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

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

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

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

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

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

Viagra Chimes In.

Yo, Yocon,

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

The fame.

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

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

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

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

Never mind.

Sincerely,

Viagra™

A Guest Post From The First Prescription Impotence Medication.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sincerely,

Yocon™

Highlights From Friday's Pill Counting Action.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Cat Seeks Medical Attention.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When she got to the counter.....

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"WELL WHY NOT?????"

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

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

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

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

"This one?"

I went to school 5 years for this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let's see what the doctors think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only 27.3% supported offering private options only.

Only 27.3% supported offering private options only.

Only 27.3% supported offering private options only.

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

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

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

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

Of course I work in healthcare too.

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