Dear Dr. Perfect, 

If you heat up peanut butter at 105 degrees, does it cure Alzheimer’s? My mom’s friend’s boyfriend, whose daughter is a doctor, told me that’s preposterous. Can you settle this debate whether this is true or not? 

Signed,

Curious Individual 

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You’ve come to the right place. Dr. Perfect is here to fulfill all your peanut butter inquiries. I’m no Bill Nye the Science Guy, but he’s just an actor anyway—and a complete douche.

I bumped into Nye at a charity event, drunk as a skunk and trying to get me to invest in home solar panels. After I repeatedly declined, he swung at me and crashed into a tray of finger foods. Wait, I think that was Mickey Rourke. It’s hard to keep track of these degenerate celebrities.

I’ve heard countless claims about the miraculous wonders of peanut butter. They say that it helps eliminate wrinkles, covers pesky varicose veins, and wards off evil spirits from your house, for starters. 

My grandmother gave us a teaspoon of peanut butter before bedtime to help us sleep. She swore by the stuff up through the day she was committed. 

There is no known cure for Alzheimer’s unless we master brain transplants better than Dr. Frankenstein did. There are, however, many holistic approaches one can undergo in remedying inevitable physical and neurological decline.

Gemstones, lighted incense, and earthy ambient music combine into one unforgettable aromatherapy session that can cleanse your mind and spirit. Your neighborhood shaman is also a great source of mystical healing through altered states of consciousness. 

These practices aren’t any less valid than modern medicine. Today’s doctors will perform any surgery or procedure necessary to prolong a terminally ill patient’s life a few more weeks while giving false hope to their family.

Everyone knows the magic of Reece’s. They’re the wizards behind Reece’s Pieces, Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups, and Reece’s Puffs—a breakfast cereal for the daring. 

They make Reece’s minis, Reece’s peanut butter eggs, Reece’s ice cream bars, and Reece’s cookie dough, lovingly distributed by Hershey Company, who rake in more the $2 billion in sales annually. That’s a lot of chocolate and peanut butter goodness.  

I don’t want to get between you and your mom’s friend’s boyfriend’s daughter who’s a doctor. The fight against Alzheimer’s needs all the help it can get. Turn up the stove and start frying up peanut butter. That’s what my grandmother would say. 

She had her struggles and a scandalous affair with William Howard Taft to boot. This was when he was on the Supreme Court, after his presidency. Toward the end, people said she was crazy, but maybe it was Alzheimer’s.

She was never diagnosed or tested, for that matter. Instead, my family did what was normal in the eighties, we locked her away in a medieval tower. What other options were there?

Unfortunately, I can’t end your PB&A debate. The burden of proof falls on the one making the claim and not the person dismissing it. This doesn’t mean you can’t squeeze something through peer review and onto next week’s hard-hitting medical journal. 

Scientists can be bought, just like regular people. We can believe anything our minds convince us to until, of course, our minds deteriorate in the throes of dementia or worse. I’ll drink to that! I’m going to need something stiff to assuage the smell of burnt peanut butter. I’ve been frying a batch for the past hour.

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Dr. Perfect has slung advice across the globe for the last two decades due to his dedication to the uplift of the human condition.