Recent Work By Paul A. Toth

Readme File: Oswald was the name of an arsonist who set fire to both towers in the early years of the World Trade Center, a little-known fact that seemed to predict the towers’ fate. This chapter marks the moments before the February 26, 1993 truck bombing. Each attack seemed to erase the importance and even memory of the preceding strike. Radio Row, a nook of Manhattan demolished for the construction of the WTC, had been the electronic enthusiast’s heaven, full of do-it-yourself kits, radio sets, etc. During an interview, a WTC architect was asked to name the actors who best represented the towers from his viewpoint. His answers in part supplied persona of each tower, with Cary Grant representing the South Tower and Gary Cooper the North Tower. Both towers alternatively see the main architect, Minoru Yamasaki, as a father figure, true father and even god. Finally, this and every chapter title borrows a phrase from the Koran.

First, I’ve edited this piece so that even the most dimwitted readers will get my “thesis,” which would be a “thesis” had I not proven it, as below.

Now, why was a prescription database pushed to the hilt by the media? They claimed it was to stop one of Florida’s tourism industries, unsurprisingly allowed to operate for as long as possible: Oxycontin pill mills that existed because of a loophole in the law.  People from all over the South and elsewhere picked up Oxy in Florida to use or sell elsewhere or in Florida, The Comfortable [email protected] Fine: Let’s solve the problem. But, no, a law was passed that now encompasses every single prescription, addictive or not. The state, not concerned enough to pay for the law, located or, more likely, established a private network of contributors to pay for it. Why? Who paid for the database…and why?

At first, it all seems to be about nothing but power. Unfortunately, it’s all about our old friendly combination of power and money… make that money and power.

And now, the incredible story of how Florida’s state pharmacy database came to be.

On January 1, 2010, Florida finally passed The Common Pharmacy Database statute. Before I continue, let me alert you that the following is a mystery wrapped in a conspiracy concealed in quantum semantics saturated by contradictions watering the evil garden of power beneath a sun radiating shadows hiding the black roses blooming by the thousands in the name of profit shrouded by a single over-riding facade of a purpose. Complicating matters is a flood of red herrings pointing to red herrings, only these red herrings have been dyed to appear in every color but red, creating the void in which utterly-arbitrary medical decisions are made by technicians in lab coats who overrule at will the orders of those not much more qualified than themselves, imposing a tyranny upon the entire population of Florida, all to supposedly address a loophole in the law that allowed “pain clinics” to dispense Oxycontin like psychiatrists dispense antidepressants.

In plain English, after my having textually run amok, let me restate the above in one sentence: The Florida Pharmacy Database was never necessary because legislation could have sealed the pain clinic loophole. You won’t read these facts of why that wasn’t done anywhere but here, though they’re lying naked in the Florida sun on I-75.

The database program’s own webpage admits, “The statute authorizing the PMDP [Prescription Drug Monitoring Program] specifically does not allow the use of state appropriations for establishing the PMDP.” Curiously, the statute instead did “authorize the establishment of a non-profit organization, which was incorporated as The Florida PDMP Foundation, Inc., to conduct fund-raising for the program.” In other words, “This is a crucial issue, but not crucial enough to raise taxes.” So how is it possibly Constitutional for a state law to be passed based on funding by a non-governmental entity? Look, a green herring!

Care to guess the The Florida PDMP Foundation, Inc. mission? Third prize goes to stopping “‘pill mills’ that prescribe and/or dispense pain relievers with at best a cursory exam to people who often see multiple physicians for the same ‘ailment.'” Second prize goes to a supposed concern that “nearly seven Floridians are lost every day to prescription drug overdoses.” First prize goes to the bottom dollar answer: “$15 billion is the estimated economic cost of prescription drug abuse and diversion shouldered by Floridians in 2009.” And just who funds the foundation? Let’s look at the three sponsors thanked on the foundation’s site via their super-sized corporate logos.

First, there’s Automated HealthCare Systems, which connects two dots: “Our ezDispense™ medication dispensing software, powered by AHCS, provides the tools to our physician partners to remain in compliance with all state and federal regulations as well as prescription drug monitoring programs. ezDispense™ electronically tracks all pedigree papers, lot numbers, expiration dates and controlled substances with line item reconciliation. Our software also identifies the location, physician, dispenser, cost, profit and date of all medications dispensed.” Holmes, methinks I’ve determined the AHCS’ motivation.

Next, Millennium Laboratories. Somehow, a red herring escaped extermination by Millennium Laboratories, which entirely profits from a single service: “We offer urine testing for numerous drug classes or individual drugs, with the option of several panels or a customized solution.” In Florida, guess who’s watching you piss in a cup?

Finally, Aegis PainComp Testing Services: That’s “Comp” as in “Compliance.” Know where we’re going with this? You got it: Drug testing. It’s all about the urine, folks.

Apparently, however, there’s just not enough precious bodily fluids to go around. Thus, Aegis is currently suing Millennium for “false advertising and unfair competition.” Additionally, Aegis claims Millenium “lured in physicians with illegal kickbacks and defrauded government health care programs.”

But Aegis may not play so fairly, either: “The company owned by the husband of 6th District Congressional candidate Diane Black is suing Republican opponent Lou Ann Zelenik in an attempt to stop a campaign advertisement. In the lawsuit filed Thursday morning in Davidson County Circuit Court, Aegis Sciences Corporation, a drug testing company owned by Dr. David Black, claims that ads run by the Zelenik campaign will damage the business and its reputation and asks for a temporary restraining order to keep the ads from airing. The ads allege Diane Black helped her husband’s company obtain a $1 million state contract.”

These certainly sound like the respectable backers one would seek for an ostensibly government health care program, don’t they? And it all looks like a job for none other than the Real Keyser Söze.

One page deeper into the site and we learn that the foundation is headquartered at the law firm of Duane Morris LLP, which, amongst other activities, boasts: “Our attorneys regularly advise on Stark and anti-kickback issues and have developed unique ways for physicians to share in ancillary revenue in compliance with federal and state regulations.” Another achievement: “We have defended nursing homes, home health agency and ancillary service provider clients under investigation for Medicaid fraud, advising them on appropriate responses to subpoenas and strategizing to minimize the risk of an adverse outcome.” And the law firm proudly broadcasts its having “Represented three nonprofit community hospitals and resulting ‘community benefit foundations’ in connection with the sale of hospital assets to for-profit hospital chains.”

Interesting use of quotation marks around the phrase “community benefit foundations,” obviously mocking such “liberal” causes. But isn’t that exactly the kind of do-good organization The Florida PDMP Foundation, Inc. claims to be? Let’s return to the foundation’s site and check it out.

At first, it seems the foundation at least wants to feel like it has a message of love: “The Foundation consists of both community and business leaders working to save lives through fundraising for the Prescription Drug Monitoring Program (PMDP) to combat the deadly consequences of drug abuse and diversion.” But without so much as a yawn, this follows, “The Foundation is comprised of a state county sheriff, a President of a Florida-based health care company, an officer of a bank located in Florida, a former director of the Office of Drug Control, the CEO of a company that conducts educational training and an attorney focused on assisting this non-profit. That attorney would be Duane Morris, who, as we’ve seen, normally doesn’t look so kindly upon non-profit organizations. In fact, his motto seems to be, “For the right hourly billing rate, I’ll decapitate Jesus Christ and prove my actions legal, then counter-sue the estate of Jesus Christ.”

As proof, the Duane Morris Institute offers businesses on-site training in a number of areas, one of which includes…”Substance Abuse: Detection and referral; work rules; development of drug and alcohol testing policies; return-to-work agreements ” Relevance? Duane Morris seems awfully involved with drug testing companies, just awfully. For instance, he represented “a drug testing company and its employee, in administering a drug test that found cocaine in plaintiff’s urine and resulted in the revocation of plaintiff’s taxicab operator’s license.” Guess who won, the cabbie or a law firm with enough attorneys to prove the Complete Works of William Shakespeare unconstitutional?

Duane Morris LLP, which specializes in defending the most ruthless business practices conceivable and seems to have a fetish for drug testing, heads the The Florida PDMP Foundation, Inc., funded by drug testing companies, which in turn funded the Florida Pharmacy Database, and without which funding even Republicans would never have passed the legislation. Obviously, through a law conjured to supposedly address Oxycontin pill mills, but which instead is being applied to every single prescribed medication in Florida, the real intention of the database is to shove innocent citizens, including those addicted by proxy due to emotional and/or health issues, into the criminal “justice” system or the rehabilitation racket, both of which will provide plenty of business for drug testing companies. And we know which three drug testing companies will be getting most of that business, don’t we?

Sooner or later, you’ll need a prescription in your state, one without the slightest addictive qualities, and you’ll be denied that prescription for whatever reason the pharmacist may decide. For instance, I recently had to obtain a week’s supply of a newly-prescribed antidepressant, as I couldn’t afford the entire month’s worth. That was standard practice in the old days. But I was told I could not even fill less than the amount prescribed. Why? Because the database gives pharmacies unspecified powers, and pharmacists, believing themselves equipped to do something beyond sliding pills into bottles, love power no less than anybody else with a badge, uniform, degree, or, in this case, lab coat.

Here’s an analogy explaining the supposed logic behind the law: You’re being denied the right to drive — even if you lack a single DUI —  because a certain number of Florida citizens die in car accidents. But by the real “logic” of the law, you’re being pulled over and stopped for speeding whether or not you were speeding or even driving because someone supported a law through a foundation funded by manufacturers of police radar equipment.

Now, if that doesn’t make you piss your pants, read my new 9/11 novel, Airplane Novel, which you can order here. More info at the Airplane Novel website. It’s the only 9/11 novel narrated by the South Tower. In fact, it’s the only 9/11 novel worth reading at all. Just don’t forget to get your Xanax filled before reading this novel aboard a plane.

Since psychiatry has proven itself to be anything but a science, the entire concept of mental anguish must be reexamined. Might the elements of “mental illness” more properly be called personality traits as well as reflections of the societies in which those traits occur? Might those elements even be called talents of a sort?

Psychiatry’s masterwork of pseudo-science, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM IV), once included homosexuality amongst its “scientific” diagnoses. Psychiatry thus reflects the “values” of the United States far more than concerning itself with patients, much less looking past and through society’s existing prejudices.

Even those behind psychiatry’s Shroud of Turin question its validity. Of late, there has been talk of attributing DSM diagnoses by degrees rather than mere labels. Thus, a person would “have” a “mental illness” on a scale, not just “have” it. In such a case, the flatliners who dominate the population would once again establish the “typical American’s” plot-pointed life as “sanity.”

Yet no one who suffers emotional distress would applaud the benefits of that distress. To do so would be to refute its existence and betray oneself as an imposter. Far more likely is it that many flatliners never mention their irregular heartbeats. Could it be a Second Renaissance lies beneath the ever-recycling digital ruins and its constant skies of acid rain?

Consider anxiety. Those with anxious traits are often highly-attuned. To call them “sensitive” is, in this society, an insult. “Sensitive” implies weakness, an inability to “man up.” Instead, the anxious should be viewed as a tuning fork against which society reveals itself — rather than the “patient” — as out of tune. That no one else recognizes society’s discordant sounds only proves the anxious to be society’s musicians. Countless permutations of that metaphor support themselves.

The same may be said about every other “diagnosis.” Schizophrenia might be viewed as a William S. Burroughs’ cutup of “reality” as presented, emphasis on “presented” because, of course, most of our environment has nothing natural about it and is, in fact, a presentation in every sense.

Some conditions do respond to medication. Usually, the reasons remain unknown. In turn, the medication may solve one “problem” while creating many more. Those who take most antidepressants may no longer feel depressed about nothing, but they feel depressed about their diminished sexuality, especially males whenever they try to… express their end of sexuality’s conclusion.

Returning to anxiety, medication does relieve its incapacitating aspect, but the medications that accomplish the effect also accomplish something else, that being the worst addiction known to humankind. This class of drugs, benzodiazepines, includes Xanax, Valium, Ativan, etc., the whole lot of tranquilizers, excepting the rarely-prescribed barbiturates. In some cases, antidepressants may relieve anxiety. However, they do so for reasons as unknown as the reasons antidepressants diminish depression. Likewise, they alleviate anxiety but create symptoms that mirror anxiety, such as trembling hands, odd emotional states, etc.

Rather than diagnoses, all of these traits show themselves to be products of society, products of the product society uses to diagnose those personality traits, and the products society sells to treat the products of the product society uses to diagnose those personality traits. That’s to say, they’re products of an environment completely divorced from nature.

All of this enshrouds some rather simplistic facts about a complicated subject. To martyr those suffering in the way biographers now “diagnose” every author, musician and artist “of the ages” as “bipolar” reduces suffering by labeling it, making suffering a product of their products, that being books and, eventually, films based on those books. Those who write memoirs about their “mental illnesses” bend over backwards for sainthood and reveal themselves willing to do endure any humiliation in exchange for profit.

On the other hand, failing to notice the strange talents hidden within the emotionally inflamed creates an even greater injustice. These strange talents do not prove the existence of artistic talent, as many would like to believe, but they do reveal an artistic temperament. No one can suffer emotionally but for recognition of something and, more likely, many things, and their recognitions go unnoticed by the general public. Why does no one listen to them? Who do “doctors” listen only to themselves when they recognize nothing beyond the power of their prescription pads? Is it because they realize their absolute lack of talent, strange or otherwise?

Most of those suffering in the ways described cycle through life in various stages of function and dysfunction, and most have periods of absolute dysfunction. To calls these periods “nervous breakdowns” would be far more accurate than to split the hairs of the suffering with psychiatry’s blunt axe. They must be tended to as they once were, in humane sanitariums surrounded by the true environment. Such sanitariums could — with no joke intended — be established on useless golf courses around the nation.

With that, some proposals:

1) Psychiatry should be abolished. It simply lacks the will, or even desire to have the will, to fulfill its dream of being medicine. Psychiatrists should be stripped of their meaningless licenses and sent on their way to more suitable careers, like accounting.

2) The “mentally ill” should be educated to understand their conditions as also encompassing strange talents, until they begin to believe the fact that their recognitions are true even when masked by the wildest hallucinations.

3) Medications should be dispensed by doctors who have achieved certification in dispensing those medications. They should know, and prove that knowledge by required yearly testing, that they understand prescribing medications and the facts of addictions that may occur to any such medication they dispense.As it stands, psychiatrists receive eight hours of addiction “education.”

4) Medications known to cause addiction should be removed from any policing or government surveillance whatsoever. Those subject to mental anguish should not be criminalized for trying to relieve that anguish, including and even especially when relieving the added anguish of addiction to a prescribed medication.

5) All those suffering from the acute perceptions so well described in Rumblefish should ultimately determine their own treatment, including beginning or continuing use of addictive prescribed substances, even when addiction has established itself, for the suffering caused by eliminating that addiction will likely lead to more dangerous and illegal addiction.

Flatliners already receive society’s benefits. Those who benefit society without society knowing it — those with strange talents — deserve just as many benefits.

“Awareness” and “empathy” have become this decade’s Catch-22 words, full of traps and mind games, yet serving a purpose if only a future moment when we say, “Remember our obsession with that.” Of course, we think we want to become more aware, but do we? Likewise, we think we wish to become more empathetic, but do we actually seek more empathy towards ourselves? How often do we extend awareness and empathy only to find that none will be returned?

Experiment: Take a look at the photos above. If you already know the identity of those depicted, skip ahead. If not, answer the following question sets, then proceed.

Question Set 1: What does Photo #1 suggest to you? What do you feel when looking at it? How would you describe the person portrayed? Would you extend empathy towards the person portrayed?

Question Set 2: What does Photo #2 suggest to you? What do you feel when looking at it? How would you describe the person portrayed? Would you extend empathy towards the person portrayed?

So who are they? Photo #1 depicts Adolf Hitler as a baby. Photo #2 depicts Pope Benedict XVI during his membership in the Hitler Youth. Adolf Hitler never made excuses for himself; Pope Benedict has made plenty. In any event, there you have it. For those unable to identify the subjects in the photos, do you feel more aware? Does that awareness make you more or less empathetic and in which case(s)?

The point here is not to attack awareness and empathy but to explore their limits. For instance, can empathy, especially when offered but not returned, become a subtle form of surrender? At what point does empathy become a form of accepting the unacceptable?

The psychologist Albert Ellis, founder of REBT, explained the extent to which he embraced his concept of “universal other-acceptance,” that being wholly rejecting the view that anyone is or ever has been 100 percent evil. How far did he take this view of acceptance? Ellis proposed that even Hitler was not 100 percent evil. Difficult to accept? Take another look at baby Hitler. For some unknown period of time, Hitler was innocent.  Since it must now always be added that Stalin proves to have been “no better,” consider that Stalin was an obvious paranoid. In the American judicial system, excepting Texas, Stalin might have received a reprieve from the death penalty based upon insanity.

On the other hand, empathy depends upon the person extending it. Any victim of Hitler or Stalin able to profess empathy towards one or the other might be considered (a) pathologically forgivers or (b) saints. During the war, those fighting “Hitler” might have found their determination weakened by allowing themselves to feel any empathy towards him. Ellis claims, “As a result of my philosophy, I wasn’t even upset about Hitler. I was willing to go to war to knock him off, but I didn’t hate him.” How did all this work out for Ellis in real life? There shall be no easy answers. Ellis did not fight in World War II. Ellis was a Jew.

And so we become more aware. Does increased awareness intensify empathy? Or does it decrease empathy? Of course, that depends upon the perspectives of those potentially offering empathy. Are we aiming for empathy by seeing through the eyes of the innocent Hitler or Stalin? Or do we aim for empathy through the eyes of the absolutely amoral Hitler or Stalin? Or do we somehow try to keep both perspectives in mind, creating a semi-mathematical mean of perspectives?

Whom do we forgive and why? Whom do we forgive last in almost all cases? Ourselves. Everyone has fascist moments; if not, fascism would never have become possible. In such moments, we perpetuate our worst acts and usually without much conscience involved. Obviously, we absorb our degree of conscience through parents or guardians but also later by the media, which perpetuates an ethical system lacking any ethics at all…for the media. We, however, are constantly reminded of our responsibilities while simultaneously being told the self comes first and above all else. What a strange society, with vertical and horizontal fields of ethics and power that cannot be mapped or otherwise depicted. We the Narcissistic Puritans endlessly chastise ourselves and everyone else, except, of course, when we’re not providing fodder to others chastising us. Empathy becomes a wicked thicket.

None of these points can be squared to easy solutions, but this much can be stated with uncertain certainty: Empathy is conditioned and conditional until awareness exposes the extent to which we’re willing to extend our empathy beyond its previous limits. What we do with this awareness, and how we spend our empathy, cannot be proven as beneficial in every case. Putting aside historical figures and considering only those we encounter in daily life, how much empathy can we afford to spend on those so self-convinced that they don’t even convince themselves and so never stop trying to do so? Only when forced to repetitively encounter such people (such as the workplace) do we benefit from extending empathy towards them. We can remain neutral in judgment; to go beyond that point is to deplete the natural resource of empathy.

Awareness may lead to increased empathy, but empathy, when it proves a fool’s errand, does so only after the fact and too late for retraction. We may aim for universal other-awareness, as Ellis proposes, but everyday life opposes the infinite, constantly pushing us back towards our finite lives that can never become wholly rational. We cannot escape this dilemma, but we can mitigate its tensions. Learn and learn again, all lessons to be repeated.


Please place a “1” before any of the following statements that cause an improvement in your mood:

_ We all have problems.
_ It could always be worse.
_ Everyone feels that way.
_ This, too, shall pass.

Now, add your scores.

Despite my lack of psychic abilities, I predict you scored zero. Therefore, you’re probably considering paying a visit to a psychiatrist. Guess what? You’re right: Paying is one thing you’ll definitely be doing, and plenty of it. Meanwhile, you imagine being treated by a person who practices what Merriam-Webster calls “a branch of medicine that deals with mental, emotional, or behavioral disorders,” a/k/a psychiatry. It sounds like some kind of love. It sounds astonishing. It sounds like it’ll take your breath away… and it just might!

But before the breaking of your brain’s hymen, remember that, in layman’s terms, once fucked by a psychiatrist, your mind will never be a virgin again. Therefore, aim for abstinence, the only form of mind control that’s 100% effective in preventing brain impregnation by drugs for which the average psychiatrist has never bothered reading the manufacturer’s prescribing instructions, much less the truth.

We understand you may have passed the point of caring. For whatever reason, you’re determined to sacrifice your virginity. You’re only human.  So, assuming that you’ll act upon this decision, you shall now be guided through the process of brain impregnation and, we hope, avoid getting pregnant upside-down.

First, let’s get real. Psychiatry is only rarely practiced in the United States. The goal proved too difficult and the profit margin too slim for almost anyone to bother trying. Psychiatry was abandoned for easily-attainable and profitable goals, that being guesswork, drug dice throwing, abject apathy, and, of course, check cashing. Derived from Freud’s daughter Anna, this brand of malpractice is unknown as capitalanalysis. This has never been disclosed, and no one will admit it, yet capitalanalysis has been and remains the almost-ubiquitous form of “mental health care.” They even still call it psychiatry! But it’s still capitalanalysis, and the only things analyzed are the degree to which any psychiatrist is not a doctor and the degree to which any psychiatrist is not a psychiatrist. A minus sign precedes almost all such ratings.

You shall now be walked through your first visit to Johnny the capitalanalysist. You’ve come this far, and you might as well come all the way. However, surrendering your virginity need not equate the surrendering of your self-authority. Tell yourself, “If you’re going to stick it to me, buster, you’d better treat me real good.”

So let’s begin with the proper greeting. Upon entering the capitalanalysist’s office, which capitalanalysists call “the brain’s bedroom,” immediately shout, “Where’s the mustache, Adolf?” Now you’ve told Johnny, “I know the facts, Jack:” Exactly what do you know? That you’ve accepted the risk of entering the bedroom of a “medical field” born in Nazi “medicine.”

Next, while being “evaluated,” you must evaluate the psychiatrist. The latter carries all the weight, while the former bears none. The purpose of this process can be easily remembered by the acronym ASIF (Avoid Sadistic Ignorant Fascists). The odds of your accomplishing this task have been estimated in Vegas as approximately 1 in 9,234. Whether you ever accomplish that mission depends on how much money you can blow. Capitalanalysis entails the fact that only the wealthy can afford psychiatry-psychiatry, not psychiatry. Don’t try to keep this straight in your head; it’s crooked on purpose.

As the evaluation continues, interrupt one of the “doctor’s” boilerplate questions and state, “Just to be clear, I’m employing you, not the other way around.” You’re the authority figure. You take charge even in the capitalanalysist’s own bedroom. After all, it’s your virginity on the grill.

Soon, you’ll be diagnosed. You may or may not be told your diagnosis. The diagnosis is the capitalanalsyst’s theory. From this point forward, the capitalanalsyst’s sole concern is proving his theory correct. No capitalanalsyst can feel what you feel, nor would any capitalanalsyst care. Your treatment is entirely designed to prove the capitalanalsyst’s theory, and you will be blamed if you fail to assist in proving that theory. The theory is never wrong; you’re wrong. Otherwise, the insurance companies might cost Johnny his virginity in the last place he wants to lose it.

Or so you’re told. Demand your diagnosis. Johnny might refuse. He cares even less than the average capitalanalysist, if that’s possible. Are you going to stand for this from the first Johnny who fingers your frontal lobe? Of course not. Repeat your demand for the diagnosis. When Johnny finally belches the diagnosis and code, and no matter how accurate the diagnosis may seem, say, “Bullshit!” If Johnny runs, he doesn’t even care enough to despise you for stopping him at third base. Congratulations: You’ve terminated your first capitalanalsyst, and you’re still a virgin. It’s too late to abort the capitalanalsyst, but at least you won’t have to terminate Johnny again.

If Johnny doesn’t run, he will produce his prescription pad as if it’s a magician’s rabbit. Where was it? On the desk the whole time; you’ve been duped by Johnny again. Didn’t you know Johnny slips everybody mickeys?

Stop!  Pause and refresh your memory. What was that diagnosis, again? Oh, yes. Odds are it was bipolar disorder. That’s because almost no other disorder “requires” so many drugs as bipolar disorder, making it a very appetizing theory indeed for capitalanalsysts. In fact, it’s their favorite excuse for cocktail hour, but you’ll be the only one swallowing anything. Get used to it. You may swallow a hundred different cocktails and never get to where you planned. Don’t worry: You can’t get your brain pregnant by swallowing, silly!

More than likely, you’ve been misdiagnosed. You’ll notice this after two years of a depression six feet deep: You might as well be dead. Hopefully, just in the nick of time, you’ll finally figure out what’s been making you “sane” made you disappear! Now you’re Johnny’s rabbit, and you’re all but pulling tricks unless you confront that dirty rotten son of bitch. You tell Johnny, “You’re not getting to home plate with me! And use your fingers on yourself, fuckface.”

Yes, even after all this time, your brain is still a virgin no matter how many time’s it’s been fingered. By now, you’ve probably figured something else out, too: You weren’t bipolar, just anxious. But you have to prove it to a capitalanalsyst, and words won’t do the trick. You wanted it, so get naked. Act exactly the way you feel. You might consider smashing the capitalanalsyst’s degree over his head. Don’t fret: That won’t hurt any capitalanalsyst. There’s nothing in their heads!

Learned your lesson yet? Rather than giving it up to any old Johnny who calls himself a doctor when he isn’t a doctor any more than he’s an Olympic athlete, keep that abstinence until you can’t stand it any longer. Your brain deserves love, not just a lousy lay Johnny will give anybody in town who calls him “Doctor.”

Finally, whatever you do, keep your eye on those mickeys. Some are worse than heroin, but don’t expect a capitalanalsyst to tell you that! With the best mickey he can give in his self-interest and the worst you can take in your self-interest, a capitalanalsyst supports whole industries, from drug manufacturers to rehabilitation centers.

Have you learned your lesson? Abstinence first! And even then, swallowing might catch you a virus they call addiction. We call it capitalanalysis, and we don’t take dick from Johnny!

To say that life is absurd is a common thing and a seemingly-radical declaration. Instead, absurdism proves a surrender. There is nothing absurd about this world. Everything has been designed with the utmost precision. That design, reasonable yet criminal, may very well be experienced as absurd, and that absurdity can be located in the blueprints, scripts and testaments. But to accept this projected absurdity as reality is to literally lay down our arms, destroy our weapons, and self-amputate our limbs, until we cannot even write in our defense.

How do pharmaceutical reps make their money and what exactly do physicians/quasi-physician-psychiatrists get out of it? The answer is both exactly what you think and something entirely different, something bordering on perversion.

First, I’ll show you the money. Here’s how pharmaceutical reps earn their livings: “Every company determines their own method of how to assess growth and this can change every 6 months -– so don’t get too comfortable! For example, some pharmaceutical sales companies track the # of new scripts coming in and your goal will be set in reference to that measure. Other companies may determine bonus by measuring the total # of scripts.” That’s from a pharmaceutical rep “education” company inventively called Pharmaceutical-Rep.com.

But how to do reps make the sell? Logos…lots and lots of logos. According to the Markkula Center for Applied Ethics (apparently no one informed Santa Clara University that applied ethics long ago died in the business world, if they ever existed), “Many prescribers receive pens, notepads, and coffee mugs, all items kept close at hand, ensuring that a targeted drug’s name stays uppermost in a physician’s subconscious mind. High prescribers receive higher-end presents, for example, silk ties or golf bags… This kind of advertising is crucial to sales. A doctor is not going to prescribe something he or she has never heard of, and it’s the drug representative’s job to get the products’ names in front of the physicians… It’s a way to get in the door so that your information rather than somebody else’s reaches the doctor’s brain.”

If that’s not insidious enough, here’s more from PLoS Medicine’s Following the Script: How Drug Reps Make Friends and Influence Doctors, which begins with a quote from one of its authors, Shahram Ahari, an ex-drug rep: “It’s my job to figure out what a physician’s price is. For some it’s dinner at the finest restaurants, for others it’s enough convincing data to let them prescribe confidently and for others it’s my attention and friendship…but at the most basic level, everything is for sale and everything is an exchange.”

Ahari and co-author Adriane Fugh-Berman expand upon this process: “Reps may be genuinely friendly, but they are not genuine friends. Drug reps are selected for their presentability and outgoing natures, and are trained to be observant, personable, and helpful. They are also trained to assess physicians’ personalities, practice styles, and preferences, and to relay this information back to the company. Personal information may be more important than prescribing preferences. Reps ask for and remember details about a physician’s family life, professional interests, and recreational pursuits. A photo on a desk presents an opportunity to inquire about family members and memorize whatever tidbits are offered (including names, birthdays, and interests); these are usually typed into a database after the encounter. Reps scour a doctor’s office for objects — a tennis racquet, Russian novels, seventies rock music, fashion magazines, travel mementos, or cultural or religious symbols — that can be used to establish a personal connection with the doctor” [my italics].

From all of this, I can only conclude that physicians/quasi-physician-psychiatrists are amongst the loneliest people on earth. I’ve often entered a quasi-physician-psychiatrist’s office just as a drug rep leaves. Couldn’t the “doctor” have spent that time calling his wife? Alternatively, couldn’t she have read a monthly journal describing immediately-available new psychotropic drugs and their uses and side effects? Wouldn’t that take less time and at least approach professionalism? As it stands, the wise patient will reference prescribing information online, since it’s almost never provided prior to The Writing of the Scripts. Why a psychiatrist is paid at all remains a mystery. A better job title and one deserving minimum wage: “Treadmill Technician.”

I suppose if I asked physicians/quasi-physician-psychiatrists why they spend so much time with pharmaceutical reps, they might respond, “Thanks to insurance costs, I can’t afford pens, Post-It notes and coffee cups; I need those things, goddamn it.” Next, they’d stalk out of the office and weep upon the steering wheels of their BMWs, then call the kinds of prostitutes who don’t visit offices with suitcases full of samples and logoized potpourri.

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Question: What do Nietzsche and H.L. Mencken have in common? If you answered “anti-Semetism,” wrong. Actually, Nietzsche was not an anti-Semite, while Mencken was an anti-Semite. Correct answer: zoos.

In Twilight of the Idols, Nietzsche offers the following: “To call the taming of an animal its ‘improvement’ sounds almost like a joke to our ears. Whoever knows what goes on in menageries doubts that the beasts are ‘improved’ there. They are weakened, they are made less harmful, and through the depressive effect of fear, through pain, through wounds, and through hunger they become sickly beasts.”

In case, like me, you’ve no idea, “menageries” are synonymous with “zoos.” I was going to get clever and offer the German translation of “zoo,” but then I remembered Zoo Station.

In his essay Zoos, Mencken writes: “Least of all do zoos produce any new knowledge about animal behavior. Such knowledge must be got, not from animals penned up and tortured, but from animals in a state of nature. A professor studying the habits of the giraffe, for example, and confining his observations to specimens in zoos, would inevitably come to the conclusion that the giraffe is a sedentary and melancholy beast, standing immovable for hours at a time and employing an Italian to feed him hay and cabbages…There remains, then, the only true utility of a zoo: it is a childish and pointless show for the unintelligent, in brief, for children, nurse-maids, visiting yokels and the generality of the defective.”

So, two bastards, plus another, that being me, question the purpose of zoos, to which I’ll add amusement parks, extreme sports and Broadway musicals. I feel my much more highly-esteemed forebears would agree.

A zoo should, to any person of conscience or, lacking that, as I do, emotional reactions, cause depression. Just look at the apes and monkeys. That’s how we treat our uncles? Would you send Uncle Joe to a zoo instead of a nursing home? Wait, scratch that point: a zoo would improve upon “group activity hour.” Nevertheless, Uncle Joe deserves better than both. Even if he desired death, a lion would find him unpalatable.

Next, why do we need amusement parks? Isn’t the entire country an amusement park, except for those who can’t afford amusement parks? To my knowledge, Disneyland has no free admission Ghetto Day. If you want to amuse a youngster, throw him in the car, jump on the freeway, and drive 120 miles per hour. That’s good enough for junior. No use spoiling Johnny rotten.

Extreme sports by definition must be taken further and further or they cease being extreme. Let’s bungee jump ahead to the last extreme sport: suicide. This final proof of “guts” will rid society of fearless sociopaths.

Finally, Broadway musicals. Some years ago, I was forced to attend The Phantom of the Opera. If that were the only music available, I’d slash off one ear so that at least whenever I accidentally heard Broadway music it could only attack in mono. The true story is that I “got lost” during intermission and headed for the nearest bar, a mortal marital sin, but with my bad conscience, it troubled me not. I considered 50% of the intended torture more than enough punishment.

Then again, to each his own. I suggest compressing all of these activities into one. Put the animals in zoos on rollercoasters, throw bodies at the hungriest of them, disguise the screams with the screams of Broadway musical “singers,” and for any thrill-seekers left alive, I already told you what to do.

That’s it. I’m done. I’m not reading one more book telling me how to listen to classical music. I’ve yet to see The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Listening to Lawrence Welk. But classical music has prestige. The ability to pretend to understand classical music carries great social status. I don’t care about social status; I gave up on that in kindergarten. Still, I feel inferior when others seem to know how to listen to classical music. I want to know how to listen to classical music, yet I’m not even sure you know how to listen to classical music. I am sure you can’t tell me how to listen to classical music. Why must you insist on telling me how to listen to classical music? Don’t you realize that telling me you can explain to me how to listen to classical music implies that I don’t know how to listen to classical music?

I’ve got enough inferiority complexes. I’m quite happy listening to Ludwig Wagner the way I do, which involves pushing “play” on my I-Pod. But that’s not good enough. No, I must understand how to listen to Ludwig Beethoven, Johann Verdi, Wolfgang Stravinsky, and all the rest. I even enjoy Giuseppe Stockhausen, thank you very much.

It’s approximately 3:00 a.m. You can’t sleep, so you’re watching this infomercial. I’m here to tell you that you can win by losing. Yes, you, like me, can decide that if we’re not cut out for the Darwinian hell of America, we might as well cash in on our own terms. And those terms are what? Avoiding even attempting to make any cash, period. This inverse pyramid scheme is guaranteed to succeed with only one requirement on your part: dying before you can possibly repay your school loans. I know, it doesn’t sound very personally responsilityish, but let’s put that lie to rest.

Those familiar with my Nervous Breakdown posts know that I’ve long crusaded for a secular alternative to AA. My complaints have been vociferous, my voice loud enough that I might have written each piece in ALL CAPS. Recently, however, I decided that it was time to act. I located a secular group with a philosophy in line with my own, one based on the work of Albert Ellis and his Rational Emotive Behavior Therapy. The group: SMART Recovery. The Facebook site, which I invite anyone interested to join: SMART Recovery Fan Page. If AA works for you, continued good luck. If not, I’m here to say you have a choice.

My mission is two-fold. Rather than debate AA — always a useless exercise — I have joined forces with SMART Recovery. Rather than bash the ubiquitous nature of AA, my first goal is to create a meeting here in Sarasota. My second goal, now underway, is to assist SMART Recovery (referred to as “SR” from this point forward) in a volunteer public relations’ capacity. But the latter is not my purpose here. Rather, I come to you as a citizen with a message. If your needs are not met by AA, alternatives exist, and SR is there for you.

First, visit the SR site. Stay a while; there’s plenty to do. You can read how the program works. You can participate in online meetings. If you wish, you can seek a meeting in your location. Such a meeting may not exist…yet. In that case, consider applying to become a facilitator. You can create an SR meeting yourself and do so fully prepared by SR. You will become a local hero for all those like you who searched for a secular meeting but couldn’t find one…now they will find one. Consider the pleasure to be had in knowing that you created an alternative that didn’t exist and which others like you can now access. Furthermore, by becoming a facilitator, you will in turn become steeped in the wisdom underlying SR.

You don’t often read the word “wisdom” in my posts, both because I lack it and because I rarely find it. But Albert Ellis was a wise man and, like most wise people, had two feet on the ground as he reached for new solutions to ancient problems. His approach is deceptively simple.

In short, it works like this: ABC. No, I don’t mean Always Be Selling.

Instead, I mean:

A: Activating event.

B: Belief.

C. Consequence.

Lastly:

D. Dispute.

Let’s apply this to drinking in a very simplified example. This is my description of REBT. For a much more in-depth understanding of the process, see the SR website and/or visit their Facebook Fan Page.

Back to my example. What is an “Activating Event”? In this example, it’s whatever makes you want to drink. For heavy drinkers, virtually everything becomes an “A.” This occurs because heavy drinking by itself produces irrational thinking. It kills rational thinking. No rational person decides to lose control over drinking. So why do they lose it? Drinking causes them to become more and more irrational.

I’ll use a typical “A”: “Today sucked. It kicked my ass.”

Now we move to “B.” What’s the drinker’s belief likely to be? Something like this: “I need a drink, and plenty of them.” Further, the drinker thinks, “Soon, it will all disappear. Here comes euphoria.”

And the “C”? The first consequence is easy to guess: hangover. That’s bad enough. But the consequences for heavy drinkers increase. Not only a hangover but the shakes commence, creating a brand new “A.” The drinker’s belief: “A few drinks will fix that.” In this case, the drinker is correct. Bizarrely, irrationality becomes the drinker’s new rationality. It’s rational to end the extreme anxiety that heavy drinking ultimately causes as part of withdrawal. However, irrationality has led the drinker to this point and without his knowing it. He may have rational moments when he considers quitting, but those moments quickly fade. Irrationality has become embedded in the drinker.

How to keep from getting to that point? And what should you do if you’ve already gotten to that point? In the latter case, you may need medical care. Seizures become a real possibility. Worse can happen. You may need to face detox. At the very least, you require supervision in case you do have a seizure. These medical issues lie well beyond my purview. Consult a loved one. Ask for their help. You need someone rational at your side and to help you find the best care available if you do require hospitalization.

If you’re not to that point, or you’ve gotten past that point, it’s time for “D.” The “D” is going to become your best friend. You can turn to “D” at any moment of crisis, anxiety, difficulty, irritation. “D” refers to disputing your irrational beliefs.

Going back to the example of a day that kicks your ass, the process of disputing your beliefs might go like this: “Sure, I’ll feel better for a while, but I’m going to feel like hell tomorrow and for much longer than I feel better tonight.” Run a cost/benefit analysis. How many hours does alcohol improve your life compared to the number of hours it ruins your life? If you’re a heavy drinker, or approaching the trouble zone, I guarantee you won’t be able to deny that the ratio does not weigh on the side of making you feel better. In fact, the day may well have kicked your ass because you drank the night before it.

A person can avoid the worst outcomes of heavy drinking by beginning this process now and working on it. Again, consult the SR website and/or their Facebook Fan Page for more information. I’m trying to get you to hope and the idea that there are alternatives to the “treatments” many of us simply cannot find our way into or around. For those who believe in reason and rationality as a means to overcoming problems, an alternative is required, unless, like some, you can find your way to a higher power through whatever means avail themselves to you. That’s your business. I’m not here to dispute your beliefs.

I’m also not here as an official representative of SR. I speak for myself and from my experience. REBT smashed my once-crippling anxiety and has reduced my melancholic as much or more than any anti-depressant. Is every day a pleasure? Hell, no. And I no longer expect every day to be a pleasure. In surrendering an insane demand, I surrender my insanity.

There is a secular alternative available to you. In fact, there’s more than one, but I happen to believe in SR’s approach because I know REBT is simple, effective and easy to put into practice. The rewards can be almost immediate.

When it comes to drinking, a lot more work will be required. Returning to the ABC YouTube link, will you do the work? Will you? Will you do the work? Or will you go to a three-cocktail lunch?

It seems to many of us that the world all but requires us to be pessimists, but I propose we possess the Optimism Option. Scientifically, even as we observe a half-full glass of water, it’s under the effects of osmosis and therefore less than half full. Accordingly, the pessimist is correct: the glass is indeed not only half empty but less than half empty. What can we make of that fact, let alone earthquakes, tsunamis, tornadoes, landslides, wars, epidemics, economic meltdown, mass psychological upset, political impotence, and hemorrhoids?

The question answers itself: ignore facts of life. No one ever got very far with facts. A fact is heavy and doesn’t travel well. Upon arriving and opening one’s briefcase to reveal a fact, the observer will likely deny that the fact is a fact. “That appears to be a fact, I admit,” the handlebar-mustachioed observer bellows, “but it’s less than a fact, not even the opposite of a fact, but something else: a delusion!”

You trudge home with your fact. What good has it done you? Like a Mormon youth on his mission, nothing has been accomplished but the traveling. And if you complain about your troubles, you’re likely to hear this admonition: “It could always be worse.”

First, let us confront that statement on its own terms. Yes, it could always be worse:

  • If male, your testicles might fall off.
  • If female, some amok hormone might cause your breasts to expand until they explode, fertilizing the earth but not doing you any good.
  • Had you challenged that mustachioed postmodernist to an arm wrestling match, you might have had your hand ripped free of your wrist, producing a bloody mess and a spectacle that your opponent would deny occurred. Thus, no ambulance would be called, and you’d bleed to death, your fact blotted out by your own blood, leaving nothing of your existence but two bodies: yours and that of your amputated hand.

The list of ways in which it could be worse proves infinite. I call this failed response to pessimism Optimical Illusion. Why would reminders that life could be even worse than it already is improve your spirits? Do not fall prey to this illusion. Let it rest as a phrase people pipe to rid your troubles from their minds while feeling content that they’ve done you some good when they’ve done just the opposite.

Faith isn’t going to offer any help, either. Should some terrible event befall you, your faithful friends will come to your non-aid with statements such as, “God works in mysterious ways,” and, “It’s all part of God’s plan. You’ll see that it all works out in the end.” Part of God’s plan is Armageddon. So far, you’ve good reason to be pessimistic.

As to love, must I enumerate the equal possibilities of its producing joy and/or emotional devastation? Meanwhile, nothing deserves to be so loathed as the love/hate relationship. Even if equilibrium in love is reached, watch out for adultery. You may very well become a cuckold simply by not being, it can only be put, an asshole. You’ve lost your get-go. You’ve become a blur of contentment. Oh, but contentment is not optimism! All that can help you now is to say to your loved one, “I could bag somebody else in five minutes, and I may very well do so.” That should keep the would-be errant lover in check.

Such a response enlightens the Optimism Option (OO). The OO is tactical in its approach. It possesses no philosophy. It trifles not with ethics. It’s entirely self-serving and fares well under any economic system, though the more self-oriented that system, the more effective OO proves itself. Luckily for you, just such an economic system has wrapped its hands around the earth. Barring miracles (forever barred because they don’t exist), your OO will travel, unlike pathetic facts. So pack your bags with plenty of OO and leave the facts in a trash can, where they’ll serve as impotent bombs no matter what their purported import. No one will notice their nonexistence, including the garbage collector.

Now, to specific OO tactics:

  • Someone makes the mistake of saying to you, “It could always be worse.” Your response? “And it could always be better! I’ve 1 in 18 million chances of winning the lottery.”
  • You’re told, “The Lord works in mysterious ways.” Your reply? “Not as mysterious as mine. I’ve no idea what I’m doing, no plan, no goal, only the rampant self-satisfaction of my own needs, much like God Himself.”
  • You randomly encounter the amputating postmodernist in some future setting. “Well, hello,” you say. “My dear friend, you taught me a valuable lesson when you dismissed my ‘fact.’ It was so valuable a lesson that I now deny your existence. To prove my point, I’m going to rip off your mustache, and you won’t feel any pain because you don’t exist. Ready?”
  • A lover questions OO. “You’re getting a little carried away,” he says. “Piss off!” you answer. “By the way, have you any friends between the years of — what’s that prime sexual age? — 18 to 23, and without your excess cargo?”
  • Your balls fall off. No problem! It’s time to employ OO: “Who needs balls, anyway? As if I want children. Fuck off, balls, and if you see my amputated hand, don’t expect it to wave hello.”
  • Here’s another OO affirmation, borrowed from AA but adapted for our purposes: “EGO: Edging God Out!” Indeed, edge God out and build up that ego. Who needs God’s superego when you’ve got your more-entertaining id?
  • Add a similar affirmation to your repertoire, known as IRE: “Id rules everything.” Whose id? Your id!
  • If you run afoul of the law, state the following to the police officer(s): “I’d hate to break the news to you, but the law doesn’t exist. It’s too complicated for me to get into now, but go home, remove your uniforms and follow your id! Start breaking the law; it’s already broken, anyway!” The officers will shake your remaining hand and gladly dismiss themselves from their unruly tasks.

Now that you’ve armed yourself with tactics, it’s time to consider your grand strategy. OO’s grand strategy can be summarized by the term GAFFE: “Giving a fuck fractures ego.” Would you break your hand on purpose? No! In the same way, why would you break your now-global egotism? No need to be creative; just follow Webster’s definition: never relinquish your “exaggerated sense of self-importance.” When all else fails, issue an SOS: “Sense of self-importance!” Arrogance is your friend. Use that friend, for you’re beyond tit for tat. You’re beyond everything. You’re out of this world, and the further you go, the better!

I’m a Diet Cocaholic. I make no bones about it: Diet Coke will rust my bones. Until then, I move much more rapidly than I otherwise would, when I move at all.

Nevertheless, I’m trying my best to begin Diet Coke recovery, fully aware that I’ll fail. Thanks to my Higher Power, I’ve:

  • Admitted I am powerless over my general lethargy and that my life had become unmanageable or at least lacked anything to manage in the first place.
  • Come to believe that a Higher Power can restore me to sanity, and that Higher Power is caffeine.
  • Made a decision to turn my will and life over to the care of caffeine as I understand caffeine, and there’s not much to understand.
  • Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself, which took approximately thirteen seconds due to my amorality.
  • Become entirely ready to have caffeine remove all my defects of character, which is asking a lot of a soft drink, even one that serves as my Higher Power.
  • Humbly asked caffeine to remove my shortcomings, though it doesn’t affect my longcomings.
  • Made a list of all the persons I’ve harmed, but that list was much shorter than the list of people who’ve harmed me, so to hell with it.
  • Continued to take a personal inventory of my refrigerator and, when I realized I wrongly calculated the amount of Diet Coke required for the week, promptly admitted it.
  • Sought to improve my conscious contact with caffeine as I understood caffeine and my knowledge of caffeine’s will for me and the power to carry that will out to the point of absolute mania.
  • Experienced awakening at all as a result of these steps, and carry this message to other addicts, so that they might drink caffeine prior to and after all their affairs, sexual and otherwise.

Twelve bullets for twelve ounces. Now, let’s list a few of the slogans Diet Coke has provided us, along with questions that the Coca-Cola Company might wish to answer:

  • The one of a kind. (Aren’t you forgetting Diet Coke Black Cherry, Diet Coke Vanilla, Diet Coke Light Citra, Diet Coke Plus, Diet Coke Sweetened with Splenda, Diet Coke Light with Lemon, Diet Coke Light with Lime, Diet Coke with Raspberry, and Diet Vanilla Coke?)
  • Taste it all. (Including the backwash?)
  • You are what you drink. (Then why don’t I weigh 12 ounces instead of 200 pounds?)
  • Get the taste of it. (What’s to get?)
  • Live Your Life. (You mean, I have a choice?)
  • Do what feels good. (So you know all Diet Coke drinkers are nihilists?)
  • It’s a Diet Coke thing. (You mean, the plastic bottle? Isn’t that kind of a Pepsi thing, too?)
  • Life is how you take it. (And I take it altered; can you put the cocaine back in?)
  • Light it up! (You think I don’t know that you know that crap makes me paranoid?)
  • What life should be like. (True; can you investigate caffeine gene therapy to eliminate the urination problem?)

Now that the Supreme Court has taken the capitalization of governing itself to its natural conclusion, I offer the following plan that will force the only hopeful outcome possible: one that entails utter hopelessness, until the process I suggest reaches its own natural conclusion.

So I say unto you, my fellow Americans, ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do to your country.

My plan entails incorporating the Democratic and Republican parties, whose candidates would then be considered subcontractors in the manner of, say, Halliburton. The parties would then be listed on the New York Stock Exchange, and their candidates would be paid from the profits openly generated by corporate contributions, which would obviously dwarf whatever investments ordinary citizens might be stupid enough to contribute.

The result, as you guess and mistakenly fear, is a steady stream of Republican victories. This will lead to an absolutist capitalism, one unfettered by the slightest federal, state and local restraints. We will suffer, and we will suffer hard. And for what?

I say to you that the situation is hopeless but not hopeless. How can that be? Simple. There’s one way capitalism can be destroyed, and that’s to allow hyper-capitalists to destroy themselves and their own quasi-religious economic system. To do so requires giving them the freedom to drive like debauched train conductors the government and economy into the wall of capitalism’s underlying fallacy, which not even capitalists believe: that selfishness ultimately benefits all. If that were the case, capitalists would become fascists as opposed to the disguised fascists they now are. I call this process the capitalism-enabling theory.

Meanwhile, we plebs will no longer delude ourselves that we have any claim whatsoever as to how this nation’s business is conducted, much as we will not able to wrest free the hands of our future debauched train conductors. Never mind that. Let it go. It’s all going to be okay, once the last of the financiers leap from their office windowsills without need of terrorist attack.

It’s time to give capitalists exactly that which they unwittingly seek: the rope with which to hang themselves.

Furthermore, and heretofore, I state without irony that our nation must from this point forward vote Republican. Given that we cannot achieve change for the better, we must do that which we can, and that’s to make things worse. As Americans, we must get our hands dirty, the way our great-great-great-grandparents did. Every journey to hell begins with a single step. Let us take that step. The time has come for a delirious patriotism. If you want your vote to count for something, vote Republican. Vote for America’s future.

Why this opposition to corporatism when it’s far easier to supply free marketeers the Absolut deregulation they desire? It’s something a friend would do, and we’re nothing if not the friends of the sole remaining revolutionary force: the Republican party. Let them drink and be merry, for tomorrow, or many tomorrows but still a tomorrow, they die.

While it’s true the children are the future, until they become adults, many sacrifices will be asked of our children, and they will obey in the manner of good Nazis — I mean Americans. They shall not complain about the coming lack of preschool, daycare assistance, physical exercise, music lessons, sports, literature, the visual arts, and anything else besides math and science. They will do what they must for der Fatherland — I mean America.

As fascism — I mean capitalism — gains momentum, it will spiral in the bipolar manner towards its ultimate and final depression. For that, we shall have no antidepressants at hand, none strong enough to remedy the depression without upsetting the ever-growing tolerance for Absolut deregulation.

America shall lead the world to a new destiny. Stop thinking and start acting. Vote Republican. Make the world a worse place to live. That’s the least we can do, and I would never ask anything more of Americans.