Back in the USSRI

How would you like to feel less anxious, less nervous, and less angry; all with an increased sense of confidence, happiness, self-esteem, and independence?

Do you get angry when someone runs a stoplight and totals your new Porsche while driving without insurance?

Are you nervous before a quadruple-bypass surgery that has less than a fifty percent success rate?

Step right up folks - come to the wonderful USSRI (the United States of Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors). The USSR failed miserably at the conquest of America and all the freedom, free-thinking, and independence for which it stood, but the USSRI will not accept any such failure. While they had some decent guns like Stalin, Lenin, and Gorbachev, we've got bigger, tougher, and more corrupt players like Wyeth, Merck, and Pfizer.

Though the USSR made a decent run at world conquest, they didn't have some key ammunition with which the USSRI is armed. You see, we're running an inside game - we're in cahoots with the FDA, doctors, and American business and political leaders. We're marketing directly to consumers and pampering medical professionals; but most of all, we're here to help. You see, the USSR was an enemy - we're a friend. We're here to make you feel better, to rid you of your worry and problems. And all we have to do is take these geniuses that graduate from our illustrious medical schools on a cruise to Cabo San Lucas, and they're prescribing our drugs to every man, woman, and child that complains of not feeling wonderful every second of every day. What more can you ask for?

Now, like anything else, there are some risks and possible side effects. While most of these are probably not even known (hee hee), they could include: nervousness and tremors, sweating, nausea, anxiety, diarrhea, difficulty falling asleep or frequent awakenings, sexual malfunction, decreased libido, headache, loss of appetite, postural hypotension, drowsiness or fatigue, and upset stomach. Oh and get this, we just recently found out (after being on the market for over 20 years) that SSRIs increase your risk of killing yourself (although we say it's only in teenagers, it actually applies to everyone). Oops. We're human too you know.

Of course you can reduce many symptoms of mild depression and anxiety with moderate exercise and improved diet, but we kind of steer our doctors away from such frivolous prescription. Hell, we wouldn't be making nearly as much money if everyone was exercising and eating properly.

So don't listen to Tom Cruise or those idiots that write satirical blog postings in an effort to stymie the unstoppable movement of brain chemical manipulation. They’re just trying to be cool.

It's a Brave New World folks, and we want you.

Those meddling kids

The recent release of the "State of the Rockies Report Card" from Colorado College sparked some serious thought here in ski country about the potential for a decreased ski season due to global warming. I myself was skeptical when I read the Vail Daily article set in 2085 with a sickening description of a three month ski season and snow only at the top of Vail Mountain.

After a year of near record snowfall, I wasn't about to let some punk kids from Colorado College keep me up late worrying about the possible effects of global warming. Of course, the alleged effects are much more catastrophic to plant life, wildlife, and the over-all ecosystem, but my privileged, spoiled, and selfish mentality could not handle the thought of less than 400 inches of snowfall in a year. I decided to do some investigation; I called up the report and hammered through the gory details.

The report was certainly compelling. They cited lots of scientific analysis and had all these graphs and color coded charts, not to mention the results of research from scientists using complex computer models (they're pretty damn tough to argue). My skepticism was brought to near extinction when I finished reading. My blood pressure then proceeded to rise faster than the mean global surface temperature from 1976 to 2085.

The EPA claims (and Colorado College agrees) that the Earth's temperature has risen about 1 degree Fahrenheit in the past one hundred years. This was the number that kept my global warming anxiety relatively calm for years because I figured at this rate it would be a good four or five hundred years before we had real problems. However, the CC report predicts a temperature increase in the Rocky Mountain region of 3 to 10 degrees Celsius (that's 5 to 18 degrees Fahrenheit and I have no idea what that is in Kelvin so don't even ask). I still find it hard to believe that over the past century we've risen 1 stinkin' degree (Fahrenheit) and now we're going to skyrocket 5 to 18 over the next. However, they certainly did a hell of a lot more research than me and they probably had better technology at their disposal than a free Fahrenheit to Celsius converter from NOAA.GOV.

Irregardless (that's a word right?), we've most likely got some problems. Like most American's however, my personal problems rival in importance those of mankind so I guess I'll just fill my tank up with another fifty bucks worth and hope those kids at Colorado College forgot to carry a one.

Get your kicks on Route 66

My thoughts are often bound by the shackles of conventional wisdom. However, my actions seem to be less often restricted.

I turned 28 on Friday. That's right, twenty eight years young. I became very retrospective upon this birthday for some reason. In my early 20's the age of twenty eight seemed further away than that ice planet at the end of our solar system that is actually bigger than pluto. Thoughts of being 28 then were accompanied by visions of a suburban house, a hot wife, a new-born baby and a golden retriever. Of course conventional wisdom (or should I say society) were viciously implanting those thoughts in my naive head, but nevertheless, the highway was being paved.

Now, as the inevitable has finally occurred, the highway, though less often traveled, still exists and is maintaining a staunch presence in the infrastructure of my cluttered mind. Its kind of like the old Route 66 that used to be a main thoroughfare across the country, but now is more of a historical figurine.

When my mind decides to take a quick trip down Rt. 66 the kicks aren't exactly what they used to be. I question the scenery on Rt. 66. Why is buying a house so damn important? Why is getting married or having kids so common along the hallowed highway? If everyone else jumped off a bridge would you do it?

Rt. 66 must not be that bad of a place to be since everyone else takes their gas guzzling SUVs on joyrides everyday. Are they making the conscious choice to veer off the interstate and take a trip down the historical two-laner or are their minds just paved with a thicker slab of asphalt?

Maybe I will one day be cruising comfortably down Rt. 66 on my way to enjoying the sweet fruits of following conventional wisdom. I suppose that the interstate or even the back roads can get you to the same place, but which is a better ride?

I guess I have at least some control of the wheel.

Beating Vegas

Beating the casino ain’t easy. However, it is possible. A group of college kid card counters from MIT took casinos for several million dollars in the mid '90s. They used a tactic of figuring out when there were a high number of face cards left in the deck in which case the dealer would have a greater chance of busting (because they have to hit on anything under 17). When the deck got "hot" they would use code words to call in their "big players" who would recklessly bet thousands and then act astonished when they got lucky. They got kicked out of every casino in Vegas.

Last weekend I look a little stroll to Sin City with a couple of friends. I figured it would be a nice way to relax a little bit - it was anything but. I actually decided to try a little casino trick myself. It was nothing as fancy and complicated as the MIT card counters (I'm not nearly smart enough), but a tactic nonetheless.

Theoretically, if you double your bet after every time you lose in any game in Vegas, you will eventually win, thus winning your lost money back plus the initial bet. For instance, if you bet $5 and lose, you bet $10, then $20, then $40, and so on and so forth. Sound nice? It's not bad really, until you get into the $160 and $320 bets just to win your five bucks back. In order to get to that $320 bet you would have to lose six times in a row. So when you bet either black or red in roulette your chances of winning are 48% on each roll. Losing six times in a row is darn near impossible right? There is actually about a 2% chance.

Two percent isn't really that bad - not very likely. I've probably got a better chance of getting a legitimate phone number from Miss Nevada while hitting the $2 million jackpot on my first pull of the slot machine.

Now, you have to realize that a 2% chance applies to each six trial set. So if you do ten six trial sets (sixty spins), the chances of losing six times in a row in any one set is 20% - well within the realm of possibility.

Anyway, I was well aware of these odds before going to Vegas. I actually crunched some numbers before going. I know, I know, I should have been reading books on how to pick up women. Well, I was doing that too. Nevertheless, I said I wasn't going to try my ingenious roulette scam unless I had $635 in my pocket. This would be enough to cover six consecutive losses and put $320 on the seventh spin.

Now, in some moment of alcohol induced bravery, I decided to try my scam with only enough money to cover six spins. Why I did this, I'm not exactly sure, but for a while I was getting away with it. I went about ten spins when I didn't have to put more than $20 on the table. I felt like more of a genius than ever, and I looked at the casino workers with a gleam in my eye. Those dirty bastards knew I was up to something.

Shit soon hit the fan when I lost three times in row, then four, then five. Before I knew it I had $160 on black and that ball was spinning around the wheel. My heart pounded about four inches out of my chest until the ball finally settled on red - at which time my pounding heart sank to the beer stained casino floor.

"My scam backfired", I huffed to my commiserating gambling and drinking buddy.

I'm a helpless victim of circumstance.