Drugstore Cowboys and the Purple Pill
Drugstore Cowboys and the Purple Pill
Pharmaceutical brand names have really only recently became such household names. Even if we don't have any remote connection to the medical industry we likely know all about Prozac, Vioxx, Lipitor, and Nexium. I mean, I don't have any idea what Celebrex is for, but just the name makes me want some. But who doesn't know what Viagra, Cialis, and Levirra are for? They are such a recognizable part of the culture that they even giggle and make fun of themselves in their commercials now. I don't want to suggest that drug companies should not or should not be able to advertise. But they are responsible for patients who tell their physicians what they need. That is just what the mass media advertisements are for.
It seems that three out of four corners at any given street intersection is home to a giant drugstore. There was a time not too long ago when it was speculation, but I think now it's pretty clear that the big drugstore companies are betting on the future Government medical system. My favorite radio talk show host says socialized medicine in the U.S. is inevitable. Oh, how I pray that he's wrong.
There is no natural human right to medical care or supplies. And even if I did have that natural right, it is never the job of the government to supply or steal it to or from anyone. Neither is it necessarily the responsibility of an employer to provide medical insurance for his employees. Believe me, I feel the rising costs of healthcare as much as anyone. But I still believe that a doctor should be paid for his labors. Which means that if I cannot pay him, he should not have to work for me. The federal government will gladly prescribe a socialistic totalitarian medical system for us in this country only if and when we go into the office and demand that we deserve such treatment.
Biting Our Own Tails
It never ceases to amaze me how we miss the presence of hypocrisy when charging others with hypocrisy. When Kitty Kelly's accusations were published regarding the President's alleged ingestion of cocaine while at Camp David with his father, it was a sight to behold the left squealing with delight over this evidence of a failure of character. They didn't, it seems, remember their own arguments regarding President Clinton's sins. You remember, character doesn't matter, and all that. What was worse, however, was the squeals of delight on the right, as they caught the left in this hypocrisy. "I thought you said 'character doesn't matter'. Nanna, nanna boo-boo." To which I respond, despite not being on the left, "Yeah, and I thought you said it did." In order for the right to score on the left, they're going to have to turn on the President.
I have made the same argument here. A few months ago I wrote about a gentleman who chastened me for calling for renpentance from those who act as cheerleaders for Bush. I listed all the nasty names he called me, for calling brothers to repent. He called me everything in the book, except a brother needing to repent. And now another brother has fallen into the same quicksand. I have been accused in print (no, I'm not named, and I may not even have been intended, though I suspect I was. Nevertheless, I fit the profile) of fomenting a "new legalism." I, and those who are like me, are told that if we believe those brothers who cheerlead for Bush, who hand their children off to government schools, who treat children as a burden rather than a blessing are in sin, we have two choices. We can either confront these brothers in a Matthew 18 fashion, or we can let love cover a multitude of sins. Sounds reasonable enough on the surface, until you realize that this is itself a new legalism, as if the Bible teaches, "Thou shalt not call for repentance unless you follow Matthew 18." Worse still, my brother who wrote this piece hasn't approached me privately, nor has he covered my sins with his love. Instead he has rebuked me in print for rebuking people in print. The difference between he and I, however, is that I think such is just fine.
A Boy and His Rocket
I wrote this story about a boy and his rocket ship and how he traveled across the universe. It was so good that it became a bestseller. People around the world loved it. They started Dakota Tremayne fan clubs and even wrote books and articles about how great my story was. Very nice.
Unfortunately, some hard Sci-Fi fans got together and began to pick apart my story. This really bugged me. They started asking questions and probed into areas of the story that were not very important to its plot or moral: In what part of the ship did the boy spend most of his time? Could the cold fusion ultrasonic neuro-stunner be fired within proximity of a being not intended for brain destabilization? They wrote books about my book. Someone even wrote a book against the books against my book, which tried to refute another book that someone wrote trying to explain a controversy that started at some conference, which was started to try to explain something, but nobody understood what that was, which was followed by more conferences to try to explain the first thing, but no one ever figured it out. I think it had something to do with my book. Now, all these people that supposedly love my book are all calling each other names and trying to throw each other out of fan clubs and writing about how mean and heretical each other are and so on. I wonder why those big heads at that conference can't see the light.
The funny thing is, I wrote the book not for hard Sci-Fi readers but for lay people like carpenters, housewives and fishermen. They understand it. So why is it that the intellectuals are parsing my book in 32 languages, inventing Latin terms for some of their weird concepts, and slobbering over every jot and tittle?