Opinion | Don’t obey Pete Davidson and Manscape your man bits — the Canadian health-care system has enough problems

Hopefully, Pete Davidson never has scrotal blood on his hands.

Davidson is a comedian, actor and boy toy to Kim Kardashian. He is also, to quote from his new ad, “The face, among other parts, of Manscaped.”

As commercials go, this one is similar in spirit to Nike’s “Just Do It.” Davidson is in a dark room with enough razor tech to give the Marquis de Sade a panic attack. A black blazer hangs on his shoulders, revealing his tattooed torso.

In the 30-second spot, Davidson does not beat around the man bush:

“Let’s show them how hairless we could be, boys.”

This is basically the “Just Do It” of pubic deforestation.

“Shave your (beep)!” demands Davidson. “Shave it, baby!”

OK. You young bucks do what you must down there. I pulled my hamstring clipping my toenails the other night. My electric toothbrush hurts my jaw. I am well beyond the Manscaped demo. Disrobing and turning my body into a pretzel with one foot perched on the bathroom counter as I go John Deere on my private parts with ceramic blades powered by a 7,000 RPM motor on Manscaped’s Lawn Mower 4.0 does not seem like a sensible idea.

My wife would assume I was having an affair with a sassy electrologist.

Stand down, Manscaped legal team. What I’m about to say in no way implies your products are unsafe. You’ve already trademarked “SkinSafe.” Back in the day, there was no “SkinSafe” when young men pulled down their underpants, hastily grabbed a Gillette disposable and thought, “What would Vidal Sassoon do right now?”

It was all SkinDanger back then.

Indulge me as I switch gears. Last week, I was in my backyard, sorting bins for garbage night. It was after 8 p.m. when I heard an eerie moaning coming from the other side of my fence.

I went to investigate. There was a woman lying on the sidewalk in obvious distress. I asked a man who was also present if help was needed. He was a passerby and good Samaritan. He stumbled upon this moaning woman and called 911. They were waiting for an ambulance.

The woman, I gathered between moans, noticed my cherry tree and climbed into the back of a parked roofer’s truck to pick berries from the high branches that hang over the fence.

She then fell overboard. Now she could not move.

I checked to see if she had feeling in her toes and if she was having any trouble breathing. I didn’t want to roll her face out of the dirt over fears of a spinal injury. My wife quickly brought out a blanket and comforted the woman. The man told me he had called 911 at least 15 minutes ago.

He asked if I could try again.

I did. And you know what? I got a prompt saying all operators were busy. I was gobsmacked. Did I just call 911 or Rogers tech support?

A dispatcher did answer and said they were aware of the situation.

But it was a very busy night. Prioritization. Hang tight.

Eventually, an ambulance arrived. Two nice paramedics took control of the situation. As one was tending to the moaning woman, the other removed a stretcher from the back. I asked him if they were having a crazy night.

He glanced over his shoulder at me and sighed: “You have no idea.”

By now, you’re probably wondering what this has to do with Pete Davidson encouraging men to transform their nutsacks into naked mole-rats. Well, I’ll tell you. Our health-care system is broken right now. Our ERs are busier than our passport offices, which are also broken. With the exception of efficiently securing property taxes, everything in this country is broken.

Our doctors and nurses must feel like they are trapped in a war zone. On Tuesday morning, top stories on Google News included headlines such as, “Long, hard summer looms in hospital ERs for exhausted staff, forced-to-wait patients” and “Increasing number of N.S. patients leaving emergency rooms without treatment, records show.”

Imagine shattering your tibia and, 30 hours after entering the waiting room, deciding it might be easier to leave for Home Depot, to buy plywood for homemade crutches. If I somehow contracted Ebola this summer, I’d probably just order chicken noodle soup from Uber Eats.

Sure, my eyeballs are bleeding. But the hospitals are too busy to help me.

And that’s why we need to help ourselves by doing everything we can to not need hospitals. I can’t be mowing the lawn this summer. It’s too dangerous. How dare my wife ask me to hang a floating shelf.

I could be seriously injured with no recourse!

A few years ago, a clinical study found more than a quarter of people who engage in “pubic hair grooming” ended up with injuries, including cuts, rashes, infections and burns. Do you really want to be clogging up the ER right now after taking an esthetic flame-thrower to your crotch?

All I’m really saying is we need to be responsible and not up the odds of accidental injury at this fraught time, be it falling out of a parked vehicle in search of free fruit or styling our nether regions with NASA-grade tech.

Pete Davidson is a great spokesperson for Manscaped, mostly because there isn’t a single follicle below his Adam’s apple. But our hospitals are too overwhelmed to handle the possible snafus from the vanity he’s pushing.

Gentlemen, put down the Lawn Mower 4.0. Now is not the time.

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