There may be some truth to The Simpsons. My roommate is worried about a series of bumps from his mid-neck to the back of his head. He's worried that he might die. I said that was a little extreme, but to go to the doctor if he thinks it's serious.

"Remember that Simpsons episode where Homer turned into the Incredible Hulk?" he asked me.

"Yeah, where he had those bumps on his neck."

"I have those too."

I felt them. They were hard, harder than cysts, not in the veins, muscular-like.

"I hope I don't die. That would suck."

That's what was bumming him out when I asked if he wanted to drink.

"My meticulous lifestyle has finally caught up to me," he said. "I'm always nervous. There's no need for it."