Ah, antidepressants. The miracle drugs of the new millennium. Everyone is either on them, want them, or knows a guy that’ll sell them cheaply (and maybe throw in some X on the side). Now, I don’t have an issue with people who genuinely have a legitimate, medical need for them – and you know who I’m talking about. I’m talking about the Eeyores of the world, the people that even dark clouds avoid like the plague. People so depressed, even Dr. Kervorkian says “Holy shit, you need therapy!” Even people for whom depression is a natural state, or for whom depression is chronic, require this life-preserving medication. I got no beef with them.

But now there’s a whole new breed of people who want the magic Make-Me-Feel-Sorta-Better beans: the Casual Users. These are people who heard about Xanex on the news and said “Hmm…I could use somma THAT”. People that say “Friends is off the air now – I need a Paxil”, or “Honey, have you seen my jar of Zoloft? That bitch is going to be working next to me today.” The people that could possibly get over their “depression” by, oh I don’t know, getting off their asses and doing something about it other than popping pills like fucking M&Ms! And you know what? Grown-ass people can do what they want…if they want to totally screw up their ability to produce serotonin (thereby becoming somewhat addicted to the medication), that’s their problem. Stupidity, sadly, isn’t curable. It’s the alarming number of KIDS that are on them that drives me nuts.

My 5 year old son is ADHD. That’s Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, for you non-knowing SOBs. It means he can’t focus on a task, can’t sit still for longer than 3 consecutive seconds, has limited short-term memory, and has a very difficult time listening. Unless your name is Yu-Gi-Oh or The Red Ranger, in which case he can lock in like an A-10 Warthog on an Iraqi tank. Anyway, his (previous) doctor suggested once that he go on an antidepressant like Wellbutrin. Fuck that. He’s FIVE. That quack would’ve had my kid zoned out like Chris Tucker in “Friday”. I hate the thought of putting him on anything, and yet I have to, so he can function in school. But I be DAMNED if he’s going on an SSRI at the age of 5, without exhausting all other methods and medications first. And that bastard sat there, pen in hand, ready to fire off another prescription for another batch of mind-numbing voodoo meds. And that’s why he’s the previous doctor, and not the current one.

Oh, the doctors. They’re the worst. There used to be a time when they’d ask you how you felt, then TALKED to you about it. Now, it’s “Yeah doc, I’m a little upset because -” “Hold it. Upset, you say? Here, take my handful of free Paxil samples (which I got from a very friendly Drug Whore – oops, I mean Drug Rep) while I write you a prescription for about 200,000 Paxil tabs. You want that in orange flavor or cherry?” Hell, if THAT’S all it takes to be a psychiatrist these days, sign my black ass up to the nearest medical school, baby, ’cause those cats get PAID! You sit there for 10 minutes, you get a ‘scrip, and they still bill you for the whole hour, plus they get a fat-ass kickback from Pfizer for pimping their drugs out. It’s a nice li’l racket. In the meantime, people are walking around with plastic smiles and fabricated emotions, and that’s supposed to be ok. Again I say fuck that.

If you’re having trouble functioning on a daily basis, then maybe you need a Lexapro or Effexor or any one of the dozens of anti-D’s out there on the market. But to the vast majority of you pill poppers, get a life. People in Rwanda have a situation 1000 times worse than you’ll ever know, and they’ve never even heard of antidepressants. So get over it.

Peace.

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