The Prozac Generation
I have always known my shit ain't right. Every since the Nam, I have struggled with rage, depression, and just a general pissed off attitude at the world in general. I have not exactly lived the exemplary lifestyle, drinking and drugging and raising hell for more years than I care to admit to. But I always managed, ya know? Get depressed? Have a beer, or toke on a nice big fatboy from the heart of Columbia. Need a little energy, need to get things done? A couple of lines of nose candy or crank has always done the trick. I got by...
I recently found myself without any kind of medical coverage at all, so I had to fall back on the good ole US Gov and swallow my pride, taking my bad old self off to the VA and all its many wonders. Anyone who has gone through this exerience knows where I am at with this statement...
So the good ole boys at the VA decided I needed my head shrunk - one more time - and off I go to this cat from India or Pakistan or whatever. Not exactly a fitting match for an old American cracker like me, but ya gotta do what ya gotta do, ya know? So my Mr. Ahmed grills me for an hour, and decides I am manic depressive, and I need to take some meds to get my shit together. No problem, Doc, the old Coon loves meds! He slaps me with a script for Prozac and Depakote and sends me on my merry way, feeling all will be well in my little world.
Let me tell ya folks. This shit ain't gettin' it. I have lost focus, sleep 16 hours a day, and my biz is going to hell in a handbasket. I am a happy little carrot now, spending time staring out the window, watching episode after episode of CSI, and sleeping my life away. I am never hungry, and even the booze has little interest for me any longer. Shit, I have pissed away more beer than most folks have drank! And yet, this is supposed to make me "better."
Not! I am gonna shove this shit up that cat's ass, and tell him what I think of the Prozac Generation. A bro in FL told me to steer clear of this shit, and I shoulda listened. A few years back, some idiotic shrink said that everyone should be taking this shit. My, what a lovely world that would be! We would run around like zombies, be good little girls and boys, and never raise a stink when things weren't right in the world. I am sure Big Brother would love THAT!
As a freelancer, I make my living by writing and researching topics for folks to put on their websites. I have to admit that my income has dropped off by about 100%. I am turning down work, and my bank account is pitiful. Yet, I am a happy camper, folks! Not a care in the world, just drifting by day by day, and being a good old Uncle Carrot. What the fuck is wrong with this picture?
Fuck it, don't mean nothin'. Drive on...
Charlie~
I have always known my shit ain't right. Every since the Nam, I have struggled with rage, depression, and just a general pissed off attitude at the world in general. I have not exactly lived the exemplary lifestyle, drinking and drugging and raising hell for more years than I care to admit to. But I always managed, ya know? Get depressed? Have a beer, or toke on a nice big fatboy from the heart of Columbia. Need a little energy, need to get things done? A couple of lines of nose candy or crank has always done the trick. I got by...
I recently found myself without any kind of medical coverage at all, so I had to fall back on the good ole US Gov and swallow my pride, taking my bad old self off to the VA and all its many wonders. Anyone who has gone through this exerience knows where I am at with this statement...
So the good ole boys at the VA decided I needed my head shrunk - one more time - and off I go to this cat from India or Pakistan or whatever. Not exactly a fitting match for an old American cracker like me, but ya gotta do what ya gotta do, ya know? So my Mr. Ahmed grills me for an hour, and decides I am manic depressive, and I need to take some meds to get my shit together. No problem, Doc, the old Coon loves meds! He slaps me with a script for Prozac and Depakote and sends me on my merry way, feeling all will be well in my little world.
Let me tell ya folks. This shit ain't gettin' it. I have lost focus, sleep 16 hours a day, and my biz is going to hell in a handbasket. I am a happy little carrot now, spending time staring out the window, watching episode after episode of CSI, and sleeping my life away. I am never hungry, and even the booze has little interest for me any longer. Shit, I have pissed away more beer than most folks have drank! And yet, this is supposed to make me "better."
Not! I am gonna shove this shit up that cat's ass, and tell him what I think of the Prozac Generation. A bro in FL told me to steer clear of this shit, and I shoulda listened. A few years back, some idiotic shrink said that everyone should be taking this shit. My, what a lovely world that would be! We would run around like zombies, be good little girls and boys, and never raise a stink when things weren't right in the world. I am sure Big Brother would love THAT!
As a freelancer, I make my living by writing and researching topics for folks to put on their websites. I have to admit that my income has dropped off by about 100%. I am turning down work, and my bank account is pitiful. Yet, I am a happy camper, folks! Not a care in the world, just drifting by day by day, and being a good old Uncle Carrot. What the fuck is wrong with this picture?
Fuck it, don't mean nothin'. Drive on...
Charlie~
posted by Charlie Allnut | 7:54 AM
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