Here's A Fun New Years Eve Game.

I call it, "Are you smarter than a Congressman?" Specifically, Congressman Joe Barton, who, not surprisingly, is from Texas. Here are some of Congressman Barton's thoughts on global climate change, via Mother Jones magazine:

"Wouldn't it be ironic if in the interest of global warming we mandated massive switches to [wind] energy, which is a finite resource, which slows the winds down, which causes the temperature to go up?...It's just something to think about."

Wind. A finite resource. And if we put up too many windmills it will slow down the wind. The people of Texas elected that man to represent them in Congress. Something to think about indeed.

Along with why we went to all the trouble of the Civil War to keep Texas and the rest of the Stupid South in our country.

Happy New Year.

I Always Knew They Were Up To Something.

Fat. Stupid. Fat. Unwilling to put forth any effort to improve their health except to blame the nearest health care professional when they do not get any better. After they cancel several consecutive appointments that is. Mouth breathing, drool dropping, dimwitted simpletons who, given a choice between inhaling a box of ho-hos and taking a walk to the mailbox, will choose the mailbox every time. After they eat the ho-hos. And as long as "walking to the mailbox" means "riding the lawnmower they never actually use to mow the lawn to the mailbox"

Did I mention fat?

All stereotypes of the typical diabetic I am aware, but anyone in the professions will tell you they're ones that don't come out of nowhere. Now I'm not talking about the type I's here. I really think it's time we come up with another name for type I diabetes, as it is completely unfair to associate them with the type II's, which used to be called adult onset diabetes, until the epidemic of fat-ass kids swept through our nation not so long ago.

Before you say I'm being too hard on the diabetic, if you work in a drugstore, a doctors office, or a food establishment that offers unlimited soda refills,  I want you to make a list of your biggest pain in the ass customers. I have little fear in saying you'll be making a list of predominately diabetics. The diabetic has been a living mockery of the notion that people are capable of making the choices necessary to take care of themselves for decades now, but it's not just about them anymore. From yesterday's New York Times we learn this about new high-tech full body scanners, which are being installed in airports and most likely would have prevented the attempted Christmas Day terror attack on a Detroit bound airliner:

body imaging technology has its limits — the machines cannot, for example, detect objects stowed in bodily orifices or concealed within the folds of an obese person’s flesh.

Concealed within the folds of an obese persons flesh. My God. Every pharmacist reading this has a customer with the potential to smuggle enough explosives onto an airplane to set the entire atmosphere on fire. If they ever become smart enough to act in unison the diabetics could cripple the entire world economy with the possible exception of the high-fructose corn syrup industry. I don't want to live in a world built on corn sweetener and pills that guarantee you'll lose 15lbs while you sleep. We must stop coddling the diabetics before it's too late and they destroy us all.

We should also continue to keep an eye on the Germans.

What Danced Through My Head Last Night.

In my dream the Leonard Nimoy fundraiser was critical. I was working at a hospital now. I don't know why I left my current job, or if I ever even worked at my current job in my dream world. Dreams are like that. You pretty much live in the present and don't spend a lot of time on memories while you're dreaming.

Evidently the hospital that employed me in my dream world was a non-profit, because they were really excited about the Leonard Nimoy fundraiser, as the money it was going to bring in was vital to maintaining current operations. Leonard was to give a speech, and I was able to watch the proceedings as I worked. I was probably doing something simple like filling carts. I doubt I was dosing Gentamycin or anything since I haven't done that in 17 years. I hear they have computer programs that do that now anyway.

Leonard talked and then his son appeared beside him at the podium. Leonard declared that as soon as his son told him he loved him he would release the night's proceeds to the hospital. A hush of anticipation fell over the room. You could hear a pin drop.

I worked with the same pharmacist in the dreamworld hospital pharmacy that I do in the real world. There was a lot of work to do and I was worried about getting it all done in time. I take great pride in never leaving any prescriptions for the other pharmacist to fill the next morning in the real world, and I was holding myself to the same standard as I slept. I don't know why I do this, as I always end up filling way more prescriptions than anyone else at the pharmacy. I guess that makes me kind of a sucker.

Nimoy's son refused to tell his father he loved him. Well I guess he didn't really refuse. He just stood there, silently. Like he was autistic or something. You could feel the desperation in the room full of people who would have loved Leonard Nimoy with all their hearts if that meant he would release the money and they could keep their jobs.

In the real world I don't even know if Leonard Nimoy has a son.

I looked down at the floor and it was covered with needles. Like the tips of the syringes they use to give injections. The floor was absolutely covered with them and I started to clean them up. I was more worried about cleaning up all the needles than I was about the fact that the hospital was now not to get a single dollar from Leonard Nimoy. Because I never leave work for the pharmacist that comes in after me.

Then I woke up, and it became evident once again that scotch and melatonin aren't the best combination.

Jesus Is So Fucking Inconsiderate.

You know, for someone who professes to love us all, you'd think that maybe the thought our time could be worth a little something might enter Jesus' skull once or twice. That maybe Jesus could tell us, "You know, there's no need to go all out for my birthday. Really. Me and my Dad, the all knowing, omnipotent creator of universes known and unknown, the Deity that can part seas with his breath, move mountains with his pinky and knows the exact number of hairs on your head, I'm sure we'll come up with something. Don't put yourself out just on my account."

"And there is really no need to invent The Clapper to sell in the season of my special day. You work too hard for your money."

That's what my Uncle Harold would say. Uncle Harold always insisted we never make a big deal about his birthday, because that was just the kind of guy Harold was. Unlike this prick Jesus who pretty much ruined my whole week with this Christmas shit.

And by whole week I mean entire month of December. And part of November as well. Traffic gets backed up because of a goddamn parade. People everywhere I want to shop. A big pile of pine trees right where I normally park my car at work. All because this savior of mankind lets it go straight to his head.

I got news for you Jesus. I once saved the life of a mouse we found in the backroom of the store. That's right. Instead of killing it, I captured the little guy and let him loose in the woods in back of the mall. And I don't expect the mouse to buy shit every year for my birthday either. I think maybe I could teach you a thing or two about humility Mr. Son of God.

The sad thing is it's not just me that gets screwed. The entire goddamn planet has to put their lives on hold just for Jesus every year. Fuck it makes me so mad. I got over birthdays when I was like 9, and Jesus still gets all giddy like a girl after 2000 of them? Give me a break.

Buddhism looks better every day. No wonder there are so many Buddhists.

I Can't Help But To Suspect The Involvement Of Karma In This.

From my after work perusal of the day's newspaper:

SACRAMENTO, Calif. -- Sacramento firefighters say a man is seriously injured after he started a house fire while apparently burning his divorce papers.

Sacramento Fire Department Capt. Jim Doucette says the man lived with his father...The father tells firefighters his son had been lighting things on fire all night Friday, but none caught until midmorning Saturday when he set his divorce papers aflame.

Nothing says parental love like letting your offspring set fires all night long in your home, and nothing says incompetence like taking all night to catch something on fire. I really didn't come from the world's worst family. I feel better about myself now.

After that course of Karma, I'll add a dash of irony from an unrelated story in the same paper:

A three-car crash...trapped three people in an inverted Ford Escape.

I'm putting up a twenty the editor put in the name of the car model just to see if anyone would notice. I did.

I feel really good about myself now.

A Random Christmas Memory From An Almost Dead Man.

The last year I worked on Christmas Day I got paid time and a half to fill twelve prescriptions, seven of which were refills called in on the touch tone system with a requested ready time of the next day. My employer isn't always the sharpest knife in the drawer. I mostly worked on a reset of the pharmacy and even cleaned a thing or two, perhaps the last time I have ever cleaned anything at work. I did wait on a couple customers though, one of whom could not have been more Jewish if he had come straight from central casting.

"THEY HAVE YOU WORKING ON CHRISTMAS YOUNG MAN?" he shouted in an incredibly yiddish accent. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO DESERVE SUCH A FATE??"

"Fell out of love and got saddled with an alimony payment" I said. "Maybe with the holiday pay I can afford the good cat food." It was one of my better impromptu quips and we both shared a little chuckle.

"YOU'RE A YOUNG MAN AFTER MY OWN HEART!!" he said as he left.

"And you,...are a living stereotype" I thought to myself as he walked away. And chuckled again. It's not easy to chuckle when you're working on Christmas Day.

That was a few years ago. I forgot all about it until the doctor called this afternoon. Wanted to know the directions on the last morphine prescription that had been dispensed for him.

"I'll have to up that" said the doctor before he hung up. And shortly thereafter a lady was at the counter with an order for 20 milligrams of liquid morphine to be taken by mouth or under the tongue every hour as needed for pain or shortness of breath. Those of you in the professions know that means that'll probably be the last prescription he'll ever get.

Sigh.

He gave me a couple good chuckles on a Christmas Day when I worked for 8 hours and came home to an empty apartment. I don't know much else about him, but I just want to throw that into the Karmasphere.

And hope maybe the Karmasphere takes that into consideration when deciding what happens to him next.

Walgreens. Facing A POWER Shortage?

I can be a little late to things sometimes.

It seems that while I've been busy writing about things like how some customers like to put Rogaine on their penis (please do not put Rogaine on your penis) the biggest player in the retail pharmacy business has been testing the waters with a program that will fundamentally, completely, and forever change the concept of what a drugstore is. Walgreen's calls it their POWER program, and it's been underway for well over a year and a half now in test markets in Florida and Arizona. I blame The Angriest Pharmacist for the fact I'm just getting hip to things. He wrote about it back in May, and if his posts weren't so incredibly boring to try and slog through maybe I would be in the habit of looking at his blog every once in awhile and would have learned about this thing back then.

I kid. You know I love you Angriest. Even though no one would know who you are had you not named yourself after someone else's blog.

Anyway, the POWER program. Before I get into it let me just warn you that everything I know about it I got from digging through miscellaneous blogs and internet forums. Not the most reliable source of information, so don't take anything here as gospel truth, and by all means feel free to send in corrections, but from what I gather the gist of it is to move as much of the prescription filling process off site as possible. This involves large, central fill pharmacies that receive scanned prescriptions and refill orders from several stores, input the data & then either fill them to be delivered back to stores the next day or zap the labels back to the store to be filled by technicians there. Phone calls do not go to your local store, but to a remote call center. That's right. Call your local Walgreen's and you could be talking to someone in a cubicle hundreds of miles away. Drug Utilization Review, (interaction/allergy checking type stuff for those of you not familiar with the lingo) is done at the central fill pharmacy or by a pharmacist working at home. Prior authorizations and insurance rejects are taken care of at the distant central pharmacy cubicles. At the store level, the pharmacist is kept away from the prescription filling process, stationed at the cash register where they are supposed to see the prescription for the first time only when a customer comes to pick it up.

Why would Walgreen's do this? Because a warehouse full of cubicle rats can type in ten thousand sets of prescription data and fill them more quickly, and more importantly, more cheaply, than a dozen sets of pharmacy staff  in various locations around town.

Will it work? That depends on what exactly the force is that lines up against it. Remember that a corporation's primary interest is not just to make money, it is to make more money than last year. If you make $10 billion this year and make only $10 billion the next year, you are a failure in the corporate world. Couple this with the $1.50 (and dropping) prescription insurance dispensing fee, and you can start to make out the handwriting on the wall. Ever since the dawn of capitalism, anyone or anything that has gotten in the way of the corporation and its need to make an extra nickel per share in the next fiscal year has been ruthlessly and mercilessly crushed. So even though it seems to be almost the unanimous opinion of the internet chatterers that these POWER prescriptions are not being filled as accurately as before, that will not stop POWER. Walgreen's, and any other corporation, will pick quicker and cheaper over accurate every time.

By the way, did I mention the part about the massive layoffs of pharmacy technicians and pharmacists? If I know my corporation, the fact that individual store workload might go down 30% will be used as an excuse to reduce staff by 40%, and sure enough, the forums are full of tales of severance packages, voluntary and otherwise, re-interviewing for your old job, and people not making the cut and being let go. Mercilessly crushed he said.

So are we doomed? Not necessarily. Because unlike every other seismic event that has shaken the pharmacy world, there seems to be absolutely nothing in this for the customer other than a pain in the ass. They won't be talking to a person at the store they think they are calling. Pain in the ass. They will be encouraged not to have the audacity to ask for refills the same day they would like to pick them up. This in a business climate where you can have a pair of eyeglasses made in an hour. Pain in the ass. Common insurance rejects, like the 90 day prescription that needs to be billed for a 30 days supply, that take 10 seconds to take care of at store level will now be put in a queue to be dealt with when a cubicle rat gets around to it. Pain in the ass. Now customers will take a certain amount of pain in their asses in return for something, like a lower price, but their tolerance for ass pain is likely to be low when they can have their prescription filled for the exact same copay someplace that isn't asking them to make an appointment to buy 10 Viagra pills.

There is already evidence Walgreen's is finding this out. After setting up their test markets, word is that plans to expand the POWER program have been put on hold until 2011. I used to work for the Pharmacy America Trusts When They Are Too Lazy To Get Out Of Their Car To Pick Up A Prescription, and one thing I took away from the experience was the impression of competence from the top-level, strategic planners at the organization. I'm not kidding you. If Walgreen's can't make this work, than there's no way the company you work for can, and right now there's some doubt as to whether Walgreen's can make this work.

For the sake of the public and the profession, I hope they don't.

Click here and here to read some of the internet forums regarding the POWER program.

Click here and here to read The Angriest Pharmacist's post on the subject.

Fred Eckel Proves Me Wrong.

It was about a week ago I took Fred Eckel, the editor of Pharmacy Times, to task after he implied in his column that the problems of retail pharmacy are mainly the attitudes of retail pharmacists. An out of touch, pompous, smug little ivory tower egghead I said.

But is he, really? Here's an actual picture of the "balloon box" quote from his last column:

Um, yes. Yes he is. I.....I think....(chuckle) maybe the last time this guy may have filled a prescription....wait....hold on......

I can't hold it anymore....

BBBBWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAHAHHHHHHAAAAHHHHHHAAAAAAHHHHHAAAAAHHHHAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!! I HAD NOT REALIZED THE LENGTHS SOME PEOPLE GO TO OBTAIN NARCOTIC MEDICATION???????? BBBBWWWWWWWWWAAAAAHHHHAAAAHHHHAAAAAAAA........oh God......can't breathe....must stop laughing to breathe.....

Hey, Fred, you ever hear of or see homeless people? You know, the dudes who stand on the corner and ask you for your change as you walk by? This may amaze you, but almost none of them aspired to do that kind of thing with their lives. Some are mentally ill.....but others....they have lost their friends, their family and their home, everything, literally everything, and are now living a life of filth and pain and misery... because they're desperate for their next fix. That is the length some people will go to to obtain narcotic medication. So while that quote of yours may be an appropriate statement for someone who lives on Mars, I would think it should be an embarrassment for anyone on Earth, and in the pharmacy profession in particular, to utter. Even more so to have published in a magazine. And featured in a way that it is the first thing on the page to grab the attention of the eye.

Or maybe you just think those people are out camping as you drive by. And maybe you really do think customers lose their Vicodin down the sink every third day.

So did Fred spend 5 minutes in a Walgreens to come up with this little brainstorm? No, and here's where it gets even better. Mr. Professor at the Eshelman School of Pharmacy at The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill had to find out the extent of people's love of narcotics... at a meeting. Where a study was presented.

I almost feel sorry for him.

"Practical Information For Today's Pharmacist" proclaims the cover of Pharmacy Times, and they let Fred write the opening column in each issue anyway. I look forward to the after-action report from his next meeting, where perhaps he'll learn insurance company co-pays go up, and that makes some customers unhappy.

Goddamn idiot.

Pharmacist Immunizations. Is There Something I'm Missing Here?

So, let me get this straight.

The giant corpro-pharmacy chains would like us to take some free time out of our schedule to learn how to give people immunizations.

Hm, OK, the thought of jabbing something sharp into my customers does have a certain appeal.

And afterwards, they would like us to somehow magically make time in our workday, because there is so much free time in the average retail pharmacists workday mind you, to stop the prescription filling process and jab random numbnuts who give them $30 and decide it's time for a flu shot?

And they expect us to do this, for free? At least that's how it's proposed to work at the corpro-pharmacy that butters my bread. Not one extra dollar in my paycheck. The only incentive provided being I am graciously allowed  to take vacation time to attend the training classes.

Do they think I'm stupid, and have failed to notice the part where they get 30 extra dollars out of the deal, or do they think I'm just insane? Why on earth would I go out of my way to make myself more valuable to them for nothing in return? When I ask them, what I hear are the usual bullshit platitudes about how pharmacists, being the most accessible health care professional, are in a unique position to benefit society by setting up a front line of defense against the annual flu pandemic......blah blah blah......

Which is right of course, but, listening to that answer, I can't help but to think how corporation's willingness to help society seems inexorably linked to how much money is in it for them.

Which is why I will be more than happy to become an immunization-certified pharmacist. And volunteer my services to a public health clinic. The fact you would expect me to donate additional skills and training to you for free, corpro-pharmacy, is an insult to the profession.

Of course, there is nothing new about corpo-pharmacy insulting the profession.

And there is nothing new about the insulted professionals taking it like a pillow chomping bottom.

If you've done this, if you're sticking it to people while getting it stuck to you by the man, for the love of God please explain to me why.

I Fear My Side Of The Story May Not Be Getting Told. A Guest Post By Your Laser Printer.

First off, let me just say I understand the pressure a modern pharmacy is under. To compete in today's prescription drug market one has to be ruthlessly efficient, focused as much as possible on meeting the needs of the customer and providing them with a satisfying health-care experience, while at the same time eliminating non-productive activity and redundancy.

I know you don't believe this right now, but I am here to help.

Do you realize I can print prescription labels almost 10 times as fast as the dot-matrix model which you had the good sense to replace with me? And not only that, my labels are crystal clear, and far easier on the eye, giving your establishment an aura of added professionalism. There is, no doubt, a reason why those old models can be had these days for less than the cost of dinner at Denny's.

Excuse me, but there seems to be something jammed just above my duplex. Would you mind opening me up and clearing that out? I'm afraid I will be unable to work until you do. Thank you very much.

Now, where was I? Oh yes. I'm sure you'll agree the additional speed and clarity.....

Oh dear, I'm sorry, but evidently there was an additional paper jam behind the toner cartridge. How embarrassing. If you could just open me back up we'll be back at work in no time.

ALT ERROR 846: unknown transfer origin.

How odd. Neither me nor anyone at my manufacturer's help desk seem to have any idea what that could mean. Perhaps you could look in my owners manual if I came with one. How about we just hit the "clear" button and pretend that never happened.

Now then. As you are well aware I'm sure, I also have the capability of doing far more than printing prescription labels. I also quickly and efficiently print a drug monograph for every prescription you fill, putting vital information into the hands of your customers and enabling the FDA to require a never ending expansion of the number of medguides to be supplied to your customers.  I hear one may be coming soon to warn of the risks of Clarinex, which is slightly more dangerous than water.

I understand your frustration sir, but just as soon as you replace my toner cartridge with a new one, my work will look as good as the day I was installed, making that type of language completely unnecessary. Be sure to box up the old cartridge and send it back though. They are expensive, and I would hate to see you lose your rather substantial recycling deposit.

I haven't even mentioned my ability to print out e-prescriptions and faxes, creating a giant pile of different sized papers you have the opportunity to sort through while quickly trying to put each customer's prescription information in the proper bag. I honestly don't know how you got by back in the day when items from different sources and of different priorities actually printed in separate, pre-sorted places.

ALT ERROR 846: unknown transfer origin.

I told you earlier sir, I do not know what that means. Perhaps it has something to do with the persistant black streak I have been putting down the center of the last 200 pages.

ALT ERROR 846: unknown transfer origin.

ALT ERROR 846: unknown transfer origin.

ALT ERROR 846: unknown transfer origin.

I understand you have a dozen customers waiting sir, but there really was no need to slam the paper tray back in me so hard. Let's think about all the time and money I save you the 80% of the time I am working.

Pardon me, do you smell something burning?

EXCUSE ME! Now kicking my sides is completely uncalled for! I'm afraid if you do not bring your temper under control I will have no choice but to repeatedly overload the circuit breaker that services your entire computer system. Trust me sir, neither one of us would want that.

Because that would stand in the way of progress.

Thank you for understanding.

The Editor Of Pharmacy Times Has It All Figured Out.

From the mailbag:

I am at the end of my rope....as if we aren't overworked our tech hours just got cut by 10! That's about 7%....going into the flu season...are they out of their fucking minds? I truly don't understand how they expect employees to provide any customer service let alone good customer service when we are exhausted and feel completely screwed over. I am looking to switch to anywhere that does less than 1000 rxs a week. I am a quitter...I have been beat. God I hate retail and people, not necessarily in that order.

Thank you for your stories to remind me that I am not alone!

That comment came in awhile back, but in a sense I've been getting it ever since I started my little blog garden. I'm never surprised to read about the working conditions out there, but I am surprised at the number of times I see something along the lines of "I thought I was all alone"

You are not all alone. It's not just your store. It's not just your chain. The profession of pharmacy is on fire and will collapse soon if something doesn't change.

Fred Eckel knows you're not alone as well. He's the editor of the trade magazine Pharmacy Times and he's got the problem all figured out. Here's a snipit from his October Editor's Note column:

On occasion I talk to a pharmacist who has been working for a while and doesn’t feel good about being a pharmacist. He expresses disappointment about choosing pharmacy as a career, wouldn’t do it again, and doesn’t want his children to be pharmacists. Because I personally have really enjoyed being a pharmacist, I wonder whether those disappointed in pharmacy would be disappointed in most jobs. Is the problem more in their attitude rather than in the pharmacy profession?

So Fred Eckel has declared, while sitting on his perch at the University of North Carolina, that the problem in the profession is.....you.

Let me tell you something Fred Eckel. When you get a thousand prescriptions out the door in a day I'll listen to what the fuck you have to say.

But it's not about getting prescriptions out the door the pompous little egghead says:

The days of count and pour, lick and stick pharmacy are going away. Pharmacists who delegate this role to technology or others so that they can help patients make the best use of their medications will be what society needs from their pharmacist. And if that is not why you wanted to become a pharmacist, then maybe you need to rethink why you are a pharmacist.

Huh. So evidently Fred Eckel wants you to have a little conversation with your District Manager that would go something like this:

District manager: We had a compliant about a lady who was very upset you did not leave the pharmacy and personally show her where the milk was.

"Excuse me, I was in the middle of figuring out the correct warfarin dose for a patient based on INR lab data. The days of count and pour, lick and stick are over. So I won't be doing any of those things anymore. I read In Pharmacy Times that it is my sole role to help patients make the best use of their medications"

District Manager: You're fired.

I hate to tell you this Fred Eckel, but no one is paying for anything other than to get the right med to the right patient. At the rate of around $1.50 per prescription for most insurance companies. Do you think that maybe that's what the problem is? Maybe that's why pharmacies have become places that need to crank out five or six hundred prescriptions a day while cutting tech hours? And expecting seven hundred a day next year? After another round of tech hour cuts? Places that give absolutely NO thought to patient care other than creating a little OBRA checkbox to cover our legal asses because patient care doesn't even pay $1.50?

No, of course not. It's all our fault. Because individual pharmacists have so much fucking control over the forces that have painted the profession into the one dollar dispensing fee and four dollar full retail price generic corner. It's certainly not the fault of any of the retail pharmacy corporations that sit on the Board of Advisors to Pharmacy Times and set the working conditions for the profession, now is it?

The whole problem is we just don't want to help patients.

You fucking prick.

From The "Your Government In Action" File.

First "hiking the Appalachian trail," and now this. If we don't do something soon all the hard work Bill Clinton did in establishing the Democrats as the party of sex will have been for naught:

Florida Gov. Charlie Crist's (R) office has been sending people interested in children's health insurance to a sex chat line. "In a message callers hear when they get put on hold after calling Gov. Charlie Crist, Crist transposes a couple of numbers and turns the phone number for Florida KidCare into the number you'd call for 'hot, horny girls.'" The governor's office has since fixed the error.

Desperate teenage mothers looking for insurance. And sex lines. I can't help but to think of my old friend Romius T, who I'm pretty sure used to live in Florida.

News Analysis: Reaction To Obama's War Plans Generally Positive Among Fellow Peace Prize Winners.

OSLO, NORWAY (Drugmonkey News Service) - Reaction to President Obama's announcement of an escalation to the American war in Afghanistan was generally positive among past recipients of The Nobel Peace Prize, catching most analysts by surprise as this quirky group showed they are not bound by rules of traditional thinking.

"I have learned over the last decade and a half of my life that the best way to defeat an enemy is through total, overwhelming, brute force" said Aung San Suu Kyi, awarded the prize in 1991 for her non-violent resistance to the dictatorial military government of Burma. "To make their wives widows, their children orphans, crying out, naked, in despair and hopelessness, to scatter the bones of your enemy far and wide so that they may never rest even in death"

"Only then can we reach our harmonious potential and flourish in love and respect for our fellow humans" she added.

In South Africa, it was a sentiment echoed by perhaps the most famous of the very elite Peace Prize club.

"If only I had encouraged the members of The African National Congress to rise up in bloody rebellion, to slit the throats of the uninvited settlers of our land and oppressors of our people while they slept, things would be very different in my country today" said Nelson Mandela, who received the prize in 1993 for peacefully bringing down that country's racist and violent Apartheid government. "We could have been engaged in a series of tit-for-tat massacres throughout the countryside, or perhaps even a full scale civil war, and not wasting our time with things like planing for next year's World Cup of football"

"In hindsight, I realize sports are for pussies, and that real men settle their differences with blood" he added.

The Dali Lama, winner of the prize in 1989 in recognition of a lifetime spent in non-violent opposition to the Chinese occupation of Tibet, voiced general support, but sounded a word of warning.

"The path to spiritual Nirvana does not involve setting arbitrary troop withdrawal deadlines" he told Fox News. "To do so only emboldens your enemy and sends a mixed message to your partners and allies. I am very concerned about Mr. Obama's plans to begin leaving Afghanistan in 2011 in the absence of a commitment to verifiable benchmarks of progress, and will be praying for his soul that he stay the course until the job is done."

Obama, who was awarded the prize earlier this year for some reason, said in a statement that he was "pleased to have the support of so many people who truly understand that while the path of peace and non-violence is not always the easiest one to take, ultimately it is the only one that can produce true long term security and build a foundation for a just society in which each and every member can be nourished and achieve their full potential"

"After the path of sending in 30,000 more troops to kick some ass that is."

Reached in heaven, 1964 recipient Dr. Martin Luther King was heard only to be softly weeping.

Sometimes It Can Take You An Entire Weekend To Recover From A Black Friday Retailing Experience. Sometimes You're Just Lazy And Don't Post.

Let's not kid ourselves. It's not called, as the mainstream media will tell you, "Black Friday" because that's the day retailers finally break into profitability for the year. It's called Black Friday because of the foaming at the mouth barbarians who'll gather in a store's parking lot at 3 in the morning whipped into a frenzy for a chance to participate in that ultimate of sacraments in American culture, buying stuff. It's kinda like this country's running of the bulls. Even down to the occasional casualty.

That's not to say retailers don't make money on this day however, and my employer wanted in on the action. They decided to swing the doors to the store open at 7AM so they could catch a few of the blizzard of dollars that were sure to be flying around that day. Thankfully, prescriptions as a rule are not included in the Black Friday madness, so I was spared the crack of dawn opening experience. Store sources reported it went like this:

Store manager shows up.

Homeless dude sees store manager. "Bob! what are you doing here??"

Bob: "Opening up...we're starting things a little early today"

Homeless Dude: "Sweet!!!!!"

Homeless dude then proceeds to buy a 40 ounce Miller Genuine Draft. This was the grand total of the store's first hour of sales. If you were saying to yourself as you were reading that opening paragraph, "Um...I'm not sure how the Brut cologne you buy at the drugstore for the person in Accounts Receivable you barely know but whose name you drew in the office Secret Santa pool fits into the whole Black Friday paradigm," you have a bit more sense than the executives who run the corpro-pharmacy that employs me. Although we did have one very satisfied customer that morning. I dunno. Maybe those executives are crazy like a fox.

My day, however, started with immigration issues. It seems the manager used some of his early morning free time to catch up on paperwork, and something was evidently amiss with my I-9 form, which is used to document an employee's eligibility to work in this country. I have been with my employer for over 3½ years now, but this day I was apparently facing possible deportation. I almost jumped for joy at my good fortune. I wondered if they might send me to Canada, my favorite country in the world, whose Conservative Party includes a major section on environmental protection in its election platform.

No such luck. They just needed a copy of my passport. Which I will someday use to immigrate to Canada.

Within the first 15 minutes I fielded a phone call from someone desperate to get a hold of some Rogaine. I almost forgot they still sold that stuff. From the tone of of his voice, I suspect he may have been the guy who told me over 4 years ago about an alternate Rogaine use, which involves rubbing it on your willie as a Viagra alternative. I have no idea if it works, but please do not start rubbing Rogaine on your penis. Just don't.

The first customer of the day said he didn't have a lot of time to wait for his prescription, so he just wanted 4 tablets. Obviously, he was hip to the real reason your prescription takes so long to fill. The fact we painstakingly hand-inspect every tablet before it goes into your vial. Despite the customers request we cut corners, I refused to compromise my commitment to quality. Out of the 180 tablets in his prescription, two were rejected for an imprint slightly off-center, and one more for a color variation not in keeping with the other tablets. I'm sure an hour later when the jackass picked up his prescription, he appreciated its flawless nature.

"Coffee......coffee.......coffee....." chanted another customer on the way to the bathroom. I wasn't sure if he was interested in making a purchase or a deposit.

Doctor: "ARE YOU THE PHARMACIST???!!!"

Me: "Yes"

Doctor: "I WANT TO KNOW WHY YOU CHANGED THE LABEL DIRECTIONS ON MY PATIENTS PRESCRIPTION!!!!!"

Me: "You mean the warning not to take more than 6 tablets in 24 hours? The maximum dose of acetaminophen is 4 grams a day. You knew that, right?"

Doctor: Silence.

Me: "There's 650 milligrams of acetaminophen in a Darvocet tablet. Your instructions were 1 to 2 tablets every 3 to 4 hours. Why don't you do the math? Were you calling to thank me? Because I bet your patients liver and your malpractice insurance company sure do."

The doctor hung up on me. I'm not kidding. I suppose I could have been less of a dick about it. But so could he.

A customer walked by chanting "Safeway.com......safeway.com." I do not work at Safeway. The customer was wearing a sweatshirt that said "Canada," prompting me to re-evaluate my immigration plans.

By the way, why does every single prescription drug stock bottle have a "Usual Adult Dose" section on the label, and then say "see full prescribing information?" Why do they even pretend like they're gonna tell you? Pondering the point of this took up most of the rest of the day's free time. The ink, the time of the graphic designer who has to work this into the label. WHEN WE ALL KNOW THEY'RE NOT GOING TO TELL YOU UNLESS YOU READ THE PACKAGE INSERT! I didn't even ask what was going on when I looked over and saw my tech giving what looked like CPR to the credit card signature device. Not mouth to mouth, more like the chest pounding stuff. I couldn't be bothered. I want to know why they pretend like they're gonna tell us the usual adult dose and then never do.

Only the last question of the day snapped me out of it. "Drugmonkey, am I allowed to take my lab coat home and wash it?" asked the new clerk. The new clerk has been working here for about 6 months now. I thought about fucking with him and saying no, but I figured the coat might start to smell before much longer. Like the early morning homeless dude that I would be willing to bet was getting ready to take advantage of our store's late night seasonal closing time to get another 40 or two.

Fortunately for me, I still had some leftover turkey to add a nice tryptophan buzz to that provided by my usual tumbler of scotch. Unfortunately the tryptophan buzz is not permanent.

Goodnight.

Tomorrow I'm Supposed To Be Thankful Because Some Indians Who Later All Got Killed Didn't Let Some Pilgrims Starve. OK, I'm Down With That.

I'm thankful that I'm free to give my body a break from the river of scotch I pour down my throat every night by lighting up a joint every once in awhile.

Oh, whoops. I forgot for a second there I'm not.

But I am thankful I can leave my stress behind and am free to take a little vacation to a tropical wonderland such as Cuba.

Except I'm not. And not because the Cubans won't let me in.

Wow. Look how cynical I am. Alright. Lemmie try again.

I guess I'm thankful that kid really wasn't in the balloon.

And I'm thankful I'm not a turkey.

Go eat now.

Damn You Cincinnati Bengals.

It started with a headline text-messaged to my phone from The Onion, America's Finest News Source:

Bengals' Uniforms No Longer Look Stupid Now That Team Is Good

I was stunned. Could it be? Not the uniforms not looking stupid. The Bengals' uniforms are totally the gayest in a sports league whose whole premise is not being able to admit you're gay.

Tight end? Wide receiver? I rest my case.

But....the Bengals....could they be.......good? I didn't want to check. I had to check. My world may have been completely upended without my knowledge in the years since I grew up and stopped following sports.

Watching the Bengals every week was one of the last sporting rituals I held onto. For no other reason than they were so goddamn entertaining. It was so cute how they would go out on the field with the real teams and get pummeled, just pummeled, and then pretend like everything was really just fine.

"Well I know we had a rough year, but we do have the first round draft pick, and we're confident Ki-Jana Carter will provide just the spark we need to get back on the winning path"

The Bengals I knew sucked. Totally, completely, thoroughly sucked. They had to be the worst sports franchise of the 90's, and you could make an argument that the Clinton-era Bengals were the worst sports team ever. And everyone knew it, except for the man who owned the Bengals, Mike Brown. He seriously seemed to believe his own bullshit and I seriously think he thought himself a great football man. It was awesome. At the time I was working for a grocery store chain that was slowly going bankrupt. And everyone knew it except for the CEO of the company:

"Well I know we had a rough year, but we're confident that our new 200% produce freshness guarantee will provide just the spark we need to return to profitability"

Ki-Jana Carter tore his anterior cruciate ligament the third time he ever touched a football as a professional, and people soon realized they could turn a profit at our grocery chain by buying produce and then claiming it was not fresh. I grew to feel as if I were actually a Bengal myself, that somehow it was part of the rhythm of nature that if the Bengals ever happened to enter the fourth quarter of a game having scored more points than their opponent, you could rest assured that something like a deflected forward pass off the intended receivers hands and into those of a member of the other team, a fumbled snap from center to quarterback, or a string of penalties would ensure they would not have the lead when the game ended.

They always kept trying though, kinda like the way I kept trying to do the things at work that they told me I would be doing in pharmacy school. The Bengals would mount an impressive drive for awhile and then miss a field goal. I would catch a drug interaction and then the alternative would require a prior authorization. Once or twice a year though, bless their little hearts, the Bengals would manage to score more points than their opponents, just like how once or twice a year I would actually have a chance to provide pharmaceutical-based help to one of my customers. Every once in awhile me and the Cincinnati Bengals would win one. I almost sewed tiger stripes onto my lab coat.

But now.....that metaphor of my life, the Cincinnati Bengals, are in first place in their division. I had to check. They have moved on.

Or maybe things are just looking up for me.....

The Ugly Sting Of Homophobia Enters My Life. Unjustly.

"Handing out a 30 days supply of Norco every 20 days time after time is a good way for me to lose my license. I'm sorry, I can't fill it sir"

That's the most effective line in my arsenal most days. Lets the drug seeker know it's not personal. It doesn't work all the time though, and it wasn't working this time. Dude wanted his Norco.

Ho-hum. Just another day in the happy pill room for me. Until I got the look a few seconds later. I've been at this long enough that I've learned a lot about what people are saying to me with their eyes.

The customer wasn't Freddy Mercury spectacularly gay, or Rock Hudson chiseled jaw handsome kinda gay, but he definitely would be a big time bogey on your gaydar. More David Sedaris sissy-boy kinda gay I would say. I'm sure he has taken a lot of crap in his life for being a sissy boy, and what his eyes were saying to me was that this was more of the same. "Redneck straight boy gets off making life hard for the faggot, huh?" That's what shot out of his optic nerves. Clear as a bell.

I've always said give most people enough time and they will give you a perfectly legitimate reason to hate them, making prejudice unnecessary, and he was taking crap from me for a perfectly legitimate reason, but since he was communicating with his eyes and not his mouth, I would never have a chance to set the record straight.

Wait. I don't want to set anything straight. Because I'm not a bigot. Honest. He can be as non straight as he wants and it's none of my business. How to make that clear though? That was my problem.

"Look...this isn't because you're gay, OK?" I'm sure that would have gone over well.

But I'm not a redneck....seriously.... I have all sorts of gay friends. I listen to NPR. I read the New York Times and have an appreciation for Ricard Wagner and John Coltrane. Um... wait. Maybe Wagner wasn't the best example there, and I don't really have any gay friends. I actually never even met anyone out of the closet until I moved to California, but I'm not a redneck. Anymore.

It's just so unfair. I would totally rather the guy put some penis in his mouth instead of all that extra Norco, but it doesn't matter. In his eyes I am now an accused, tried, and convicted homophobe. I might have to end up marrying him if it ever becomes legal. Just to clear my name.

I hope he's off the narcotics by then.

A Solution To The Health Care Crisis For One Lucky Lady.

"So I might have to get married" the customer concluded. Fortunately she was only talking to me, and not about me. She's a nice enough lady, but not really my type. Not to mention she's newly pregnant, and newly without insurance she was unable to afford despite being the owner of a small business that provided her with too much income for state assistance. All she knew was that in 9 months there were gonna be some monster hospital bills coming her way and she would have no way to pay them. Marrying the sperm donor seemed to be the only viable solution.

Nothing like building a lifetime commitment on a strong foundation of love.

The conversation got me to thinking though. I mean, I have a great health insurance plan. It's through a union by the way, and those two facts are not a coincidence. So what if she had been my type? I totally could have been the solution to her problems. Might there be other, possibly hot, women in similar circumstances? If so, and you're one of them, I figure I could be your health insurance sugar daddy. Hell, if you've got kids, I could even lift them out of the ranks of the uninsured as well, although we'd have to negotiate some sort of arrangement to keep the little yard apes away from me.

There would be other things to negotiate as well. A rock solid prenup that ensures you get nothing besides my insurance card. But don't get any ideas this marriage won't be consummated. I assure you, you will definitely be consummating your way to good health.

On the other hand though, if someone is desperate for health insurance, what are the chances they'll be hot? If they're looking for healthcare and not carrying the seed of another man, they're probably all diabetic and stuff, and I have yet to see a hot diabetic. Maybe there's someone out there looking for coverage before a breast-enhancement operation or something. I'm pretty sure my plan covers that. Like I said, the union takes care of me.

And I, just might, take care of you. If you want it bad enough. And are hot. I figure by providing insurance to a hot person I will not only be helping to solve one of the great social problems of our time, I will be helping to beautify the planet as well. Kind of a Darwinian thing.

So if you're interested, come up with a stimulus package and forward your application to the e-mail address on the right of this page. You just might qualify for a bailout. Your odds are definitely better than scoring any kind of help under the proposal Republicans have put forth.

Good luck.

Big Pharma Pud Sucking Doesn't Always Involve Drugs. It Does, However, Almost Always Involve Money And Screwing People.

In the land of the free and the home of the brave my friends, you can be forced to sell your property to the government at any time. You may be surprised to hear this, but it's right in the constitution to which every elected official and member of the armed services of this country swears allegiance. Don't worry though, the Bill of Rights protects you by limiting this power to the confiscation of property "for public use." You know, like an airport, a highway right of way, or research facility for Pfizer, the multinational drug company.

Some of you may have just read that and be saying to yourselves, "Uh, hold on there Drugmonkey, one of those things is not like the other. I don't see how building something for Pfizer would constitute a public purpose"

To which I would say you are obviously not a member of the decision making class of New London Connecticut, a city which in the 1990's decided to bulldoze one of its neighborhoods in order to lure Pfizer to town. They also gave Pfizer a 10 year tax abatement.

"Not to worry" said the residents of the neighborhood. "We have the 5th Amendment to protect us. We'll just get a lawyer and take care of this"

So they got a lawyer. And started a fight with general principles of human decency and the U.S. Constitution on one side, and giant corporate interests and billions of dollars of profit on the other. Do I really need to tell you who won? In one of its most notorious decisions in recent history, the Supreme Court ruled 5 to 4 in 2005 that sucking Pfizer's corporate dick did indeed constitute a public purpose. The neighborhood was bulldozed. Let freedom ring.

Before I get to the olive in the martini of this story, let's have a quick word from Pfizer:

Pfizer fully supports the principles in United Nations Declaration on Human Rights and the International Labour Organization Declaration on Fundamental Principles and Rights at Work, and strives to uphold human rights in all our business activities.

I didn't make that up. I cut and pasted it right from their website.

OK now, where was I? The part where Pfizer came into the bulldozed neighborhood, built their research park, and created thousands of good paying jobs for the people of New London? Let's see how that turned out:

Eight years after opening its state-of-the-art global research-and-development headquarters in New London, Pfizer Inc. announced Monday it will close the nearly $300 million complex within the next two years and consolidate local operations into its Groton campus.

So they'll be padlocking the door right as that tax abatement expires. Funny how that worked out.

"It's very unfortunate what's happened here." said Pfizer CEO Jeffrey Kindler. "Sadly, the economic climate just wasn't conducive to us actually paying property tax to the community that was willing to throw people out of their homes in order to give us some prime waterfront office space. I want to announce today though, that Pfizer will be doing the right thing by those we made homeless. In keeping with our commitment to human rights, we will be spending $5.8 million dollars over the next 5 years to reconstruct new houses for all those we displaced."

"BBBWWWWAAAAHHHHHHAAAAHHHHAAAAHHAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!" He then added. "Had you there for a second, didn't I?" Human rights, oh yeah....we totally support human rights, right up to the point where it's gonna cost us something."

You know I made that quote up. What I'm not making up is the fact that Pfizer's stock price jumped 3 percent the day they announced they were fucking the town of New London, or that their 2008 profit worked out to $22 million dollars a day.

Enjoy your freedom.

Send A Coat Hanger To A Democrat Who Sorely Needs One.

I'll warn you up front this is a pure politics post. If you don't like them, just move along......

.....but....if you've ever had sex, you might wanna stick around. Or if you're one of those capitalistic types who doesn't think the government has the right to tell private companies what to do, you might wanna stick around as well. I mean, that's one of the things you teabaggers had your boxers in a bunch over in this healthcare thing. You were convinced Obama was gonna take over the entire healthcare system and be telling Cigna what they could and couldn't do with your policy, right? So you guys should be all over this. 'Cause I know you're all about freedom.

It seems as if some members of the House of Representatives got it in their heads that health reform had to come at a price. Right before final consideration of the healthcare bill this country has been waiting on for over 60 years, Representative Bart Stupak of Michigan offered an amendment that would bar any insurance company taking part in the proposed federal insurance exchange from offering coverage for abortion services. I don't mean just the public option mind you. It applies to any insurance company selling policies through the exchange. So if you're an average schlep, and you buy a policy from Cigna, well, sorry slut, no abortion for you.

Bart Stupak is a Democrat. Twenty other Democrats, all men, voted for the amendment. It passed.

It passed, and I've been fuming ever since. Like Jim Hightower says, I can handle losing when we lose, but I can't stand losing when we win. These Democrats need to be sent a message, and the most awesome phone company in the world, CREDO Mobile, is going to give it to them. They've started a petition to hold these Democrats to account, and for everyone who signs, CREDO will send each of these twenty Congressmen a coat hanger as a reminder of what they've done and an incentive to do the right thing when the final bill comes up to a vote. Awesome. I want these fuckers to wade through coat hangers on their way to the office every day. I want them pelted with coat hangers when they are on the street. I want them to be reminded of what they've done every time they go to hang up their suit.

I almost want to say I want their teenage daughters to get knocked up, but that would be bad karma, so I totally won't say it would be incredibly just if every fertile child of these guys would be forced to pop out an unwanted shortie in 9 months.

I will say I've never been so happy about paying my phone bill.

You don't have to be a CREDO customer to sign the petition, so click here to send a coat hanger to the 20 men in the United States who most deserve one.

I expect all you teabaggers who were screaming about Hitler this summer to be clicking away. Along with the rest of us who are sane.

It's A Short Night For Me, Which Means A Quickie For You.

A quickie, nonetheless, that I think will make you feel better about your workday:

IOWA CITY - Police arrested a man Friday for allegedly defecating in a pharmacy on Friday.

Robert Lee, 57, went into CVS pharmacy, 2425 Muscatine Ave., at 4:17 p.m. where he walked to the front area of the store, lifted up his shirt, dropped his pants and defecated on the floor and walked out, according to criminal complaints.

I think the guy was probably just speaking for a good part of CVS's customer base, as well as more than a few pharmacists who've had to call one of their sorry-ass stores for a copy. I might have been tempted to pick up his bail if he had done this at the CVS down the street from my happy pill room.

Thanks to the alert reader who tipped me to the story.

Viagra Chimes In.

Yo, Yocon,

I came across your guest post here while looking around the Internet for sites that try to make a buck off my good name, and I gotta tell ya, I feel for you man. You're one of the few chemicals on earth who can understand what it's like to be me. It's hard. Actually in your case it wasn't hard, but don't beat yourself up about it, OK? Without being able to see and learn from what you went through back in the day who knows if I could handle being me.

The fame.

The never ending geyser of cash. Never ending I said.

The women. And not just women mind you, if you swing that way, there's the men, transsexuals that could be either one even. Fuck dolls. Pocket pussies, watermelons, oak trees, plaster of paris sculptures, electronic devices, certain types of deserts and egg products. It never stops. If I hadn't married Ambien a few years back I might never get any rest. She's been really good for me, that Ambien wife of mine.

Anyway, my point is we all stand on the shoulders of giants, and you did some good pioneering work. I owe a lot of my success to you my friend.

Even though we work in totally different ways. As a matter of fact, our mechanism of action isn't even close. Now that I think about it, you really had nothing to do with the research that created me. That was more Imdur. I started off as a heart drug you know. I was about as effective at preventing angina as you were in making a stiffie, but Imdur never let me give up. Yeah. Imdur is actually the giant upon whose shoulders I stand.

Never mind.

Sincerely,

Viagra™

A Guest Post From The First Prescription Impotence Medication.

I never meant for it to go so far. I am so sorry.

When they came to me and asked me to play the role of a chemical that could stimulate a man's penis, I'll admit, I thought it was a big joke. I was young and stupid and just didn't realize there was a demand for that sort of thing. I knew I didn't work, but I assumed everyone else would know that too. And then there was the FDA. Weren't they supposed to keep ineffective drugs like me off the market? Surely they would step in and keep things from getting out of hand. This all must be some sort of prank I said to myself. I'll just have some fun while it lasts.

I'm not sure when exactly I saw the first wrinkly old man face looking to me for hope. I'm sure I didn't notice it. The money started rolling in quick and it all seems like a blur now. The parties at oceanside mansions, the powdered blow in the bathroom, the oral blow in the bedroom. The butler and the maids. The separate Rolls-Royce for each day of the week. I don't remember a lot about the 70's, but at some point the wrinkly old man faces became too numerous to ignore.

"Yocon you can save my marriage." They would say. "Yocon, you can make me a man again. Please help me"

I tried to wash away their pleas with vodka. With gin, rum, scotch....anything.....anything to make it go away. Two stints in The Betty Ford center didn't help, because the problem was I was living a lie. I wanted out. All the money in the world couldn't buy back my soul, but there were contracts. Obligations to which I had committed myself. The day they started running that ad in pharmacy journals with the little male symbol, the circle with the arrow... the way they made the arrow gradually start to point upwards. That day I wanted to die.

The wrinkly old man faces never stopped. No matter how many times I failed them, they always came back with more dollars in their hand and more hope in their hearts. They were looking to me to restore their masculinity, but if i had been any kind of a man myself I would have put a stop to it.

It was a relief the day Viagra came to market. When the vultures and hangers on and groupies finally abandoned me. Things are better now. I live in rural Pennsylvania eking out a living as a seldom used pupil dilator. Every once in awhile I still run into someone who believes the myth, but now I can tell them. I won't make your dick hard. Neither will I burn fat if you apply me to your skin as a patch. I won't. I never did.

I'll never be able to undo the damage I did to the wrinkly old men. The only thing I can do is ask their forgiveness, try to be the best pupil dilator I can be, and hope that you can learn from my mistakes.

Please, if someone claims you can cause an erection, demand scientific proof before you sign any contracts.

Sincerely,

Yocon™

Highlights From Friday's Pill Counting Action.

The Assistant Manager was wearing a mask. Her eyes are hyperthyroidic and look like they are the only potential release valve for an enormous amount of pressure that is building up inside her head. You notice that more when she's wearing a mask that covers up the bottom two-thirds of her face, the way she was today. For most people I bet it would be kind of a scary thing to witness upon entering a drugstore, but having had a ringside seat to her neck brace phase that made her look like the Bride of Frankenstein, I was able to take it in stride. I almost forgot to ask her what the deal was.

"Oh I had a little cough when I woke up this morning." Was the entirety of her reply. So she was doing it for us. For our protection. We showed our gratitude by laughing behind her back.

"Hey Drugmonkey, you should tell her that touching that mask with her bare hands will only contaminate it, and she really needs to wear some gloves. Let's see if we can get her in a complete biohazard suit by the end of the day. " I thought about it, but was soon distracted by another of my fellow corpo-slaves:

"I'm so happy!!!!" said the fabulously gay cashier. "I won $150 in a strip off last night!!! I was kinda drunk and the next thing I know I was up on a stage and everyone was cheering!!"

Then we unlocked the door and let the real freaks in.

The first customer handed me a bottle of Lipitor with no refills. "Oh, well I guess I don't need anymore then." I tried to tell him he did. Really, I tried, but he walked out the door with his empty bottle and no intention of having it filled ever again. Sometimes all you try to do with your customers is keep them from hurting themselves, and sometimes you fail.

The label printer jammed and mysteriously started working when I reached out to touch it. All I had to do was kinda point at it. I heard a small child scream from the direction of the ice cream counter and could only assume the assistant manager was taking a turn manning the scoops.

I looked down the first aid aisle and saw a middle aged fat man sitting on the floor. Just sitting and staring. Looking in the direction of the ACE bandages, but not really at them. It was more like he was meditating. He would remain there for 3 hours.

Unfortunately I made eye contact with another customer while witnessing the spiritual experience. Customers take direct eye contact as in invitation to make a beeline towards you and unload whatever is on their mind at the moment, almost like a confession. The lady brought up three cold packs and asked which one would be best for a knee injury. I picked the one in the middle of the price range, for no other reason than picking the cheapest or most expensive would have been obvious. I don't follow your rules man.

The screen on the cash register went blank and I just kinda tapped it. It started to work just fine.

A man in a hockey jersey asked me about over the counter dental repair kits. I wonder if he deliberately picked out his shirt to go with his broken front tooth. It really did make him just kinda blend in.

One of my technicians started complaining about a customers copay of $1.10, evidently feeling it too low for someone living off the public dole. "Why doesn't she work?"

The customer in question was in the waiting area picking her nose and spilling ice cream on the front of her blouse. I think she got some of her own snot in the ice cream as she attempted to clean up.

"Would you hire her?" That was the end of that discussion. Her next claim got stuck in the computing process until I came over. By now I was getting kinda cocky. I just kinda waved my hand over the screen and sure enough, a paid claim was the immediate result.

You see my friends, I realized this day that I have become a Pharmacy Jesus. Performing miracles and defending the poor. I've even written a kind of pharmacy bible here with this blog. All I need me now are some disciples. Except I'm not interested in a pack of dudes who want to be fishers of men. I don't swing that way like the first Jesus evidently did. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but Pharmacy Jesus has an appreciation for the ladies.

And a good single malt. I'm going to disinfect my insides with some now in order to get through the coming H1N1 epidemic. And maybe start wearing a mask.

My Cat Seeks Medical Attention.

The hairballs had been unbearable, but now her mind was at ease.

The dashingly good looking veterinarian had told her that the malady was easily treated as he handed over the signed slip of paper. "Just take this to your local drugstore and you'll be as good as new by the morning." he said. Spooky had noticed a stunningly beautiful Persian cat in a business suit and a low cut blouse walking out of the vet's office as she made her way to the appointment that morning. Little did she know that was a sign of trouble. Right now though, as she made her way into the pharmacy, she felt reassured. That everything would soon be better and the constant tummy torment would soon end. She assumed the sign above the front door stood for "Cats are Very Special"

The first thing she noticed was a line at least 20 deep waiting to get to the drop off window. It made her want to take a nap. She woke up 2 hours later and the line was now down to 15. Eventually she made her way to the counter and was told it would take at least an hour to fill her prescription. She started to softly purr.....

"Is there any way you could get it done sooner? Look how fluffy and attractive I am. Surely a creature so cute should not be made to wait more than 10 minutes"

She was then told it would be an hour and a half.

She let out a hiss, and was then distracted by an open plastic bag being blown down the antacid aisle. Must chase the bag.

The bag was captured and hidden inside of for a good 10 minutes, which left 80 more to kill. On her way to the other side of the store to shoplift some catnip she stopped twice for emergency grooming.

She talked to no one this whole time. My cat is a total bitch. Once she got high off the catnip she sat on her paws with her back to the rest of the store.

Not that she wasn't pleased. The fact that it was stolen made the catnip high all the better, but eventually her tummy was rumbly again and it was the time the prescription was promised to be ready.

She waited 2 more hours to get to the pickup window. It was then she learned a trick to use when dealing with the Cats are Very Special pharmacy. If you immediately walk over to the pickup line as soon as you are done dropping off your prescription, by the time it is your turn it will be past the time they promised your prescription would be ready.

She wondered how the place treated humans if this is how they dealt with the Creatures they thought were Very Special.

When she got to the counter.....

LASER LIGHT!!!!!! CHASE THE LASER!!!!!!

....she got the bad news. The slutty Persian sales rep had convinced the good veterinarian to start writing prescriptions for a hairball treatment that cost 20 times as much as anything else on the market, but had the clinical advantage of being advertised on TV. It would require a prior authorization from her insurance company. Spooky arched her back and stood her fur on end, but to no avail. She whipped out her cellphone and called the vet. The office was closed. She called the Drugmonkey. He was hung over and asleep. Spooky's tummy hurt. She coughed up a hairball on the counter and went home to mourn the wasted day.

I've decided the key to getting some of my blog groove back is to write more while intoxicated. I'll have to look this over in the morning when I'm of the sober and decide if I was right.

From The "Interesting Merchandising Decisions" Department. Or Maybe Just A Sign You're In A Bad Neighborhood.

So, I guess, when you think about it, maybe it's not the worst idea to put these two things next to each other. Still, would you really be buying them at the same time?



As an ex-smoker, I like this idea better, because afterwards really is the toughest time to fight the urge....to smoke....

Maybe corporate suits are a little smarter than I've been giving them credit for.

I Was Going To Write Today About How UPS Went Out Of Business.

.......but the people at the blog review site iwillfuckingtearyouapart seem to think I'm turning into a one-trick health care reform pony of late, and they might have a point. So if you used the Post Office today to send or receive mail I'll leave it to you to figure out the gist of what I was going to say about the public health insurance option. I'll also point out that far from going out of business, UPS, which competes with the Post Office, made a $3 billion profit last year.

This post isn't about the public health insurance option though. This post is about me giving you something. I'd like to give you my right to marry. Seriously. I doubt I'm gonna need it again. I already exercised it once a long time ago on what seems like another planet with a woman I knew I didn't love and ripped it and her to shreds. Screwed it up so much that short of wiping my ass with the marriage license I'm not sure what else I could have done to disrespect the institution more. We don't need to get into the details here, yet me, Elizabeth Taylor, and Britney Spears are all free to make another legally binding "lifetime" commitment any time we'd like. On a total whim if we want. And I'll bet you two of the three of us will take advantage of that again before we're dead. Not me though. I don't deserve the right, and cannot get rid of it, and if you're gay or lesbian, no matter how hard you've fought or how deeply you have loved to this point, you most likely do not have the right.

I'm not the only one who sees something wrong with this picture I hope.

So if you're some big shot, smarty-pants lawyer and you can figure out a way to transfer my abused and unwanted right to someone who will treasure it, and their partner, the way rights and partners should be treasured, let me know. I'll sign the consent forms. Short of that, you could lend some support to protectmaineequality.org, and light a candle against the darkness of those that would take away the right of marriage in one of the few places where loving gay and lesbian couples currently have it.

They deserve it more than I do, and the fact I put "lifetime" in quotes up there and it didn't surprise a single one of you shows they deserve it more than most of the rest of society as well.

I'll be rooting for every gay and lesbian person in the state of Maine, and love, on Election Day.

Once Again, It Takes Until Monday Night Before I Can Bear To Recall Friday's Pill Counting Highlights.

We have a floater tech that makes her way to the happy pill room every once in awhile, and by "every once in awhile," I mean twice in almost 4 years. My employer's usual reaction to one of our technicians going on vacation or being out sick would be translated from corporatespeak as roughly, "tough shit." We are expected to muddle through the day short staffed and magically fill the same amount of prescriptions in the same amount of time. And the corporates wonder why I long ago stopped listening to any critiques they may have of my performance. This day though, we had Marissa, which isn't her real name of course, and I was beginning to worry that Marissa might never come back.

Marissa is Latina you see, and talks with a bit of an accent, which the people in the lilly-white environment in which I work these days equate with being stupid. Marrissa spent the first few hours of her shift being talked to as if she were a first grader. Not outright hostility mind you, just the soft bigotry of low expectations.

"So, Marrissa," I said when we got to a quiet moment. "Who exactly did you piss off that they sent you down to this place today?" We instantly bonded. I really am a blast to work with. One of the great things about being me is that I get to work with me all the time.

Except that I'll eat your food. That's the one bad part about working with me. You leave something in the pharmacy and it's in my stomach within 5 minutes of your departure. It's a bad habit, an addiction almost, but to my credit, I am the only person I know of who does this that will admit to it.

There was no time to steal my coworkers food however, as there was a crazy thyroid lady to deal with. An exasperated Marissa kicked her up to me after a good 5 minutes of trying to deal. I started from the beginning. That's usually the bast way to deal with crazy people, as it calms them down sometimes.

"I have a prescription for some Armour Thyroid, and that woman I just spoke with...."

It was clear by the emphasis she put on the word "woman" that what she meant was "stupid Latina woman who talks with an accent"

".....said you don't have any"

"That's right ma'am, there's a manufacturing problem, and our wholesaler isn't always able to supply it, it's been hit-or-miss for awhile now."

"WELL YOU NEED TO FIND SOME!!!! DO YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOU DON'T HAVE A SYSTEM WHERE YOU CAN CHECK OTHER STORES????"

"I called the other (insert name of large corpro-pharmacy here) last night and they don't have any either, and no, I don't have a way to check stock of my competitors."

"WELL WHY NOT?????"

She went on hold. "Marrissa, you have to promise me something, OK? Don't ever do this. Ever."

Marissa nodded, and I then hung up on crazy thyroid lady. I am a total blast to work with.

"Why is the blood pressure machine out of order? Is it because of the flu?" Stupid customer. Everyone knows when the blood pressure machine gets shut down it's because it's HIV positive.

Immediately after this the assistant manager comes in and wants to borrow some tape. I point her to the tape dispenser, and she walks up to the tape dispenser, which I will remind you, is a machine that dispenses tape. Which is what she wants to borrow take. The tape is clearly visible. She then asks:

"This one?"

I went to school 5 years for this.

As I raided the refrigerator in a futile search for leftovers from Marissa's lunch, I noticed an oven thermometer. The last time the state board inspector was in she wrote in her report that we needed to have thermometers in the fridge. I think technically we might be in compliance now. I'll have to check.

I looked up a short time later and saw a man running down the aisle in order to get his place in the prescription pickup line. He accomplished his goal. He totally beat the hunchback little old lady in her walker. "I was here first!!!!!" he announced to Marissa's replacement, and there was no arguing he was right. Chivalry is dead and it's corpse is cold my friends. Maybe it was overrated anyway.

It was at that moment that I realized I was in love with the iPLEDGE lady. For those of you not in the profession I'll let you know the iPLEDGE program is a redundant, pain in the ass set of hoops everyone has to go through to make sure the acne medicine isotretinoin doesn't end up in the hands of a pregnant woman and giver her a baby with a football shaped head. Part of the process involves me calling a phone number to make sure a patient has met the requirements of the program, and the womanly robotic voice that answers is sometimes the most competent interaction I will have in a workday.

The iPLEDGE womanbot is never stupid or rude. In fact, she's amazingly patient when i accidentally hit the wrong button trying to answer her questions. The iPLEDGE womanbot is always cool and collected. I bet she's really smart. And has long hair down to the small of her back that is black as the night of a new moon. She even has an accent. The way she says "pre-SCREAPT-tion" melts my heart. After the machines take over civilization, I want to marry the iPLEDGE womanbot and have her babies. I know none of them would have football heads.

I closed the gate on this workday with a head full of dreams of the iPLEDGE womanbot, and hopes that Marissa would come back the next time we were short a tech. And maybe bring some food.

If You'll Recall, I Singlehandedly Put Al Franken In The United States Senate. Now I'm Kinda Proud Of Myself.

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Let's Try Something A Little Different In The Health Care Debate.

Radical even. Call me crazy, but why don't we see what the people who actually deal with the healthcare system on a daily basis think about the situation. After all, wouldn't doctors know a bit more about what needs to be done than bonehead politicians interested in nothing other than getting re-elected?

Besides, we all know the federal government messes up everything it tries to do. Except blowing shit up and killing people. The federal government does that very well. It actually built a pretty good interstate highway system too. And runs a decent system of National Parks. It also makes sure almost 50 million people get their social security checks every month and is behind the delivery of almost 700 million pieces of mail every day. Other than that though, it's obvious the government can't accomplish anything.

Let's see what the doctors think.

...we conducted a national survey of physicians to inform federal policymakers about physicians’ views of proposed expansions of health care coverage.

...Survey respondents were asked to indicate which of three options for expanding health insurance coverage they would most strongly support: public and private options, providing people younger than 65 years of age the choice of enrolling in a new public health insurance plan (like Medicare) or in private plans; private options only, providing people with tax credits or subsidies, if they have low income, to buy private insurance coverage, without creating a new public plan; or a public option only, eliminating private insurance and covering everyone through a single public plan like Medicare. We also assessed the level of physician support for a proposal that would enable adults between the ages of 55 and 64 years to buy into the current Medicare program.

Overall, a majority of physicians (62.9%) supported public and private options. Only 27.3% supported offering private options only. Respondents — across all demographic subgroups, specialties, practice locations, and practice types — showed majority support (>57.4%) for the inclusion of a public option. Primary care providers were the most likely to support a public option (65.2%); among the other specialty groups, the “other” physicians — those in fields that generally have less regular direct contact with patients, such as radiology, anesthesiology, and nuclear medicine — were the least likely to support a public option, though 57.4% did so. Physicians in every census region showed majority support for a public option, with percentages in favor ranging from 58.9% in the South to 69.7% in the Northeast. Practice owners were less likely than nonowners to support a public option (59.7% vs. 67.1%, P<0.001),>

Huh. How about that. The people who know the most about our healthcare system, the ones who are immersed in it every single working day, unambiguously feel the federal government needs to step in and be a part of the cleanup of the rotten mess we call healthcare in this country. What does that tell you my friends?

IT TELLS ME YOU'RE SOME SORT OF COMMY DRUGMONKEY!!!!! I can hear some of you saying. WHY DO YOU HATE AMERICA!!!???? JESUS IT PISSES ME OFF THE WAY YOU PASS ALONG SOME LEFT-WING PROPAGANDA PIECE YOU FIND ON THE INTERNET AS IF IT WERE SCIENTIFICALLY SOUND RESEARCH!!!

And you would be right. If you consider The New England Journal of Medicine to be a mouthpiece of left-wing propaganda that is. Most people however, would consider it the epitome of scientifically sound research.

Only 27.3% supported offering private options only.

Only 27.3% supported offering private options only.

Only 27.3% supported offering private options only.

Don't you think that maybe....just maybe....we should give some credence to the opinion of the people who know the most about healthcare?

NO! GLEN BECK KNOWS MORE!!!! HE HAS MANY YEARS EXPERIENCE AS A RADIO DISC JOCKEY!!!!!! HITLER HITLER HITLER!!!!! SOCIALISM!!!!! DEATH PANELS!!!! BWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!! BE AFRAID!!!!! Say my friends on the right.

By the way, I will never forgive the conservatives for coming up with that death panel story. Because I was totally looking forward to serving on one until I found out they just made the whole thing up. Dammit.

Anyway, my point here is that the more you know about medicine, the more likely you are to think......like me.

Of course I work in healthcare too.

Why don't you ponder that the next time you're driving down the interstate.