The local drop in medical center seems to be recruiting strait out of the Tijuana School of Witchcraft and Dark Voodoo Arts. 99% of the time, I’m dead sure the nurses could handle whatever death-flu I’ve come down with better than these dudes. After walking in, the doctor asks me in broken English what medications I’ve been taking to get rid of this nasty little virus. I say back, “some antihistamines and some cheap Sudafed knock offs”. We continue the rest of the examine, and he asks if I have any questions. I tell hit that this is exactly what I feel like before I get strep throat, and that in the past its been more beneficial just to start me on some antibiotics to knock it out.

El Doctor says, “No no, we give you antihistamines an’ de’ prescription Sudafed”. I look at him, slightly frustrated considering my level of pain at this point, and say “what’s the difference between these and what I’m using now?”. “No, dees’ better”, he proclaims. I go along with it, knowing that I’m over it, and go get the prescriptions filled out. After signing the paper work, I get home and realize that these are the exact same medications I’ve been using, but double the dosage and 4 times the price. Pharmaceutical companies: 1. Me: 0.

The big pill makers end up making around $300 billion a year, which is no surprise considering the health care standards in this country. To what extent our our doctors completely relying on pills to make things better rather that try to treat the patients? Fuck it, I have no idea. The only thing I know is that the best cure for a bed-ridding illness is Maury.

I love Queens of the Stone Age, but I’ve always hated Josh Homme’s stage banter. He talks like a kid who just discovered how to curse, ultra excited to use words like “fuck, and “pussy.” Here’s Josh being really mature, berating and ultimately ejecting a teenage kid in Norway for throwing a water bottle at him. Rock and roll! Ow!