Desperate yet?

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Government Workers Ruin My Day

Saturday, November 26, 2005

And This One Time At Sonic!



Friday, November 25, 2005

This is my.. I mean your brain on Drugs.

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

The Day Before

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

If I Gave You A Rose, Would You Love Me?


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Wednesday, November 16, 2005

an essay

“The Pills” a Humorous Essay

In the year 2005 we have an advanced society of intellectual people. Or, at least we think we do. We have people that do everything from making license plates to car radio removing specialists. But, my personal favorite is the person we call the “therapist”. There job is to solve our problems. Most of these “therapists” are barely literate high school dropouts that were addicted to some form of chemicals for at least the first half of there life. They decide they need money because they can not afford anything but ramen noodles. So, because they specialize in high school drama, they decide to attend some mock “counseling[1]” school. After about two weeks the student receives there Professional Therapy License and Certification[2] . Immediately after obtaining this heinous document they terrorize people everywhere they go. Imagine your walking thought Wal-Mart[3]. You say hi to a person, they ask how you are, you then say your ok before you know it your talking about you life. After about 15 the person pulls out a satellite controlled credit card machine and you are dishing out 95 dollars. But what is worse are all the people who actually go to these “therapists”. These people are better off being forcefully being removed from society because by the time they go to the “therapist” they are bored with there job so they socialize briefly with you then medicate your problems away. Their conversations go something like this:

“Hi, my name is Dr. Rabin”
“Hi. I’m…”
“You suffer from depression[4], take Zanax three times a day, you get better.”

Then the average American will go into his/her home and take the entire bottles content, crawl on the floor for three days. They will then proceed to there workplace and work for 5 hours then get there check. After cashing there check they will return to the “therapist”.

“Docto…”
“You not concentrate, not even end word, take 3 Adderal 2 times a day and cure ADD[5]

They will follow the same pattern as displayed above, and swiftly falls into a vicious drug addiction. The cycle will continue until one of 2 things happen, they overdose[6] or are admitted to something we call rehabilitation[7]. In the end they all ruin life.

[1] The fantasy word for “therapy”
[2] Legal document that enables the carrier to charge people per conversation with them
[3] Industry that is China’s number one export with 2% of America’s gross national product. If you shop there just think about the children you are enslaving in sweatshops and the Communism you are fueling.
[4] A term to depict a mental state that can only be cured with drugs and… well we wont go there.
[5] Attention Deficiency Disorder, a psychosomatic condition where a person is too lazy to pay attention or do work, said to be cause by the refresh rate of televisions and computer screens. And then we will head to the museum of abstract art, after eating lunch. This state is only cured by drugs.
[6] The point that the body can no longer handle mental, chemical, or physical stress can be induced by any food from McDonald’s to massive drug consumption. %78.9 cases lead to death.
[7] Or Rehab as the teenyboppers call it, is like prison where you talk about your feelings. The suicidal nature of a person naturally increases in this teddy bear filled environment. Many “therapists” are on duty in these facilities to drug people back to normality.

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

Friday, November 04, 2005

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

Again?


 
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