As Much As I'm Sure You'd Love To Continue To Hear My Opinion About The Troops, I Think I'll Write About Last Week's Pill Counting Highlights Instead.

What is your name? Can you think of a simpler question? Seriously, I'm used to people who don't have any idea if they've ever set foot in one of the thousands of stores operated by my employer. I've also accepted the fact many people will come to the counter convinced they are at a CVS, which wouldn't be so bad save for the fact I don't and never have worked for CVS. But how the hell can you mess up the question "What is your name?"

The guy did. Took him a good couple of minutes to get the answer out. The education crisis in this country is real and will soon overwhelm us all my friends.

These types of problems are best left to the technicians though, as my massive brainpower is needed for the medical type questions. Like the lady at the blood pressure machine who asked me if a reading of 180 over 130 was too high.

I fired up my superbrain and told her yes, that reading was without a doubt too high. That she needed to see a doctor.

"Well my last reading was 150 over 112, so maybe my pressure isn't really that high."

I told the nice lady that even 150 over 112 was too high, and she really needed to see a doctor.

"But I don't want to see a doctor" was the reply. Unfortunately I was still expected to find a solution to this problem.

So I whipped out my counting spatula, which also doubles as a magic wand, lightly tapped her on the forehead, and sent her on her merry way, telling her she could be secure in the knowledge that her blood pressure would never be a problem again. My only regret was that she just didn't tell me she'd rather not see a doctor right off the bat. Could have saved us both a little time.

While this was going on I overheard a man talking to my trusty technician.

"We don't seem to have any prescriptions for you, was there anything you needed?"

"No."

Why a person comes to the prescription counter when they are not in need of a prescription is one of life's little mysteries. But it happens. More often than you would think. I suspect CVS  might be behind it.

There has been a bit of drama in the happy pill room of late amongst the staff. Nothing major. The type of petty politics that will happen when any group of people share a close space together for a few hours every workday. Long story short, there was a bit of a spat between the pharmacy manager and one of the technicians. The same technician who saves the used aluminum soda cans we use during the workday to cash in for the recycling deposit. After the spat, the manager reached into the recycle box, pulled out the two cans she had emptied that day, and put them into the regular garbage. I suspect my pharmacy manager will be promoted soon, and am confident she will fit into the corporate world quite well.

A deaf lady signed "Where's the bathroom?" and I understood her perfectly based only on the look upon her face.

The prescriptions were backed up like a 90 year old man on Oxycontin and I didn't have time for this shit. Have you ever called another store for a prescription transfer and wondered how the hell the person on the other end of the line could possibly have the same license as you? I know you have, and it seems to be happening with increasing regularity. Like the people who don't know what the words "NO REFILLS" on a prescription label could possibly mean though, I've come to accept it. Every once in awhile they still manage to surprise me though. Since this store was on the other side of the country, I was getting some basic information, the kind of thing that happens in every pharmacy, every day of the year.

"So what's your ZIP code?"

"My what?"

"Zip code. The last part of your address."

"Uhhhhhhh.........can you call back later?"

I gave up on the human with a college degree and professional license and  looked up the zip code of mystery on my smart phone.

And the machines took a step closer to the day when they will rule us all.

Got Some Mail About That Last Post I Did.

Ahhhh....feeling the love....I knew I was poking a skunk with this one. But I gotta tell you, after thinking about it, the hate mail has changed my mind.

If my cellphone ever goes off at a military funeral, I might as well go ahead and answer it. Because if I repeat some mindless pap afterwards about guns, God, and country that will evidently make everything all right.

Your issue is with the government, not the soldiers. They are ordered to do a job, whether they like it or agree with it is not taken into account. 'not going' as you suggest is considered desertion and is an offense punishable by court-martial and imprisonment. Dishonorably discharged soldiers have a status similar to convicted felons in many states. "Not going" is not an option.

Yes it is. Lemmie present a couple cases to you.

Solider number one thinks to himself, "man, this war is bullshit, I don't agree with a goddamn thing we are doing here, but I'm gonna keep up with it because that's my job and what I've been ordered to do."

Many people die as a result. Some of whom had no part in this fight.

Solider number two says "man, this war is bullshit, I could no longer live with myself if I continue to carry out orders that are contrary to fundamental principles of humanity. Although it entails a great personal sacrifice, I shall no longer enable this unjust war, because some principles are more important than any individual. Although it may cost me my standing in society, I will no longer take part in the madness."

Which one of these people is the more courageous? The more honorable? The answer is obvious, but if you need a hint, going along to get along is rarely a sign of courage.

Why the misdirected anger? The vast majority of military personnel I have known choose the career because of the pay cheque.

* Smacking forehead* that's exactly why I am so angry at them.

"Hey, go kill that guy and I'll pay for your college tuition"

That's honorable? Really? Because if it is I will happily choose the path of dishonor.

I'm curious as to whether you would apply these same arguments to the soldiers who carried out the Tienanmen Square massacre or the policeman who broke up the Iranian Green Revolution of 2009. I hope you wouldn't. Repression is repression, injustice is injustice, and those who carry it out are wrong. The wars being fought in our name are unjust, and those carrying them out should not be supported.

Having said that though, there really are times you should let the call go to voice mail.

From The "Support Our Troops" File.

Which I don't. That's right. If you're a troop the only time I will support you is if you decide to find another line of work. You are necessary for the continuation of a policy I despise, and if you would stop doing what you are doing, that policy would end. So, yeah, I'm a little unclear as to why I should be cheering you on.

I would like to think though, that if I ever ended up at one of your funerals, I would have enough respect for the sanctity of life, even yours, that I wouldn't be...

...checking my cellphone behind your grieving widow. I'd also put on a tie and probably wear a suit. I'd definitely come up with something better than a t-shirt. Because unlike this douchebag, and unlike the people who hired you to kill for the empire, I realize that every life lived, by default, is worthy of a minimum level of respect.

Looks like you might need to relay that message to some of your supporters.

Report: Everyone Stupid.

TUSCALOOSA, ALABAMA (Drugmonkey News Service)- At a noontime press conference today, researchers at The University of Alabama released the results of a new study that, for the first time, shows 100 percent of the world's population is completely, unambiguously, and incurably stupid. The results sent shock waves through the international psychological community, as dumbfounded researchers scrambled to redefine accepted definitions of intelligence.

"Traditionally, we have worked off of what is called the 'percentile' model," lead researcher Dr. Beverly Thorn didn't say about the study that doesn't actually exist but you know easily could. "Meaning that we always assumed that 50% of the population was of below average intelligence, and 50% was above. It was truly startling to find that each and every human being on this planet has an intellectual capacity below that of sandstone."

"We're not really sure how that is possible," she didn't add. "This science stuff is really hard."

The biggest surprise in the report was the finding that you, too, are dumber than a three toed sloth. Your chronic inability to figure the correct tip at restaurants was the scientist's first clue to your idiocy. However, it was the time you once drove the wrong way into a narrow big-city alley and had to pay a homeless man to stop traffic so you could back out without killing yourself that definitively showed that for your own safety, you should always be kept away from open flames.

Outside experts were initially skeptical of the findings, with some pointing out that Alabama has long been known as the world capital of dullards, periodic challenges from West Virginia notwithstanding. "At first we thought those hicks were probably just looking around town and reporting what they saw," fictitious Oxford University professor Dr. Alvin Sturges said. "But analysis of the data shows that it's a wonder that any person can manage to cross the street, no matter if the intersection is in London, Buenos Aries, New York City, or an unpaved path in rural Botswana."

"It does offer insight into my first two marriages though, and gets us tantalizingly close to a unified theory of Kim Kardashian"

After presenting her findings, Dr. Thorn asked for questions from the assembled journalists. Receiving none, she left through an emergency exit, setting off a fire alarm that resulted in a three car accident when a motorist ignored the sirens of the responding ambulance.

Those In The Employ Of George Bush Are Evidently As Good At Identifying Supporters As They Are In Identifying Countries Responsible For 9/11

Because I got a letter yesterday soliciting a contribution for the George W. Bush Presidential Center. Seriously. W thinks I'm gonna give him money. After all I've written about him over the last five years, I pop up on a list of people who may be willing to part with their pay in order to show their gratitude for everything he did to this country.

Suddenly I'm not afraid of the power of the surveillance state at all.

You know what I think would be fun? A mash-up kinda thing. Like alternating actual words in that letter with actual things that have appeared in this blog. Here we go:

As we break ground on the George W. Bush Presidential Center, every effort is being made to ensure longtime supporters of President and Mrs. Bush are involved from the outset.

December 11th, 2007- I Bet I Could Defeat George Bush In A Boxing Match. What I would have to do is use my jab to keep Bush on the outside, because you know damn well if he got in close he would fight dirty. Elbows, kidney punches, ear biting, he would do it all. I would definitely have to establish my jab early. And watch out for any attempted waterboarding or extraordinary rendition attempts between rounds.

You have been a great friend to president and Mrs. Bush and it would be an honor to be able to show your name on the list of those who have accepted.

June 7th, 2008- "It's been a core belief of mine that the federal government should stand for killing people" George Bush once didn't say in an interview. "Sometimes that requires an active killing policy, like in Iraq. In other instances, it's best to just let things take their own course, like during Hurricaine Katrina, or health care, where lots of people no doubt are dead because we don't really have a plan."

"I really like dead people" concluded Bush.

Your steadfast support though this often tumultuous period was of enormous help to President and Mrs. Bush.


May 24th, 2008-

You most likely get the idea by now far better than George The Lessor ever will. Nonetheless, let me try to spell it out in a way even he might understand:

Mr. Bush,

I hate you. Every fiber of my being down through the marrow of my bones despises the very thought of your essence. You can have my money when the budget you wrecked with your bullshit tax cuts comes back into balance. When you find those weapons of mass destruction you used to scare the sheeple of this nation into becoming a bloodthirsty lynch mob. When the 100,000 people you killed, who had no part in the fight you started, come back to life. I'll send you a check just as soon as the blood comes off your hands you homicidal, psychopathic, pathetic shell of what a human could be. Your letter came with a certificate "confirming me as a Charter Member" of your presidential center. Please find it enclosed. I'm not telling you what I stained it with.

Sincerely,
Drugmonkey

I figure Cheney will probably ask for a few dollars sometime next month.

My Kindle Nightmare Is Over, Which Means Your Dream Reading Experience Can Begin.

You know, I think the ideal Christmas gift would have something like this to say about the holiday:

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.

Which is why I think my book is the ideal Christmas present. Because that was an excerpt from my book.You should totally show Jesus Christmas is just about the stuff by buying a copy. And now, finally,  you can put it on your Kindle, which is a bit of stuff I still don't quite understand, other than to know I get a bigger royalty when someone buys a Kindle version. So um, yeah, I'm all about the Kindle. In your face Jesus. I'm gonna make some money off your birthday.

Go here to get a copy of the greatest pharmacy book ever written for your Kindle. 

Or here to get me in your Nook. Which sounds kinda fun depending on your attractiveness. 

And if you're a fan of the paper, you can order a copy here. 

Enter The Egghead

I bet you didn't know you're reading an object of scientific fascination right now, did you? That at this very moment your eyes are set upon a subject of learned minds seeking insight into the ways of the world, thirsty for knowledge and understanding, searching for a key to unlock a bit of the vast unknown that surrounds us in a blanket of ignorance.

I'm not kidding you. This is a real study that appeared in a real scientific journal:

Purpose. The characteristics of pharmacist blogs were examined.

Methods. Internet search engines, blog aggregators, and blog rolls were used to identify pharmacist blogs. Six categories were developed to evaluate blogs, including practice-based topics, identifying information, positive language, critical language, professionalism, and miscellaneous. The most recent five posts on each pharmacist blog were reviewed. Descriptive statistics were used to characterize the results.

I don't know if this project was funded. I do know that someone out there, three people actually, according to the author credits, thought this was the best use of their time. Since they sunk what I'm willing to bet was a fair amount of it into this, why don't we go ahead and see what the great minds of the profession were able to learn:

The most popular pharmacist blog in our study, with a Technorati authority score of 118 (as of January 2010), was “Your Pharmacist May Hate You."

As the kids would say, Woot!

"Blogs containing posts with language of a positive nature were less frequently indexed (32%) compared with those with critical language (57%). Overall, pharmacist bloggers in the community pharmacy setting accounted for 60% of all instances of critical language recorded."

"Community-based pharmacists were observed to write posts with unprofessional language more frequently (n = 15) than were noncommunity practitioners (n = 6)."

"Curiously, the only two pharmacist blogs ranked by Technorati not primarily characterized as “ranting” (i.e., “Science-Based Pharmacy” and “Prescribing Advice for GPs”) are authored by pharmacists outside the United States."

"there was also a troubling amount of pessimism in some of the most widely read blogs."

So what do the eggheads make of all this?

This finding raises several questions.What significance can be ascribed to “The Angry Pharmacist” and “The Angriest Pharmacist” being among the most influential and viewed pharmacist blogs? What is the impetus for such widespread vitriol? Is it a reflection of a plunging job satisfaction rate in the community sector...

Gasp! Could it be? Retail pharmacists not happy with working at a breakneck pace for 12 hours at a time with 5 people demanding their immediate attention, three of which who want to know where the bread is? My God! Who had any idea? We should fund more studies to find out what effect giving away a bag of dog food with every flu shot might have on professional satisfaction. I mean, could earning a Doctor of Pharmacy degree after 6 years of grueling academic labor and tuition payments so one can work a drive through window lead to....low job satisfaction?

There's just so much to learn. A Universe of unknowns.....

Here's the olive in the martini:

Whether such blogs actually reflect the current state of practice anywhere is debatable

So.....not only did these people not have a the slightest grip on the obvious going into this, even after unearthing more than a little evidence....they're just not sure....

And they say academics are out of touch.

I have a better idea for your next project professor. Instead of hiding behind computer screens and number crunching calculators at the library for months on end, why don't you just go on down to your local Walgreen's and put in half a days work, assuming you have a license to practice pharmacy that is. You do that and I'll betcha your next little article will have a headline something like, "ALL PEOPLE SUCK PENIS"

You're also far more likely to come back with a clue than you ever will be writing bullshit like this. Take it from me, author of the most popular pharmacist blog in your study. The only thing you've managed to prove is that you have no fucking idea.

The Greatest Pharmacy Book Ever Published Is Now Available On Your Favorite E-Reader.

As long as your favorite e-reader is the Nook. I'm sorry Kindle readers. The people doing the Kindle file are taking their sweet fucking time, but it's coming, I promise.

For now though, those of you with a Nook have a reason to feel superior about your purchasing decision. You can go here and be reading this gem and many like it within minutes:

I always wanted to make some sort of mix tape of the random noises that are left on the store's voicemail overnight. That is how I start my day. Listening to the random noises. A lot of times it's the tones of someone trying to punch in a refill number. More often than I can count it's a befuddled "uuuuuhhhhhhhhh" followed by silence and a click. Once I swear it was just 15 seconds of slurping. Today it was someone singing the Hall and Oates classic "Maneater"

"Ooooohhhh-ooohhhh here she comes/watch out boy....she'll chew you up....."

Someone sang that into the store's answering machine. Listening to it is how I started my day.

I decided to test a new theory today. Whenever someone decided to interrupt me filling your prescription by asking the location of some product in the store, and I had no idea where the product was, I just sent them as far away from the pharmacy as possible, on the assumption that either; 1) They would find what they were looking for while making their way to the store's far corner, or 2) They would come across a store employee whose responsibilities actually include stocking the shelves. It seemed to work out pretty well. Only one person came back to the pharmacy to ask again, and I was on the phone and didn't have to talk to them. I can't believe it took me so long to think of this.

Actual conversation with a doctor's office:

Doctor's office: "Hi, I'm calling to authorize some refills for John Smith's Protonix."

Me: "OK"

Doctor's Office: "So, how many refills should we give him?"

For those of you not familiar with the process, it is traditionally the role of the doctor to issue a prescription, the doctor having been the one who's examined the patient and in theory the person with the slightest idea how serious the patient's stomach condition is. I said 12 because it was the first number to pop into my head. I thought the lady at the doctor's office would stop and ask me why I thought 12, at which point I would sarcastically rip into her for being dumb as a doornail. She didn't. John Smith got 12 refills. Some doctor out there feels comfortable having this kind of medicine practiced in his name.

Please don't tell me you don't realize the name "John Smith" was made up. Back to the day's action:

Someone asked me where the paternity tests were while they were holding a baby. They had quite the sense of urgency. It would have made for the best video blog post ever. Moving on......

"Hi.....uuuhhhhhh....yeah.....this label says not to take if you're allergic to shellfish.......but I have high cholesterol...."

I waited for the string that would tie that sentence together. It never came. The statement was already nicely bound up in some sort of point deep inside the customer's brain. The fact that it was bound in a way utterly incomprehensible to anyone else didn't matter. He knew drugboy would make it all better.

Another customer tried to forge a prescription for Patanol. Patanol is an eye drop used to relieve allergy symptoms, and some customer thought it would be easier to try to pretend they were a doctor phoning in a prescription for it than to contact their actual doctor. Their eyes must have been itching crazy bad.

Yet another customer asked me if he could eat hot dogs if he was taking Viagra. I was able to dig out the point here. He saw the warning on the Viagra label about nitroglycerin and thought it might apply to the nitrites in his wiener.

Not his Viagra wiener. His ketchup and bun wiener. See why I had to go to college for so long now? It's important to keep the wieners straight. Which is where the Viagra comes in. OK, I gotta stop. I'm killing me.

Speaking of wieners, I can't get that Hall and Oates song out of my head now. Or maybe the term "douche bag" would apply more to Hall and Oates. I'm not sure.

Fans of the paper can get a copy from my Amazon page, and if the people working on the Kindle file don't hurry the fuck up, I'm just gonna do it my own damn self over the weekend. The people working on my Kindle file are fuckers.

Every Pharmacy. Everywhere. Right now.

The lady who doesn't know where she is, the one who needs her sleeping pills, anxious to talk to you about her grandson who hasn't called in 2 years, and the guy who says his copay went up when it didn't. Behind them all is the guy who's gonna ask you where the shoelaces are in about 30 seconds.

Yup. That about covers it.

OK, this started as fun and games, but I can't take looking at this picture anymore. I'm going to go to sleep and have a nightmare now.

From The "I Could Not Have Said It Better Given All Eternity" Department

"I am sorry to have to introduce the subject of Christmas. It is an indecent subject; a cruel, gluttonous subject; a drunken, disorderly subject; a wasteful, disastrous subject; a wicked, cadging, lying, filthy, blasphemous, and demoralising subject. Christmas is forced on a reluctant and disgusted nation by the shopkeepers and the press: on its own merits it would wither and shrivel in the fiery breath of universal hatred; and anyone who looked back to it would be turned into a pillar of greasy sausages."

-George Bernard Shaw

Happy fucking Black Friday.

Great News For Those of You Not Yet Convinced Of My Greatness.

People unlike this person, who had this to say on my Amazon page:

This is THE book to get for your pharmacist this Christmas. And his boss. Reading the Drugmonkey's infamous blog has been the salvation of many a 12 or 13 hour shift in pharmacies all across America. His style of humor, a twisted combination of George Carlin, Denis Leary and Bill Maher, salted with righteous indignation, makes for both entertaining and enlightening reading. You will understand a lot more about the health care industry after reading this book than you think you do now.

I swear I didn't write that, but I do not disagree.

"Why should we take your word, or the word of anyone else for that matter?" you might be saying. "People suck, and I've been ripped off before a million times. Can't you give us a free sample or something, like the good honest people who make Doryx?"

Well, yes, yes I can. As of today the "Look Inside" feature has gone live on my Amazon garden. Click on the logo above the picture of the cover and you can take a little look around to see if this is worth your hard earned money. Or the money you found on the bathroom floor at work. Hell, it could be part of your welfare check or bonus you got while driving a large corporation into bankruptcy for all I care. Point is, you can click here and get yourself a free book sample. 

And the "find a typo win a t-shirt" contest is still on. The rules are pretty much self-explanatory. Find a typo, let me know, and if you're the first to point it out you get a Drugmonkey T-shirt. One has been claimed already.

I'm back at it for 12 hours tomorrow. I'm getting a sense it'll be a "Highlights From Today's Pill Counting Action" kinda day. The day after holidays usually are. Stay tuned.

An Exploration Of Plastic Shows Why I Am Not A Total Communist

Childhood is the mold that will form the cast of your life. The impressions and experiences you have during your first few years on planet earth will shape your world outlook whether you like it or not. Whether you realize it or not.

In my case, plastic has a lot to do with my world view.

My dad worked at a factory making the stuff. Vinyl siding, hula hoops, cases for IBM computers, that kind of thing. I just now punched up the website for his employer and saw that they "specialize in thermoplastic raw materials in single, dual and tri-extrusions." I don't even know what that means, but I guess that's what Dad did for 40 years. The bossman started the plastic factory after World War II and went on to become one of the wealthiest men in Ohio, partly off the sweat of my father's brow. Good for bossman.

You heard me right. Good for him. People need stuff, and if you make stuff people need, and can sell it for more than you paid for it without being an evil bastard, you deserve to be rich. Bossman was able to do that. He got plastic to the people, made a shitload of money, and shared enough of it through decent salaries and a generous profit sharing program that someone who showed up at his factory and was willing to work hard and play by the rules could end up sending his slacker son to a private school to get a pharmacy degree. Slacker son then gets a decent job himself and you get your prescription filled by someone who knows what the hell he's doing and can tell when maybe you need a little more than the bare minimum of service. 

Everyone wins.

Now let's say sometime around 1984 Bossman would have decided to cash out and sell his factory to Plastic, Inc. You know exactly what would have happened. Or should. If you don't maybe you've been spending a little too much time doing things like watching "Dancing With The Stars" or straight guys who don't know they're gay playfight over an air filled leather sack. Turn off the TV for a minute and hang with me here:

For the sake of argument, let's say in 1983 the factory turned a profit of 10 million dollars. That made bossman happy, 'cause he got 10 million dollars. The first thing Plastic Inc. does however, is issue a memo that says its earnings target for 1984 is $12 million. Profit for the year comes in at $11 million dollars, making 1984 a failure.

The first thing to go is the profit sharing plan, as all profits must now be directed to placate angry shareholders. This wipes out the college fund for the slacker son. Raises are cancelled and lunch is cut from an hour to 45 minutes. A hiring freeze is implemented, meaning all employees are doing more work for the same amount of pay. Grumbling is heard up and down the assembly line.

Profit for 1985 is $11.5 million, an amount that would have bought bossman a yacht, but which sends the price of shares in Plastic Inc through the floor, as the corporation has now missed its earnings target for two years in a row. Retirees are replaced with agency temps and the speed of the assembly line increases. Lunch is now half an hour and insurance premiums increase 15%. Leadmen on the factory floor are reclassified as managers, meaning they can work unlimited hours for no overtime pay. The grumbling grows louder and someone from the International Union of Plastic People starts hanging out in the parking lot. As the old saying goes, companies that have unions generally deserve them.

Profit for 1986 is $7.4 million. IBM calls and wants to know why the quality of their dual extrusions sucks donkey turds. Plastic Inc. deals with the problem by sending someone from marketing to razzle-dazzle IBM, as opposed to putting money into making a better product. The plastic case on your new computer melts the day after its warranty expires.

In 1987 Plastic Inc. moves all operations to China. The only person involved in the last few years who made the kind of money bossman used to make is the hedge fund manager who shorted a million shares of Plastic, Inc's stock.

You kinda remembered the old plastic factory as you drove by its empty shell on your way to pick up your asthma medicine. If you remember right, the old man working as a greeter at the Wal-Mart where you get your prescriptions filled used to be a Leadman there. The pharmacist working that day is here from Cambodia on an H1N1 visa, and while no one doubts he's doing his best, he has trouble with your accent and has no idea what you mean when you say you "took two hits off your puffer" and it didn't work. He just kinda smiles at you as you talk and you leave the counter wheezing. Slacker son punches you in the face in the parking lot after you refuse to give him a dollar for cheap scotch.

Plastic Inc. is able to produce siding for 10% less than it used to. It is later found to be contaminated with lead.

Everyone loses.

Does any of this sound familiar to you? Does it? Because in case you haven't noticed, we're living it. We've let the corporations take over our lives and now, we're living it. The funny part is, the corporations have convinced you you don't have a choice. That if you don't let them fuck you in the ass unlubed civilization as we know it will collapse. A real person gets 20 years for forcible sodomy. An artificial one gets free speech rights.

Thing is, you do have a choice. Your interests and the corporations do not always coincide. Society's interests and the corporation's do not always coincide. You can realize that and not automatically defer to the corporation. Or you can keep your mouth shut and watch the football game.

Which may be a reason this year's Rose Bowl is brought to you by Vizio™

Wake. Up.

The Greatest Pharmacy Book Ever Published, In The Last Month Or Two, Is Now Available On Amazon.

Take a look if you're so inclined. Combine it with something else and you got yourself free super saver shipping:

http://www.amazon.com/Your-Prescription-Takes-Damn-Long/dp/1453887695/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1290145362&sr=1-1

"Drugmonkey" you might be saying to yourself, "I live and breathe pharmacy all year long, but when it comes to this special time of year, I'm looking for something a little more. An indulgence for myself or a gift for another that will truly capture the spirit of the season."

I hear you. An actual excerpt from the actual book:

If I Were Rudolph The Reindeer, I Would Have Told Santa To Go Fuck Himself.

I would have been like. "You bastards have given me shit my whole life and NOW you want me to bail you out?? You can kiss my reindeer ass"

Then I would have been like "You know, while I was excluded and ostracized all those years, I worked on a few reindeer games of my own, since you would never let me play any of yours" 

There would be a crazy look in my eye.

Then I would take off and fly around in circles while Dancer and Prancer and the rest of those asswipes sat grounded with all the undeliverable toys on the shipping dock. Every once in awhile I would swoop down and kick them in the head or maybe bite them in the back while yelling "WHAT CHA THINK OF MY NOSE NOW MUTHA FUCKER?? TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK OF MY NOSE!!!!!"

I guess that wouldn't be a good way to mark Jesus' birthday though. I mean, hell, Jesus would never punish you years after the fact for being a bad person.

That's just one holiday highlight wrapped up in my book's pages. There are others. And lots of pharmacy stuff too.

A kindle version is coming soon. About a week most likely. I'm off to scotchland now.

Hey! Buy My Book!

I can say that now because my book is real! Seriously. The rollout starts today my friends. You can buy a copy at the createspace store right here, right now. An amazon.com listing is coming in about a week, and it should be good to go on the kindle in about 14 days.

I'm not kidding you. I wrote a book. And you can buy it right now.

Why should you? Because it's hilarious. Like I've said, most of it is regurgitated blog material, but I don't have to tell you this blog is a goddamn gold mine. All I had to do was get me one of those prospecting pans and stand in the creek for awhile to come up with 201 pages of solid gold.

Why else? Because with every copy sold an angel in heaven loses its wings, falls out of the sky, and crashes right on the pointy little head of Lloyd Duplantis of Gray, Louisiana. The ending of the book is original material, and if you were shocked, humiliated and/or downright frightened when Lloyd, Karen Bauer, and the rest of those goons at Pharmacists For Life International tried to hijack our profession a few years ago, you'll be happy to know this book's ending will have them frothing at the mouth. The ending of this book may just teach them a thing or two they wish they hadn't learned.

A thing or two they definitely don't want you to know. Guaranteed.

And on top of all that, you might win a free T-shirt. My dear e-friend ThatDeborahGirl has been kind enough to offer to send me ten Drugmonkey based T-shirts she made as part of her screenprinting class. Since I am not only this book's author but chief copy editor, I worry that I might have missed a typo or two. So here's the deal, buy a book, find a typo, point it out to me, and get a free shirt. Everyone wins. You get a shirt and I get out of hiring a copy editor.

And Lloyd Duplantis gets to live with the fact that if it weren't for him inspiring me to do this, the information at the end of this book may have stayed buried forever.

So yeah, you should totally buy a copy now.

The Death Panels Among Us.

Unaccountable authority figures directing helpless patients into suboptimal care. Uncaring, unkind bureaucrats making life and death decisions based only on concern for the dollar. Life and death he said, which means people die based on edicts from the health care authorities. Like dead dead. Buried in the ground with worms picking your bones clean kinda dead. A future that I'll have to grant my teabagger friends, would be frightening if it ever came to pass.

And by "would be frightening" I mean "is frightening." Because that future is already here. Not in a socialistic Obamacare kinda way, but in a totally free market AstraZenecare kinda way.

Meet Dan Markingson, who is now dead.

Dan had issues, severe mental illness issues. Issues of the type that would lead him to write poems like this:

"I'm especially eager to attend this storm and SLAY those who deserve slaying.

I will choose victims immediately...

I HAVE NO EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENTS. I KILL FOR FUN!!"

Not surprisingly, Dan was committed and put on Risperdal in an attempt to make killing a little less fun for him. In Minnesota though, where Dan lived, a person can get a "stay of commitment," meaning that as long as they agree to follow their doctors orders, they will not be institutionalized.

So far, so good, right?

Six days after he was hospitalized, Dan's doctor asked the court for such a stay. The next day he recommended Dan enroll in an industry funded study of atypical antipsychotics.

Uh-oh. Most of you can probably sense where this is going. For those of you who need some clarification, I'll bring in the Bullshit Exposure Through Dramatization Players:

The scene, a large state mental hospital on a dark and stormy night. Three policemen burst through the front door carrying an obviously deranged and agitated individual.

Patient: Ah! The voices inside my head! They make me want to kill people! This sucks!

Policeman: We can't have you killing people son. You have to stay here now.

Patient: I don't want to stay here and I don't want to kill anyone, even though it would be great fun. Isn't there another way?

Doctor: Here. Take this.

Patient: Wow. I feel better now. Can I go?

Doctor: Absolutely. As long as you agree to follow my orders. Now sign this paper that will enroll you in a clinical study. I'm technically just recommending you take part, not ordering, but if you disobey my orders you stay here with a roommate who eats his own poo and thinks it's kinda fun to kill people too. So you really should sign.

Patient: What?

Doctor: Right by the X. I highly recommend it, and I have the power to have you committed.

The patient then signs.

The study that was highly recommended to Dan was designed to compare the effectiveness of Seroquel, Zyprexa and Risperdal, three newer "atypical" anti-psychotic medications that compete in the highly lucrative crazy market. Nothing wrong with that I guess. It's actually a good thing to have head to head effectiveness data in a country where all a med has to do is beat a placebo to be approved. This study was also designed and paid for by AstraZeneca, the maker of Seroquel.

Uh-oh. Here comes the list of entirely predictable facts.

- The study was too small to reliably detect any differences between the three meds. "In scientific terms this study is of very little value" said the editor of the British Journal of Psychiatry.

-It measured "effectiveness" by how many people stopped taking their drug. As long as you took your pill every day, it was effective. And if you stopped taking it, the reason why was not noted. "It does not make scientific sense to do a study and not measure one of the most important outcomes." said Dr. John Davis, professor of psychiatry at the University of Illinois-Chicago.

So why even bother to do a study that experts call out as junk science? Here's a clue.

In 1997, when Dr. Andrew Goudie, a psychopharmacologist at the University of Liverpool, asked AstraZeneca to fund a research study he was planning, a company official replied that "R&D is no longer responsible for Seroquel research—it is now the responsibility of Sales and Marketing." The official also noted that funding decisions would depend on whether the study was likely to show a "competitive advantage for Seroquel."

So....evidently some studies are to learn, and some are for show. So a sales rep can wave a shiny brochure under your nose that has a chart on it showing one bar dramatically different from the others.

So, after being stabilized on Risperdal, Dan Markingson was enrolled in a study in which he was randomly assigned to take one of  three subject medications. He was barred from being taken off his assigned drug, prohibited from being switched if the drug he was taking did not work. Other meds used to control depression, anxiety, or agitation were restricted. I'll let Mother Jones take it from here:

After Dan was enrolled, he stayed at Fairview for about two more weeks. By that point, Olson thought Dan's symptoms were under control, but (Dan's mother) Mary was still very worried by his erratic behavior. She recalls meeting with the doctor: "Olson came in and sat down and opened his file and said, 'Oh, Dan is doing so well.' And I said, 'No, Dr. Olson, Dan is not doing well.' I think he was taken aback." Even so, on December 8, 2003, Dan was transferred to Theo House, a halfway house in St. Paul. He was required to sign an agreement confirming that he understood he could be involuntarily committed if he didn't continue taking his medication and keeping his CAFE study appointments.

At the halfway house, Dan often stayed in his room for days. On March 26, 2004 nearly four months after his discharge from Fairview, his thoughts were still "delusional and grandiose," according to a social worker's note. An occupational-therapy report from April 30 detailed Dan's condition: "Personal appearance disheveled. Isolated and withdrawn. Poor insight and self-awareness." Entries in a personal journal that Dan kept during this period don't show any obvious changes, suggesting that he was improving little, if at all. Mary felt he was becoming angrier. "He was so tense, with this ready-to-explode quality."

About a week later.....

Dan had stabbed himself to death in the bathtub with a box cutter, ripping open his abdomen and nearly decapitating himself. His body was discovered in the early hours of the morning by a halfway-house worker, along with a note on the nightstand that said, "I left this experience smiling!" Later, when the blind on the study was broken, researchers found that Dan was being treated with Seroquel, the drug manufactured by the study sponsor, AstraZeneca.

Which would be sad enough if Dan had died in the pursuit of knowledge. Unfortunately, Dan Markingson died in the pursuit of a graph where one bar could be printed in color and be much bigger than the other two. A graph that then could then be waved under your nose for a few seconds in the hope you wouldn't look all that closely at it.

So perhaps, my teabagger friends, you need to worry less about the fictional and improbable death panels you fear under a future of Obamacare, and focus more on the AstraZenecare death panels of the present.

Just sayin'

Read the whole Mother Jones magazine article here. 

A Civil Rights Issue I Can Totally Get Behind, Or More In Front Of I Guess.

The struggle for equality is never easy my friends. You must remember always that the forces of the status quo are powerful. They do not give up their privilege easily. They will fight you every step of the way, and the first time you challenge them you will most certainly be crushed.

Still, you must fight. You must get off the mat and fight. That is my message to the good people of Pittsfield, Massachusetts:

Voters in a western Massachusetts city have decided not to lose their shirts over at least one ballot question. Pittsfield voters soundly rejected on Tuesday a measure pushing for women to be allowed to walk around town topless.

The nonbinding question, which was only on the ballot in Pittsfield's 3rd Berkshire District, urged that district's state representative to introduce legislation amending the state's nudity definition.

Under the proposal, females of any age would be allowed be unclothed from the waist up in public anywhere males are allowed to be similarly undressed.

To the Pittsfilder's who struggle for justice, I can only say:

I am with you in this fight. Godspeed to you my friends.

I'm Hoping Jello Might Write Another Sequel. Before Jerry Dies Or Something.

Another thing that makes California the coolest place on the planet. How many other states can say the Dead Kennedy's ever wrote a song about their Governor? None. That's how many.

And it's also the kick assingest song on the face of the earth.


Granted, it's not the most flattering profile, but I will point out the sequel, written after Reagan became president, was called "We Have A Bigger Problem Now"

My favorite line....."DIE!!!! on organic poison gas....."

I know I've been neglecting you guys. I hope to get back into the swing of things this weekend with a good old fashioned Big Pharma pud sucking story....

Enjoy the vid. It's best played loud.

Everything Your Fault, Customer Reports.

YOUR PHARMACY- Every single thing that went wrong with a person's prescription was singlehandedly your doing, a customer standing in front of your cash register reported today while angrily waiting for you to refile their insurance claim, and they really don't understand what the problem is.

Your first failure came when the customer's employer switched insurance carriers and you did not telepathically sense the change in the force and update the data in your computer without being told. Luckily, the new insurance company sent a card containing the new information to the actual insured party, because we sure as shit can't depend on you to keep track of other people's personal information.

Unfortunately you utterly failed to go through your customer's trash the night they threw their new card away instead of putting it in their wallet, solidifying your status as an incompetent buffoon.

Initial evidence also indicated you are to blame for the cost pressures in the American healthcare system that led to an increase in your customer's co-pay. Perhaps if you had been doing your job and singlehandedly countering the inflationary spiral that engulfs the provision of medical care in this country, the customer's employer wouldn't have had to change insurers in the first place.

You really fucked up here.

On top of it all, it would also seem you are the reason the new insurance company is taking so long to answer its phone, and a prime suspect when we tried to figure out why the medicine doesn't seem to be working at all. You only mentioned blood pressure medicine needs to be taken regularly three times during your counselling session, understandably leading the customer to take it only on days when they felt bad. They also sprayed the contents of an albuterol inhaler into their ear, which is your problem.

You also probably started World War II.

Despite your total lack of ability in your job, the customer stated they will for some reason continue to do business with you, and ordered you to fill "all their medicines" for tomorrow. And by tomorrow they mean 10 minutes from now, which anyone with a pharmacy license should know.

Not the blue ones you moron. They didn't need the blue ones.

What do you mean the Soma had no refills?

Christ.

I Have Been Told My Hair Smells Girly.

Which I don't understand. The whole reason I picked my shampoo was because it was gender neutral.

"Prell" it says on the bottle. Followed by the word "shampoo" I just now sniffed it again. It just kinda smells like soap to me.

But the verdict was unambiguous. Girly. I've been using this shampoo for years and naturally am upset to find this out.

I wonder what a manly shampoo would even smell like? Hopefully not like the bus station where I found myself for part of this night. That odor, while definitely manly, was not pleasant.

Anyway, any suggestions you guys might have regarding masculine shampoo would be welcome.

CVS, An Everyday Miracle If You're Into Meth. Not So Much If You're Into Breathing.

It's a CVS twofer this day my friends. First we go to the Garden State, where the local FOX affiliate tells us the tale of a woman with asthma and her drugstore's commitment to her well being:

Just after seven o'clock Thursday morning, Katherine O'Connor and her boyfriend were walking home from a McDonald's in Garwood, New Jersey, when she suffered an asthma attack.

Her inhaler was at home. The couple was near there, but a CVS on North Avenue, near Cedar Street, was closer. They went in and found the pharmacist on duty.

Time for one of those CVS everyday miracles.

He was told the inhaler with tax would cost just over $21. He was short a dollar and change.

"I said 'Can you just give her the pump. She's on the floor wheezing," Jack said. "I didn't know if an ambulance would get there on time. He said there was nothing he could do for me."

CVS corporate offices sent Fox 5 a statement: "The well-being of our customers is our highest priority..."

"Right after money" they didn't add but believably could have "Every sweet sweet, last precious dollar...."

This being Fox news I can imagine the next line from the anchor desk being something like "Bob, what do you suppose is the connection between what happened here and the proposed Obamacare death panels?"

You could say this was just the case of one CVS pharmacist out of thousands using incredibly poor judgement, an isolated incident, and you would be right. Just like the one CVS Pharmacist who proposed a trade of Xanax for sex or the other CVS pharmacist who practiced at a CVS store without actually being a pharmacist.

Or the CVS pharmacist who posed a customers information on a Craig's list sex ad when the customer pissed him off.

Exactly how many isolated incidents have to occur before it's a pattern? Because I gotta tell ya, while Walgreens has almost the same number of stores and pharmacists, the bat-shit crazy ones always seem to be employed by CVS.

Our next story isn't about some random nutjob though. This one would be a failure at a higher organizational level:

The smurfers loved CVS. And CVS loved them back.

The giant drugstore chain became the go-to spot for hordes of shady buyers, called smurfers, who ran around scooping up over-the-counter decongestants under orders from bad guys who cook up methamphetamine.

Since 2005, federal law has limited how much pseudoephedrine a person can buy (no more than 3.6 grams a day). And retailers, like CVS, are supposed to police that by checking IDs and requiring people to sign for the stuff

But the chain switched from a paper logbook to an electronic system to keep track of things. The computerized ledger didn't prevent the same person from making a bunch of pseudoephedrine buys on the same day. And store employees, the feds say, were told to obey the computerized system's approval of sales, even if they had their doubts about the buyers.

Other retailers did a much better job on complying with the law, so the smurfers took their business to CVS, the feds say.

In a statement, CVS Chairman and CEO Thomas Ryan said, "We have resolved this issue, which unfortunately resulted from a breakdown in CVS/pharmacy's normally high management and oversight standards."

High management and oversight standards. The same standards that resulted in the company paying $36.7 million for ripping off Medicaid.

The same high standards that resulted in them "accidentally" charging people enrolled in CVS/Caremark's Medicare part D plans too much.

The same high standards that had two of their executives fighting off charges they tried to bribe a Rhode Island state senator. High standards would be avoiding even the appearance of impropriety. At least at most companies.

Again I'll ask, how many isolated incidents does it take before it's officially a pattern? Their "high standards" seem to be about as effective as the extensive pre-employment screening process they claimed to have when they got busted for hiring the fake pharmacist.

Who by the way, evidently had no problem practicing pharmacy the way CVS expects it to be practiced.

Something stinks here my friends. Something here totally smells like a rotten company.

Thanks to the alert readers who tipped me to the stories.

A Quickie From Today's Paper.

I'm totally not making this up:

Still, illicit drug use was already common in the platoon as it prepared to leave Lewis-McChord for Afghanistan in spring 2009, at least according to the sworn testimony from one of its members, Pfc. Justin A. Stoner...

... On May 3, Private Stoner told investigators, the hash-smoking in his room was “to the point where the smoke was lingering in the air and the smell was impossible to get rid of.”

bwwwwwaaaaahhhhaaaahhhhhaaaa.....Stoner.....ok....as you were. Wait. maybe not this guy.

Pro Life. Certain Restrictions Apply. Offer Not Valid In All Areas.

Two mailers received by an alert reader from the same candidate on the same day.

Although to be honest, you really don't have to be all that alert to see the irony here.

Just more alert than the demographic this guy's going after.

A Book Tease

The slightly improved title:

Why Your Prescription Takes So Damn Long To Fill; A Foul-Mouthed, Liberal Pharmacist Breaks The Curse Of Evel Knievel And Strikes Back Against The Ideological Forces That Threaten The Profession He Grudgingly Grew To Love

That's actually shorter than it was a couple days ago. 

Here's what I have for amazon's book description thingy: 

" .... I call your doctors office and am put on hold for 5 minutes, then informed that your prescription was phoned in to my competitor on the other side of town. Phoning the competitor, I am immediately put on hold for 5 minutes before speaking to a clerk, who puts me back on hold to wait for the pharmacist. Your prescription is then transferred to me, and now I have to get the 2 phone calls that have been put on hold while this was being done. Now I return to the counter to ask if we've ever filled prescriptions for you before. For some reason, you think that "for you" means "for your cousin" and you answer my question with a "yes", whereupon I go the computer and see you are not on file.

 The phone rings." 

That's part of the reason why your prescription takes so long to fill, and after almost 20 years of this, a question I was never quite able to answer loomed larger and larger each day:

"Why did I get into this profession?"

Cranky customers whose only questions seem to involve their insurance co-pays. Pointless paperwork. People begging for early narcotic refills. Staff cuts. That was my workday. The struggle to get people the medicine and information they needed seemed almost futile at times.

Then one day I got the answer. It hit me like a ton of bricks while driving home one spring evening along the California coast. I was born again, but it had nothing to do with Jesus.

It did have a lot to do with Evel Knievel. And I did become the pharmacist who saved Christmas.

I absolutely know now why I became a pharmacist.

I still don’t know why your co-pay is so high.

That's all you get for now my friends. It shouldn't be too much longer. I'll keep you posted. 

I Think If I Were In Charge Of The Local Columbus Day Celebration....

.....I'd organize a parade. Yeah, I mean, what's a holiday without a parade?

There'd be marching bands and floats and prominent local officials. And some police cars and members of the  National Guard. You'll see where they come in later.

It would be a very festive occasion. The band would strike up a tune and we'd just start walking around. There would be no formal parade route. We'd just take off to the west somewhere, 'cause that fool Columbus seriously had no idea where he ended up.

Eventually we'd get to another town somewhere, and the marching band could play a little song for the natives while the policemen went to the bank and took all the gold from its vaults. Then after we left the National Guard would go in and kill all the town's inhabitants. I can think of no better way to commemorate the spirit of Columbus Day.

Perhaps we could also come back with syphilis.

Anyway, there's no mail on Monday. Keep that in mind when making your plans for the day.

Afterwards He Wasn't Sure It Was Worth It.

At the time though, he was full of hope. When he started this whole thing he knew the odds were long and that the process would be difficult, but he was confident he had what it took. The patience, the skill set, the appropriate comfort with technology. Still, there was no way this would be easy.

The effort was started and he was immediately thanked. In a cold, anonymous way. He was told he was important, just not important enough to personalize. Encouraged to hang in there and try for the payoff. Many people began this process, but few completed it successfully, and no one who failed ever heard a harsh word.

The waiting was killing him. Long stretches of nothingness before yet another impersonal contact.

Frustration set in. Maybe he was crazy for trying. Surely there was a better way. This wasn't going to work. It took the encouragement of friends to lift his spirit enough to carry on.

Then......a voice.

"Thank you for calling Walgreens, may I help you?" The past 39 minutes waiting for human contact were the biggest emotional roller coaster ride of his life. Finally though, he had beaten the odds. Someone had answered the phone.

He asked if his doctor had phoned in his alprazolam refill, which he needed far more now than when he began the call.

Highlights From The Weekend's Pill Counting Action

I will surely win the first Nobel Prize to be awarded in Pharmacy. Perhaps for my work over five years ago that will one day rid the world of tuberculosis. Or maybe for a brainstorm that struck me as I walked back to the happy pill room this day on my way back from lunch.

That's right every non-California pharmacist. My employer forces me to close the pharmacy and go eat. Forces he said. If I don't do it I can count on getting a phone call from corporate Monday morning. This stems from a victory won by the United Food and Commercial Workers Union back when unions still had a smidgen of power. So, thanks to the UFCW, I got to eat some tuna salad today.

Think about that for awhile then ask yourself if that's more than APhA has ever done for you. We both know the answer.

The crowds were thick and furious at the mall this day. Annoyingly so. Random numbnuts whose cellphone conversations evidently make them blind. Unpredictable yard apes liable to bolt in any direction at any time. Mormons. The only exception being when I walked in front of the bank. Why is it exactly that when someone is withdrawing $50 from a machine they are ensured of a bubble of privacy from the general public, but when grandpa is asking me if Cialis will give him a 3-day boner you can almost count on some lunatic coming up, standing next to him, and possibly interrupting grandpa mid-sentence with a question about where to drop off the film? Well no more. When I'm finished installing ATM machines next to every pharmacy cash register in the country, grandpa can ask me about his boners in peace.

You're welcome America.

Someone played out "Mary Had a Little Lamb" using their touch tone phone on the store's voicemail. It was perfect. The way they blended one note into the next showed effort and a little talent. I don't know why, but that message restored my faith in humanity a little bit.

It was soon destroyed. "What should I use in my eyes for allergies?" said a woman with very, very, tall hair. Normally I'm all about the hair, but this was just...freaky. I was trying to figure out if it was a wig and was distracted from the fact she had something in her hand. "Try some Zadator" I said, seeing the bottle in her hand too late.

Most of you in the profession know what happens when you recommend something to a person with a bottle already in their hand. They will engage you in a debate over the merits of what you suggested vs. what they are holding, and will ultimately buy what they came to the counter with over 95% of the time. Tip to all pharmacy students: If someone asks for a recommendation while holding a product, look the product over, and if they are not going to hurt themselves, say something like "that should do the trick"

Because you need to save your energy. You need to save it for customers like the lady later on that evening who asked "If I don't want to take Coumadin anymore what strength of aspirin should I use?" You must engage these people. You must fight them with all your power and pry that aspirin bottle from their hand. It will be difficult, and you will question at times whether it is worth it, but remember that person has a mother who loves them, or perhaps a dog, and you need to get that aspirin out of their goddamn hand for Rover's sake. It's not Rover's fault the human who adopted him is an idiot, and if the idiot dies, Rover will possibly be taken to the shelter and put down.

You must fight for Rover.

I went to refill the laser printer and saw there was one sheet of paper in the supply box. Someone left one sheet of paper in there so they could pretend it wasn't empty and thereby spare themselves the effort of going to the back room to get another box. I'm glad everyone who works in the store has a good union-provided healthcare plan, because when I find out who did this, I plan on hurting them.

On an allergy themed weekend, I told a 6 year-old child's mother she should "give the Claritin a shot" to treat the little dude's hayfever. Whereupon little dude starts to cry, thinking I'm about to give him an injection. I do kinda like my job sometimes.

I was almost run over by a car in the parking lot on my way home. Which would have been a shame because then I never would have got to collect my union-provided pension. Don't get me wrong, I still get to gamble in the stock market with a 401(k) like you do, but I can do it while counting on a set amount of retirement income guaranteed by law and insured like a bank deposit.

My last words would have been "Jesus Fucking Christ," which may be the same speech I give when I accept my Nobel Prize.

Merck Is Tired Of Grandma's Crap.

"While initial results look promising, we are confident that other drugs currently under development can increase the death rate among out-of-touch old people by even more" said Merck chairman and CEO Richard Clark in an exclusive interview that took place in my imagination. "Let's face it, after we lost the patents for Fosamax and Cozaar, the oldsters really aren't part of our business plan anymore, and from a financial perspective, are just using up resources that could be more effectively applied elsewhere"

"The sooner they are gone, the sooner we can get serious about the war against human papillomavirus." said Clark, who I also imagine as having an elderly parent sitting on a potential multi-million dollar inheritance.

"So while Saphris does give us a lot to look forward to, just wait until we get the approval for Strychnine SR™

My Book Report.

It's still rough. Like a big mound of clay just starting to take shape.

The preliminary title: Why Your Prescription Takes So Damn Long To Fill; A Foul-Mouthed Pharmacist Breaks The Curse Of Evel Knievel, Finds His Place In The World, And Strikes Back At The Ideological Forces That Threaten The Profession, And Your Health.

Most of what'll end up in there you can find here in the blog garden. My plan is to have a format somewhat David Sedaris-essay like using a lot of the material here. Material which, in case you haven't noticed, kicks ass. The book'll have an overall narrative while jumping around with Family Guy style non-sequiturs as it goes along to its final destination.While there is some value added compared to the raw blog material, the ending is where I really get off asking you to pay for it. I really like the ending. There's a good chance the ending, even if you are well embedded within the profession, will teach you a bit of practical pharmacology you didn't know.

And Lloyd Duplantis of Gray, Louisiana will hate the ending. Which is why I plan on dedicating the book to him. Because I want him to know the book never would have happened had he not inspired me to write it.

So here's the thing. While I am confident I can provide a superior reading experience, hell, I just kept myself entertained reading through the raw manuscript for the last half hour, I want some feedback before I sink the amount of time it will take into honing this sword to razor-sharpness. Would any of you actually consider buying this? Seriously. I know it's taking it to a whole different level to ask someone to part with money, but I also know I just got back from Borders, and I saw a lot of crap there.

Lemmie know. I set up a poll on the right hand side of the page.

Every Month Or So I Tell Myself We Cannot Go Any Lower In Our Political Discourse, And Every Month Or So I Am Proven Wrong.

This night I am torn. Half of me wants to thank my friends the teabaggers for the pure entertainment spectacle you are about to witness, half of me is terrified.

I want you to remember something as you watch this video clip. Due to the arcane rules of the United States Senate, pretty much any member of that body can stop any piece of legislation from moving forward. They do this by putting a secret, anonymous, "hold" on a bill, which basically means "you can't vote on this until I say it's OK" so.....pretty much any Senator could grind the whole place to a halt if they wanted to. Of course I'm sure that's not likely. Absurd even. About as absurd as it would have seemed 20 years ago to make every bill in the Senate overcome a filibuster.

Now I'd like you to meet Christine O'Donnell. Ms. O'Donnell, with the backing of the teabaggers, recently became the Republican nominee for one of Delaware's US Senate seats. Turns out she was also at one time a regular guest on Bill Maher's old TV show, "Politically Incorrect"

She's the one with the big 90's hair. She's also one election away from being a United States Senator.

Roll the tape......

Hand Shook, Plaque Awarded.

WASHINGTON DC- (That's right! Washington! aren't you impressed!!??)- A rather limp handshake was given from one middle aged man to another while both smiled for a photographer and imagined themselves to be very important, according to every issue ever printed of Pharmacy Today, an official publication of The American Pharmacist's Association.

The two men wore glasses, conservative haircuts, and suits of the type to be found in a regional Midwestern department store chain, the magazine has continuously reported since at least 1973. A plaque was also exchanged, usually commemorating one of the men's vision of the profession's future.

A vision of the future can also be found at the CVS pharmacy two blocks from APhA headquarters in Washington, DC, where wait times to pick up a prescription have been reported to exceed two hours.

That's right, Washington, DC, right on the National Mall with breathtaking views from the Potomac View Terrace overlooking the city's national landmarks. This will be mentioned in every issue of Pharmacy Today for the next decade.

Asked if the limp handshake was a metaphor for the organization's weak grasp of the issues actual pharmacists might care about, one of the pale men said "Not at all, if you add up the total number of our members who are pharmacists, pharmacy students, pharmacy technicians, and 'others' it comes out to less than a third of the number of people who are practicing pharmacists, which really shows where we stand. I mean, think about it, that probably means less than one on four actual pharmacists is a member of our organization! We totally must understand a thing or two!"

"Just nothing that a majority of people in the profession actually care about." He concluded.

At times, according to Pharmacy Today, conferences have also been held, discussions have taken place at round tables, and a small trophy has been given instead of a plaque. Plain looking women also seem to be taking part more frequently. While conventions take place around the country, APhA headquarters is in Washington, DC, where people with actual influence also live.

APhA would also like you to know they recently moved into a new building, located in Washington, DC. Four hundred plaques were given to various executives involved in overseeing plans for the new building, which again, is located in the nation's capital.

Insiders report that a banquet will soon be held to celebrate APhA being nowhere to be found in Mother Jones magazine's list of the top 75 contributors to Congressional campaigns, which includes The American Medical Association (#6), The American Dental Association (#26), and The American Hospital Association (#27).

Even The American Academy of Ophthalmology managed to come in at number 61 for Christ's sake.

"Everyone knows you get the best results for your membership by not making waves or advocating too forcefully for their interests, it also helps to have an idea of what those interests might be, which is why we've been in the process of building a consensus to move forward for the last 38 years." said a bland man or woman. They then proceeded to the award banquet's buffet table, while a pharmacist in Florida continued to starve himself in an effort to be heard.  

Vacation Report Number 6, In Which I Come Face To Face With A Great Beast Of The Woods.

Day 1- Notes On The Central Valley.

There is a part of California most people don't mention when they talk about the splendor of the state, and some actively avoid altogether. If the Golden State is a microcosm of the country, then the green area you most likely see on a map running along its center like a spine is its mini flyover country. When I was a kid it was called the San Joaquin Valley, and its legacy was as home of the Oakies, the land of Merle Haggard and Buck Owens and millions of lessor known people of my parent's generation who came out west to make a living working on a farm after they lost the one they used to own. You can still see traces of the influence of Merle and Buck's people if you look closely enough, but mostly what you'll notice in The Central Valley, which is what it's called today, is the haze.

The haze surrounds the edges of The Central Valley like some sort of smog doughnut. It gives an eerie coating to your surroundings and makes the mountains jump out at you as you head east with the same suddenness dodgeballs used to have in gym class when I couldn't wear my glasses. It also makes Fresno the asthma capital of the word. A few, very few, people, the ones who owned the land, got rich farming in the Central Valley, but mostly it's a place of poverty. I wondered what happened to the descendants of Merle and Buck as I rose into the mountains, as Oakies have been replaced in our times with Oaxacans. My mind gradually drifted to other thoughts as I drove up into the canyon and felt the mountains wrap around me like a hug. I fell asleep in their embrace, surrounded by the serenading sound of a frog choir.

Day 2-

BEAR!!!! Eight miles into the day's hike I saw a real life muthafuckin wild bear!!! This was the first time I've ever encountered an animal with the power to tear off my head and shit down my neck without a cage or moat or something in between us. The bear got a look at me and took off running, obviously seeing my newly developed pectoral muscles and knowing what he would be up against. Bears are very wise animals. I would love at this point to show you a picture of the bear, but while I was totally on top of the need to have a fully charged camera battery before I left home, I was a little less diligent about actually making sure the battery made it into the camera. So instead of a picture of a bear, I'll share this picture of a camera battery, in the hopes that it will serve as a reminder to me always of the importance of taking care of details:

Fifteen minutes later I stopped on the trail for a break and heard a rustling further up the mountain. The rustling grew closer and was clearly from a direction not trail related. I started to fear maybe Mr. Bear was not as wise as I had first thought. As I saw a pair of eyes stare out at me from the bushes about 15 feet away, my thoughts were of you, and how sad it was that you would never again have the joy of reading one my Highlights From The Day's Pill Counting Action posts. You struck good fortune however, when the eyes turned out to belong to a doe, who was leading her two little fawns through the woods. They paraded past me and I then realized the best way to maximize one's encounters with wildlife is to have no way to record them. I wondered if maybe I shouldn't have let the bear maul me a little so I could prove I really saw him. I put in 18 miles of hiking and realized if you ever get lost in Sequoia National Park you can always orient yourself to the direction of the haze and know it pointed to Fresno. I saw a picture of what the view from the Sierras looked like at the turn of the 20th century, a clear shot literally from one side of California to the other, as you could make out the coastal ranges in the distance, and I developed a little extra hatred for all those who drive an SUV in order to haul around a bag of groceries and a soccer ball.

The hatred kept me warm as I dozed off that night in the chilly mountain air under the stars, which are, as of now, unaffected by the haze.

Day 3-

I didn't move a muscle. I walked from my cabin down to the river where there was a natural swimming hole in between a waterfall and a set of mini-rapids and sat there for hours. It was very beautiful. Maybe I'll draw a picture of it when I get time so I'll have something to remember it by. I sat by the river and read in The Atlantic about likely Israeli plans to bomb Iran and worked on revising my book. I gotta tell you, I think my book's gonna be kinda good. I hope for your sake someone decides to publish it, as otherwise the bear letting me live will have been in vain.

That night I found a Natalie Merchant CD in the cabin and knew it was a sign. I have long known that my retail pharmacy career will end one incredibly hectic day when I will look up and Natalie will be there. "It's time Drugmonkey" Natalie will say, and I will hop across the counter never to be seen again. Natalie was telling me not to be too angry at SUV driving assholes, as they are too dumb to know what they do, and too fat to ever come up here and see for themselves. Natalie sang me to sleep as I almost dozed off into the rough draft of my book. I felt either her kiss on my forehead to end the day or the metal of a three ring binder.

Day 4-

If any of you want to know where to see Sequoia groves in the National Park that bears their name without having to deal with all the fat diabetic types that crowd around the trees next to the highway, let me know. Just be in shape before you ask, because the ones I found are both relatively untouched and straight up the side of a goddamn mountain. Those two facts are not unrelated. Sequoias tend to grow in clusters, and every time I came upon a group while walking along the trail I would break into a little song I made up:

I love..... Sequoia trees....
I love......Sequoia trees....


They drink a lot of water....
But they never ever drown!!
They drink a lot of water....
And you can't burn them down!!


I..... love.....Sequoia trees.....


They're really really tall...
But they hardly ever fall...


And when they do it's the only way they ddddiiiiiiiieeeeee.......
If you cut one down you should be poked in the eeeeeyyyyyeeeeee....


'cause...I....love....Sequoia trees.....

Looking back I wonder if perhaps the decreased oxygen levels at this altitude might not have been having an effect on  brain function.  

I remembered how a friend once told me she hadn't been skiing in awhile and decided to finally hit the slopes. She was mortified to find out her skiwear was hopelessly out of fashion and immediately had.......had to I said.....purchase an entire new wardrobe in order to be seen outside her hotel room. The biggest faux pas one could ever commit on the ski slopes she told me, was to wear jeans. I thought of this because the area of the park where I found myself had once been slated to be developed into a multi-million dollar ski resort by The Walt Disney Corporation. Environmental groups had stood up to Mickey Mouse back in the 60's though, and stopped him in his tracks. It was a time when left wing groups weren't afraid to actually use power once they had won an election, which left me free to be walking around the area wearing a pair of ugly jeans and what I call my birth control hat.

It feels good to win one once in awhile. Because I love Sequoia trees.

The next day I drove back through the haze and found my camera battery right where I left it. And a hairball my cat Spooky had thrown up on the bathroom floor. Sunday it's back to the grind. I plan to ease the transition with the music of Buck and Natalie.

Something Tells Me Stephen Hawking Has Never Set Foot In A Drugstore.

Here's how he ends the 1988 classic A Brief History Of Time:

However, if we discover a complete theory, it should in time be understandable by everyone, not just by a few scientists. Then we shall all, philosophers, scientists and just ordinary people, be able to take part in the discussion of the question of why it is that we and the universe exist. If we find the answer to that, it would be the ultimate triumph of human reason -- for then we should know the mind of God.

I watched a lady stand next to the greeting cards today for an hour and a half looking through the store's advertising flier. I shit you not. An hour and a half out of her life to decide if she wants to buy the Tide that's a dollar off this week. And that was after I noticed she'd already been there awhile and took note of the time. She might have been there close to two hours. Motionless, except for the turning of 12 pages.

I'm a little less confident in the ultimate triumph of human reason.

Report: Researchers Look Into The Use Of Marijuana To Prevent PTSD

SANTA CRUZ, CALIFORNIA- In a midday news conference, researchers at the University of California at Santa Cruz today released the results of a long anticipated study investigating the effects of marijuana use and the prevention of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).

"While there are not enough data as of yet to draw definite conclusions, we are quite excited about our results to date, and are pleased to report what may be a significant breakthrough in the prevention of one of the nations most vexing mental health problems." said Dr. Harold Falvor, who has been in charge of the study since shortly before the American invasion of Iraq in March of 2003. Falvor noted that the military's zero-tolerance policy towards illegal substance use was key to the study's structure, as participants are instructed to inhale a "clinically significant" amount of marijuana smoke shortly before or after any contact with a military recruiter, ensuring they are never inducted into the armed forces. With as many as 1 in 5 combat veterans of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan showing signs and symptoms of PTSD or major depression, Falvor estimated that the prophylactic use of marijuana could have prevented at least 300,000 cases of the two disorders over the last seven years. 

"Marijuana use was significantly more effective than placebo, and better tolerated than the other leading therapy, being gay, which was associated with stress and anxiety disorders from different sources." Falvor said. 

He also noted that the minimum effective dose varied widely during the study period. "During 2004 and 5 there were times what a participant had to actually show up at an induction center with a lit marijuana cigarette in their hand before they saw any effect" he said, "but now we're seeing results with much lower doses, possibly because the potency of the product has increased"

Side effects were mild and transient, and included increased appetite, temporary decreased cognition, weight gain, and surfer dude syndrome. These paled next to the effects of PTSD said Falvor, which include flashbacks, nightmares, difficulty falling or staying asleep, anger, hypervigilance, and just general bat-shit crazy stuff like this:

A former Army soldier with behavioral problems took several hospital workers hostage this morning while demanding treatment from a Georgia based military hospital.

"If only that young man had smoked a joint or two before signing his enlistment contract, he could be a productive member of society today" an emotional Falvor concluded. 


Critics have attacked the study, saying willingness to join the armed forces is itself indicative of a serious mental disorder, and have suggested more studies on lab rats. 

Highlights From Friday's Pill Counting Action.

"We really appreciate the extra effort you've put in since the start of flu season" The District Manager said to the Drugmonkey. "Knowing you can step up to make sure prescriptions still get out the door when the other pharmacist is tied up giving flu shots during her half of the day is a big help to us. I saw that you filled three times as many prescriptions during your shift than she did in hers yesterday. That's really an example of the type of teamwork we're going to need in order to make our immunization program a success. Thanks again"




Insert a good 15 seconds of silence here............









BBBBBBBBBBWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHAAAAHHHHAAAAAHHHHAAAAHHHHAAAAHHHAAAAHHHHAAAHHHAAAHAHHAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

BWWWWWAAAAAHHHHHHHAAAA

HHAAAAAA

HHAAAAAA

HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh.....god.....think I pulled a muscle.....from laughing.......it hurts......

bwwwwaaahahhaaaaahaaaaaaa......oowwwwwwwwww.......

Just the thought that a district manager would even know I'm doing three times as many prescriptions as the other pharmacist now, much less react to it.......

ha ha ha ha ha.....ow ow ow ow ow.......

He really told me I had some overdue computer training modules to complete. I think they had something to do with boxcutters. He also told me to stop skipping my lunch break when it's busy. I want every other non-California retail pharmacist to read that again. A corporate suit told me to stop skipping my lunch.

Once that sinks in I have this to say to every non-California retail pharmacist. You picked the wrong state sucka. Ha ha.....ow.

The first customer of the day presented me with their insurance card and told me, "This new plan only covers 14 Ambien tablets every 30 days. I just wanted to tell you in order to save you the trouble of trying to bill for all 30."

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAA!!!!!

Oh God I'm on a roll......

BBBBBBBBBBWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh Jesus. I think I really might have hurt myself. No. Seriously. I spent like 15 minutes trying to explain to the customer why they were only getting 14 tablets. I can't feel the left side of my diaphragm muscle now. I hope I can still breathe.

I've decided my American Indian name will be "He Who Solves Great Problems." I wish I could tell you how I earned it, but mulling it over, the situation was so convoluted, such an incredible comedy of errors, totally the eternal monument to the cluster fuck, that there's very little I could say about it without running the risk of going afoul of HIPAA.  I'll just tell you it involved simultaneously outsmarting a doctors office, Medco, and a competitor on the other side of town. They all threw their best incompetence at me and I mowed them all down. Because I am He Who Solves Great Problems and my pharmacy penis is thick and long. I reveled in the self-satisfaction and the $1.50 dispensing fee I had earned.

It didn't last long. "What do you mean by foam?"  The customer asked while looking over the Band Aids. This is the kind of question I struggle to answer without sounding like a smartass. I mean.......foam......like.......you know.....foam?

The customer must have been happy with my effort, because she followed up with an even greater challenge.

"What do you mean by feel better?"

The person then came to the counter and picked up a prescription that was being billed to Workman's Comp. Which means this person once had a job. Which means someone once looked at them and said to themselves, "This 300 pound mouth breather who can't get her brain around basic nouns and concepts is definitely the best choice for my organization" I pondered that for awhile. And the fact there are currently 15 million people in this country who can't find a job.

I was snapped out of it by the sound of another customer walking by, "I'm a nurse, I know how a pharmacy is organized!!" she said to her friend. Pay attention to your surroundings my friends, and you will constantly be learning things. This day I learned that they teach how to set up planograms for large chain drugstores in nursing school for some reason.

I farted and the lights got dimmer. I swear. It happened twice.

From the waiting area I hear, at more than full volume. I FORGOT MAY HEARING AID......YOU WILL HAVE TO SPEAK UP. YES......WELL.......SHE MARRIED A NEGRO SHOE SALESMAN AND I DON'T KNOW WHY.......HE MADE LIKE $7.50 AN HOUR AND I DON'T KNOW WHY SHE WOULD MAKE SUCH A CHOICE......

The nurse came back and asked me where the Imodium might be.

A car alarm sounded in the parking lot and everyone in the store stopped what they were doing to rush out and stop a possible felony in progress.

BWWWAAAAHAHHHAAAAAHHHHAAAA!!!!.....Oh Jesus. I might have to go to the hospital.

A guy was wearing female Uggs and I tried to figure out if he was making a statement or was just stupid. I was really worried he might get too much credit for being a free spirit when in fact he was just dumb.

Five minutes till closing and a young couple walks to the counter. He asks for Sudafed. I ask for an ID.

"I would have one if SHE wouldn't have lost my license!!"

"WHY DON'T YOU JUST GO TO HELL!!!!"

And then they stormed off. Making me feel much better about the fact I would be returning to an empty condo.