Couldn't let the 25th anniversary week go by without at least a passing reference to one of the legion of Mother's Little Helpers (that everyone uses, not just Mom) whose introduction not only added to our pharmacopoeia but also to our language, Prozac.
As we continue to refine and define a society that chews people up and spits them out faster than they are being born, Pharmacy Phantasy is the band-aid we use on those with broken wings and broken minds. If Lewis G. Carroll's Alice were real, and could see us now, I think we'd rate more than a shake of head and a somewhat dismissive 'curiouser and curiouser.'
Though, truth to tell, looking at the body count in the past quarter of a century, the challenge of managing mood and emotion through carpet bombings with pharmaceuticals seems to be a triumph of our own line of least resistance. We could work through most of life's problems or talk many of them out...but that would take too long and I ain't here on business, baby, I'm only here for fun.
Pick a shape and a size and a color. We have pills for all our ills. Always have and always will.