Penny for Your Thoughts:
“Re: 9% of U.S. Kids Have ADHD”
By Pagan “Penny” Penguin
09/05/07
Read this horse crap from the Washington Post:9% of U.S. Kids Have ADHD
Are you wondering the same thing as me – how much did some pharmaceutical company pay these scientists to do this research? Because as far as I can see, this sounds like a bunch of disease mongering.
Now, let me start off by saying that I’m not teasing the people in this world who genuinely have a medical problem. But since there is no laboratory or imaging test that can indicate reliably whether someone has ADHD, I’m suspicious that the general populous has given into the epidemic “marketing” of this disorder.
Plain and simple, this world medicates too much for personality-type.
I mean, don’t you ever remember being a pre-teen? Weren’t you also a whiny brat that thought the world “didn’t understand you”? It’s called puberty, not ADHD! It’s perfectly normal to feel a little confused when you’re hormones are going nuts and you feel like you’re trapped in your own awkward body. But somehow, for thousands of years, we’ve been able to make it through to adulthood without all these prescription drugs shoved down our throats. Heck, I would like to see a study on to evaluate how many drugged-up youngsters ended up abusing substances later in life, simply due to the fact that their parents gave them prescription drugs to chew on when they cried instead of gummy bears.
But I hear it time and time again – “My four-year old runs around the backyard screaming at the top of his lungs! I saw a commercial where a kid was doing the same thing. Do you think I have a child with ADHD?” Congratulations. You have a four-years-old. That’s just what they do.
How about some old-fashioned discipline? I’m not talking about spanking, I’m just telling you to just have a freaking backbone every once in a while! Don’t reward your toddler for throwing a temper tantrum and they’ll eventually stop throwing them. And when your pre-teen starts sobbing for $100 jeans so she can look like Britney Spears, don’t put her on anti-depressants. Just stick her in a paper hat and make her flip some burgers for those fancy-pants. Sure, she’ll hate you for it today, but she’ll thank you 10-years from now when she actually understands the value of a dollar.
Here is scary, but realistic scenario: Billy acts out in class, so the school nurse pressures his parents to medicate him, and the parents cave because they don’t have time to deal with a “troubled” child. So, whenever it’s time to hand in homework, he gives a little doctor’s note that says, “Billy can’t do his homework because he’s bipolar/depressed/paranoid/schizophrenic and/or has really bad jock itch. Please excuse him from doing any work for the next four years of high school.”
So, the other kids ask why Billy doesn’t do homework. He reveals that if you pretend to be sad or “crazy”, your parents will take you to the doctor for a note so you don’t have to try as hard in school. He’ll even admit that his mom cried for joy when he played video games all day because he was “taking initiative, set goals and achieving something.” What a crock of shit.
All the kids get jealous and cry home to mommy, who has just seen seventeen infomercials about “AHDH Awareness” during daytime television. The kids get “diagnosed”, the doctors get paid, the pharmaceutical companies get paid, the parents no longer feel guilty, the school no longer has to teach, and the kids happily pass excuse notes forward while slowly turning into zombies.
You see, the one thing that Billy’s note doesn’t mention is that antidepressants are addictive and detox can be a struggle. Some kids can’t handle coming off the meds, so they find other kids to sell them their prescriptions. Forget about lunch money – all you need is a $5 hit of antidepressants to satiate you. Get a grip people – you’re turning your kids into lazy, uneducated, suicidal junkies. If you think I’m exaggerating, google some medical forums and read about the reported side effects.
So, when your kids come home from school with bad grades, don’t start lacing their cereal with drugs. Just get to know your child. Talk to them like an adult, instead of nagging or coddling them. If that doesn’t work, get a few professional opinions and counseling before you use drugs as a pacifier.
Have we learned nothing from Bart Simpson from Episode SI-1022, where his class becomes victim to a new fad drug called “Focusin?” But what do we know? We’re just cartoon characters.
Penny for Your Thoughts:
“Why Americans Are Fat Loads”
By Pagan “Penny” Penguin
08/14/07
I’m a full-figured penguin.
So, in an effort to keep my bird-ish figure, I walked to the grocery store the other day instead of driving. Al Gore might even say I was helping to “eliminate my carbon footprint”, but really, I was trying to eliminate the three pieces of cheesecake I had after dinner the other night. So, I was walking along, minding my business, and some moron in an SUV the size of Arkansas peeled up next to me.
“Hey, chickie baby. Uh, do you, like, need a RIDE or something?”
“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, no, I’m okay.”
He looked at me as if I was some kind of unfortunate derelict because I was actually WALKING instead of driving some gas-guzzling-overcompensation-for-manhood.
“Well, suit yourself, I was just trying to help you out!”
He shook his head in disgust as he pulled out into traffic and proceeded to cut off the little old lady in a Honda so he could get home 4 seconds sooner to go beat his wife and children.
Now, I gotta tell you, I’m certainly not Cindy Crawford, but at least three more cars honked at me on the way to the store. Somehow, this nice summer walk turned into the “Walk of Shame.” And that’s when came with why we Americans are such fat loads…
It’s the suburbs!
Tell me if this sounds familiar: You move out of the city and into the suburbs in hopes to find “The American Dream.” You can’t help but notice that all the sidewalks in shambles and everyone drives like they’ve never seen a pedestrian before. You love your family, so you buy everyone of driving age a car to ensure their safety. And in order to afford the loan payment, gas, and insurance on your family’s’ cars, you take on a nice, steady job. But unlike many countries Europe where most employers enforce a 35-hour maximum workweek and five weeks vacation, you have to work 50 to 60 hours a week so your boss doesn’t think you’re a “slacker” and use your 2 weeks vacation to catch up on chores around the house so your spouse doesn’t think you’re lazy.
After your normal grueling workweek, you don’t even want to think about making dinner, but going to restaurants is noisy and expensive, so on the way home, you pass the “Golden Arches.” You can’t resist the convenience and value, and what kid would turn down a “Happy Meal”? So, your family thinks you’re a hero and you sit down together in front of the TV and eat your double cheeseburgers. You’re all too tired to talk so you zone out while watching reality TV and wonder why everyone’s life is better than yours,
At night, you feel too sluggish from the chemicals in the fast food to make love to your spouse. Your spouse feels slighted so you fight about something completely unrelated. You go to bed angry and with indigestion.
The next day, you don’t look so good, so your boss tells you to go see your doctor and make sure everything is in order. You tell your doctor that you feel depressed and you don’t know why, so he gives you a heavy dose of anti-depressants and sleep aids, which make you feel good for a while, but make you gain even more weight. Your spouse is no longer attracted to you but you barely notice because you’re so zonked on medication.
You try to put on your favorite pair of pants one morning and they don’t fit. Your spouse nags you about your weight and appearance. You get more depressed, and have to work longer hours to avoid your family and afford the anti-depressants that your pathetic company insurance will barely cover.
On your drive home from a late night at the office, you look out the window and see a pedestrian walking up the street, on the way to the grocery store with a little “granny cart.” As much as you hate your life, your stop to think, “Well, at least I’m not a poor pathetic loser like that! I can at least provide cars for my family!” You honk at them to see if you can make them jump, and laugh as you pull back into the McDonald’s Drive-Thru.
Congratulations. You are a fat load.
So, next time you see a penguin walking up the street, don’t feel sorry for it – they just don’t want to be a stereotypical American.
This has been a campaign for sidewalk awarness. There are sidewalks in the suburbs – use them or lose them. If your sidewalks suck, write to your mayor. You pay taxes for a reason, fatass.
Penny for Your Thoughts:
Casu Marzu – An Unusual Delicacy
By Pagan “Penny” Penguin
Casu marzu (a.k.a. rotten cheese, maggot cheese, worm cheese, casu modde, casu cundhídu, or formaggio marcio) is a type of pecorino cheese infested with thousands of wriggling maggots. And believe it or not, it’s sold for about three times the price of normal percorino! Don’t believe me? Check Wikipedia – they know all about it!
This special cheese goes beyond typical fermentation to a stage most would consider decay. The cheese ages in open air, which allows the “cheese flies” (Piophila casei) to lay their eggs into it. Once eggs hatch, translucent white worms, about 8 mm (1/3 inch) long promote additional fermentation and break down the cheese’s fats. Eventually, the cheese becomes very soft, pungent, and full of liquid (called lagrima, from the Sardinian for “tears”).
As long as the maggots are still alive (and believe me, you’ll know – you can hear them rustling from the package!), the cheese is fresh and good to eat. But buyer beware: if the maggots are dead, the cheese has become toxic. The cheese is typically eaten on crackers or bread, with the larvae still inside of it. Most foreigners try to remove the larvae or “eat around them,” which is quite a difficult feat – the larvae can jump up to six inches if disturbed! And if you are adventurous like me, you should accompany your casu marzu with some “worm wine,” made from the dreaded caterpillars commonly called army worms. I’ll get into that in my next article – I think I hear my cheese crawling off the table.
