Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Nation Prepares For The Annual Running Of The Tools.

Blogpost original air date, November 24, 2011


BETONVILLE, AR- From the small town Sears to major shopping destinations in cities around the country, excitement filled the air today as millions readied themselves for the start of the annual shopping season that begins tonight with the Running of The Tools. This years Tool Run is expected to begin as early as midnight at retailers in all 50 states, as dullards of every stripe gather to test their mettle in competition with what passes for human beings these days in an effort to score a discounted price on electronics, clothing, toys, and other miscellaneous crap that will most likely end up in a landfill within a year.

"We used to call it the running of the sheeple" said Wal-Mart Vice President Johnnie C. Dobbs. "but then we realized that sheep, unlike the crowds of barbarians that gather in front of our stores every year, very rarely get violent when crammed together in large herds."

Dobbs then climbed to the top of corporate headquarters and tossed 10 vouchers good for $100 off any laptop computer to the crowd below "just to give them a little taste of blood" One person's eyes were gouged out in the resulting melee.

While the precise origin of The Running of The Tools is unclear, archaeological research indicates it may have begun as part of a ritual of giving thanks for the sweatshop laborers whose work producing plastic disposable trinkets makes it possible for Americans to maintain a standard of living unmatched in the history of humanity.

Actually, "living" is probably the wrong word to use there.

In that spirit of thanks, Tool Run participants across the country this year will pause for a moment of silence to honor Jdimytai Damour, the Wal-Mart employee trampled to death under a frenzied crowd of Tools desperate to get rid of their money in 2008.

Not really. There will be absolutely no recognition of what happened to Mr. Damour tonight. Except possibly among the people who loved him.

"Unless you come from the dark place inhabited by these people's souls, the significance of the Tool Running can be hard to understand" said Dr. Glen Nealon, author of GET YOUR HANDS OFF THAT DVD PLAYER!! Tools And The Ascension Of Consumption As The Basis Of The Modern Economy "In the absence of meaningful relationships based on caring and consideration, worthy cultural outlets, or any other type of intellectual stimulation, the life of a Tool soon devolves into a search for meaning through competition for material symbols of status, and they are willing to risk almost anything to fill the vast void of nothingness that is their existence."

"HOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!! I'M GONNA GET ME A PLAY STATION FOR SEVENTY-FIVE BUCKS!!!!!" said local Tool Jacob Hatfield, who said he had been waiting in front of a Target store for 36 hours. He also added that if we even thought about barging in line in front of him, we could expect to be cut.

Reached in the eternal glory that is heaven, the almighty Jesus sobbed softly when asked for comment.

Sunday, November 24, 2013

From The Pages Of Pills-A-Go-Go. The Best Piece Of Drug Swag Ever.



It's exactly what it looks like my friends. A shit-inspiring CD from the makers of the country's leading vegetable laxative. Get the food a-flowing with tunes from REO Speedwagon, Toto, Eddie Money and Rick Springfield.

What do you suppose those bands had to do to get onto their record company's literal shit list? BRRRRAAAAAHAHHHAAAHHHHAAAHHAAAAAA.........

Anyway, like I said, I got the tip to this little gem from Pills-A-Go-Go. Which I'm starting to think just may be the best book ever. You can buy a copy of both book and CD from Amazon. At least for now. 'Cause I just snapped up the next to last copy of the shit music.

Drugmonkey, I Love Love Love Your Book, But You Don't Write As Much Now That You're A Responsible Business Owner, What's A Person To Do?

I hear you my friends, and I feel your pain so much I went out and found another book to ease your withdraw symptoms. I love this book my friends. I. Love. This. Book. I could waste your time explaining why, or I could just put up an excerpt and let you see for yourself. From "pills-a-go-go" by Jim Hogshire.

Buy a copy of it right now.


Pill-hounds are not only the ones who hate pharmacists: practically everybody hates them. In turn, pharmacists hate everyone back and, for that brief moment when they are in charge of your medical treatment, they will jack you around out of pure spite. 
A pharmacist shuffling papers behind his altar-like counter won't look up when you arrive. He won't even grunt before he's good and ready to peer down at you and acknowledge your existence. Then he will make you talk out loud about your medical problems. Sometimes, he will challenge your prescription. Hmmmmm, you got the clap, dontcha? Prozac, eh? Don't look depressed to me. Isn't it a little early for you to be refilling this codeine? In fact, I'm not sure you should have any more codeine. He will make you grovel. That's what he lives for. 
How did the pharmacist become so odious? Does pharmacy inherently attract people who naturally seethe with inner malice while maintaining a stony facade? Are they born this way or does something happen to them? Unfortunately, there is no evidence that pharmacists have a genetic problem. Like sadistic prison guards, they are largely creations of their surroundings. Something about the job ruins them. 
THE BIG SCAM
The sadistic process of twisting a pharmacist's psyche begins in college. Pharmacy school is rough--you can't get through it without advanced calculus, chemistry and super dedication. Pharmacy school lasts at least five years. And it costs a lot. 
No one would endure pharmacy school for the chance to count pills, let alone to be hated by customers and held in contempt by doctors. So, to make students cram pharmacokinetics (which they will never use on the job), the schools tell big, outright lies. They promise that their graduates will be liked, and will hold an esteemed position in medicine, in society even. 
Students are told again and again about the high degree of trust placed upon pharmacists by patients and doctors. They see pictures of kindly people in smooth coats holding up test-tubes and being beamed at by old ladies. They are shown photocopies of a folklorish survey indicating how certain professions are trusted. Pharmacists, they see, are only a notch or two below Supreme Court Justice--and far above a doctor. 
This is the opposite of reality, of course, which just makes the hoax crueler. When you see a pharmacy student, what you are looking at is someone who just wants to be liked and valued by their community, slaving away for respectability and honor they will never get. 
THE SUCKER PUNCH
The reality of pharmacy is that it is a service industry, not much different than a dry cleaners. Pharmacists are not pillars of the community, they are pill-counters and stock boys. And respect? Please. 
Instead of being part of a benevolent triangle of medical care, the pharmacist finds himself at the butt end of an abusive process nobody likes. It probably doesn't take more than one day on the job to show a newly minted pharmacist that he or she has been tricked, and it's little wonder pharmacists are five times as likely to kill themselves than the average person, or that only psychiatrists (narrowly) finish before pharmacists in the sad race for most suicidal profession. 
Think about it: customers arrive at the pharmacy because they have been hurt or are sick. They have already made the trek to the doctor's office, lost a day of work, been kept waiting and charged a hundred bucks to spend three minutes with a doctor who hands them a piece of paper. Now they have taken the bus to the drugstore and are about to be appalled by the money they are going to shell out to this grump behind a counter so high it makes them feel like a three-year-old. They are not happy to be there. They are, in fact, quite unhappy. And nothing the pharmacist does is going to make them happy. But--too bad--the pharmacist isn't all that content himself. He's been swindled so badly he's never going to trust anyone again. 
The collision between sick, ripped-off patient and tired, ripped-off pharmacist is as predictable, and mean, as a cockfight. The customer grumbles at the pharmacist, asks some ridiculous question--or any question at all--and the pharmacist sneers and usually doesn't respond. The phone is ringing. The people standing in line start clearing their throats. The pharmacist shoots a few withering looks, then doles out the pills. Slowly. Sufficiently abased, the customer begins to limp home. The pharmacist waits for more abuse. Since old people take the most medicine, the majority of his customers are old people--cranky old people who complain about prices and ask the same stupid questions a thousand times a day. This is just more gravel in the pharmacist's shoes. 
There are no test-tubes in sight. No mortar and pestles, no hand-in-hand work with the doctor. In fact, there are no real prescriptions anymore. A clerk in a pizza joint has a more complex job than a pharmacist. Doctors prescribe ready-made medicines, often by brand name. Doctors decide if a generic can be substituted. The pharmacist just gets the right bottle of pills and starts counting. Substitute birdseed for the pills, and a competent pigeon could do your pharmacist's job. There is simply no pharmacy going on in a pharmacy. All those nights of midnight oil, learning absorption rates of alkenes into mucous membrane mean nothing now. That was just the price for a pill-selling license. And pharmacy school didn't breathe a word of this. 
Neither did the school teach any of the practical skills the pharmacist genuinely needs. They didn't teach how to run a cash register, or catch shoplifters, or even how to identify pills. Pharmacy students can draw the molecular structure of almost any drug but cannot visually ID or even name the top twenty pills they will sell. Then there's pill-counting--the most obvious part of pharmacy drudgery. Just how much organic chemistry is necessary to count pills? This is even more humiliating since the number of pills in a bottle is one of the few things a pharmacist/pigeon can screw up. It's also something the old bag snapping about high prices can and will check. 
Of course, as the years grind by under the fluorescent lights behind the silly counter, the pharmacist eventually learns all this. But it's all on-the-job, hard-gained knowledge. And in learning it, hearts are broken. All the bad land sold in Florida cannot have caused the pain a single pharmacist feels by the time you see him there among the pills. 
PILL COUNTERS VERSUS DOCTORS
Pharmacists are not taught to read doctor handwriting, which is unfortunate because all the jokes about this subject are true: most doctors really do have shitty handwriting and the inability to read it can lead to serious mistakes. People have been killed by script fuck-ups and pharmacists commonly mis-dispense drugs due to errors in reading the prescription. Then they get sued and kicked out of the business forever. The doctor, of course, is unaffected. 
So this is a very real problem. But calling the doctor's office for clarification of a prescription just makes the pharmacist a pest. The receptionist treats him like an irritant. The doctor treats him like an idiot. Should the pharmacist have any other "problems" with a prescription, he comes dangerously close to questioning the doctor's wisdom--and may incur the doctor's wrath. And doctors are often angry, angry people with a lot of resentments of their own about the way their educations turned out and the way society views them. So the brittle ego of a pharmacist will not allow him to risk calling a doctor every time he thinks there's something wrong with a script. Mostly, the pharmacist just lives with the fear and uncertainty, which only adds to his or her time-bomb-like personality.

The rest of the book is less pharmacist specific, but as the title promises, full of pill type subversive goodies. You will learn and you will laugh. You will be offended, because if a writer isn't offending someone than he is probably boring. In a prefect world you could use your APhA discount to get it. As it is though, the APhA strives for nothing but non-offensiveness, so you'll have to pay full retail .

You won't regret it one bit. You're welcome.

Saturday, November 23, 2013

There's Nothing Like A Good Hatemail To Warm The Heart. But Once Again, I Have To Work With What I Can Get.

To the  hatemail bag we go.....

Yeah cry me a river about the results from shoving addictive chemicals down people throats. And pain killers require addictive chemicals right, what a load of crap. I asked a few doctors why the narcotics and everyone of them told me it's to deal with mental aspect of being in pain. Yeah because taking someone out of pain wouldn't do that right. Sanctioned drug dealers and crooked doctors. So yeah cry me a river about the results from your own actions. What a joke, have fun explaining your actions to Christ.

Dear Jesus,

Someone wrote me the other day and wanted me to explain crackheads and how we deal with them to you. I'm not sure why. Maybe they figure that as the biggest single preventable source of war, strife, suffering and misery in our society you should be brought up to date with the latest challenges in pain management. Maybe they wish they could have brought you some OxyContin™ as you were flailing up on that cross, even though it only would have helped you "deal with the mental aspect of being in pain." like all those cancer people on their deathbed who get absolutely no pain relief from the morphine. Or post-op patients who've just had their chest ripped open. Who knew there actually wasn't any way to help them. Learn something every day I guess.

Anyway Jesus, a lot of drug seekers aren't very smart. Some of them just gobble down their Norco without a thought as to what they're gonna do when they run out way sooner than they're supposed to. When you tell them they can't have any more they whine and demand you call their doctor, who usually will say to give it to them anyway. Some of them do manage to figure out how to get multiple prescriptions from different doctors, but still bring them all to the same pharmacy, thinking we don't have the power to say no. Here's the thing though Jesus, increasingly the drug seekers are right. You take your 30 day supply of Vicodin into your local chain "pharmacy" on the 15th day, and when they don't want to fill it, you just call up the consumer complaint line and raise some holy hell. More than likely you will soon have your pills, a gift card, and an official apology. More and more crackheads are figuring this out, and staying away from stores like mine, where just the other day I turned away an OxyContin seeker with literally a fistfull of cash.

Wait. I think I get it now. That money in the Oxy seeker's hand was actually "Miracle Money" of they type espoused by the Reverend Peter Popoff and so many more of your followers, and that letter writer was telling me I was destined for hell for not taking it. Well shoot. I guess when I get there I'll just go hang out with all the Third World children who starved to death before they got a chance to have a little water sprinked over their head, which for some reason a few million of your peeps think is a necessary part of getting into get into heaven. Might be a good idea to keep those children away from the Catholic priests anyway if they make it up there. Maybe you really do have some sort of divine plan.

Back to the point though Jesus, I didn't take the crackhead's money because I didn't think he had a medical need for all that OxyContin, and I as a rule don't go around filling narcotics early, even though it does make for a few nasty confrontations. At least now I know where you stand on the issue  though. And that the folks plugging away for the big three chains are your chosen people.

I'm betting they don't feel like it though. Maybe next month you could give them all a Christmas dinner out of two fish or something to show how much you care.

Later,

Drugmonkey

Sunday, November 03, 2013

Before We Start This Again Ms. Help Desk Lady, I Have One Question For You....

...do you know what happens to liars? Do you? Because I think you're about ready to find out.

You told me the problem with the claim was a bad NPI number. You sounded very certain, almost like you were swearing you spoke the truth.

I'm glad you didn't actually swear though, because bad things happen to people who break oaths, at least if you buy all the Jesus stuff that so freely floats around this country.

I believed you because you were in a position of trust. I hung up and went to the information superhighway to look up a new NPI number (by the way, for those of you who don't know, you can look up NPI numbers in seconds online, but it requires your employer to treat you like an adult and allow you internet access. Good luck with that. You can do a lot of stuff online to make your workday easier. You might want to think about taking a tablet to work)

I put in the new NPI and......got the exact same reject. How could I not feel betrayed? I came to you for guidance Ms. Help Desk Lady, and you threw my good intentions and trust down a rathole.

I only want to get this Celebrex paid for. I'm not greedy. A little over my acquisition cost will be fine.

What I got instead was another in a long line of emotional manipulations by the women in my life. I thought it would be different with you. I suspect the real problem is you need a prior auth and you knew that all along.

Why don't women ever tell you what they really need?

So when I call again Ms. Help Desk Lady, you can toy with me once more, use me as your plaything for your amusement. Or you can do the right thing. I'm not hopeful.

I'm even starting to suspect my call isn't very important to you at all. As I rot on hold.