Dear Crazed Masses, Look What IIIIIIIIIIIIIII Have.....

And you can have it, if you want it bad enough. 

Show me how bad you want it. And a proper prescription. 

Over 100 reported cases of the swine flu now. Which works out to a staggering 0.0000326% of the population. I hope this craze is over soon. I'm getting tired of mocking you. 

5 Tips That Will Get You Through The Swine Flu Crisis.

1) If your doctor shows any sign of having a snout or hooves, run, do not walk, but run out of the office as fast as you can. 

2) If travelling to Mexico, an awareness and respect for local culture and traditions can go a long way towards soothing the nerves of a population on edge. Try the traditional Mexican greeting of a quick kiss on the lips followed by the "hello cough" to the face of every stranger you see. 

3) I was just kidding about number 2. However, it is important to wipe down any imported Mexican marijuana or methamphetamine with hand sanitizer before use. 

4) Most pharmacies receive shipments of prescription medication several times an hour, making calling your local Walgreens every 15 minutes to ask if they have any Tamiflu a solid plan. 

5) An awareness of the latest real-time events in a situation as fluid as this one can be crucial. As of this morning, there have been 91 conformed cases of swine flu in this country, and one death. Realize there are 306,317,517 people in the United States as of 1PM Pacific time, think about those odds,  quit being such a ninny, and live your life. 

I Add Pandora.com To The List Of Things That May Eventually Push Me Over The Edge.

Most of you are probably familiar with Pandora.com. For those of you that are not I'll tell you it's an Internet radio station whose premise is it will play only songs you like. You go to the site, tell Pandora.com the names of a few bands you're into, and wala... their music soon starts to fill the room. 

But wait. There's more. Pandora.com will soon start to seek out other bands that it thinks you might like and add them to its playlist. Bands you've never heard of. It was at this point I fell in love with Pandora.com. The Killers. Who knew you kids were listening to anything decent these days? Black Flag. I always suspected I would like Black Flag. Pandora.com confirmed it. Yes, for the first time since.....um.....ever....I was in love.

Then Pandora.com started pulling up bands I hate. Absolutely loathe. And finding the one track in their 30 year career that didn't suck. I'm looking at you Ozzy Osbourne. It was at this point I gained a touch of fear of Pandora.com. Was I that easy to figure out? What would happen if the machines ever decided to use this power for evil? I tried to remain calm and show no emotion as I listened to "Crazy Train." I decided working off some calories might be the best way to take my mind off the power of Pandora.com

My legs groaned as I mounted the stationary bike for the zillionth day in a row. My exercise routine sorely lacks in variety, and my thighs mounted a protest. "Can you please just work something else?" they pleaded. "Your arms are getting kinda soft if you haven't noticed, just sayin'"

So I knew almost from the start of the pedaling it was gonna be a slog. There are good days and bad days and setting a personal best every time you do something is impossible I realize. So I told myself to just suck it up and tough it out. Three-quarters of the way through my scheduled bike time, as I was huffing and puffing and wheezing and crying, it became clear I was not gonna put up the kind of numbers on the exercise bike that I had become accustomed to, and Pandora.com started to play some of the wussiest, slowest, chick-flick movie soundtrack songs that no way could have fit into whatever algorithm Pandora.com has in my file.

Pandora.com was making fun of my performance.

"What are you trying to say?" I sneered at the computer as my time was drawing to a close. "You want a piece of me? Huh? Do you? Then you just give me one more of those god-awful Goo Goo Doll pieces of crap"

I was in a lover's spat with Pandora.com. I seriously wanted to slap it. I think I need to get out of the condo this weekend. Make some contact with people. Whatever the result, it surely won't be as bad as getting in a fight with a website. 

Even though the website started it. Fucking Bee Gees.

You Don't Have To Love Politics To Appreciate This Politics Post, Just Irony.

The flyer greeted me as I got the day's mail this morning. Or yesterday morning. Or last week maybe. It's all starting to blend together: 


"Is our vote secure? Accurate? Recountable? Accessible?" The headline reads. It then invites you to attend a 90 minute discussion with California's Secretary of State to discuss the matter. 

The words in the circle below the flyer say "vote by mail ballot enclosed." California's having a special election of some sort next month, and the ballots went out last week. It's a tradition when a piece of mail gets delivered to the wrong unit here, it gets hung up on the bulletin board. I'd like to think the hangee had a sense of humor about where they were putting it, but it really did look like the only open place. 

Anyway, back to the meeting with the good Secretary. The answer is no. I just gave everyone involved an hour and a half of their life back.   

Special thanks to my new staff member for the photowork.

The Disintegration Of The Republican Party Is A Gift That Keeps On Giving.

From the April 2nd New York Times. Yes. I know. April 2nd was quite awhile ago. But until you start buying ads or otherwise enable me to start a revenue stream with my little blog garden that lets me hire a full time staff, you're just gonna have to deal with the occasional delay:

WASHINGTON — Richard L. Scott is unusual in these tough economic times: a rich, conservative investor willing to spend freely on a political cause.

Uh-oh. Sounds scary. We've seen this before.

Mr. Scott is starring in his own rotation of advertisements against the broad outlines of President Obama’s health care plans. (“Imagine waking up one day and all your medical decisions are made by a central, national board,” he warns in a radio spot.) He has dispatched camera crews to other countries to document the perils of socialized medicine.

Somehow I'm betting his film crews are gonna miss how socialized medicine in places like the UK results in better care and longer life expectancy for less than half as much money as we spend.

He visited with lawmakers on Capitol Hill this week, and his new group, Conservatives for Patients’ Rights, has hired a leading conservative public relations firm, CRC, well known for its work with Swift Boat Veterans for Truth, the group that attacked Senator John Kerry, Democrat of Massachusetts, during his presidential campaign.

Oh shit. The Swift Boat Veterans for Truth. Whose definition of "truth" was "outright baldfaced lies" "Dammit Drugmonkey", I said to myself as I read the article. "I hope you enjoyed the Obama honeymoon, because the fuckers who weren't too proud to have decorated military veterans try to convince us that you could become a decorated military veteran by being a pussy are back. Time to suit up for battle."

Mr. Scott’s emergence this spring as the most visible conservative opponent to Mr. Obama’s not-fully-defined health care effort has former friends and foes alike doing double takes, given Mr. Scott’s history.

Once lauded for building Columbia/HCA into the largest health care company in the world, Mr. Scott was ousted by his own board of directors in 1997 amid the nation’s biggest health care fraud scandal. The company’s guilty plea and payment of $1.7 billion to settle charges including the overbilling of state and federal health programs was taken as a repudiation of Mr. Scott’s relentless bottom-line approach.

Wait. The nation's biggest health care fraud scandal? I suit up to fight on the battlefield of ideas and what they send out is some crook who stole millions in taxpayer dollars, probably while complaining all the while that taxes were too high? THIS is supposed to be the big scary face of what will scuttle the health care reform this country so desperately needs?

Fine. Lemmie get out my sword and lop off his head anyway. This won't take long.

Mr. Scott has said his sole policy interest is to see to it that whatever overhaul Mr. Obama and Congress consider does not move the country toward a socialized system and away from what he calls his four pillars of reform: “choice, competition, accountability and personal responsibility.”

“After spending over two decades in the health care provider industry, I’ve seen these principles work firsthand,” Mr. Scott said in a recent statement

"Well, maybe not the personal responsibility so much in my own case" he could have easily said but didn't. "I suppose I wouldn't be some rich fuck living it up in Florida if I had taken responsibility for what I had done."

"That probably takes out accountability too now that I think about it." He didn't add. Oh well, that still leaves two pillars!"

By the way, Obama's proposal, while still a work in progress, is increasingly looking like it will feature a new, public insurance plan available to people unhappy with, or unable to buy, insurance in the private market. Now go take a look at those first two pillars again. You will be able to chose a public plan that competes with the Blue Cross from hell that has been prior authing you to death while jacking up your premiums every year. Yeah. So much for the pillars.

Wow that was incredibly easy and unsatisfying.

I miss having a worthy opponent.

Pharmacy Art Picture #4. I Call It "A Party I Wasn't Invited To"

They all showed up in today's order, we sell like one or two a week max:

I

I have no idea what information those in the corporate office may be privy to that I am not, but I wish they'd tell me.

This post is dedicated to Lloyd Duplantis Jr. of Gray, Louisiana. 

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

When did it become not OK to smoke in the pharmacy? I seriously don't remember. 

I do clearly remember my first job as an intern though, in the late 80's, and the pharmacist who used to keep his ashtray under the computer monitor so he could puff away while shuffling your pills around. 

I also remember ashtrays in the study lounges in pharmacy school. I shit you not. This would have been the early 90's

Now today, anyone attempting to light up in the pharmacy would most likely be crucified, but I don't remember any transition period. When did this happen? Was I drunk when the memo came out? It is still not kosher to fill prescriptions while you're drunk, right? Or has that changed too? Because if it has, I'm missing out on a lot of potential scotch by sobering out for you people during the workday. 

I wonder what else has changed that I haven't noticed.....what is that thing you keep talking into and holding up to your ear? Are you crazy or something? 

1993 was my best year. It was all downhill from there. Sigh.

Some Marketing Guru Thinks This Picture Representative Of A Typical Day In The Pharmacy.

Pharmacist: So Mrs. Johnson, I have your, (ahem) prescription ready.

Mrs. Johnson: Thank you Bob. I do so love the, service you provide. 

Pharmacist: Almost as much as I love providing it. So are we still on for your regular, servicing after I close up shop for the night?

Mrs. Johnson: Of course Bob. It's just a shame Mr. Johnson can't join us. 

Pharmacist: Ha ha ha....

Mrs. Johnson: Ha ha ha....

Meanwhile, back on earth, here's a little sample of what a real pharmacist sees throughout their 12 hour shift:

"Wha dew ehah haf da sign fur da hoodafed? Ehah jus' wanda breaf! COUGH COUGH" 

The cough, of course, lands directly on the pharmacist's face. 

And she will never need servicing. 

And the pharmacist is thankful for that. 

Can't wait to get back at it tomorrow.....

Highlights From The Weekend's Pill Counting Action.

Friday started as a day of hope. Because as you have no doubt picked up on if you have spent much time at all here in my little blog garden, I am nothing if not a creature of hope. Perhaps as I slept, I thought to myself, a cure for everything had been developed, rendering me obsolete in the new state of health care nirvana the world now found itself in. True, I would be unemployed, but thanks to the cure for everything I could be assured that I would always have my health, plus I could sleep in. I decided I would take that deal, and I crossed my fingers. A guy's gotta have hope. 

Then I realized that even after the cure for everything was developed, my employer would still need someone at the back of the store to tell people where the bathroom is. I got out of bed and left for work. 

Fifteen minutes into the workday my keystone tech informed me there were no bags. In the pharmacy or in the backroom. This happens a lot. The fact we will need bags to put the purchases of each and every customer that buys something into seems to come as a complete surprise to the store's management each week. Perhaps they were expecting no customers for the next 7 days. That would explain their staffing level. I walked to the front of the store, where the only non-pharmacy employee on duty was manning the cash register. I stole his bags. Right in front of him. I took them all and did not apologize. On my way back to happy the pill room I held the bags over my head as if they were the head of a vanquished enemy. Later on I wondered what the store did to meet their entirely predictable bag needs. I never asked, and the store's management has learned not to bother me with trivial details like the fact I steal their supplies. 

As I entered the cure center, the day's first customer was having a lengthy discussion with my keystone tech about whether you could tell if he was a woman dressed up as a man. "There are places in San Francisco where you totally can't tell!" he made the point with great emphasis, and while I don't doubt this is true, I couldn't help but wonder why he seemed so anxious to talk about it. On a Friday morning. This is usually the subject matter for a Friday night. 

Then the same customer didn't want to touch the store's pen to sign his credit card slip because "it's diseased," leading me to believe he was still up late from the night before.  His type usually aren't early birds.

Later that day I waited on a mall security guard who requested easy open lids for his prescriptions. That made me feel more secure.  

Customer approaches with two bottles of Mylanta. "Which is stronger, Ultimate strength or Maximum strength?" I really couldn't blame the customer on this one. Turns out Ultimate trumps Maximum. Unless you have gas. 

Sometime Saturday a man approached the counter, again with two products, one an ointment and the other a cream, and asked, "One of these is creamy, right?"

"Yes, the other would be more like Vaseline" I said. 

"Well which one's creamy?"

Sometimes my friends, you will find yourself in situations dealing with the general public where you really don't want to be a smartass, but you have no choice. I didn't know how else to say it. 

"The one that says cream"

"OK, thanks a lot!" said the happy customer. Like I had just enlightened him on the principle of quantum mechanics. I went to college 5 years for that. I skipped a lot of class, but believe it or not, it never catches up with me most days. 

Also on Saturday a lady whose insurance claim rejected asked "Do you think it could have something to do with how I haven't paid my premium this month?" I said maybe. Didn't want to put any words in the insurance company's mouth. 

Maybe that actually happened on Sunday. Fuck, I can't remember anymore. 

Also on Saturday and/or maybe Sunday the fat lady who waddled up to the counter said she just couldn't understand why no pharmacist she had ever talked to recommended the Hydoxycut to lose weight. Seriously, she was well north of 300 pounds. I just weighed myself today and discovered I've dipped under 170. It made for such a great visual. Maybe I can steal the stores security camera footage the way I steal their bags and post it here for you. 

It was definitely Sunday when I had my frustrating conversation with the insurance company help desk wage slave who sounded like he was talking to me from Mumbai. Way too friendly to be an American this dude was. After mad investigation of an incredibly perplexing problem, Mr. Mumbai and I determined its source to be my employer's software. Meaning I would have to call my employer's computer help desk. My employer's computer help desk would be about as helpful at solving problems on a Sunday afternoon as my cat Spooky. "Ah shoot, I was afraid you were gonna say that" I semi-sighed. "Wish me luck."

"Very good luck on your quest Sir" said Mr Mumbai, and the weekend ended as it began, with a glimmer of hope. Not from me, but from halfway around the world. It certainly wasn't the cure for everything, but I decided I would take it. 

Because I am nothing if not a creature of hope.    

I Think The Last Part Of Me Died This Weekend.

It's been happening bit by bit for the last 17 years. With every prior auth, with every "that's not what I paid last time", with every "where are the....tubes.....you know....that you put under your car....?", a little bit of me has passed into the great beyond. But when I told the nice lady customer that it would be about 20 t0 30 minutes to get her prescription filled and she responded by asking, 

"So when can I pick it up?"

I felt the last part of me go. Dying isn't nearly as negative of an experience as we've been led to believe. I felt myself being pulled upwards. Soon I was floating, up towards the pale fluorescent glow tubes ubiquitous in any large scale commercial retail setting, up towards a world where babies don't spit up and puppies don't have accidents on the floor. There's no food after you die. Which sucks if you appreciate a good ribeye the way I do, but the trade off for an existence minus any vomit or poop makes it worthwhile I think. I looked down and saw a little old grinning man. He was approaching the pharmacy......slowly......slowly....grinning and hobbling....waving a card as he inched towards the counter. 

I continued upwards. Past the glow tubes and towards a rainbow. Not a rainbow that shines off a pot of gold, as there is no need for gold after you die. And not a CVS rainbow either. Witnessing the CVS rainbow was in and of itself cause for a couple pieces of me to die awhile back. My rainbow was beautiful. I was at peace. 

"DRUGMONKEY LINE ONE!!!" snapped me out of it. It took me a second to get my bearings. The old man was in front of me now. Still grinning, and waving his card for Mucinex-D in front of my face. My keystone tech must have given me CPR. Bitch. I'll have my revenge, even though I'm sure she thought she was doing the right thing. 

Or else I'm some sort of zombie now. Which would be kinda cool really. Does that mean I have to eat brains? I don't think I've ever had brains before. What about mad cow disease? 

Wait. I'm already dead. I forgot. I guess I'll have to start worrying about the contents of my GI tract and disposing of them properly again. I wonder what poop made out of brains looks like?