Twas A Pharmacist's Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the pharmacy,

Not a patient was stirring, not even a proxy.

Prescriptions were hung by the window with care,

In the hopes that tomorrow will bring no despair.

While the patients were nestled all snug in the beds,

The goods one that is, likely not the hotheads.

And the PBM in their castle, and we in the moat,

The pharmacist is left, unable to emote.

When out of the gate, there arose such a clatter,

"Fuck," goes the pharmacist, "Now what's the matter?"

Away to the window he peers, eyes scanning with a flash,

And out jumps a patient, smiling, yet brash.

"I need some Norco," she states, wearing booze and glitter,

"Goddamnit," mutters the pharmacist, cold and bitter.

"We're closed, nearly Christmas and now you appear,"

"Drunk, disorderly and covered in beer?"

"But my night, kind sir, it all happened so quick!"

"And my Oxy was stolen, just ask my clinic!"

He starts the computer and curses the name,

Looks and wonders and says with an exclaim.

"Miss this was filled a mere four days ago,"

As her eyes quickly dart back to and fro.

"I told you once, kind sir, it fell in the trash,"

And now the lies are dealt, all coming with a crash.

"Stolen or the trash, where has it gone?"

Knowing the answer was to long foregone.

"I just need it," she says, her voice a quiver,

A junkie she be, veins a pulsing drug river.

"It is to soon to fill, you'll have to come back,"

And it is then it arose with so much of a crack.

"Fuck you, kind sir, who do you think you are?"

"Do I look like a hussy from the local bar?"

"I know my laws, have money and  know my rights,"

"And I know my doctor who will put up a fight."

"Give me my Norco asshole, or for I won't hesitate"

"To call the state board, take your license and castrate."

She paces and races and screeches aloud,

"Give me my drugs, right fucking now!"

The pharmacist steps to the window, mouth slightly agape

Waiting for his words to slowly escape.

He spoke not a word, but looked straight in her face,

How much more can we live in disgrace?

"Christmas it may be, the season of giving,"

"But to be a junkie is really not worth living."

"Bitch if you want, go throw and yell,"

"But don't you dare give me such hell."

"I am a professional, trained in health,"

"Not here to be your pimp despite your wealth."

He sprang to the gate, to her face gleaned anger,

"I'm sorry for your problems, but I care no longer."

As the gate slams down, the junkie shouts loud,

"Happy Christmas to all, and enjoy being plowed."

Voodoo Pharmacy

This is, hands down, the oddest spam comment I have ever had on this site. And yet, after a stressful day at work it oddly starts to make sense...

I am melinda,from what I can read. It has been sad news and scam to everyone about Voodoo casters or so. But to me they are so real cause one worked for me not quite two weeks. I traveled down to where his shrine his and we both did the ritual and sacrifice. and now me and my ex are living very ok now.I don't know about you but Voodoo is real;love marriage,finance, job promotion ,lottery Voodoo,poker voodoo,golf Voodoo,Law & Court case Spells,money voodoo,weigh loss voodoo,diabetic voodoo,hypertensive voodoo,high cholesterol voodoo,Trouble in marriage,it's all he does. I used my money to purchase everything he used he never collected a dime from. He told me I can repay him anytime with anything from my heart. Now I don't know how to do that. If you can help or you need his help write him on (nativedoctor101@live.com) Thank you.

Shamless Plug for The Angry Forums

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Do you want to learn how to make the hottest women in the world drop to their knees and rip off your pants at the site of you?

Do you want to learn how you can finally tell Medco to fuck off and die?

Do you want to be able to laugh hysterically the next time someone attempts an early Norco refill and yell at them "Denied!" while you take a shot of whiskey?

Well the first two questions, you're screwed. But the last two questions can be answered at TAP's shiny, brand-new, patient exclusivity, no-generic-equivalent Angry Forums!

Yes, there is some place other than the local bar where pharmacists, pharmacy technician, pharmacy interns and you're local "OC" druggies can bitch about the field of pharmacy!

So pour yourself a drink, turn off the internet porn and let the anger flow out of you like a colon after four liters of a PEG solution!

The Battle of the PPIs

The remains of the fallen solders from the Prevacid tribe

In the annals of historic battles there are Gettysburg and D-Day, but never before has there been a battle as epic, or as dramatic, as the Battle of the Proton Pump Inhibitors this past evening.

On one side sat the old guard, the Tribe of Prilosec led by General Astra Zenica. As one of the oldest tribes in the PPI realm, Prilosec had felt the increasing pressure of the Prevacid Tribe as they first encroached on the Prescription Peninsula and then eventually OTC Island. Using shimmery, metallic purple colors they attempted to outshine Prevacid Tribe, but in recent months had continued to be besieged by the upstart tribe. Now they felt their livelyhood was immediately threatened by its racemic counterpart.

Prevacid Tribe, led by the venerable General Takeda, had surpassed all expectations and supplanted themselves as a force on PPI isle. A more multi-racial tribe composed of equally mixed pinks and aquas, Prevacidians found themselves ambitious and eager as they attempted to topple the mighty Tribe of Prilosec.

At 7:04 PM on Tuesday the 31st of May, the General Zenica gave the order which would alter the history of the PPI isle. A surprise attack on the capital of Prevacid Tribe, Novartis, sought to finally rid the world of the too-similar Prevacidians.

Using intimate pharmacologic knowledge, Prilosec leaders used optical attacks from the left and right to decimate the Tribe of Prilosec. Capsule and capsule parts lie strewn across the land, with the innards of Prevacidians coating the counter-side.

By the end of the battle, the Tribe of Prilosec stood victorious over their nemesis, and found themselves the reaffirmed King of PPIs... for now.

Need Some Medicaid for your Escalade?

A lively Twitter debate has sparked a collection of data, formulated into a highly non-scientific study. The results are as follows.

Note: To curb some of the hate mail I've been receiving, I encourage you to check out this link. It may prove useful before getting one's panties in a bunch.

Abstract

There is a direct correlation between the drivers of Cadillac Escalades, especially when they are black and possessing rims, and their reliance upon state sponsored Medicaid when visiting a pharmacy. That correlation provides an example of not only the faults of the system, but the manner in which discretionary income is disproportionately spent on frivolous purchases, like an Escalade, over supporting their family.

An example of the type of vehicle in question

Introduction

First, we must clarify some otherwise stereotypical notions regarding individuals on Medicaid. This is not intended to judge those who use the system as it was designed. Individuals who are disabled, in the midst of transitional phase in their life or simply hard on their luck are not sought by this study.

Additionally, this does not seek to single out the Medicaid patient who may have given themselves the rare gift of a nice manicure or any other small piece of joy in an otherwise stressful life. Every person is entitled to spoil themselves at least occasionally.

No, this study seeks to identify those patients who appear to be abusing the system. Those who come to the pharmacy in repeatedly extravagant purchases, often times owning items beyond the means of the people who work in the pharmacy.

Data

Data was collected across a six day period over two separate pharmacy locations. Each location possesses a high percentage of Medicaid based clientele and a propensity for playing extremely shitty music overhead.

As such, fourteen (n =14) Escalades were either noticed at the pharmacy’s drive-thru or were noticed as being the patients vehicle at the pharmacy. A careful analysis of this number of data points combined with noted actions while in the store, including their insurance, provided the following results.

• Number of Patients meeting criteria: 14
• Number of said patients driving Escalades: 14
• Number of non-Medicaid patients driving Escalades: 0

Further analysis concluded that there is indeed a 100% probability of a patient being insured by Medicaid if they drive an Escalade, even truer if it is black in color with blinged out rims.

Every study needs a complicated graph. Look at the pretty colors!

Discussion

In noting these patients it became abundantly clear that there were other useful bits of information to be gathered. On average, the patient would bring three unruly children into the store. There was almost always an excessively jeweled up iPhone in their hand, the majority of which they had pressed firmly to their ear while at the counter.

In three instances the phrase, “My baby’s daddy…” was heard uttered during the conversation. The phrase, “I ain’t got my check for the month,” was used twice as a reasoning for not wanting to pay the one dollar copay.

While it is impossible to delve into the specifics of each individual’s personal and financial situation, it is possible to derive a perhaps improper spending of funds based upon their visible purchases. Not having a dollar for your son’s asthma medication could easily have been avoided if you were not driving around in a vehicle which most likely costs twice what you earn in a year.

Other high priced vehicles, Lincoln Navigators, BMWs, etc, were noted but did not meet any of the criteria sought in this study.

Conclusion

This non-scientific study has confirmed that if a patient arrives at a pharmacy in an Escalade, they will be an irresponsible Medicaid patient. Little can be done with this knowledge other than to provide an example as to how to not use the system. In addition, pharmacists and pharmacy technicians can use this visual cue to prepare for the highly probable flood of bullshit that will gush from the patients month.

One of the god fathers of the blinged out Cadillac Escalade phenomenon

Spooning

"How much is 5 grams on a teaspoon?"

That's not really the question was expecting when I answered the phone. Actually, I'm not sure if at any point you could expect that particular question.

The question arose from the fact that this woman had picked up a prescription for metronidazole vaginal gel the other day and had accidentally thrown out the applicators. Her logic was that, for whatever reason, a spoon would work just as well. She just didn't know how to measure out the five grams.

Now think about this for a moment. The woman has decided to shove a spoon up her yoo-hoo. With that sort of logic, I'd say it's a good bet it won't be a clean spoon either.

Needless to say the pharmacist and I were able to find extra applicators in the pharmacy, they do a lot of compounding at this store, and advised her to come in and pick them up for no charge.

Add that to yet another perplexing definition to spooning... albeit a far less fun one.

The Man With the Itch

It's dusk in the pharmacy, as the last commuter comes through the drive thru. As the last rays of sunlight streak through the window, a man steps up the counter.

"Hey," he half-whispers, "I can I ask you a question?"

I stroll over to the counter and he leans in, "I have an itching problem. Do you have anything I can... put on it?" Half-exhausted from the mid-afternoon rush, I bring home over to the first aid aisle and show him the Hydrocortisone products.

"Hey... does this stuff like... stay on?" he inquires.

I assure him that it does and depending on where he's applying it dictates whether or not the cream or the ointment would be best suited.

"Well... what about for like under clothes?"

I then tell him that in that case a cream is usually best as it doesn't leave the oily residue on clothing that so many have a disdain for.

"Well... can you... I mean would you.. have sex with it?"

For the first time in months I am held speechless. I inform him that you shouldn't be using it as any type of lubricant for intercourse.

"I've got this like.. like a rash on my johnson... and it itches and burns real bad."

Then to kick it up a notch.... "Do you want to see it?"

It is at this point, I pull the student pharmacist card and mention that I will have to get the pharmacist to help him further. As I stroll back to the pharmacy, suppressing a grin, I kindly tell our pharmacist a gentleman in aisle 4 needs help.

He asks which mean and I point and say, "The man with the itch.."

The Tale of the Rogue Shitter

“Do you have a tissue?”

A seemingly innocuous question, especially considering the time of the year.

“No,” I replied. “Walmart generally doesn’t let us keep tissues here for public use.”

She nodded, I finished checking her out, and she calmly walked away.

Looking up to the next woman in line, I notice an expression of confusion and slight terror in her eyes.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

She stammers, “Is that… is that shit?”

Perplexed I leaned over the counter to see what she was pointing at. There, on the normally sparking white floor, was a smeared brown mass leading away from the register. Trailing away from the smear proper were clear footprints with a small Nike symbol emblazoned upon them.

Quickly, I begin to analyze my encounter with the previous customer. There was a hint of tequila on her breath… did she stammer? What else did she buy? Was she wearing a dress?... Yes she was, a black and white floral print dress.

Why did she ask for a tissue? Oh wait…

The woman in line quickly steers her cart to another line while I block off my lane. I beckon for the CSMs to come to my area. Needless to say we are taught how to handle all sorts of spills, but human feces is not one of them.

“What… is that chocolate ice cream?” asks my perplexed CSM. When I state what I believe it to be she quickly asks, “Should we smell it?”

Should we smell it? You didn’t need to smell it. There was the typical corn kernel present, the ultimate calling card of feces on the floor.

If there even is such a thing.

How you can casually walk away from such an event I will never know. And to knowingly track it all the way out the door on top of it. In some twisted way, I'm impressed she maintained her composure, although now I know why she was exceptionally polite to me.

It’s also a good thing for her she chose to go commando that day. It was, however, not a good thing for us that she chose to go commando that day.

Moral of the story is when you gotta go, just go on the floor. Everyone likes a surprise.

Public Service Announcement: Check Cessation

Hi there, Phathead here for a helpful public service announcement.

Did you know we live in 21st century America? That we have such fantastical gadgets like the cellular phone and mobile computer. There is also this thing invented by former Vice-President Al Gore called the Inter-Net.

It is truly a wondrous time to be alive, wouldn't you agree?

Seeing as we have such wondrous technology to better our daily lives, why do we not use it more? There is no sense in using inferior technology like vacuum-tube computers, the phonograph or anything made in Canada.

Really, it comes to one simple sentence, and I want you to say it aloud with me.

Are you ready?

Stop fucking writing checks at the check-out line.

You see, with these new technologies, the ancient skill of writing checks is now obsolete. Much like we ditched the stone table and chisel for an Apple iPad, you too can ditch that lowly checkbook.

Did you know that at most retailers your check is processed just like a credit card? If you did not know this fact and/or your mind is blown, well the rest of this announcement is for you!

Did you know that you don't even have to write the check the majority of the time. Those little fancy robotic printer machines will do it for you!

And there is an even simpler way to conduct yourself at a check-out line. Don't whip out the checkbook at all! Leave it at home where it belongs writing checks for your mortgage, health insurance and pornography subscriptions.

There is a reason you have that little plastic card in your wallet called a Debit Card. And I'll let ya in on a little secret, it does the exact same thing as your check!

Amazing!

So next time there is a line of ten people behind you and you being to carefully write out a check, stop, step back and remember:

Stop fucking writing checks at the check-out line.

Let's make the world a better place, one non-check at a time!

This public service announcement has been paid for, and endorsed, by Phathead, Pharm.D. Candiate, Class of 2014. All rights reserved. ©

Thank God for Advil Congestion Relief

With the winter season quickly approaching, all are in the opening stages of prepping for the onslaught of the winter cold season. With the exception of the occasional sadist, no one in enjoys the sneezing, hacking and congestion the arrives with our yearly cooling.

But wait.... What's this? Could it be a savior for all of our cold symptom woes?!?


Contains Ibuprofen AND Phenylephrine? Genius!

1 Pill Dosing? Spectacular!

And at just $8.98 for 20 tablets it's a steal!

Hooray, the upcoming cold season is already defeated! Let that pesky rhinovirus burn in hell!

Wait a minute... 200 mg of ibuprofen... 10 mg of phenylephrine? How can this be? You could by the separate components for a mere fraction of a cost... but then again why would you to begin with?

With that sort of dosing you might as well just eat the box. Maybe drizzle some Nyquil on it for added effect and flavor.

Oh Pfizer, you never cease to amaze me in how you can squeeze money of the unknowing consumer. Bravo to you and your creative marketing product. Hope you can sleep well at night in your giant mansions.

Congestion free of course.

The First Annual Angry Medical Professional Conference

Today there exists conferences for medical professionals on seemingly any topic. Yet there exists a void in the conference spectrum which could be of greater benefit than any other conference one would attend.

A conference in which medical professionals could bitch about their daily lives in their profession.

The sheer amount of booze consumed over this multiple day event, and yes it would be multiple days, would be astounding. The times we would have.... now those would be priceless.

If I have learned one thing over the last few months via conversations on Twitter, it's that we all enjoy sharing asinine stories about patients. It is a way we manage our frustration of our profession during a day.

Obviously, for HIPPA reasons, the names of the inane are never released, but the experiences can be retold in detail.

We could even have an awards ceremony for meeting various requirements of ineptitude.

"To the doctor who dealt with the foulest shit stench while in an exam room... BurbDoc!"
"To the creation of the best patient greeting card slogan... The Angry Pharmacist!"

Then we could all high five each other and take a shot of Tequlia.

We would share tears, laughter, and the occasional group singing of a Journey song. Really, this could be the greatest thing we ever contribute to the profession.

Now who's with me?

Druggie Math

Woman comes to the drive thru Saturday night, naturally, ten minutes before close. She presents a narc prescription for Opana ER, an odd drug of choice around here.

We ever so kindly explain to her that we do not have this drug and, from our files, it does not appear anyone within our area has this particular strength in stock.

Her response?

Well.. I gots this injury and they give me like mor-feen which worked kinda good and Oxy which worked kinda good at someone told me this combines da two in ta one

Alrighty here, for those playing at home this druggie formulated the following math problem.

Oxycodone + Morphine = Oxymorphone

Actually, for a collection of people who cannot seem to figure out that 30 tablets, at one per day, equals a 30 day supply, this is pretty clever.

Sadly though, we attempted to explain to her that, like many other things in her life, she failed at this math problem.

Boo hoo.

Side note: When talking to your pharmacist, do not refer to Oxycontin as Oxy. Ya know, if you actually want us to fill anything for you.

A Theme Song for the Site

No I did not create this (or have anything to do with it), thus it is not me in the video. Pulled it off of SDN and figured it was clever enough to share.

So I present to you, a musical rendition of "I want to be a pharmacist..."

Personal Retrospection

As I sit here about to embark on the last leg of the journey which spawned the creation of this website, I find myself doing a bit of personal retrospection. I almost feel as if we should cue some sappy music... hold on...

Ok here we go, click play and continue on:



Anywho, when I started the little refresh of this blog I was more or less forced to go over the initial posts. Back when I was lucky to have twenty people stumble upon this site daily.

For one, I can actually write half-assed decently now. My recent re-write of my testicular adventure (note to self: copyright this name for future film use) was done because I realized I now could do a much better job of conveying such a story.

Holy shit, could I almost be a writer now?

My struggles with surviving my undergrad is apparent to me even though it may not be to you. Actually this post might make it more apparent... although I wish I woulda saved that idea for a post title.

With how much I have changed these past few years, I wonder just who I will be at the end of the next four years. Hopefully I won't be a woman, but you never know, stranger things have happened.

And to all of those who told me to give up four years ago and that I would never make it, I have but one thing to say.

What's A Bro Gotta Do For Some Smokes?

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How I Almost Lost A Testicle: Redux

Tonight I decided to do a rewrite of one of my very first posts on this blog. The original can be found here.

I have no shame. Truly I don't.

Case in point, of the more fun stories I like to tell about myself is a story most would shy away from. You see, at one point in my very young life there was a very real possibility that I would lose a testicle.

How is this a fun story you may be asking? Because I cannot do anything in an ordinary way.

Living in the dorms during your freshman year in college provides ample opportunity for... creative activities. I'm talking about nights where we created downhill stairwell skiing. These were MENSA moments I tell ya.

One of these nights we were occupying our time by throwing things at each other. It was a manly game to determine who could either have quick enough reflexes to catch said object or to see how could endure the most pain from not catching it. Again, genius stuff right here.

In the midst of a flying batteries and small bouncy balls, my buddy decides to take aim at myself. Using moves straight out of The Matrix, or at least I thought so, I jumped and twisted in spectacular form... and promptly was nailed directly in the nuts.

This was no glancing blow, the object thrown had the accuracy of a heat seeking missle. What made things worse is that in my attempt to look uber cool, I had left said testicle hanging freely in the air.

It was like waving a big ole chocolate cake in front of a hungry fat kid.

Immediately I collapsed as the typical wave of nausea and pretty colors flooded my senses. Being the young and cocky male I was at that time, I put on a tough face and continued on with the night, although with a noticeable limp for the next couple days.

That was that. Or was it?

About a month later, my girlfriend at the time and I spent a weekend day at an amusement park. It was a fun day, full of exhilerating rides, over priced food and screaming children.

I awoke the next morning in our hotel room with an odd pain in my loins. Attempting to climb out of bed and stand up, I promptly collapsed back onto the bed. Once I finally willed myself erect, I found myself walking bow-legged. You'd think I'd been riding a horse all day or something.

Thinking I had broken something, we drove the two hours home on a bumpy freeway as I plotted a visit to the local urgent care. Every bump felt like a hot poker being shoved in... well my poker. My girlfriend at the time initially found it funny and, had it not been for her legit concern as the day wore on, I probably would not have went to see a doc.

Again, cocky young male at this time.

Once in the exam room, I was hit with a barage of STD (or STI or whatever you want to call them now) questions. It was almost as if he was trying to trick me into admitting to cross-dressing while working a hooker specializing in midgets. Question after question after question as I sat there with my fun parts throbbing.

Finally he decided that I wasn't sleeping with half of the city and that I needed to produce a urine sample. I was promptly given, at the time what seemed like, a 20 gallon bucket to fill up. Normally this wouldn't have been bad except that when I went to go I was walked in... three times.

The last time I was tempted to ask the woman if she wanted to help, but was too afraid she would actually say yes.

When the doc finally comes back, he tells me that he thinks that my testicle is twisted (like a meatball in spaghetti he says) and that I may need to have surgery immediately to remove it. First, he wants an ultrasound to double check the damage.

Naturally the woman doing the ultrasound was a woman in her mid-50s. Also naturally, the gel they used was fresh out of the freezer. Shrinkage plus near Medicare-aged woman is not the dream situation of a young guy. Luckily the woman was very professional and I slowly began to forget that she was massaging my gel covered balls.

Never did get her phone number though.

Seeing the inside of your manhood is an awe-inspiring experience. You almost wanna pat the screen on the back and give them an 'Atta boy!'.

After my exhilarating massage, I found my way back to the exam room. The doc came back a few minutes later with a diagonis.

Epididymitis.

What had happened was that the trauma of being nailed in the junk had caused urine to back up the urethra and into the epididymis. More or less, my nut was infected.

To make things even more interesting, I later found out that the doc who treated me was the brother of one of the pharmacists I worked with. It made for an interesting meeting when he stopped by one of the store a months later. Judging from his face, I was obviously a memorable case.

So let this be a life lesson for all who read this. Hitting a guy in his jewels, while perhaps funny and stress-reducing, can lead to serious complications. I paid several hundred dollars to play 20 STD questions with a doc and have a testicular massage by my grandma.

It's not fun.

Alas, I still have my testicle... actually both of them. Now aren't you glad you know that?

The 100,000th Visitor

August 9th, 2010 at 10:28:01pm was a historic moment for this site. It was at this moment that we had our 100,000th visitor to my blessed rants.

I honor you, 100,00th visitor and thank you for visiting me on your iPhone. St. Elizabeth, Missouri appears to be a small town just like the area I grew up in.

Your award is the $100,000 bill at the top of this post. All retailers will take it, although you may want to ask if they can make change first. Print off as many copies as you'd like, it's my treat to you.

No one else is allowed to do so though. If I find out someone else is using our 100,00th visitors award, I will find you and introduce you to the pleasure of Fleet Enemas... many of them. Unless you're into that kind of thing... then we'll have to find some other punishment.

Like making you watch this movie. Yea, that's right, I'll do it.

Now that that is clarified, enjoy your award my Missourian friend!

Who doesn't like Bimbos?

Strollin' into the glorious Walmart in which I grace my presence today and I notice they redid the sales wall. This is good because there's usually cheap food. I like food... especially when it's cheap.

And then I see this:

My first question is who in the hell decided this would be a good name for a company? Can you imagine the conversation that lead up to that one?

D-Bag #1 - So what do you think we should call this new company? Super Duper Bread?

D-Bag #2 - That's not a bad idea, but it needs something more....

D-Bag #1 - How about 'Natural Super Duper Bread'?

D-Bag #2 - Hmmm I think it's missing something, but I can't quite put my finger on it

D-Bag #3 talking to D-Bag #4 in the background - Dude she was suchhhh a bimbo, I mean good lord man

D-Bag #2 - That's it! Bimbo!

D-Bag #1 - My god man, that's genius!

Then they give it a cute little bear mascot, because as we all know, the word bimbo causes us all to think of a pillsbury doughboy rip off and not of a stacked blond with the intelligence of a yak.

And then if that wasn't enough it has to be 'Soft, White, Family Bimbo' bread.

Really? A soft white family bimbo? That sounds like a show on Fox or the CW.

On this day, Bimbo Bread company, I salute you. Just not in the normal way I'd salute a bimbo.

Introducing Lipitor HD

It seems almost as if you can get anything in 'HD' today. Oh no, HD is not just for televisions anymore. There are HD Sunglasses, HD paint and I even saw a sticker on a mirror claiming it was HD quality.

Naturally, it would make sense for the Big Pharma to jump in on this. And why not? They pray on the lack of knowledge the public has on drugs, they might as well kick it up a notch.

I'm sure it would go something like this:

NEW YORK CITY, NY - Today Pfizer CEO Jeff Kindler announced their newest product to be offered to consumers, Lipitor HD.

"Everyone knows that Liptior will soon be going off patten. As a company that has been unable to produce an innovative drug in many years, it is imperative that we find some way to continue making money while doing as little work as possible," Kindler began.

"One of the most popular terms signifying quality and wealth is the phrase 'High-Definition' or simply 'HD'. We decided that we needed to be the first company to produce a HD drug, and thus Lipitor HD was born."

Pfizer explains that it will explain to consumers that Lipitor HD is Lipitor but at a much higher resolution. This makes it more effective because a higher resolution automatically means it works better.

"Then we decided to market it in a 10,000 µg, 20,000 µg, 40,000 µg and 80,000 µg because bigger numbers mean that Lipitor HD is more powerful than non-HD Lipitor."

It is expected that Pfizer will price Lipitor HD at a 50% markup from the current price of Lipitor.

"The increase in price is representitive of the fact that we will continue to make sure the public believes our product is vastly superior to any generic counterpart. Our motto at Pfizer is 'Money First, Brain Washing Second and Skirting Government Regulations Third."

Lipitor HD is expected to hit pharmacies nationwide in Q3 2011.

Note: Lipitor HD is a fictional product, but don't put it past Pfizer to actually attempt something like this.

Double Rainbow All The Way

Nathan Fillion is hands down one of my favorite actors. I have yet to see anything of his and not be immensely enjoyed by it.

A few days ago on Twitter he began propagating the phrase 'Double Rainbow'. Upon a bit of digging I found out precisely what it was pertaining too.

I now introduce it to you in the hopes that the phrase 'Double Rainbow' will enter your daily lexicon.

I know it has for me.

Proper Definition - CLICK HERE