You remember the commercial. A dashing young man in a suit is wandering through a kitchen that could be your own. He’s picking up various items and extolling with great enthusiasm their various uses.

“How do you stop a throbbing toothache?” he says, fondling your ice cube tray. “Rub ice on the palm of your hand!”

Next he picks up and paws that nice bowl Aunt Suze got you for a wedding present.

“How do you treat poison ivy? Try oatmeal!”

And on he goes, switching on your vacuum cleaner and telling you all about how you can soothe a colicky baby in just such a way. He’s got your blow dryer in one hand, a bottle of aspirin in the other.

His name is William Gottlieb, a doctor and book editor and I don’t remember inviting him into my home. Do you?

Gottlieb was pitching “The Doctors’ Book of Home Remedies” and explaining how you, too, could cure your bad breath by snorting clove.

No, not really. Please don’t try that at a home. And anyway, there really is no cure for that breath of yours. My God, man! Did you eat a gym sock?

But anyway, I was thinking about that commercial the other night as I crawled into bed wearing a pair of socks that had been soaked in ice-cold water. And I was doing THAT because my wife somehow convinced me, possibly by dropping a roofie in my root beer, that cold, wet socks are a great treatment for the common cold.

She can also get me to come flying in from the backyard just by running the electric can opener.

It works like this. You soak socks in cold water and then pull them onto your feet. Two things happen once you do that. You find that you need to pee like, right now. And any marginally filthy thoughts you had been enjoying are run right out of your head. They are replaced by stupid thoughts, like those of a 20-year-old home remedy commercial.

You then pull thick wool socks over the wet ones, which creates a sensation like standing in corn chowder. Which is fun at parties, but you never get invited back.

You then go to bed and let the healing begin.

Medically, there is some logic behind it. By sleeping with wet feet, you kick your body’s defenses into overdrive. They see the gushy feet as a health threat and so throw everything they have at it. White blood cells, antibodies, other big words I don’t know. And in doing so, they also get to working on that cold that troubles you so. You wake up fresher, healthier and less disgusting than when you went to bed.

Either that or my wife likes to make me do stupid things just to exert her power. Like when she has me order the Triple, Upside-Down, Backwards Tummy Rub Cake with sprinkles at the Dunkin’ Donuts drive-through.

Home remedies are everywhere, even in an age of pharmaceutical omnipotence. Yeah, there’s a pill for everything. But you still drink ginger ale for everything from hangovers to the plague. Men gobble the bark of African trees to fix their inadequacies. Old people will tell you that whiskey mixed with anything — mustard, rhubarb, more whiskey, etc. — will fix anything that ails you.

And they’re right. Drink enough whiskey, you won’t feel that compound fracture for about three days.

Some of the cures are rooted in pure medicine. The bark of that African tree, for instance, not that I know this firsthand, contains a scientifically proven aphrodisiac. Rubbing ice on the palm targets key pressure points that link your ouchie to the brain. Drinking water after a night of hard boozing will help stave off dehydration and probably make you wet the bed.

Some of the remedies are mystical at best. Stick mushrooms in your ear and smoke a pipe to cure insomnia. Eat a raw onion while juggling in a tutu. They may not have the science, but these cures are darn fun, whether you’re watching or participating.

The natural approach to medicine has even made its way into the world of illicit drugs. Your Valium supplier went to jail again? Try valerian, an herbal substitute available all over the place. Accidentally sent your blotter acid through the wash? Try salvia, a psychoactive plant you can buy on the Internet. Hallucinate and film your violent bout of vomiting for YouTube!

So, how does the wet sock treatment rate as a cure for the common cold? No clue. After one night of it, I found it was easier to just visit the health and beauty aisle at the grocery store. For under five bucks, I was able to get some tablets to drop in water. It’s fizzy fun and comparable to a weak cocktail. That’s modern medicine, friends. That’s where it’s at.

Don’t mind me. I’m still burning about that Gottlieb guy. He sneaks inside your house and fondles your possessions and sells a trillion copies of his book. I do it and get a restraining order.

What’s your cure for bitterness, Gottlieb?

Mark LaFlamme is a Sun Journal staff writer. You can test his gullibility for home remedies at [email protected].