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Pfizer Markets New Wellness DrugNovember 29, 2004 |
New York City Courtesy Pfizer Soon, Americans suffering from a lack of wellness will enjoy expensive relief, like the enterprising small person (inset) who has gone straight to the source
Pfizer’s first ad, aired during a particularly painful recent episode of Joan of Arcadia, opted for stark minimalism, featuring a still shot of a satisfied Heroin™ customer, slumped over a very clean toilet, married with the slogan “Heroin™: The Other White Powder.” In addition to establishing their brand in the marketplace, this first ad served to differentiate Pfizer’s new product from rival Glaxo-Wellcome’s Angel Dust™.
Other early ads, run during football games, select MTV programs, and really sa...
n a move that market analysts hope will save Christmas for the pharmaceutical industry, American drug giant Pfizer has launched a new marketing campaign this month to promote Heroin™, the company’s revolutionary new “wellness” drug.
Pfizer’s first ad, aired during a particularly painful recent episode of Joan of Arcadia, opted for stark minimalism, featuring a still shot of a satisfied Heroin™ customer, slumped over a very clean toilet, married with the slogan “Heroin™: The Other White Powder.” In addition to establishing their brand in the marketplace, this first ad served to differentiate Pfizer’s new product from rival Glaxo-Wellcome’s Angel Dust™.
Other early ads, run during football games, select MTV programs, and really sad chick flicks, have also been deliberately vague, aiming to raise brand awareness without mentioning the medication’s effects, enabling Pfizer to sidestep governmental regulations requiring pharmaceutical ads to disclose all of a drug’s side-effects. This tactic is especially shrewd with a product like Heroin™, since it’s tough to find a nice way to say “back-alley cocksuck” or “deadly constipation.”
While some consumer advocates have complained in the past that such direct-to-consumer marketing is predatory and harmful, drug companies like Pfizer argue that it’s actually very profitable.
“When there’s just some spaghetti-spined M.D. standing between customers and our products, consumer education becomes more important than ever,” contends Pfizer spokesperson Dennis Tanner. “Consumers shouldn’t have to trust that some kooky doctor is looking out for their best interest. They need a name they can trust, like Pfizer.”
Heroin™ is being marketed as a revolutionary “wellness” drug; one that Pfizer claims will “knock aspirin on its ass” and “make Prozac look like dogshit.” Rather than prescribing numerous non-Pfizer drugs to treat an array of patient maladies, the pharmaceutical giant hopes doctors will turn to their new wellness drug as a cure-all, one that leaves patients with a euphoric sensation of well-being, regardless of whether they are suffering from general anxiety, cancer, or baldness.
“That’s the miracle of Heroin™,” explained Tanner. “It doesn’t matter what’s wrong with you. From erectile dysfunction to agoraphobia, Heroin™ makes it all better.”
Due to FDA hang-ups regarding such a revolutionary new treatment, Pfizer has opted to avoid the usual years of getting-monkeys-high testing usually necessary to release a new drug. Instead, the drug giant has followed the lead of Merck’s Crack™ and AstraZeneca’s LSD™ by bypassing the usual established network of doctors and pharmacists, and is offering the drug through a network of authorized Pfizer representatives nationwide.
“Heroin™ will not be available in stores, but instead through a special network of independent distributors. It’s sort of like Amway,” claims the company’s latest ad. “Ask your dealer about Heroin™.” the commune news has long been accused of being in bed with the pharmaceutical industry, the high price one pays for getting lucky at the 1998 American Pharmacist’s Convention. Ramon Nootles has longed for years to get into bed with the pharmaceutical industry himself, but has yet to find a K-Mart with a pharmacy that’s open after bar time.
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 February 5, 2007
Eighth is EnoughIt's been a long time since my work has seen the light of day. I managed to salvage the remains of this column from some of my old notes. Thank God I no longer carve my notes right into my skin, as skin deteriorates even faster than old celluloid porno films.
I finally got around to reading that book I bought last year. The experience was much more enjoyable than I'd been told it would be. I hate to ruin the book for anyone who hasn't read it, but it really was a shock to find out the tiger was a toy the whole time. That's right—the filthy little brat was lying to the reader the whole time. In the end, I liked it, but it does leave me dubious about reading that book I've been eyeing with the bald kid and his plane-flying dog.
If you could play any instrument in the world like a master, which instrument would you play? I would lay high odds you didn't say steel drum just now. But someone out there must be saying it. I don't see where all the steel drummers are coming from.
Where's that fourth Lord of the Rings movie we were promised? Let that be a lesson, Hollywood: Big-budget epics with funny characters and incredible special effects just aren't the American audience's cup of tea.
They say as many as 60% of the country's citizens are downloading movies illegally from the internet. Well, I'm not one of them, I assure you. Computers only want you to use them so they can fingerprint you and eventually replace you, and I'll...
º Last Column: Seventh Heaven
º more columns
It's been a long time since my work has seen the light of day. I managed to salvage the remains of this column from some of my old notes. Thank God I no longer carve my notes right into my skin, as skin deteriorates even faster than old celluloid porno films. I finally got around to reading that book I bought last year. The experience was much more enjoyable than I'd been told it would be. I hate to ruin the book for anyone who hasn't read it, but it really was a shock to find out the tiger was a toy the whole time. That's right—the filthy little brat was lying to the reader the whole time. In the end, I liked it, but it does leave me dubious about reading that book I've been eyeing with the bald kid and his plane-flying dog. If you could play any instrument in the world like a master, which instrument would you play? I would lay high odds you didn't say steel drum just now. But someone out there must be saying it. I don't see where all the steel drummers are coming from. Where's that fourth Lord of the Rings movie we were promised? Let that be a lesson, Hollywood: Big-budget epics with funny characters and incredible special effects just aren't the American audience's cup of tea. They say as many as 60% of the country's citizens are downloading movies illegally from the internet. Well, I'm not one of them, I assure you. Computers only want you to use them so they can fingerprint you and eventually replace you, and I'll have no part of that. No matter how tempting it is to see that Borat film without paying for it. I just found out today that Cheez-Its are, in fact, cheese crackers, not tiny squares of real cheddar cheese put through some sort of ancient process to petrify them. Months of my life wasted on misapplied research! It's the Apple Jacks year all over again. Quit ending all your letters with that "Yours Truly" bullshit. You know you're not mine and if you keep pulling crap like that, you never will be. Have you noticed heating ducts are never as big in real buildings as they are in movie buildings? I can't help but think it's a terrorist's dream. Any self-respecting undercover cop goes to hide in one, can't fit, and blam! Osama wins. I hope you people at the Small Duct Ltd. company are real fucking happy now. You absolutely cannot fit a fully stretched-out body in most freezers. I wonder if the freezer manufacturers even considered this demographic when they designed the darned things. We're not all murderers, you know. Some of us are respected members of the work force who simply don't have time to run a found dead body down to the morgue at the drop of a hat. Hum any song to yourself right now. Go ahead. I'll bet you one thousand dollars it's the theme to "Mr. Belvedere." And if it's not, I dare you to go ahead and prove it. You'll never get money out of me, stranger. I've never seen a professional baseball player catch a ball in his mouth. What exactly are we paying these guys for? I can see any Sam Dandy anywhere catch a ball with his hands. I would say the sixth best thing about being in a wheelchair is you don't fall when you walk on ice. Sure, you might slide a little bit, but chances are you're not going to land on your back. And of course, the seventh best thing is you don't bump your head on low doorways. You can probably figure the rest out yourself. The next time you see a large glass window, jump through. You only live once, and glass just thinks it's so great. No more today. My wastebasket is empty and the skin has all flaked away so I can't read my old notes. º Last Column: Seventh Heavenº more columns
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|  March 17, 2003
Hello Secret ValentineOkay, time to fess it up. Who is Boris secret Valentine?
Is Louis? Not thinking so. Louis only give Valentine to hooker and Louis mother.
Is Bagel Red? Still not thinking so. Bagel Red only love money and Sesame Streets.
So who is Valentine? Ah, is secret. From picture Boris think Valentine is small person, like Webster. This is Boris hunch. Secret Valentine is fun game, no?
Yes! Silly question.
Boris is smiling when secret Valentine send "peek-my-boo" cards. How nice to think of Boris! Cards says "Have you seen me?" with picture. Not yet, secret Valentine! But soon?
Speaking when honest, Boris think secret Valentine not so smart. Underneath picture is name, age, and how tall. Woops! Not so good secret when Boris know how tall is Valentine.
But still, who is complaining? Not Boris isn't. No, not that waste of time for Boris. Instead, Boris walking around town to find Valentine very much. Asking all persons who has four feet and six inch if they are Valentine. Is hard work! Not so many persons wanting to hold still for measuring stick. Boris understand, some persons in hurry or already has Valentine.
"But Boris!" is what you are thinking. "Do not you have fiancée person to be Valentine?" No, no, sorry friends. Fiancée person with leopard pants leave Boris goodbye. She go to meet friend John and do magic trick and never come back to Boris. Sad, yes. But as...
º Last Column: Boguslaw Sadowski
º more columns
Okay, time to fess it up. Who is Boris secret Valentine?
Is Louis? Not thinking so. Louis only give Valentine to hooker and Louis mother.
Is Bagel Red? Still not thinking so. Bagel Red only love money and Sesame Streets.
So who is Valentine? Ah, is secret. From picture Boris think Valentine is small person, like Webster. This is Boris hunch. Secret Valentine is fun game, no?
Yes! Silly question.
Boris is smiling when secret Valentine send "peek-my-boo" cards. How nice to think of Boris! Cards says "Have you seen me?" with picture. Not yet, secret Valentine! But soon?
Speaking when honest, Boris think secret Valentine not so smart. Underneath picture is name, age, and how tall. Woops! Not so good secret when Boris know how tall is Valentine.
But still, who is complaining? Not Boris isn't. No, not that waste of time for Boris. Instead, Boris walking around town to find Valentine very much. Asking all persons who has four feet and six inch if they are Valentine. Is hard work! Not so many persons wanting to hold still for measuring stick. Boris understand, some persons in hurry or already has Valentine.
"But Boris!" is what you are thinking. "Do not you have fiancée person to be Valentine?" No, no, sorry friends. Fiancée person with leopard pants leave Boris goodbye. She go to meet friend John and do magic trick and never come back to Boris. Sad, yes. But as Louis say there is lots of bitches to go fishing.
And now Boris steps on sunshine because there is secret Valentine! Such happy thing, yes. Valentine in America is much better from Valentine in Homeland. In Homeland, man come to door with gun and yelling "I kill Boris who knock up sister of me!" What shit is that Valentine, no?
No, in Homeland is not romance like America. There is all about marry teenage girl just because she has little Boris in belly. Boring says Boris! In America is all about find love at end of magic movie with beautiful girl who is not talking too much. Yay for America!
So Boris is looking all over for Valentine, at hardware store and down by river. Louis say to look in dressing room at bikini store, lots of womens there. Louis also say look in yellow book for escort service, but Boris think secret Valentine is too small for driving. Maybe with blocks tied on shoes, or small size car which runs on battery. But blocks make it hard for Valentine to go dancing, so Boris think maybe she is not in yellow book. Maybe Boris will check at store for stilts!
Yes, yes. Boris will go to stilt store to buy stilts. Then when secret Valentine sees Boris on stilts, and secret Valentine is on stilts, it will be romance like magic circus movie. Yay for Boris idea! º Last Column: Boguslaw Sadowskiº more columns
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Quote of the Day“Do unto others how you would do unto somebody who you knew for sure would do the same stuff back to you that you did to them, only in reverse. On second thought… just be nice, okay asshole?”
-Beazus Frist, CPAFortune 500 CookieNobody likes a smartass… wait a minute, everybody loves a smartass. It's you they don't like. In an effort to make your personality more rounded and appealing, try learning the Tibetan Touch of Death this week. Remember, God made it hard to get your tongue into your own ass for a good reason. This week's lucky prescriptions: Cockgromax, Deuglycontin, Halitosinex, Slopecia, Lilpenihance, Fucoft.
Try again later.Top Iraqi Gratitude Slogans| 1. | I love America and dying! | | 2. | USA! Broil in hell, USA! | | 3. | All the beautiful shooting! | | 4. | God Bless This Rubble | | 5. | Sweet, legless liberation! | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Dick Charleston 3/15/2004 Alistair SchitIn a decidedly real part of the city of London were the common site of workhouses. While I shall not assign a definitive background to our title character, it is possible his mother was in the employ of one of these places. His father might have been a traveling circus clown, which would account for the boy's large and cumbersome feet, but again, I make not up shit when I need not. For whatever account he came to be, Alistair Schit was a street urchin, born free in the manner that sucks.
The first years of his life were spent in an orphanage, all residents marching in single-file lines as if from a Pink Floyd video, piling under-nourishing gruel into their bowls, and tater tots on Fridays. None of the boys was successfully fed in this fashion, always going to bed hungry to...
In a decidedly real part of the city of London were the common site of workhouses. While I shall not assign a definitive background to our title character, it is possible his mother was in the employ of one of these places. His father might have been a traveling circus clown, which would account for the boy's large and cumbersome feet, but again, I make not up shit when I need not. For whatever account he came to be, Alistair Schit was a street urchin, born free in the manner that sucks.
The first years of his life were spent in an orphanage, all residents marching in single-file lines as if from a Pink Floyd video, piling under-nourishing gruel into their bowls, and tater tots on Fridays. None of the boys was successfully fed in this fashion, always going to bed hungry to face the next day in the style of slow dying. It was Alistair who, encouraged by the other boys, brought the attention to the orphanage director, Mr. Hannigan.
"Hey, jackass," inquired Alistair, "what's up with this gruel? You pocketing the money you're supposed to be using to feed us?"
"Why, you scamp!" rattled Mr. Hannigan. "What exactly are you accusing me of?"
"I ain't saying nothing," professed Alistair. "Just give me more—more, bitch! Hustle that fat ass. I'm hungry. We're all hungry, eatin' this K-Mart gruel shit."
Hannigan was outraged, mostly by the K-Mart insult, and Alistair was thrown into a dank and small room not entirely unlike debtors' prison, which I've really been to. Have you ever been to debtors' prison, dear reader? Oh, lord, it is merciless! At night time your fellow cell boarder will try to have sex with your backside, regardless of whether or not you enjoy homosexual intercourse. The guards will walk right past your cell and pretend not to see anything, no matter how you attempt to again the attention with shouting or tearful crying.
None of these things, however, happened to Alistair in his small room, all alone. He might have sang a song, if that's your pleasure, but probably mostly he touched himself in an illicit fashion I will not detail. But at some point, he ungirded the protective casing on a window. Did I mention there was a window? Indeed there was, even if I didn't. For that's how Alistair escaped from the orphanage and took to the streets. And if you think the orphanage personnel went about trying to find Alistair and bring him back, oh, are you wrong, brother. They gave not a shit.
The next few days past in a condensed narrative manner for Alistair. He was cold, tired, hungry, and spent most of them crying. A lot like his days spent at the orphanage, but lacking the savage beatings that at least allowed you to set your watch to correct time. In the days he gathered food from the refuse bin behind the local sperm bank; at night times he slept in a horse pen, where he also snacked. Truly life looked very dim for Alistair, so morbid and downcast many readers might have slashed their own wrists by this time for merciful release.
All those terrible times passed until the day Alistair met Art Danger, a fellow runaway orphan who earned a healthy living picking the pockets of passing strangers and well-to-do men. In truth, Art Danger picked the very pocket of your author, and my main interest in telling this entire story is to find the scamp and get my earnings back. He was 4'6", black hair, unkempt face and clothing, a ridiculous stove-pipe hat, and gold bling-bling around his neck. Any information leading to his arrest and conviction, and the return of my wallet, is subject to a small reward.
For more of this great story, buy Dick Charleston's
Alistair Schit   |
