16576--You Might Put It in a Child-Proof Package, But Irony is Still Funny

Hollywood is missing out on a form of entertainment I seem to be finding increasingly amusing.  There are these commercials that…Yes, I said commercials.  I know there are lots of them that are funny and there are occasional primetime compilation programs put together to showcase them.  I’m not talking about those.
The commercial spots that’ve increasingly been tickling my sense of irony are the delightful little sales pitches from the pharmaceutical industry. They seem to offer pills for every plague or discomfort they can think of.  Too excitable?  Feeling down?  Can’t sleep?  Can’t stay awake?  Whatever your ailment, they’ve probably got a pill for it or they’ll have one soon.  I know…that’s not really all that funny.  In some ways, it’s kind of sad.

So what makes me laugh?  Where’s the punch line?  It rests in the inevitably lengthy list of side effects.  These things rival works of epic literature.  The warnings dwarf the sales pitch.  Apparently, unlike a car company or a fast food restaurant, drug companies are required to tell you all the bad things that might happen when you use their product.
Worse than the size of the list of side effects is its content.  To find out that attempting to combat your irritable bowel or chronic drowsiness may result in rashes, boils or death seems like it may be asking customers to play the game for some heavy stakes.  To make it more interesting, there are bound to be at least a dozen other potential side effects.  Throw on top of that the warning that whatever you’re trying to clear up may be made even worse and you’ve got the crowning kick in the nethers that makes the whole commercial break such a delight.

I’m laughing at the drug companies, not the afflicted, I swear.  The other way around would just be cruel…y’know, like giving someone who’s depressed a bunch of pills that may make them feel suicidal.  It would be a whole new reality show!  Uncontrolled Substances or something like that.  There’s probably a network that could put that into an hour-long format and bring in some money.  I’d watch that sooner than The Bachelor.

16298--Underdog Hospitalized

     A folk legend, known to many as the street-hero "Underdog", was admitted to Bellvue Hospital's psychiatric ward over the weekend.  His true name still unknown, "Underdog" worked for several years as a humble, but loveable shoe-shine boy.  Tragically falling under the influence of a locally produced designer drug, a potent combination of stimulants and hallucinogens, he launched a solo campaign of defiance against the police and the phone company.  In addition to many thousands of dollars of random property damage, his drug-fueled flights of frenzy cost Ma Bell an estimated total of forty-seven phone booths over a period of three and a half years, prompting the removal of virtually all phone booths from the city.
     Taken to the hospital by his long-time girlfriend, prostitute "Sweet Polly Purebread", "Underdog" was returned to the care of his psychiatrist, Dr. Simon Bar Sinister.
     "I jus' couldn't stand t'see him do it to hisself no more, y'know?" Miss Purebread explained.  "He'd be jumpin' round  in those sweats wit' that towel round his neck and I jus' knew he was gonna get hisself killed.  He was always rhymin' and seein' animal heads on people and then beatin' 'em up.  A woman's got t'look out f'her man, y'know?"
     Given his unstable mental condition and the fact that "Underdog" has been instrumental in helping the police capture numerous criminals, all of whom he hallucinated as having various bizzare forms, the District Attorney has no plans to file any charges against him at this time.  Dr. Sinister displayed guarded optimism for his patient's outcome and has the hospital staff performing thorough health screenings on both "Underdog" and Miss Purebread.
     "The withdrawal from the drugs will take time, to be sure," the doctor said.  "Without them, he collapses into a weakened, almost paralyzed state, but I'm very confident his dependency on the chemicals he's been using can be eliminated.  Still, the drugs only served to compound the already existing conditions of paranoid schizophrenia and several deeply rooted psychoses.  His adventurous delusions and flights of heroic fancy are marked manifestations of these.  At this point, I wouldn't be surprised to find a few extra personalities bouncing around inside that poor little guy's skull, especially considering the childhood abuse he must have suffered that made him the way he is.  I've no doubt that Miss Purebread will prove to be another fascinating study.