Rose is a Scientist

I am a journalist - I write to you to show you I am an incurable
and nothing else behaves like me

Okay so I realize this was my job and I blew it. But somehow I must have known that there were people out there who could do it a bit more cleverly than I. Oyster has posted several objections that I share with him about Chris Rose's recent column and a half length pharmaceutical commercial. He also rightly points out that I am expected to be the first to call douchebag whenever this sort of thing pops up. I admit that I did indeed drop the ball this time. I may have been actually afraid of offending the sensibilities of some actually depressed people out there. I managed to squeeze in a comment to Dangle somewhere around here... but never got around to posting about it. This misjudgement combined with the already swirling rumors of my "niceness" threatens to seriously damage the esteem with which many readers regard this yellow publication and needs to be corrected. From now on, every human affliction imaginable from depression to Parkinson's disease to Cowboy Mouth is fair game. As for Rose, well... frankly he makes me depressed. I don't know that I could add anything to what Oyster says other than the following quote.

MacBeth:
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,
Raze out the written troubles of the brain
And with some sweet oblivious antidote
Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart?

Doctor:
Therein the patient
Must minister to himself.

Also... more from the song referenced above.

I am a pharmacist
Prescriptions i will fill you
Potions, pills and medicines
To ease your painful lives
I am a lost soul
I shoot myself with rock and roll
The hole i dig is bottomless
But nothing else can set me free