A lot of you have been wondering where exactly I've been the last 16 days, or so. Well, starting around Thanksgiving (don't you just love those fucking holidays?), I decided to turn my anti-anxiety drugs and seizure meds into sedatives, allowing me to sleep a pleasant 7 or 8 hours a night (I usually get about 3 or 4). At first this all seemed great. Sure, because the pills might make you feel good, the Government has a bunch of laws making it really hard to get your hands on a new supply if you run out early, but, at the time, I didn't really give a shit (the "Drug War" is a joke, and the pathetic ass Government lost it long ago). Day after day I slept, woke up a bit drowsy, went about my business, went back to bed, popped a few pills (the few turned into 10 or 15 which then turned into a record NINETY-FIVE, in one night), and enjoyed being one of those "normal" people I hear about; you know? The ones who can actually sleep? What I didn't know, was that every day I was taking these extra pills, they were building up in my bloodstream, ready to creep up and attack me with their vile toxicity, and I woke up one morning, a little less than a week ago, unable to walk, talk, or see straight. That sort of sucked. So, I went from slithering around the floor drooling like a retard to lying on my back in an Intensive Care Unit so damn fast, I still have no idea how it happened. The doctor said I was going to die, my mom said my final prayers for me, and I lied around unconscious with an undetectable pulse and erratic heartbeat. When I was released, a mere day, and 4 bags of IV fluids later, my mind, being in a haze of barbiturates, thought the only sensible thing to do would be to switch to a non-barbiturate sleeping pill and down a bunch of those. I wouldn't want to go back to being an insomniac, would I? I ended up downing 95 pills, which wasn't the smartest thing that I've ever done, but, sadly enough, probably wasn't the dumbest, either. Needless to say, I ended up back in the hospital for another day, and it looked, once again, as though I was going to die. Now, of course, I'm going to have a play-by-play update for all you Juicy boys and girls, in what will be one of the best things ever uploaded to this page (I've already written the outline for it, and, if it lives up to that outline, it will fucking rock!), but I'm still sort of coming down (and I'm sort of coming down HARD), so I don't have the energy to write a big detailed report of everything that happened, and all the abuses I endured, from the ER to the ICU to the friggin' pharmacy, so you're just going to have to be patient and wait until the thing is ready and up for your reading pleasure. Still, I felt obligated to let you know what's been going on, and to point out that about 99% of all doctors suck, and about 99% of them are Republicans, meaning that they're self-centered cocksuckers who could give a shit less about the world in which we live, as long as they get a good tax break, which means only about 2% of the doctors in this country are tolerable (if my math isn't correct, please forgive me, I have taken nearly 400 pills in just over 2 weeks). So, to tide you over until the REAL update, the BIG update, the CLASSIC update regarding my double OD, and all that it entails, I will give you this . . .
The Truth Behind The Hippocratic
Written by Alex Sandell and Hippocrates
Okay, first of all, let me explain things: doctors, when graduating, swear by this oath because it makes them feel like they aren't just over-achieving assholes out to please their parents, make a bundle of cash and play God. Through an amazing device I invented called, "The Hippo-Bullshit Detector", I have discovered what these doctors are actually saying, when they swear by this oath. Here it is (the actual oath is in black, what it really means is in red):
I swear by Apollo the physician, and Aesculapius, Hygeia and Panacea and all the gods and goddesses, that, according to my ability and judgment, I will keep this Oath and this covenant.
I swear that almost nobody knows who the fuck these people are, including me, so swearing by them doesn't mean shit. I also swear that, as an overacheiving straight-A, by-the-books bastard, I have no judgment, and nearly no ability, outside of the by-the-books things that my professors taught me, which I will never stray very far from, because an original thought could be *gasp* "original," which means I cannot think and make decisions on my own, so even if I did know who people like Panacea were, it wouldn't matter if I swore that, according to my ability and judgment, that I would keep my Oath to this god-like entity, since my "judgment" basically comes down to a few facts that I memorized back in college, and seduced gullible girls with.
To reckon him who taught me this Art
Medicine isn't "art" it's "business," and business is good. Calling it "art" makes me sound important, though, doesn't it? I wanted to be an artist, but, you see, a huge house, 3 kids and a gigantic swimming pool was just too damn tempting.
equally dear to me as my parents,
I'm SURE they're proud. Nearly every parent wants a financially successful son or daughter that can drug them up any time they feel like it. It isn't a person's personality that counts, it's the cash they make, and their access to cool prescription drugs.
to share my substance with them
Incest is best, not to mention those "substances"!
And relieve his necessities if required.
(I'm really good at handjobs.)
To teach them this Art, if they shall wish to learn it, without fee or stipulation;
(HA! Find me a medical school that would teach ANYONE this "art" for free, and I'll find you a midget over seven feet tall.)
and that by precept, lecture, and every other mode of instruction, I will impart a knowledge of the Art to my own sons, and those of my teachers, and to disciples who have signed the covenant and have taken an oath according to the law of medicine, but no one else.
I will follow that system of regimen which, according to my ability and judgment, I consider for the benefit of my patients,
I will delude myself into thinking it's about my patients, even as I deprive them of the very treatment they need because I was a "wittle" embarrassed by their actions.
and abstain from whatever is deleterious and mischievous.
Anything deleterious and mischievous is right up my ally! I'm playing God here, remember? It's about ME (God), not you (mortal)!
I will give no deadly medicine to anyone if asked, nor suggest any such counsel;
Even though it's my duty to let a suffering, terminal patient die, if they want to die, I won't let them, because think of the money I'll lose if they don't last a few more years on that life-support system! Plus, it's currently illegal!
and in like manner I will not give to a woman an abortive remedy.
Really, since it's now legal, just give me the cash and I'll chop up your baby! It's all about the money, honey! Morals? Ha! Who needs them when you're overpaid and have a God complex?
With purity and with holiness I will pass my life and practice my Art.
If you pass the cash and
kiss my saggy ass.
Into whatever houses I enter, I will go into them for the benefit of the sick, and will abstain from every voluntary act of mischief and corruption; and, further, from the seduction of females or males, of freemen and slaves.
Because no doctor EVER
seduces a patient. It's unheard of. Frankly, I'd rather date a leper
than a doctor, but I know plenty of people out there that would just love that huge house
and fancy swimming pool (the saggy ass is optional).
Whatever, in connection with my professional practice, or not in connection with it, I see or hear, in the life of men, which ought not to be spoken of abroad, I will not divulge, as reckoning that all such should be kept secret.
Unless I feel like inviting your mom and dad into a private session between myself and you, my patient, a patient who directly tells his mom and dad to stay away. Unless I want permission from a client's mother for a son to pick up a drug, and then decide to sneakily ask her how many pills he took, and then ask him the same question, minutes later, to try and catch him in a lie. Doctor/Patient privileges mean nothing, as long as I don't think I'll get my ass sued off.
While I continue to keep this Oath unviolated, may it be granted to me to enjoy life and practice of the Art, respected by all men, in all times. But should I trespass and violate this Oath, may the reverse be my lot.
Oh how I wish that your lot that will be.
That's the end of the Hypocrite's Oath (did I say "Hypocrite's"? What was I thinking?). I would like the thousands of people reading this page to know that my doctor has limited my supply of pills deliberately so I cannot taper off of the huge amount I was taking. EVERYONE, outside of I guess my doctor, knows a person can't just go from 95 pills to 4. I won't reveal my doctor's name, because that's something HE would do, and I wouldn't want to lower myself to that level, but I will say, if I die, and if you find out, make me proud. No one deserves to be punished to the point of death for making a mistake (or two), and I am obviously hurting. That doctor should be HELPING me, not hurting me to an even greater extent. I should be getting extra pills so I can taper off of the huge amount that I was taking. I am epileptic. People without epilepsy go into status-epileptic us when withdrawing too quickly. I pleaded with this doctor but, of course, like a typical republican, he couldn't justify ordering me 20 or 30 more pills than usual, and actually cut my dose (I'm sure he'd have no trouble juicing Bob Dole up with the Viagra, though). I want to make it clear that, if I die within the next two weeks, I was MURDERED. Remember that, and remember why The Juicy Cerebellum will be no more. I'm counting on you guys to vindicate me!
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©2001 Alex Sandell [All Rights Reserved]. Copy this, without my permission, and you'll get on my bad side. Ask anyone that's been there what it's like, and you'll realize that it's not a place you want to go!