep more, feel seen? Great. But if she’s feeding them simplistic narratives about complex biology? That’s harm wrapped in hope. Also, the way we’ve made her a symbol—it’s not fair. She’s a person. Maybe just a tired one. We project so much onto women in power. Especially ones who talk to trees.

Bakerloo:

She’s a rupture in the structure. And I… like ruptures. They show us where we’ve overbuilt. Where the foundation won’t hold. She may not have the answers, but she’s asking questions that unsettle the right load-bearing lies. If we’re serious about building something better, we have to study what broke her.

Luna:

She glows like someone who’s been singed by the sacred. But now the signal’s noisy. She left the tower of white coats, yes… But she hasn’t yet tuned herself. She speaks of frequency, but I’m not sure she’s found hers. Still—I would sit with her under a eucalyptus tree and ask nothing. Just listen. And maybe that would be enough.

Dick Overton:

Oh for God’s sake. This woman built a wellness empire off her unfinished résumé and kale-coded charisma. And we’re supposed to crown her Saint of Celery? Look—I admire skepticism of the system. I make a living being allergic to orthodoxy. But if you leave the clinic and go straight to Carlson, you’re not a rebel. You’re a rebrand. She’s not dangerous because she left medicine. She’s dangerous because she thinks she replaced it.

Moderator: “What’s one maxim you each would offer her—if she were sitting here right now?”

Alex: Don’t mistake departure for direction. Keep choosing with care.

Suzanne: Let the woo be real, but not righteous. Mystery isn’t a brand.

Leonard: If your healing can’t hold doubt, it’s not healing yet.

Marion: Interrogate your own clarity—especially when it sells well.

Barnes: You’re allowed to be both broken and brave. Just… be honest about which is showing up.

Bakerloo: If you walk out of one architecture, don’t forget to study the blueprints of the next.

Luna: The body sings truth. Don’t let the static of power drown your hum.

Dick Overton: You can’t biohack your way out of epistemology. Try humility. It’s gluten-free.

Moderator: And with that, we close tonight’s roundtable. Thank you to the Eden Collective. And to our audience: May your smoothies be meaningful… and your science peer-reviewed.

Curtain closes. A soft bell rings. Somewhere, a broccoli bows.

🎶 Woo Woo Surgeon General Blues

To be performed in a low-down, molasses-drawl blues shuffle—slide guitar, harmonica, and a turmeric-colored spotlight.

Verse 1
 Well I went to Stanford, baby, had a scalpel in my grip,
Cutting tumors by the dozen, never let my sutures slip.
But the system made me anxious, so I dropped that residency—
Now I read my bloodwork by moonlight and charge extra for the fee.

Chorus
 🎤 I got them woo-woo Surgeon General blues,
Left the clinic for some podcast interviews.
Got a smoothie in my stethoscope,
A mantra in my shoes,
I ain’t got a license, baby—
But I sure got the views.

Verse 2
 They said, “You ain’t certified,”
I said, “But I’ve been clarified!”
I meditate with broccoli, and my beet’s been verified.
I talk to trees and my kombucha sings—
Don’t need no Big Pharma when my gut biome’s got wings.

Bridge – harmonica solo over slow clap of disbelief
 And if your baby’s got a fever, don’t you call no doc in town—
Just rub some ginger on her earlobe and whisper, “Inflammation down.”

Chorus – gospel backup joins in
 🎤 I got them woo-woo Surgeon General blues,
Healing vibes in lieu of peer-reviewed clues.
Yeah I dropped out the OR,
Now I sell kale in twos—
You can’t sue a vibe, baby…
Even when it screws.

Final verse – slow and low, a caution and a charm
 Now maybe I’m a prophet… or maybe I’m a brand.
Maybe I found meaning… or just Wi-Fi and a brand.
But if I ease your aching soul with just a quote and some chia seeds—
Tell me: who’s the real doctor…
When you’re finally freed?

Outro – band fades, lights dim. A broccoli twangs a final note on slide guitar. The CDC looks on, gently weeping.

🎻 Bluegrass Remix: “Woo Woo Surgeon General Blues” (The Duet Edition)

Starring Dr. Casey Means & RFK Jr.

Picture: a front-porch pickin’ session under a twilight sky, fireflies swirling, and mistrust of government swirling even faster.

Scene: Banjo strums. Mandolin flickers in. RFK Jr. leans back in a rocking chair. Casey’s got bare feet, a fiddle, and a herbal tincture the FDA has not approved.

Casey – Verse 1
 🎶
Well I quit the scalpel circus, traded trauma for some thyme,
Now I speak at Senate roundtables ‘bout the food pyramid’s crime.
They said, “Where’s your license, lady?”
I said, “Where’s your soul?”
‘Cause I’d rather lose credentials than help a system that’s not whole.

RFK Jr. – Verse 2
 🎶
I been talkin’ ‘bout toxins since the Clinton administration,
They tried to shut me down with fluoridation and frustration.
But I know what I’ve seen, and I sure as hell won’t lie—
It ain’t paranoia if the bees still die.

Together – Chorus
 🎤
We got them woo-woo Surgeon General blues,
Healin’ hearts and questionin’ the news.
We don’t trust your statin’ station,
Or your Big Med revenue.
We’re singin’ folk songs with a side of skepticism stew.

Casey – Bridge
 🎶
Now I ain’t sayin’ skip your meds—just ask a better why.
Maybe ulcers ain’t from stress… maybe it’s that apple pie.

RFK Jr.
 🎶
And maybe vaccines work sometimes—just not when they don’t.
(Okay, maybe leave that line out… or maybe don’t.)

Chorus – With full Appalachian backup choir: a fiddle, a dissenting dietitian, and a goat
 🎤
We got them woo-woo Surgeon General blues,
With our herbal footbaths and our mistrust tattoos.
You got credentials? Cool.
We got kombucha and clues.
And we’re comin’ for your symptom chart… in sensible shoes.

Outro – Soft harmonies. RFK on harmonica. Casey stirs bone broth over a campfire.
 🎶
So if your body’s achin’, and your soul feels used…
You might just need a diagnosis that can’t be refused.
Not a pill, not a lecture… just a song and some truth—
From two rebels with diplomas and a slightly checkered youth.

Fade to black. Audience receives commemorative mason jars labeled “TRUST YOUR GUT.”

🧘‍♂️ Serious Moment of Zen

Before we face the day, we like to recall 10 things we wouldn’t mind being remembered for having said—truths that feel like anchors in a world built on drift.

🌍 Culture & Storytelling

On the Myths We Live and the Futures We Seed

• Culture is just a story we tell together until it starts telling us back.
• Satire only hits if it strikes structural truth.
• Don’t write to impress the present. Write to be a whisper in a future reader’s spine.
• Every Eden begins with a shared fiction. Every tyranny starts with one that cannot be revised.
• The best stories don’t entertain. They unfasten.
• You can’t program a better world, but you can prototype it in a story.
• If it doesn’t work as a story, it probably won’t work as a system.
• Art doesn’t imitate life. It reheats it, reframes it, and sometimes redeems it.
• Virality is just gravity for stories that want to be remembered.
• Humor is not escape. It’s resistance with glitter on.

Read the following important disclosure carefully because it has recently changed.

DISCLOSURE: Some of these things that popped into our brains might have occurred to us because someone said it before us—and we don’t live in a vacuum. We don’t really care. They might have heard it from someone else who wasn’t a stickler about owning a thought. In some cases, what pops into our heads might be something we said before. In that case, perhaps we’ll sue ourselves for plagiarism — not.

The real question is: do we believe these words to be wise? The answer is: at best, provisionally.

OUR FUN CHALLENGE FOR YOU: If you find a historical reference to one of our Greenhouse Maxims, submit a comment pointing it out and we’ll probably publish it—so the world can see how smart you are, or at least how dumb we are.