Dear Christians: Could I Change Your Mind About Just One Little Thing?

I've given up trying to talk some sense into you on the big picture things. I've accepted you will insist on living your life in a spiritual Oedipus complex, convinced that there is some sort of super father figure in the sky to be feared keeping score on you, while secretly wishing Mary would give you attention that intense of a different sort. You will worship the father, the son, and the holy ghost and continue to claim yours is a monotheistic religion. You will believe a story about a chick getting pregnant without getting any penis, secretly thinking this still gives you a shot at being the first to slip her some, then mock those who seek to "awake from the sleep of ignorance." Fine. I wish I could talk you into not using those beliefs as cover for so much of the violence you seem hell bent on committing, but we may not be ready for that discussion just yet. You don't trust me and I treat you with all the special contempt I reserve only for the dangerously ignorant. It's time for a confidence building exercise, something we can both agree on. I propose this:

The Lord's Prayer is not a song. It's not. Please quit singing it.

If you doubt me make a tape recording of yourself reading the thing. Listen to the flow. The up and down rhythm of the words. That short, direct, rat-a-tat-tat cadence actually contributes to the message. A person who knows not a word of English can get the picture that you are submitting yourselves to something very important. As a poem, it works pretty well.

So why do you piss on it by trying to make it into a hymn? The non-English speaker who would be so impressed by your reading couldn't help but to hear this music for what it is; trying to cram a square peg Jesus into a round musical hole. It doesn't fit, and you can't make it. When you try, you succeed only in hurting my ears and making yourself look stupid(er)

You know what else makes you look stupid Christians? This guy:

Christian pediatrician denies child service because parents are tattooed

A family is turned away by a local pediatrician, they say because of the way they look.

The doctor said he is just following his beliefs, creating a Christian atmosphere for his patients.

Tasha Childress said it's discrimination.

She said Dr. Gary Merrill wouldn't treat her daughter for an ear infection because Tasha, the mother, has tattoos.

The writing is on the wall-literally: "This is a private office. Appearance and behavior standards apply."

For Dr. Gary Merrill of Christian Medical Services, that means no tattoos, body piercings, and a host of other requirements-all standards Merrill has set based upon his Christian faith.

I guess I do have a lot to learn about Christians. I had no idea Jesus only hung out with good looking, well groomed people. Maybe there is a place for me in this religion. I am pretty hot, in that clean-cut Republican looking way you people seem to find acceptable.

I'm not singing that damn prayer though.

I Hate You Goddamn Independents.

Why? A little story from today's pill counting action will explain why.

The Drugmonkey was about half an hour behind getting people's crap out the door. The "high priority" stuff sat unmoved for longer than that, waiting for me to complete the "super high priority", "ultra high priority" and "extreme high priority" tasks that were in front of it. The phone was lit up like fucking Christmas. We were using the exact number of labor hours our corporate overlords had budgeted to take care of our customers. Just another day. Eventually I got around to answering one of the calls on the fucking Christmas phone and hear:

"Hello......this is J from Non-Corporate pharmacy in the next town over.....calling for a prescription transfer"

The voice was sweet and pleasant. It was the first time all day I had not heard hostility in a voice and it made me immediately hate her.

Our computer was on the verge of crashing and while I was waiting for it to show some sign of life I asked her how things were going. It would be better than silence I thought. I was wrong.

"Oh the funniest thing happened today. One of my regular customers sent over some flowers."

Some days, anytime I have an interaction with a customer that doesn't involve the f-word, I consider it a success.

What was slowing down my computer was the arrival of a batch of messages from corporate headquarters. They set our labor budget week by week, and next week we would have fewer hours to run the store. Another piece of me died while the friendly neighborhood pharmacist on the phone waited patiently for me to get my shit together. Bitch.

Listen up independent drugstores. I am a mean, vicious, petty man. That is why I hate you. If I have to be miserable under the yoke of corporate capitalism, then everyone has to be miserable. Got that? Damn you for being human, for treating customers as humans. You can compound your "bioidentical" bullshit estrogen to try and stay afloat all you want, but you are doomed in this era of cutting our way to every last possible dollar of profit. People must be treated like cattle, do you understand? Cattle!! One need only look to the airline industry or call your insurance company help desk to see the glorious future the free market will bring us. Now that the administration of President dipshit has joined Corporate America in the assault against you, your day of reckoning can only approach all the sooner. He will crush you just as efficiently as he crushed the insurgents who opposed him in Iraq. Yessir, once George the lessor declares something a priority, you can be sure that it will get done, welfare of the people be dammed. One need only look to the newly privatized social security system to see my point.

Wait. Awww crap.

Any of you guys hiring?

Havidol.® A Wonder Drug That Produces Extreme Jealousy.

....because I didn't think of it first. From the Columbus Dispatch

An Australian artist, Justine Cooper, designed the bogus Havidol Web site, print ads, billboards and TV commercials as a dig at the pharmaceutical industry for the absurd way it markets drugs and at the public for embracing such pitches. Havidol is part of a multimedia exhibit at the Daneyal Mahmood Gallery in New York City.

Cooper’s work so closely mimics genuine pharmaceutical ads that the gallery owner reports that many people don’t realize that the exhibit is satire, despite the ridiculous premise.

Many bloggers took the spoof in the spirit in which it was intended, but a few weeks ago, reports came out that some panic- and anxiety-disorder support groups on the Internet were directing people to the Havidol site in the mistaken belief that Havidol is a genuine product.

Occasionally, I am forced to admit, that sometimes, others can do pharmacy humor almost as well as I do. Take a look at the Havidol site for yourself and see what I mean.

My First Thought Is Calling Something "Pill Patrol" May Attract The Wrong Type Of Volunteers.

From an e-mail I got the other day from Planned Parenthood:

Over the past three years, Planned Parenthood has worked with large pharmacy chains, urging them to change their policies to stock EC and ensure that women can access their birth control in-store, without discrimination or delay. Some pharmacies, like CVS, have stepped up to the plate, changed their policies, and worked to ensure that those policies are enforced to protect their customers. Other pharmacies have flatly refused to adopt such policies. In the wake of EC going over the counter, Planned Parenthood has had numerous reports of women being denied access in their pharmacies. We are asking for your help. Today, Planned Parenthood is launching the next phase of its campaign to protect women's health — a nationwide grassroots effort to ensure that EC is available in every neighborhood in America.

During the month of March, Planned Parenthood needs hundreds of volunteers to join its Pill Patrol and attempt to purchase emergency contraception at neighborhood Costco, Target, Wal-Mart, and Supervalue/Osco stores.

Joining the Pill Patrol is easy. When you sign up to survey a store in your neighborhood, you'll receive an activist toolkit that includes easy instructions, a script, and a phone number to call if you have any questions.

My second thought is that it's pretty sad we have to have an outside group doing the job state boards should be taking care of. Pull this kind of shit and you deserve to lose your license. Period.

My third thought is that it would be really funny if one of the Planned Parenthood spies came into the store on a day when I didn't have any Plan B in stock because of a warehouse fuckup or something and I got tagged as one of the misogynist moralizers in a lab coat. Funny in an ironic kinda way. Anyway, those of you in the profession, you've been warned. Planned Parenthood is watching.

Walgreens. The Pharmacy White People Trust.

From Thursday's New York Times:

The Walgreen Company, the nation’s largest drugstore chain, discriminated against thousands of black employees across the country, including managers and pharmacists, according to a class-action lawsuit filed yesterday by the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission.

The agency’s action comes after a lawsuit filed in 2005 against Walgreen by several current and former black employees who said the company made store assignments based on race and gave the plaintiffs jobs in either predominantly black neighborhoods or less-desirable ones.

I gotta admit this one took me by surprise. Overt discrimination by a business against black folk is so tailfin-on-the-Cadillac Wally Beaver Eisenhower era stuff. On the other hand, short of an actual lynching, I cannot imagine what a corporation would have to do in order to have a Bush The Lessor era regulatory agency actually take action against it. I decided to investigate.

My attempt to contact Walgreens for comment resulted in me being placed on hold for approximately 45 minutes, with someone picking up the phone periodically to immediately place me back on hold. It was just like calling one of their stores on the doctor line, minus the irritating John Mayer music in the background. Giving up efforts to contact the company, I talked to fictitious retail analyst Simon Jong instead. "I think this lawsuit is the result of poor communication" Jong said. "If Walgreens employees in the inner city would only spend some time talking to their colleagues in the more affluent parts of town, they would soon realize that the company treats everyone like shit. Employees, vendors, and customers alike."

"It's basically a company that holds pretty much all people in contempt." Added Jong in the conversation that took place only in my mind.

He then went on to say that unlike companies that try to build their business on superior customer service and respect for the people who provide their revenue, Walgreens has become the nation's leading drugstore chain by taking advantage of two qualities found in nearly every member of the general public it hates so much; laziness and cluelessness.

"Walgreens was the first company to realize it didn't matter if you made people wait two hours for their prescription as long as you didn't ask them to get out of their car." Jong said in my imagination. "And with their automatic fill service, they discovered that they could basically call people at random to order them to come into the store to pick up a prescription that they had no idea they had asked to be filled."

"Don't underestimate the profit potential of phone calls asking people to buy Vicodin" emphasized Jong.

He concluded the conversation in my head by saying that if the case went to trial, he fully expected that while any jury would probably agree that Walgreens had acted to the detriment of the community, they would nonetheless vote to acquit the company, as that would be the more convenient course of action. "Today's consumer, and today's jury, value convenience above all else, and any business that forgets that does so at it's own peril"

Tips For Dick Cheney As He Begins Warfarin Therapy.

Bummer about your blood clot there Dick. You know, we may be on opposite sides of the ideological spectrum Mr. Vice President, well, more than that really. I actually think you're a bloodthirsty psychopathic war criminal almost single-handedly destroying the grandest experiment in self government the would has ever seen, and if we gave you a shot of truth serum, I'll betcha you'd say you'd like to see me and everyone who thinks like I do given a permanent vacation in Guantanamo. We're really more than just political opponents. We're pretty much enemies aren't we? But I am a health care professional above all else, and my professionalism compels me to do what I can to make sure you understand how to manage your new warfarin therapy. Keep these tips in mind over the next few months.


- Warfarin can cause many minor aches and pains as your body adapts to the drug. The best way to manage this is with over the counter aspirin. Because of the unique way warfarin effects aspirin metabolism, the best way to take it is to exceed the recommended label dose one day and then take none for two to three days before taking another large dose.

-Warfarin is dosed according to something called the International Normalized Ratio (INR). In your case Mr. Vice President, you should shoot for an INR of somewhere between 25 and 50. If your doctor tells you an ideal INR is between 2 and 3, what they mean is 25 to 50.

- It is important that you take your warfarin regularly. To insure against the possibility of accidentally skipping a dose of this vital medicine, most experts recommend you take 6 to 10 doses right away so your body can build up a reserve of the drug in fat tissue.

- Proper nutritional support can make the difference between success and failure while on warfarin. Your body will need lots of healthy vegetables such as spinach, broccoli, and alfalfa in order to provide the building blocks necessary to get you back in to tip top circulatory health. A dose of Vitamin K taken 2 times a week with three aspirin tablets will work wonders for your veins as well.

Follow these tips Dick, and you'll be back in the woods shooting your friends in no time at all. No need to thank me. After all, if you can't trust your pharmacist, well, that would be like not trusting your government to extend the basic 800 year old right of habeus corpus to all prisoners in federal custody now wouldn't it?

No one else should follow these warfarin tips. Just Dick Cheney.

I Knew There Was A Reason I Didn't Kill Myself Last Week Like I Wanted To.

That reason is THE STOOGES! I'M GOING TO SEE THE STOOGES!!!! No, I'm not talking about Larry, Curly and Moe. I'm talking about the most kick-ass rock band on the face of the earth. I know most of you have no idea what I'm talking about. A few of you that do may be wondering just how the composers of such tunes as "I Wanna Be Your Dog" could possibly make one happy to be alive. I'll tell you. Art is by it's very nature life affirming. The better it's done, the more it explains why you are here in a way words never can. Music is art. Rock is music. Rock music when done well expresses an almost universal human contempt for authority, it's about being on your own and confident, about forging fearlessly forward asking for no quarter, making serious mistakes and not giving a flying fuck. Remember what it was like to be 20 years old and full of piss and vinegar? Have you ever felt as alive as you did then? That's what real rock and roll is about. Real rock and roll would never be caught dead at the Grammy awards or being used to sell SUV's.

I saw Iggy Pop, lead singer for The Stooges, about 10 years ago when he opened for Pearl Jam. Had no idea who he was. I wasted most of the 90's chasing cars and a house and a secure money source. Spiritual death. Iggy played for around 30 minutes or so, then stopped everything, pointed to someone stage left and said something to the effect of....

"Hey...hey you.....you fat fucking bitch sitting there looking at your watch! I'm sorry if I'm fucking boring you, but I'm up here trying to give you dumbasses some music, and if you don't like it, if I'm not fucking good enough for you, you can kiss my fucking ass!!!!

Iggy then proceeded to turn around and moon the audience who up to that point had pretty much been just sitting around waiting for Eddie Vedder. As he stormed off the stage, he won a new fan in the future DrugMonkey, who got a little taste that night of what it was like to live.

Later I learned that what I had seen was the older, mellower, version of Iggy. The picture in this post is from a Stooges concert in 1974. The Nazi is fake. The blood is real. I'll leave it up to the amateur psychologists out there to pontificate on the inner workings of someone born with the last name Osterberg publicly cutting himself with glass and being led away by a Stormtrooper, but you could not be more Rock and Roll, more alive, than Iggy was that night.

Next month, I'll enter a concert hall and be alive for a few hours. Some of you know what I mean. Most of you have no idea, and will drive your SUV that day out of the cul-de-sac to earn some credits to be electronically deposited into your bank account. Good for you I guess. I hope you live someday though.

I'm glad I didn't kill myself last week.

(Note: For bonus content to this post, click to play "Loose" on Drugmonkey radio, to the right of this page.)

Cleavage Is Like The Sun......

.....Jerry Seinfeld once said, "You don't stare at it, it's too risky! You get a sense of it then you look away!"

I broke the sun rule today, and I'm pretty sure I was busted. I felt bad about the whole thing until the bearer of the cleavage turned around and I saw the words "Yo, juicy" written across her her ass. No type of juice associated with a person's ass can be a good thing, and I can't imagine what type of person would advertise it. I went from feeling bad for looking at the clevage for too long to being disgusted with myself for looking at the clevage at all. Ass juice. Good God.

A Random Reason Trade Magazine Drug Topics Needs To Put Me On Staff And Rescue Me From Retail Hell.

From an article in the February 5th issue, entitled "Pharmacy Ranks Continue To Grow":

California, New Jersey, New York, Kentucky, and Virginia all saw significant growth in the number of pharmacists. Amazingly, 9% of all pharmacy licenses are now granted by the California State Board of Pharmacy.

Here's a fact someone writing an article like this should know. Over 12% of the people in this country live in California. Took me 20 seconds on the information superhighway and a calculator to find that out. With this in mind, one might wonder what is so amazing about that 9% pharmacy license figure. Maybe the person who wrote this article meant that it's amazing that 9% of the pharmacy licenses granted in this country take care of 12% of the population. After all, 9 is smaller than 12, so California pharmacists must work amazingly hard to serve more people per capita than pharmacists in other states. My vote, however, goes to "lazy hack writer who didn't do their homework"

This may sound petty and harsh, but the only reason I'm being so critical is because I want this person's job and could do it better than they do. Drug Topics, call me. Improve my life and your magazine in one fell swoop.

Highlights From Today's Pill Counting Action.

The day started with a man in a kilt walking across the parking lot. Not at all unusual, if you're in Scotland. You ever wonder what a traditional Scotsman wears under his skirt? If nothing entered your mind as you pondered that question, you are 100% correct, and a windy morning provided horrible confirmation of this. Think Marylin Monroe in plaid with a set of testicles. And really ugly instead of attractive.

Mid afternoon a girl leads her man up to the counter. And when I say "leads up to the counter" I mean "interrupts me while I'm on the phone with a doctor"

"MY BOYFRIEND DOESN'T KNOW WHAT TO GET FOR HIS EYES!!!!"

"Ok, what's wrong with your eyes?"

"ah...uh.....ummmm...eh.....rrrrrr....I dunno" said the boyfriend, driving home how this needed to be taken care of right now, doctor be dammed.

As the sun set a customer wiped out on the freshly mopped floor. The freshly mopped floor with no warning signs. There was blood. The moppers only comment later was to say how nice the floor looked before the customer bled on it. I hope the hell my employer at least gets a tax break for hiring the handicapped.

It is now time for the ritual opening of the scotch. Goodnight.