Rubber glove story. December 1971 and I was in Butte, MT for my armed forces draft/enlistment physical (lottery number 6 so I enlisted). About fifteen of us lined up in our skivvies. Most were draftees. The examining physician was a shriveled up little old guy who reminded me of a walking mummy. Must have been a chain smoker. In his gravelly voice: "Gentlemen, as I walk down the line I will stop in front of you. Then I will touch your manhood and you will turn your head and cough [checking for hernia]." In the middle of the line was a dirty hippie with signature long hair and scraggly beard. I was two or three down the line from him. Old doc stops in front and the hippie turns his head ... then turns it back and deliberately coughs right in doctor's face. Hard! The old boy stands there silently glaring at the smart-ass. Then proceeds on to next person. At the end of the line he addresses us again: "Gentlemen, I will walk down the back of the line. When i stop behind you, drop your underwear and bend over [checking for piles]. When I touch your back, you can stand up and pull up your underwear." It moved along quickly ... until doc gets to the hippie. Hippie bends over. In the corner of my eye I see he stays bent over. Hmmm. Then I hear "snappp" of latex glove. The hippie lurches. "What the f*ck! You son of a bitch!" Doctor said nothing. Just moved on to the next guy. That old boy had the last laugh.
