Greetings,
We are writing today to take this opportunity to congratulate each and every one of you on achieving your dream of completing a pharmacy education. Today's health care environment will provide no shortage of challenges as you pursue your new career in what was formerly the most trusted profession in America. We would like to encourage you though, to see each challenge not as a barrier, but as an as an opportunity. An opportunity to adapt, conform and be recast into the mold that today's marketplace demands of the modern pharmacist. With that in mind, we would like to share with you the following exciting announcement:
We have totally re-worked the NAPBLEX licensure examination to reflect the state of the profession in the 21st century.
We understand the burden this puts on you. For the past 6 to 12 years you have been diligently preparing for the day you would be expected to show your competence in the fields of pharmacology and the other medication related sciences. However, today's practice of medicine is increasingly patient-centered, and we must realize that we will either meet the expectations of our patients or cease to be relevant. That being the case, we are pleased to announce NAPBLEX 2.0, the new testing standard that will ensure we are meeting the needs of those we serve. To ease the transition, we are providing the following sample test. While obviously we cannot publish the exact questions that will be used, we are confident that you will find this guide useful in deciding if you are capable of providing what will be expected of you throughout your working career:
OFFICIAL 2010 NABPLEX STUDY GUIDE
1) Where's the bathroom?
2) How many refills do I have left?
3) How many inches should be left clear around emergency store exits at all times?
4) Is this on the four-dollar list?
5) When you said the tissue paper was on my right, did you mean this side?
6) I can't find it.
7) Why do I have to sign?
8) Ten dollars? Didn't you bill my insurance?
9) Huh?
10) This label says to take 2 tablets every 6 hours, how many should I take?
11) So I could just take 4 tablets now, right?
12) What?
13) Is this antibiotic any good?
14) Why aren't these yellow? Last time they were yellow.
15) BJ, a 54 year old white male, complains of lethargy, constipation, and depressed mood for the last 6 months. His skin appears dry and brittle and he insists on wearing a jacket at normal room temperature. Past medical history includes multiple episodes of deep vein thrombosis, currently treated with warfarin 5mg a day. TSH levels were measured at 7.0mlU/L. Suggest a treatment plan for BJ, including relevant monitoring parameters and precautions in light of current medication.
Wait. That question was from last year. Forget that last question.
In conclusion we would like to wish all of you the best of luck as you start your new work life. You will need it.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Highlights From Friday's Pill Counting Action.
If I had just hit that trash can. I couldn't help but to think as I pulled down the gate to end the day where I would have been if I had just hit that trash can 24 years ago.
Back then I was a smart kid. The great hope of the hillbilly county where I grew up you might say. Not long after I took the PSAT's I started getting mail from colleges and universities across the land trying to convince me to grace them with my presence. I remember the first one was from West Point. That would have worked out well. I soon ended up with grocery bags full of it, and sometimes I would look at the collection and think about how every piece of mail it contained represented a different direction my life could take.
I had decided not to bother with private schools though. I didn't want to do that to my parents, who were old-fashioned enough to believe they were responsible for educating their children. Private schools were too expensive, so their mail went straight into the trash. Mostly. The brochure from Ohio Northern University got hurled in the trash can's direction but landed right on the on the corner of the top, where it stayed for weeks, until I thought to myself "What the hell" and sent in the card for more info. Ohio Northern subsequently gave me a scholarship, locking in the course my life was to take. The course where a person had just asked me what the difference was between the regular mixed nuts and the mixed nuts with "extra special" on the label.
If I had gone to West Point I'm sure that never would have happened.
When I arrived at the store the first thing I did was go to the storeroom. The phone system crashes every night now, and there is a procedure for getting it started again in the morning. You can't just reboot the system, you have to flip the switches in a certain order, holding a certain button down for a certain number of seconds at exactly the right moment. It's all very McGuyverish, and we figured out the procedure all by ourselves, with no help from my employer's computer help desk. I found this morning that it seemed to speed things up if I hopped up and down on my right foot with my finger in the air. After the system came back to life I speculated about possible roles for tinfoil in this whole procedure as I walked to the pharmacy to start the day.
I opened the gate and called for the assistant manager to log in the cash drawer. My employer trusts me to be in a room full of drugs alone most evenings and all day Sunday but not to log in a drawer containing $75. Probably because I didn't go to Notre Dame like that one letter wanted me to. The manager arrived after 10 minutes elapsed and three people had formed a line. After my trusty tech rang up the first customer we found they had given us a drawer with two one dollar bills. We would spend the next half hour calling for change.
There has been a massive recall of liquid meds made by McNeil Consumer Healthcare. Tylenol, Motrin, Zyrtec, Benadryl. I've learned to love the irony of people who still don't want to lower themselves to buying the house brand even after they find out the name brand product has been pulled from the market due to quality control issues. I've spent a good chunk of my time of late explaining to numbnuts that the house brand is the same thing. Same ingredient, same strength...yadda yadda.....
"Well if I gave my son one teaspoon of the Tylenol, how much of this would I give him?" Something told me I wasn't communicating effectively. I wondered how else I could phrase "the same"
A nurse attempted to phone in a prescription without ever mentioning the patient's name. When I asked her for it she said "I'LL JUST GIVE HER SAMPLES!!!!!!" Another man waited a good two or three minutes to talk to the pharmacist so he could ask if there was a product that would help if his ball point pen broke during laundry and got ink all over his dryer. I recommended warfarin 2.5mg twice a day.
A customer walked by and asked if I was done for the day. It was 4:17 P.M.
When I really was almost done for the day an old man came to the counter with an old-school answering machine in a plastic bag. It used a cassette tape, which my love of all things retro thinks is awesome. I would have offered to buy it from him if he wouldn't have started screaming about how the machine broke while fielding a call from my employer's automated call system and that he was going to take us to court. Silly man. he should know that the cure to any phone related problems caused by our sickly phone system involves duct tape and the blood of a chicken slaughtered at sunset.
I spent that night dreaming of giant trash cans, and of being unable to get anything inside them.
Back then I was a smart kid. The great hope of the hillbilly county where I grew up you might say. Not long after I took the PSAT's I started getting mail from colleges and universities across the land trying to convince me to grace them with my presence. I remember the first one was from West Point. That would have worked out well. I soon ended up with grocery bags full of it, and sometimes I would look at the collection and think about how every piece of mail it contained represented a different direction my life could take.
I had decided not to bother with private schools though. I didn't want to do that to my parents, who were old-fashioned enough to believe they were responsible for educating their children. Private schools were too expensive, so their mail went straight into the trash. Mostly. The brochure from Ohio Northern University got hurled in the trash can's direction but landed right on the on the corner of the top, where it stayed for weeks, until I thought to myself "What the hell" and sent in the card for more info. Ohio Northern subsequently gave me a scholarship, locking in the course my life was to take. The course where a person had just asked me what the difference was between the regular mixed nuts and the mixed nuts with "extra special" on the label.
If I had gone to West Point I'm sure that never would have happened.
When I arrived at the store the first thing I did was go to the storeroom. The phone system crashes every night now, and there is a procedure for getting it started again in the morning. You can't just reboot the system, you have to flip the switches in a certain order, holding a certain button down for a certain number of seconds at exactly the right moment. It's all very McGuyverish, and we figured out the procedure all by ourselves, with no help from my employer's computer help desk. I found this morning that it seemed to speed things up if I hopped up and down on my right foot with my finger in the air. After the system came back to life I speculated about possible roles for tinfoil in this whole procedure as I walked to the pharmacy to start the day.
I opened the gate and called for the assistant manager to log in the cash drawer. My employer trusts me to be in a room full of drugs alone most evenings and all day Sunday but not to log in a drawer containing $75. Probably because I didn't go to Notre Dame like that one letter wanted me to. The manager arrived after 10 minutes elapsed and three people had formed a line. After my trusty tech rang up the first customer we found they had given us a drawer with two one dollar bills. We would spend the next half hour calling for change.
There has been a massive recall of liquid meds made by McNeil Consumer Healthcare. Tylenol, Motrin, Zyrtec, Benadryl. I've learned to love the irony of people who still don't want to lower themselves to buying the house brand even after they find out the name brand product has been pulled from the market due to quality control issues. I've spent a good chunk of my time of late explaining to numbnuts that the house brand is the same thing. Same ingredient, same strength...yadda yadda.....
"Well if I gave my son one teaspoon of the Tylenol, how much of this would I give him?" Something told me I wasn't communicating effectively. I wondered how else I could phrase "the same"
A nurse attempted to phone in a prescription without ever mentioning the patient's name. When I asked her for it she said "I'LL JUST GIVE HER SAMPLES!!!!!!" Another man waited a good two or three minutes to talk to the pharmacist so he could ask if there was a product that would help if his ball point pen broke during laundry and got ink all over his dryer. I recommended warfarin 2.5mg twice a day.
A customer walked by and asked if I was done for the day. It was 4:17 P.M.
When I really was almost done for the day an old man came to the counter with an old-school answering machine in a plastic bag. It used a cassette tape, which my love of all things retro thinks is awesome. I would have offered to buy it from him if he wouldn't have started screaming about how the machine broke while fielding a call from my employer's automated call system and that he was going to take us to court. Silly man. he should know that the cure to any phone related problems caused by our sickly phone system involves duct tape and the blood of a chicken slaughtered at sunset.
I spent that night dreaming of giant trash cans, and of being unable to get anything inside them.
Sunday, May 09, 2010
A Mother's Day Repeat. The Lesson She Taught Me Without Ever Trying.
Blogpost original air date, June 4th, 2008
It was the big pile of vinyl records that was key to me learning this untaught lesson. Nothing but good comes from vinyl records. Remember that.
My Mom gave them to me when I got my turntable, probably just glad to get rid of them, but what a gold mine. Time in a box from the pop crooner era of the early 50's. Lots of songs by guys who sang them wearing tuxedos, drinking martinis, and always with a proper band behind them. Trombones, clarinets, violins.....but absolutely no Elvis Presley.
I asked Mom about this. "Oh I didn't like him" she said, and I gained valuable insight into the youth of my mother. I was the child of a nerd. Who didn't like Elvis in the 50's?
I also noticed how the collection abruptly ended around the time my parents got married. Normal enough I suppose. People grow up and move on and the music isn't nearly as important as it used to be when there's a family to raise. Then I saw the orange label. Obviously out of place amongst the drab dullness of the others. The font, the coloring....it was immediately obvious this disc was from another era.
Helen Reddy's "I Am Woman," sitting right there next to Dean Martin. I started thinking about what could have possibly driven Mom to set foot in a record store 20 years after she had last been in one, and despite my absolute lifelong certainty that I knew it all and my head was secure, insight found a way to sneak in.
It seeped in actually. Slowly. In fits and starts like the gradual certainty of the change of seasons. By the time Mom told me she was donating to Hillary Clinton's presidential campaign I understood. More than I've let on, I understand that it wasn't that long ago that if you had both a brain and a vagina, pretty much your only hope was to pass some of that gray matter through the birth canal and hope HE would be able to make some use of it. Mom worked as a secretary for awhile 'till she found herself a man and started breeding. She's also one of very few people I'll concede is smarter than myself.
So I also understand why she cried when I got my sorry ass through college. I thought it was kinda weird at the time, but that orange record was the catalyst to a lot of insight.
Hillary was historic. More than I've let on. It'll happen Mom. And when it does it won't be because she married well.
It was the big pile of vinyl records that was key to me learning this untaught lesson. Nothing but good comes from vinyl records. Remember that.
My Mom gave them to me when I got my turntable, probably just glad to get rid of them, but what a gold mine. Time in a box from the pop crooner era of the early 50's. Lots of songs by guys who sang them wearing tuxedos, drinking martinis, and always with a proper band behind them. Trombones, clarinets, violins.....but absolutely no Elvis Presley.
I asked Mom about this. "Oh I didn't like him" she said, and I gained valuable insight into the youth of my mother. I was the child of a nerd. Who didn't like Elvis in the 50's?
I also noticed how the collection abruptly ended around the time my parents got married. Normal enough I suppose. People grow up and move on and the music isn't nearly as important as it used to be when there's a family to raise. Then I saw the orange label. Obviously out of place amongst the drab dullness of the others. The font, the coloring....it was immediately obvious this disc was from another era.
Helen Reddy's "I Am Woman," sitting right there next to Dean Martin. I started thinking about what could have possibly driven Mom to set foot in a record store 20 years after she had last been in one, and despite my absolute lifelong certainty that I knew it all and my head was secure, insight found a way to sneak in.
It seeped in actually. Slowly. In fits and starts like the gradual certainty of the change of seasons. By the time Mom told me she was donating to Hillary Clinton's presidential campaign I understood. More than I've let on, I understand that it wasn't that long ago that if you had both a brain and a vagina, pretty much your only hope was to pass some of that gray matter through the birth canal and hope HE would be able to make some use of it. Mom worked as a secretary for awhile 'till she found herself a man and started breeding. She's also one of very few people I'll concede is smarter than myself.
So I also understand why she cried when I got my sorry ass through college. I thought it was kinda weird at the time, but that orange record was the catalyst to a lot of insight.
Hillary was historic. More than I've let on. It'll happen Mom. And when it does it won't be because she married well.
Saturday, May 08, 2010
Highlights From Friday's Pill Counting Action.
I had the brainstorm of brainstorms when I saw the Coors Light truck. The Coors Light truck always fills me with a sense of desperation, appearing as it does in front of the store on Friday mornings. Fridays are my twelve hour days you see, and seeing that truck at the beginning of a twelve hour shift each and every week has become a bit Pavlovian.
This day, however, the Coors Light truck triggered my brainstorm. I decided I would learn Arabic. Surely people that speak Arabic have no trouble getting decent paying jobs at the CIA, especially people who can prove without much effort they've never been to a Taliban training camp. My God, I could escape my job once and for all while at the same time learning lots and lots of secrets. I love secrets. I'd get a regular lunch break too and maybe even find Osama Bin Laden.
I walked in the door and the clerk manning the front register asked me what it means when your poop is blue-green and I crashed back into reality. I asked the first person to come to the counter whether we had filled prescriptions for him before or if this would be the first time.
"Both" he said. I didn't ask. I just got their information. I have learned that anything other than an unqualified "yes" means "get all my information."
The first fax of the day was from my employer's technical support department. The store manager had e-mailed them the night before that our phones were not working, and the fax said they were trying to call about his email but couldn't get through because the phones didn't seem to be working. By the way, if it seems like I've written about phone problems at my store before, it's because I have. My employer's decision to fix the phones with used parts salvaged from other phone systems is really paying off in terms of time saved and increased business opportunities.
We settled into our regular prescription filling routine, which was made far more pleasant by the fact there were no phones. I started telling my keystone tech for some reason about the days before real-time insurance claims. "We had this thing like a giant 8-track player, and you would put this huge-ass tape into it, then the computer would put all your medicaid claims for the week on it. Took about half an hour. Then you sent it into the corporate office and like a month later you'd get this printout with all the rejects you were supposed to fix."
I looked up and the hottest chick in the world was staring right at me. Nothing like showing the ladies how much of an old fart you are. I am one smooth operator. Although later on I'm pretty sure a customer told me she loved me. She said it as she was leaving, kinda like you would to your husband, without thinking about it. I decided I'll take my affection where I can get it these days.
A person asked where the bathroom was, as they needed to wash their hands because some hand sanitizer had spilled on them.
My other tech for the day was a rent-a-tech from another location in my employer's chain and he was...how do I put this?...terrible. I overheard him trying to deal with a customer upset with the price the discount card from his doctor got him on his Intuniv prescription. "THIS IS A CROCK OF SHIT!!" I heard the customer say, and my heart leapt for joy. It's not often these opportunities present themselves. I walked over and relieved the rent-a-tech of his cashier duties.
"It will be just as much a crock of shit no matter where you go sir. Now, do you want to watch your language or do you want to go somewhere else?" Because anyone who knows me knows that I'm all about keeping the language clean...:)
The phone rang a few minutes later and startled us all. "Do you carry eyelash glue?" The man asked, and I chose to frame the experience in a positive light. Not that someone couldn't listen to the store's voicemail system and therefore ended up talking to the pharmacy when they shouldn't have, but that I had the chance to learn that people evidently put glue on their eyelashes for some reason. I bet that piece of knowledge will come in handy sometime when I least expect it.
The next call was pharmacy related. "My dad takes warfarin and this Pepto bottle says to ask your doctor before mixing it with warfarin. So I should just give him half as much, right?" I have no idea how the half-dose idea got into that woman's head and even though I talked her out of it, I still feared for her father's life.
Around the time we discovered the rent-a-tech sold the wrong prescription to a customer, a large group of men came in and started making noises that sounded something like "ahut a alubba eght ahloo" over and over again. One of them started waving around an Accucheck meter and making noises that sounded a little different, almost familiar. He expected me to respond to the noise.
I did, by saying, "I'm sorry, I don't understand" This made the entire group repeat the noise louder. This went on for a good two or three minutes before I saw a customer walking away from the counter with his prescription for Keflex. Rent-a-tech had decided to ignore the tag that said "PENICILLIN ALLERGY" I had placed inside the bag and I had to almost tackle the customer as they walked away. My reward when I returned was a now angry group of noisemakers.
"Is this.....universal? I could buy in Iraq?" One of them finally said. I simultaneously wondered why in the hell this guy wasn't doing the talking in the first place and realized what language they were speaking.
Arabic. I still haven't decided whether this was a sign from Karma that I should go for my dream or a dire warning that she was not to be fucked with.
I washed away the day with a twelve pack of Coors Light. It seemed appropriate.
This day, however, the Coors Light truck triggered my brainstorm. I decided I would learn Arabic. Surely people that speak Arabic have no trouble getting decent paying jobs at the CIA, especially people who can prove without much effort they've never been to a Taliban training camp. My God, I could escape my job once and for all while at the same time learning lots and lots of secrets. I love secrets. I'd get a regular lunch break too and maybe even find Osama Bin Laden.
I walked in the door and the clerk manning the front register asked me what it means when your poop is blue-green and I crashed back into reality. I asked the first person to come to the counter whether we had filled prescriptions for him before or if this would be the first time.
"Both" he said. I didn't ask. I just got their information. I have learned that anything other than an unqualified "yes" means "get all my information."
The first fax of the day was from my employer's technical support department. The store manager had e-mailed them the night before that our phones were not working, and the fax said they were trying to call about his email but couldn't get through because the phones didn't seem to be working. By the way, if it seems like I've written about phone problems at my store before, it's because I have. My employer's decision to fix the phones with used parts salvaged from other phone systems is really paying off in terms of time saved and increased business opportunities.
We settled into our regular prescription filling routine, which was made far more pleasant by the fact there were no phones. I started telling my keystone tech for some reason about the days before real-time insurance claims. "We had this thing like a giant 8-track player, and you would put this huge-ass tape into it, then the computer would put all your medicaid claims for the week on it. Took about half an hour. Then you sent it into the corporate office and like a month later you'd get this printout with all the rejects you were supposed to fix."
I looked up and the hottest chick in the world was staring right at me. Nothing like showing the ladies how much of an old fart you are. I am one smooth operator. Although later on I'm pretty sure a customer told me she loved me. She said it as she was leaving, kinda like you would to your husband, without thinking about it. I decided I'll take my affection where I can get it these days.
A person asked where the bathroom was, as they needed to wash their hands because some hand sanitizer had spilled on them.
My other tech for the day was a rent-a-tech from another location in my employer's chain and he was...how do I put this?...terrible. I overheard him trying to deal with a customer upset with the price the discount card from his doctor got him on his Intuniv prescription. "THIS IS A CROCK OF SHIT!!" I heard the customer say, and my heart leapt for joy. It's not often these opportunities present themselves. I walked over and relieved the rent-a-tech of his cashier duties.
"It will be just as much a crock of shit no matter where you go sir. Now, do you want to watch your language or do you want to go somewhere else?" Because anyone who knows me knows that I'm all about keeping the language clean...:)
The phone rang a few minutes later and startled us all. "Do you carry eyelash glue?" The man asked, and I chose to frame the experience in a positive light. Not that someone couldn't listen to the store's voicemail system and therefore ended up talking to the pharmacy when they shouldn't have, but that I had the chance to learn that people evidently put glue on their eyelashes for some reason. I bet that piece of knowledge will come in handy sometime when I least expect it.
The next call was pharmacy related. "My dad takes warfarin and this Pepto bottle says to ask your doctor before mixing it with warfarin. So I should just give him half as much, right?" I have no idea how the half-dose idea got into that woman's head and even though I talked her out of it, I still feared for her father's life.
Around the time we discovered the rent-a-tech sold the wrong prescription to a customer, a large group of men came in and started making noises that sounded something like "ahut a alubba eght ahloo" over and over again. One of them started waving around an Accucheck meter and making noises that sounded a little different, almost familiar. He expected me to respond to the noise.
I did, by saying, "I'm sorry, I don't understand" This made the entire group repeat the noise louder. This went on for a good two or three minutes before I saw a customer walking away from the counter with his prescription for Keflex. Rent-a-tech had decided to ignore the tag that said "PENICILLIN ALLERGY" I had placed inside the bag and I had to almost tackle the customer as they walked away. My reward when I returned was a now angry group of noisemakers.
"Is this.....universal? I could buy in Iraq?" One of them finally said. I simultaneously wondered why in the hell this guy wasn't doing the talking in the first place and realized what language they were speaking.
Arabic. I still haven't decided whether this was a sign from Karma that I should go for my dream or a dire warning that she was not to be fucked with.
I washed away the day with a twelve pack of Coors Light. It seemed appropriate.
Tuesday, May 04, 2010
An Interview With Governor George Wallace.
George Wallace, called "the most influential loser in 20th century politics" by biographer Dan Carter, first gained notional notoriety in 1963 when, as Governor, he made a famous "stand in the schoolhouse door," as a show of defiance to federal orders to desegregate the University of Alabama. Starting with his inauguration earlier that year, where he famously declared "segregation today . . . segregation tomorrow . . . segregation forever," Wallace practiced the politics of racial division throughout his rise to prominence, running what Carter called "one of the most racist campaigns in modern southern political history" in seeking re-election to the Governor's office in 1970.
Wallace ran for President four times, carrying five states in 1968 and coming close to his goal of throwing the election into the House of Representatives, where he had hoped to use his status as a power broker to end federal efforts at desegregation. Four years later he was shot on the campaign trail while again seeking the Presidency, leaving him paralyzed for the remainder of his life.
He later renounced his segregationist views and served two more terms as Alabama's Governor, leaving office in 1987. The Drugmonkey caught up with Wallace in the fouth level of hell, where he has resided since his death in 1998.
DM- Thank you for taking the time to speak with me Governor Wallace, I'm sure you're a busy man.
Wallace- EEEYYYAAAGAGAHHHHHH!!!!! THE POWER OF BEEZEBUB IS UNQUESTIONED!!!! WHHOOOOOGGGHHHHH!!!... I'm sorry about that son, demons and all down here, I'm sure you understand.
DM- Certainly. I wonder if you've had much of a chance to stay in touch with what's happening in American politics during your time in hell.
W- Oh absolutely. I dedicated my life on planet earth to the art of politics and they've been kind enough here to allow me to keep up in between burnings of my naked body in boiling oil.
DM- So naturally my first question is your reaction to the election of President Obama.
W- It's hard to believe isn't it? "I mean, you got the first mainstream African-American who is articulate and bright and clean and a nice-looking guy, I mean, that's a storybook, man. I think his success comes, in part, from his light-skinned appearance and speaking patterns with no Negro dialect, unless he wants to have one."*
DM- It almost seems like the modern "Tea Party" movement has taken a few pages from the old Wallace Presidential playbook.
W- Son, there's nothing modern about those Tea Partiers. Talk of the 10th Amendment and states rights? Racist fear-based demagoguery manipulating the white working class? Setting up the federal government as a bogyman punching bag? My God I was doing all that almost 50 years ago. The main difference is in my day all we had was the Jew-controlled, Communist-lovin' media. If I woulda had me Sean Hannity and those boys over at Fox News, let me tell you I would have been wrapping up my second term in the White House right in time for the bicentennial.
Please excuse the swarm of locusts that just came from my eyes.
DM- Did you ever see the assassination attempt that left you in constant pain for the last 26 years of your life as the work of Karma?
W- What? No, the boy that shot me's name was Bremer
DM- Yes, but maybe that it was part of a larger cosmic force set in motion by some of the things you'd done in politics?
W- No, that boy was just crazy, they found his dairy, and he said he was just looking to be famous. He was either gonna shoot me or Nixon.
DM- I see. Governor, why do you think you ended up down here, even after you renounced your segregationist views and said of your stand in the schoolhouse door, "I was wrong. Those days are over and they ought to be over."
W- I've thought about that son, and you know, it's easy to look back and do the right thing. The apology of a broken old man doesn't count for a whole lot. When it mattered, I was worse than silent. I rode a river of hate because I thought it would make me a great man, but what I became was a piece of dirt in the dustbin of history. Now all I am is a lesson. To those who choose to listen.
Wallace then cried tears of fire, which seared the flesh of his face.
*This quote is a combination of things actually said by Joe Biden and Harry Reid
Wallace ran for President four times, carrying five states in 1968 and coming close to his goal of throwing the election into the House of Representatives, where he had hoped to use his status as a power broker to end federal efforts at desegregation. Four years later he was shot on the campaign trail while again seeking the Presidency, leaving him paralyzed for the remainder of his life.
He later renounced his segregationist views and served two more terms as Alabama's Governor, leaving office in 1987. The Drugmonkey caught up with Wallace in the fouth level of hell, where he has resided since his death in 1998.
DM- Thank you for taking the time to speak with me Governor Wallace, I'm sure you're a busy man.
Wallace- EEEYYYAAAGAGAHHHHHH!!!!! THE POWER OF BEEZEBUB IS UNQUESTIONED!!!! WHHOOOOOGGGHHHHH!!!... I'm sorry about that son, demons and all down here, I'm sure you understand.
DM- Certainly. I wonder if you've had much of a chance to stay in touch with what's happening in American politics during your time in hell.
W- Oh absolutely. I dedicated my life on planet earth to the art of politics and they've been kind enough here to allow me to keep up in between burnings of my naked body in boiling oil.
DM- So naturally my first question is your reaction to the election of President Obama.
W- It's hard to believe isn't it? "I mean, you got the first mainstream African-American who is articulate and bright and clean and a nice-looking guy, I mean, that's a storybook, man. I think his success comes, in part, from his light-skinned appearance and speaking patterns with no Negro dialect, unless he wants to have one."*
DM- It almost seems like the modern "Tea Party" movement has taken a few pages from the old Wallace Presidential playbook.
W- Son, there's nothing modern about those Tea Partiers. Talk of the 10th Amendment and states rights? Racist fear-based demagoguery manipulating the white working class? Setting up the federal government as a bogyman punching bag? My God I was doing all that almost 50 years ago. The main difference is in my day all we had was the Jew-controlled, Communist-lovin' media. If I woulda had me Sean Hannity and those boys over at Fox News, let me tell you I would have been wrapping up my second term in the White House right in time for the bicentennial.
Please excuse the swarm of locusts that just came from my eyes.
DM- Did you ever see the assassination attempt that left you in constant pain for the last 26 years of your life as the work of Karma?
W- What? No, the boy that shot me's name was Bremer
DM- Yes, but maybe that it was part of a larger cosmic force set in motion by some of the things you'd done in politics?
W- No, that boy was just crazy, they found his dairy, and he said he was just looking to be famous. He was either gonna shoot me or Nixon.
DM- I see. Governor, why do you think you ended up down here, even after you renounced your segregationist views and said of your stand in the schoolhouse door, "I was wrong. Those days are over and they ought to be over."
W- I've thought about that son, and you know, it's easy to look back and do the right thing. The apology of a broken old man doesn't count for a whole lot. When it mattered, I was worse than silent. I rode a river of hate because I thought it would make me a great man, but what I became was a piece of dirt in the dustbin of history. Now all I am is a lesson. To those who choose to listen.
Wallace then cried tears of fire, which seared the flesh of his face.
 |
| Racist Governor, 1963 |
 |
| Racist Governor, 2010 |
Monday, May 03, 2010
I Am Hoodwinked By Anthem Blue Cross.
You may find this hard to believe, but I have, at times, been accused of having an anti-corporate bias. Perhaps because I have pointed out on occasion that the word "corporation" never appears in the Constitution, the first three words of which are "We The People"
Maybe it has something to do with the number of times the words "pud sucking" and "Big Pharma" appear in close proximity here in my little blog garden.
It might even have a little to do with how I'll occasionally criticize a corporation like Anthem Blue Cross when they plan to do things like raise health insurance premiums up to 39% without giving the corporation a chance to respond.
Today, however, I am a new man. In recognition of the corporation's newly expanded free speech rights, I resolve this day to respectfully listen to their side of the story. This morning I awoke and dove into the Google news archives to educate myself on the issue of Anthem's requested rate increases. I found this from the February 12th issue of the Los Angeles Times:
Well that seems reasonable. Medical costs certainly are soaring. At a rate of 6.9% in 2009. I wonder if it would be biased of me to point out that 6.9 is less than 39%.
Oh, well that will teach me to go around shooting off my mouth before I know all the facts. Anthem has a perfectly reasonable explanation for why their rate of premium increase is over 4 times as much as the cost of the product they are insuring.
Oh. They didn't want to take more of people's money. I see. I guess taking money kinda sucks for them, the way going to the gym kinda sucks for me.
Wow. I was so wrong. Angela Braly really sounds like a nice person. So understanding of the challenges facing her members. Many of whom even have a choice.
I'm sorry Anthem. I hope you can forgive me for ever questioning your motives. For ever thinking that putting an entity whose sole purpose is to generate as many dollars as possible for its shareholders in charge of lessening people's pain and suffering might not be the best idea. How can I make it up to you?
Oh look, here's another story about you in today's paper:
Huh. Well now I kinda feel like how Wile E. Coyote must have felt after he gave Acme Corp.another chance.
I wonder if it's biased to point out here that it was a government agency that kept us here in California from getting ass-raped by the private free market? And that maybe you should keep that in mind the next time you hear someone say the government can't do anything right?
Is it bias if you're also correct?
Of course if you think I'm wrong, by all means you can go write out a big fat check payable to Anthem Blue Cross. As much as it pains them, I'm sure they'd find a way to cash it.
Fuckers.
Maybe it has something to do with the number of times the words "pud sucking" and "Big Pharma" appear in close proximity here in my little blog garden.
It might even have a little to do with how I'll occasionally criticize a corporation like Anthem Blue Cross when they plan to do things like raise health insurance premiums up to 39% without giving the corporation a chance to respond.
Today, however, I am a new man. In recognition of the corporation's newly expanded free speech rights, I resolve this day to respectfully listen to their side of the story. This morning I awoke and dove into the Google news archives to educate myself on the issue of Anthem's requested rate increases. I found this from the February 12th issue of the Los Angeles Times:
WASHINGTON-- The head of the major health insurer that wants to boost rates in California by up to 39 percent defended her company before Congress on Wednesday, saying the increases would be tough for many customers but were necessitated by soaring medical costs.
Well that seems reasonable. Medical costs certainly are soaring. At a rate of 6.9% in 2009. I wonder if it would be biased of me to point out that 6.9 is less than 39%.
In prepared testimony for a House investigative subcommittee, Angela Braly, president of WellPoint Inc., blamed the increases on the growing price tags for hospital care and pharmaceuticals. She also cited the ailing economy, which has caused many younger, healthier people to save money by dropping coverage, leaving her company covering an older, sicker population.
Oh, well that will teach me to go around shooting off my mouth before I know all the facts. Anthem has a perfectly reasonable explanation for why their rate of premium increase is over 4 times as much as the cost of the product they are insuring.
"Raising our premiums was not something we wanted to do," Braly said. "But we believe this was the most prudent choice."
Oh. They didn't want to take more of people's money. I see. I guess taking money kinda sucks for them, the way going to the gym kinda sucks for me.
Braly expressed some sympathy.
"Clearly, we understand that rate increases create a challenge for many of our members," Braly said. "However, it is important to know that many of our members often have a choice of coverage."
Wow. I was so wrong. Angela Braly really sounds like a nice person. So understanding of the challenges facing her members. Many of whom even have a choice.
I'm sorry Anthem. I hope you can forgive me for ever questioning your motives. For ever thinking that putting an entity whose sole purpose is to generate as many dollars as possible for its shareholders in charge of lessening people's pain and suffering might not be the best idea. How can I make it up to you?
Oh look, here's another story about you in today's paper:
LOS ANGELES (AP) — Insurance giant Anthem Blue Cross, the company criticized by President Barack Obama when it proposed raising rates for Californians by as much as 39 percent, withdrew plans for the proposed hike Thursday.
Los Angeles-based Anthem made the decision after an independent audit determined the company's justification for raising premiums was based on flawed data, state Insurance Commissioner Steve Poizner said.
"The current application that was withdrawn today was just flawed," Poizner said during a conference call with reporters. He added that it contained mathematical errors and in some instances double counting of data.
Huh. Well now I kinda feel like how Wile E. Coyote must have felt after he gave Acme Corp.another chance.
I wonder if it's biased to point out here that it was a government agency that kept us here in California from getting ass-raped by the private free market? And that maybe you should keep that in mind the next time you hear someone say the government can't do anything right?
Is it bias if you're also correct?
Of course if you think I'm wrong, by all means you can go write out a big fat check payable to Anthem Blue Cross. As much as it pains them, I'm sure they'd find a way to cash it.
Fuckers.
Sunday, May 02, 2010
A Quickie Joke From The Day's Paper That Writes Itself.
The Vatican on Saturday ordered the overhaul of one of the Catholic Church's largest and most influential organizations following an investigation into decades of sexual abuse by the group's founder and systematic efforts to cover it up.
Mexican-born Father Marcial Maciel engaged in "very serious and objectively immoral behavior," the Vatican said — including fathering at least one child and sexually molesting boys and seminarians.
...the Legionaries, as they are known, operate in nearly 40 countries with 800 priests, 2,600 seminarians and a lay branch.
"Accusations of deviant sexual behavior by priests strike at the very heart of our church and wound our soul" said fictional Vatican spokesman Cardinal Gavin Musconi. "If it turns out that Father Maciel did engage in sex with an actual consenting adult we will immediately reorganize the lay branch of the Legionaries to ensure that any laying only fits into accepted church guidelines"
"That really seems to be the only problem I can find though. The adult thing......" Cardinal Musconi added. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
Thursday, April 29, 2010
I Try Again For A Decent Cup Of Coffee And Fail.
At 5:30 my eyes opened and would not re-close. I thought maybe they were trying to tell me something, that maybe there was a reason I should not be wasting away in bed. I tried to think if there were any possible reasons I should get up.
I had to pee, and I could take a shot at working this morning's crossword in the newspaper. That's all I could come up with.
The paperboy, who I think is actually a man in his mid 30's, was late, so I put on some Pearl Jam. Pearl Jam always makes me happy. This was their latest album, and it had been sitting on my "to listen to" pile for quite awhile now. The blasphemous thought crept into my mind as I listened.
Van Hagar. That is the comparison that came to mind. Workmanlike. Competent.
I stared at my speakers and tried to remember Eddie Vedder in flannel. The Eddie Vedder who once saw an outfit for sale in the window of a department store based on one he wore in a music video and promptly went home and burned the original. I tried to remember when our generation was tarred as a pack of slackers destined to have a life that was a faint echo of our parent's. Our parents had Vietnam, we had Gulf War I, they had Watergate, we had Lewinsky, they had Woody Allen, we had "Clerks"
We were cool with it. "Clerks" was a great movie. Perhaps the last remnant we have of what we were before the internet came along and changed our stereotype to that of the dot-com millionaire.
I was snapped out of it by the sound of the newspaper hitting the door. On one level it made me happy to be starting my day with a newspaper and a cup of coffee. Pearl Jam was teaching me that attempts to hang on to the coolness of your 20's are as pathetic as the exclamation point Yahoo! insists on keeping on the end of its name. Or "Clerks II."
My age starts with a 4 now and I find myself listening to more and more jazz. I can't come up with a 5-letter word for "fur wrap" that starts with an "S." My new coffee maker makes my java taste like plastic and in a few hours I'll have the joy of starting a long work weekend.
I thought about my last work weekend and smiled, but my last work weekend is gone. Sometimes the decision to get out of bed can be the wrong one. What I wouldn't do for a chance to start over.
I had to pee, and I could take a shot at working this morning's crossword in the newspaper. That's all I could come up with.
The paperboy, who I think is actually a man in his mid 30's, was late, so I put on some Pearl Jam. Pearl Jam always makes me happy. This was their latest album, and it had been sitting on my "to listen to" pile for quite awhile now. The blasphemous thought crept into my mind as I listened.
Van Hagar. That is the comparison that came to mind. Workmanlike. Competent.
I stared at my speakers and tried to remember Eddie Vedder in flannel. The Eddie Vedder who once saw an outfit for sale in the window of a department store based on one he wore in a music video and promptly went home and burned the original. I tried to remember when our generation was tarred as a pack of slackers destined to have a life that was a faint echo of our parent's. Our parents had Vietnam, we had Gulf War I, they had Watergate, we had Lewinsky, they had Woody Allen, we had "Clerks"
We were cool with it. "Clerks" was a great movie. Perhaps the last remnant we have of what we were before the internet came along and changed our stereotype to that of the dot-com millionaire.
I was snapped out of it by the sound of the newspaper hitting the door. On one level it made me happy to be starting my day with a newspaper and a cup of coffee. Pearl Jam was teaching me that attempts to hang on to the coolness of your 20's are as pathetic as the exclamation point Yahoo! insists on keeping on the end of its name. Or "Clerks II."
My age starts with a 4 now and I find myself listening to more and more jazz. I can't come up with a 5-letter word for "fur wrap" that starts with an "S." My new coffee maker makes my java taste like plastic and in a few hours I'll have the joy of starting a long work weekend.
I thought about my last work weekend and smiled, but my last work weekend is gone. Sometimes the decision to get out of bed can be the wrong one. What I wouldn't do for a chance to start over.
Monday, April 26, 2010
The End Of Medical Marijuana.
Indianapolis, IN- (Drugmonkey News Service)- In a stunning move aimed at reversing what has appeared until now to have been a losing fight in the war againt marijuana, Attorney General Eric Holder announced today that a supplement to recently passed health care reform legislation would allow the federal government to partner with insurance giant Wellpoint to provide full coverage for the once illegal drug.
"It's true that earlier I made a decision that this department would no longer enforce federal marijuana laws in states that allow its medicinal use" said Holder. "I don't have to. I am confident that the people at Wellpoint can limit access to marijuana far more effectively than the DEA ever could."
"Bwwwwooohhhhhaaaaahhhhaaaaa" he added.
Reached outside a medical marijuana clinic in Los Angeles, a patient who could only identify himself as "Scooter" reacted with confusion:
"Dude.....like... what's a.....Prior Authorization?" he asked. "How am I supposed to get my back medicine with this form thingy? Or maybe it's my headache medicine. I don't remember. I miss Honcho. Back in the day all you had to do was give Honcho a call and he'd be at your door in like half an hour with all the weed you needed. You just don't get service like that anymore man"
"I was given a contract from Wellpoint that barely covered my costs" said Honcho from his farm in Mendocino. I got out of the business and started making pornography instead. I just hope to hell they don't start classifying that as some sort of sex therapy insurance will cover next."
At least 50 marijuana producers as well as 350 medical cannabis dispensaries have gone out of business since singing agreements with Wellpoint, who calls the contracts "A win-win for everyone, but mostly us."
"We're excited to expand our business of caring into the exciting world of medical cannabis treatment" said Wellpoint CEO Angela Braly. "And we are honored to have been selected by the federal government to be the exclusive insurance provider for its new medical cannabis program. Let me assure you, Wellpoint will bring the same level of commitment to patient care to this cannabis program that we have shown to the customers who have relied on us for years"
"Bwwwwooohhhhhaaaaahhhhaaaaa" added Holder.
"It's true that earlier I made a decision that this department would no longer enforce federal marijuana laws in states that allow its medicinal use" said Holder. "I don't have to. I am confident that the people at Wellpoint can limit access to marijuana far more effectively than the DEA ever could."
"Bwwwwooohhhhhaaaaahhhhaaaaa" he added.
Reached outside a medical marijuana clinic in Los Angeles, a patient who could only identify himself as "Scooter" reacted with confusion:
"Dude.....like... what's a.....Prior Authorization?" he asked. "How am I supposed to get my back medicine with this form thingy? Or maybe it's my headache medicine. I don't remember. I miss Honcho. Back in the day all you had to do was give Honcho a call and he'd be at your door in like half an hour with all the weed you needed. You just don't get service like that anymore man"
"I was given a contract from Wellpoint that barely covered my costs" said Honcho from his farm in Mendocino. I got out of the business and started making pornography instead. I just hope to hell they don't start classifying that as some sort of sex therapy insurance will cover next."
At least 50 marijuana producers as well as 350 medical cannabis dispensaries have gone out of business since singing agreements with Wellpoint, who calls the contracts "A win-win for everyone, but mostly us."
"We're excited to expand our business of caring into the exciting world of medical cannabis treatment" said Wellpoint CEO Angela Braly. "And we are honored to have been selected by the federal government to be the exclusive insurance provider for its new medical cannabis program. Let me assure you, Wellpoint will bring the same level of commitment to patient care to this cannabis program that we have shown to the customers who have relied on us for years"
"Bwwwwooohhhhhaaaaahhhhaaaaa" added Holder.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Oh The Ways Of Karma.
A little chuckle in a crappy weekend, courtesy of News of the Weird, the best newspaper column ever.
I just had to share. Carry on...
Timing Is Everything: Guido Boldini (and his mother Constance Boldini) pleaded guilty last April to soliciting a hit man to take out Guido's ex-wife, Michelle Hudon, after a contentious child-custody battle in Keene, N.H. The "hit man" was, of course, an undercover cop, and the son and mother are now serving a combined 12 to 35 years in prison. However, unknown to the Boldinis, Michelle Hudon had been diagnosed with cancer, and in September, she died.
I just had to share. Carry on...
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