An old joke – you will see how old by the names it invokes – has a young Hollywood star, seeking to ornament and thereby solidify his rising fame, instruct his agent to find a charity for him to associate his name with. “Morty,” he says to the agent, “you gotta get me my own charity. Bob Hope and Bing Crosby have their charity golf tournaments. Doris Day works for protecting animals. Danny Thomas has St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital. Jerry Lewis has Muscular Dystrophy. It works for them, Morty, it’ll work for me. Get on it right away.” A week later the agent calls back. “You’ve found my charity?” the young star asks. “It wasn’t easy, Rick,” the agent replies, “just about everything was taken.” “What was left for me?” the star asks, hope in his voice. A brief silence, a clearing of the throat, finally the agent says, “Acne.” "
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