Sh'Mon
Verbosity, Y’all

For those of you who don’t know, I take a lot of brain pills to help me do things like get to sleep, stay asleep, and make it through a single day without curling into a ball and quietly weeping. I used to get those brain pills at Walgreen’s. No longer. Here is a comment I submitted via the Walgreen’s website. The poor assistant manager of the local store had to call me. I was nice to her, but let her know that I wouldn’t be back.

To Whom It May Concern:
I have approximately one month’s worth of Walgreen’s-purchased prescription medication remaining (that much solely because I just purchased it tonight), and it is the last that I will ever take. I have been a Walgreen’s customer for over twenty years - for longer than I can remember -ever since corporate pharmacies drove the small pharmacy in my neighborhood out of business and my parents began purchasing my prescriptions and other drug store-type items at Walgreen’s. I’m a member of the Walgreen’s loyalty program, and, due to my medical conditions, earn generous rewards as I refill my many prescriptions. 
However, after tonight’s refills (3 of them, one for a name-brand drug [I don’t know if name-brand drugs have higher profit margins for pharmacies, but I suspect that they might]), I’ll never use a Walgreen’s pharmacy again, despite their ubiquity and generally satisfactory service.
Tonight, when I got home and opened the envelope that contained two of my prescriptions, I was alarmed to find an “informational” pamphlet about a THIRD drug, for which I do not have a prescription. Initially I thought that I might have been given the wrong medication, but the labels on the bottles were correct. Just as I was about to consult the internet to get physical descriptions of the pills I was supposed to take, I noticed a line at the top of the pamphlet for Abilify (the drug I don’t take): “ATTENTION: This is information about the product featured in the leaflet, NOT your prescription medication.”
I immediately recognized the pamphlet for what it was: targeted advertising, based on the information my doctors and I had provided Walgreen’s, in confidence, so that your company could fill my prescriptions. I called the store where I had filled the scripts, and the pharmacy worker was kind and honest enough to admit that, yes, it was an ad. Let me put this simply: if I need to take Abilify, my doctor will prescribe it for me. I’m not a paranoid privacy crusader, and I recognize that we live in an age of micro-targeted advertising based on our shopping habits, web browsing, and magazine subscriptions. But the idea of a corporation using my private medical information to slip an advertisement for a prescription drug in with bottles of my OTHER prescription drugs is beyond what I will tolerate.
I’m sure that the manufacturer of Abilify is paying Walgreen’s enough that the loss of one customer, or even a handful of them, will not make the partnership a unprofitable one, and I realize that this email is a metaphorical shout into the gaping void of corporate ethical nonchalance. But I thought it was important for someone, even a poorly-paid, non-unionized, and almost certainly alarmingly exploited email screener, to know that Walgreen’s slatternly policy of targeting ads to its customers based on the medical information they provide in confidence has cost the company a loyal customer.
Walgreen’s doesn’t care, because Walgreen’s will make more money from the maker of Abilify than even I, a truly exceptional consumer of prescription medications, if I do say so myself, will ever pay its pharmacy. I am acutely aware of that. But, damn it, I’ve had three drinks and that is enough to get my void-yelling juices flowing, so here it is. Goodbye, Walgreen’s. I’m off to find a local pharmacy, keep my co-pays in my city, and not have my personal information whored out to other slavering corporate pimps.
Please feel free to contact me with any questions or concerns.
All the best,
WPM
Cow-razy

Here is the email I had to send to my Kaplan LSAT-prep students today.

 

Hi Everyone,

I am very, very sorry to have had to cancel today’s class. I know it is really crunch time for you all with Test Day now less than a week away, but unforeseen circumstances made it impossible for me to make it to class today. Rest assured that I’ll be working with my faculty manager and other Kaplan staff to make sure that today’s lesson will be made up, and, as always, if you have any questions, concerns, or anything else, feel free to reach out to me via email or by phone.
Now, so that hopefully you’ll all understand a little better why we had to cancel today, here is the story:
My girlfriend and I visited friends in Lexington, KY this weekend. Everything went great: I attended my first-ever SEC football game, we met their new daughter, good times were had by all. We got up early this morning to allow us plenty of time to drive back to St. Louis in time for class (we expected the drive to last 5 hours, and we left at 7 Central Time). 
Then, however, just outside of Lexington, shortly after we had gotten onto Interstate 64, this happened:
Inline image 1Inline image 3Inline image 2Those are (some of) the cows that escaped from the overturned cattle trailer that caused a massive traffic backup and turned our 5-hour drive into an 8-hour drive. For a little while I thought I might be able to make it back in time for a late start, but it eventually became clear that we wouldn’t be able to get to St. Louis in time. 
We’re safe at home now, and, again, I’m very sorry that we had to cancel class. I hope you all received the alert in plenty of time so that you didn’t show up to an empty classroom. I’ll do my best to make it up to you over the next week. If this has given you any more LSAT-related anxiety, I am very sorry, and would be happy to talk to you about it any time. As soon as I know more about a makeup session, I’ll pass it on to you.
All the best,
Pat
'Nuff said. 29 days.

'Nuff said. 29 days.

returntoiowa:

Got my dog fix with Jesse who watched the bikes roll into Pella.

Corgi, y’all!

returntoiowa:

Got my dog fix with Jesse who watched the bikes roll into Pella.

Corgi, y’all!

fuckyeahdementia:

tagged/me

fuckyeahdementia:

tagged/me

bygoneamericana:

St. Louis, Missouri, 1957.
By Nina Leen

bygoneamericana:

St. Louis, Missouri, 1957.

By Nina Leen

This is a thing I wrote after taking my “night time” drugs.

The Walker felt his jaw slacken and his breath leave him the instant he noticed it. He froze, no more able to move than the stones of the bridge on which he stood. It wasn’t tall in an absolute sense, this mesmerizing object of the Walker’s utter concentration: the top of its head was not likely to have been more than three feet above the ground. But its legs, no wider than popsicle sticks, made up just over half its height and seemed like impossibly thin steeples, perversely tasked with holding up the church that was its body. Sacred, thought the Walker, might not be a bad way to describe the flawless curves, the pristine whiteness, the irresistible flow from beak to tail that characterized the slender body of the bird. Just by looking at it, just by noticing that those tiny legs were the most sturdy part of its dynamic perfection, thought the Walker, one could discern this animal’s essence. It was all potential energy. Its legs were as still and sturdy as if the smooth, reflective water surrounding its tiny ankles had been concrete. They formed the sturdy base for its motionless body, neck curved, wings tucked, utterly devoid of motion, yet somehow bespeaking a fluid sense of pure, effortless movement.

The Walker, who had remembered to swallow, remained as still as the bird. Suddenly conscious of the ungainly weight of his static body own his own vulgar legs, embarrassed at the pendulous hang of his useless, meaty arms, he knew that he would not be able to move until it did. If such a thing so obviously designed to move with perfect grace and ease could stand as still as the unrustled morning grass that had earlier wet his feet, so, thought the Walker, could his bipedal, locomotive calamity of a body. He would stand and wait, watching, wishing he had the patience of this crane, to know its purpose, to declaim movement with its every perfect slope, to have its own self-actualization within the span of its wings at any time, and to wait, patiently, content in its potential.