You’ve heard me bitch about this before, and you’ll likely hear me bitch about it again. From where I’m sitting, if there’s one thing that the FCC should make illegal immediately, it’s Direct To Consumer marketing and advertising by pharmaceutical companies. The reasons are simple, the average consumer is unable to understand the actual benefits and risks of the product being advertised, and it has the ultimate effect of making pretty much everybody in the country with that condition their own, self diagnosing doctor. Doctors hate it too, patients will walk on telling the doctor what they have and what to prescribe, and when the doctor disagrees, there’s a fight about it. Some doctors have even reported patients that stormed out and went “doctor shopping” for a physician that would give them what they want.
No, that is not the topic of today’s article, but I mentioned it for a very specific reason. And that’s because today, our Imbecile in Chief walked in front of a podium full of microphones, and became a walking, talking Direct To Consumers pharmaceutical commercial. He stood there today and gushed over the promising efficacy of as yet untested drugs, as well as “crossover” drugs that have been used to treat other conditions with similar symptoms, but haven’t even been tried on the corona-virus yet. And then he stepped back from the microphones, and left it to Dr Anthony Fauci, a man who actually knows the difference between a virus and an infection, and left it up to him to become Dr Ebenezer Scrooge, and piss on everybody’s Christmas with actual medical facts.
This is so incredibly dangerous. For starters, this is a new strain, so there are already differences of opinion between people who actually know what they’re talking about as to how to isolate, quarantine, and try to treat it. This leads to confusion and uncertainty to start with, and these are people who are at least qualified to help. And now you’ve got this socially retarded maniac standing around, and selling every variety of snake oil he has on his cart, as long as the suckers will listen. Which means, of course, every shambling Trombie in the country storming off to their doctor, and testily demanding whatever “miracle cure” they can recall coming out of Trump’s filthy sewer hole. If you can get them out of the bar for as long as Devin Nunes is buying, that is.
Somebody sitting around in the White House right now has to take charge, and put a choker leash and muzzle on this howler monkey. If Trump wants to strut out and announce that he’s turning Mar-A-Lago into a field hospital for millionaires, fine, so be it. But once he’s done, kill the mic, get him off of there, lock him back in the quarters with Fux and Friends, and let the real experts say their piece unfiltered through Trump’s pathological bullshit. Because right now, there is one third of the country out there who, given a choice between believing Dr Anthony Fauci, and El Pendejo Presidente, will start yelling Ole! every fucking time. And while personally I don’t care if these bumbling morons get themselves sick, I care a great deal of one of them gets me sick while I’m wandering through Walmart, desperately trying to find a bag of flour. Enough is enough.
To know the future, look to the past.before the insanity of the 2020 election, relive the insanity of the 2016 GOP primary campaign, and the general election, to see how we got to where we are. Copies of President Evil, and the sequel, President Evil II, A Clodwork Orange are available as e-books on Amazon, at the links above. Catch up before the upcoming release of the third book in the trilogy, President Evil III: All The Presidents Fen