Looking back on what I wrote in November, I honestly never would've expected this type of story just a few months later.

I'm sure you've seen the Zoloft ads on television, probably even in Parade or Reader's Digest. You know, the ones with the little egg guy that's so horribly sad and has an ever-constant rain cloud hovering just above him. Then the second the narrator utters the word "Zoloft," the sun pops out, eradicates the mini-storm and illuminates the sky while flowers bloom. With that, our Eeyore-esque little egg dude then magically cheers up and joins a pack of other egg dudes that are already frolicking among daisies and butterflies.

If only things could be that picture-perfect in real life, huh?

For the uninitiated and uniformed, Zoloft is on the bottom rung of the antidepressant food chain. This is evident by the fact that commercials for the drug permeate the public airwaves during prime time along with advertising mainstays like Coca-Cola and FedEx. I don't recall ever seeing a TV ad for anything more potent (although I'm fairly certain I've heard radio ads for Zoloft's older cousins).

Having said that, this story simultaneously relieves and scares me. I'm relieved that I stopped taking the stuff after depending on it for so long, and I'm scared by the possibility that such a mild drug could cause such irrational behavior. THink about it... if this is one of the side effects brought about by Zoloft, imagine what could happen to someone on a much stronger medication like Wellbutrin?

Now I will say this much: this incident is in the minority. This sort of thing is not a regular episode for someone taking antidepressants, and thus is something of a freak occurrence. This is the sort of thing that both the pharmaceutical companies and their attorneys would argue, and you know something? They're right.

However, I can testify as someone who took Zoloft for a year straight that the drug isn't the blessing that Pfizer's creative department would have you believe. Being on the stuff is no walk in the park. To recap, while I was on the medication, I did begin to feel better as time passed. But with that improvement, other frightening negatives became obvious. I lacked enthusiasm, was listless, argumentative, anti-social, and completely sapped of my energy. I stayed in more than I would like to admit, had little drive, gained weight, and never really felt much more than just "eh."

That last point is the one I would really like to drive home. See, when you're depressed, you feel miserable 24/7. You feel as if nothing is worth doing, and the few things you do have no true relevance in the grand scheme of things. When you're medicated, you feel nothing. You feel no plummeting lows, nor the dizzying highs. You fail to appreciate people, places, events, and the biggest drawback is that the drive to improve yourself, the very same motivation that led you to seeking help in the first place, is now replaced by this hollow attitude with no real soul.

You become something slightly less than human.

In short, the drug really doesn't help you, so much as it distills you. It washes away your emotions, both good and bad, and you're left with little to work on and seemingly nowhere to go.

Couple that with the fact that every time you get your daily RX fix, you run the risk of dozens of side effects (including potentially painful and dangerous ones), you have to ask yourself if it's really worth it.

I suppose to some it is. I've no doubts about the fact that there are plenty of folks out there who are in deeper emotional ruts than I could ever fathom. I suppose that to the truly unstable, no emotion is better than constant despair. But I still insist that the medical community pursue alternate methods of therapy. I was skeptical prior to taking Zoloft, and with this latest affair, I'm suspect of it as well. And that goes for all antidepressants, weak or strong. I simply do not beleive in them, and I do not trust them.

The short, fast, ugly summation is that antidepressants, for the most part, do little to correct psychological disorders. They do a damn fine job of masking them, but they don't llend much in terms of solving them. Actual therapy is a good start, and the range of theoretical alternatives is endless. Simply put, it's high time the medical community quit thinking about lining its pockets with dollars per milligram, and start conducting some truly thoughtful research on what could be.

Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.

There is something I was brought up with as a child that I am starting to doubt. When you’re a kid, this is one of the basic cornerstones of your intellectual cache. From the time you hit Kindergarten, you’re inundated with this fucker, and they plow away at your skull with it. Now, I’m not so certain that this is still a schoolyard mainstay. After all, it’s been more than 20 years sine I started grade school, but I highly doubt they’ve nixed the bastard yet.

Whatever could I be talking about, you ask? The answer can be summed up in five words:

The four basic food groups.

Folks, if ever there were a crock of shit to gag on, this would be it. I tells ya, it’s downright disheartening to know that the moment your education begins, you’re lied to.

First off, there are plenty of other food groups that are not included. Candy and sweets is the first one that comes to mind. You never saw Baby Ruth in that lame-ass food pyramid, did you? And what about crayons? Sure, they’re not foodstuffs per se, but when you’re a young’n, they certainly provide adequate sustenance in extreme survival scenarios. As does paste, but I suppose you could stretch that out into the dairy category. Maybe. And what about astronaut food? Where is that supposed to be cataloged? Not in meat or veggies, that’s for damn sure. Then there’s flan. And Spam. Sure, Spam is a kind of meat, but it really isn’t meat-meat, now is it? I think Spam deserves a quadrant all by itself in that goofy pyramid.

Not only that, but they trying telling you this thing is the blueprint for a balanced diet. Spare me. You’re telling me that if I have at least one helping of meat, fruits/veggies, dairy and grains per day, I will be leading a balanced diet.

Balderdash!

I’m not claiming to be a genius or anything here, but I was maybe 8 or 9 years old when I realized that each of these items is in a fucking Big Mac. Two (supposedly) all-beef patties (meat), the triple-decker bun (grains), lettuce, tomato (fruits and veggies), and cheese (dairy).

That is not a motherfreakin’ balanced diet! That is the sort of thing you eat in large quantities when you have a death wish, but want to go happily and heftily, OK?

And now with all this uproar over carbs, the existing battle with calories, and the never-ending string of low-fat alternatives, this so-called “food pyramid” may as well have been blown up by a Palestinian suicide bomber with Tourette’s. It’s archaic, pointless, and needs to be chucked (if it already hasn’t).

So what can you tell kids who are curious about eating healthy?

“Stick to that paste, Elroy. It worked wonders for me.”

Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.

A few folks have asked me about my most recent post regarding the year that was 2004. Apparently, there is a tinge of curiosity as to why I decided to lambaste this particular, damnable 365-day session of hell.

Well I’m happy to report that less than two weeks into the New Year, I have the perfect example. It’s almost as if someone was just waiting to provide one for me, and apparently that someone is the entire back-asswards state of Mississippi. Click this link here, read the story, then return.

That is the type of stuff I’m talking about. That is the sort of thing that is, to me, downright infuriating. I would like to think that in this day and age, we have gotten past censoring books and various forms of print. It’s aggravating enough that the FCC is so anxious to can the first overzealous DJ to say the word “boobies” on the air, but now even political satire is being ousted in the ever-retarded “Red States.”

And here, only a few paragraphs into my trademark diatribe, I’ve been reduced to using a sociopolitical “buzzword” that will be filed under “so 2004” by late February/early March. Christ. I think I’d feel less unclean if I were to forcibly club a baby seal to death and then make a crude set of bolas out of his eyelids for other hunters to use on rare and endangered species.

Ya gotta have ethics… ‘scuse me. I have to return some videotapes.

Y’see, that’s just it. It’s this idiotic regression into the intellectual dark ages that irks me, and pardon me, my Republican friends, if I seem to finger your crimson-hued territories as being the cardinal offenders, but I’m just stating the facts.

See, this ain’t a Republican or Democrat thing. It’s a well-known fact that the Southern sector of these United States is, on the whole… just a little slow in terms of gray matter. It’s also no secret that these laidback folk are uptight and very rigid when it comes to certain modern ideologies. Religious tolerance, racial equality, gun control, immigration, free speech, women’s right to choose, or civil union, just to name a few.

Yeah, I’m being very broad, but fuck disclaimers. The South has done enough damage to it’s already not-so-sterling reputation that it permeates and reinforces it’s own horribly clichéd stereotypes, and this instance is no different.

Getting back to the crime at hand… why are we banning a book? Because of a faux nude image that no one has mentioned beforehand? Well if you’re gonna boot the Daily Show book, you might as well boot The Catcher In The Rye for it’s language, Lolita for it’s indecent subject matter, American Psycho for it’s brutal imagery, Breakfast Of Champions for it’s frequent documentation of the male characters’ penis lengths, Of Mice And Men for it’s unintentional animal cruelty, or better yet, let’s go back even further and banish Huckleberry Finn for it’s use of the n-word, despite the fact it was a commonly accepted phrase in it’s day.

See, this is what I was primarily scared of with Bush being re-elected. It’s that hardcore backing of the religious right, who, time has proven, are extremely uptight and highly prevalent in the Southern United States. And to me, that type of thinking is backwards and counterproductive. We’ve come far as a nation and have made great progress. For a library to ban a book, offensive or not, is downright unconstitutional, and I think even the most hardcore conservative would be inclined to agree with me.

See, I’ve never been a fan of censorship, which is why I’ve been such a huge advocate of Howard Stern over the course of the past year. If you wanna know where this all stems from, I’ll give you a brief synopsis. I was a DJ for my college radio station. What started as an intense and obsessive love for guitar and music in general soon transformed into an outlet to vent frustrations, share the music and art I love with a listening audience, and, most importantly, to have a good time. And truthfully, some of my fondest memories from college stem from that dumpy little studio in the basement of Tower.

And many of those memories came from a special Shangri-La called “safe harbor hours.” A realm that exists between 10:00 PM and 6:00 AM Eastern Standard Time where the FCC eases up on the restrictions.

You wanna know how much we loved safe harbor hours? A friend and I would religiously play “Unclefucka” from South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut on our shows.

So yeah, I had a lotta fun with radio, which is why I can sympathize with Howard Stern’s move to Sirius. If I was in his position, getting fined more than someone who hijacks a plane (it’s true), I would move to an uncensored, untouchable venue, too. Radio has gone far beyond that banal land of Top 40 hits, and can actually be used for *gasp!* speaking the truth! Spreading ideas! Encouraging people to vote! It's not just a form of entertainment, it has become an artform in and of itself (largely in thanks to Mr. Stern himself). And any true artform, regardless of the medium, is a form of free expression.

And to me, as a writer, there is no greater form of free expression than within the written word. So for anyone to ban a book is, to me, sacrilegious and unforgivable.

First off, no one person or body of persons should reserve the right to withhold a book from being purchased or lent from a bookstore or library. It’s feeble-minded and weak, period. This is one of the reasons I rarely traverse into the local Wal-Mart. They’re just as bad as the FCC, carrying censored album variants and also pulling whatever they see fit from the shelves. Their most recent crime: removing George Carlin’s latest literary opus, When Will Jesus Bring The Pork Chops? from their shelves.

Of course, this is a major double standard since Wal-Mart stocks up to the nines on the Harry Potter series. And while Carlin's book has not received one formal complaint (or at least not one of note), there have been frickin' marches against Harry Potter saying it promotes witchery, paganism, even Satanism. Of course, that argument is complete bunk, but, Wal-Mart has not given into the plight of these fundamentalist fanatics. Reason? Harry Potter always pushes units, and George Carlin is likely to appeal to a much smaller sample of the American populous.

But we're not here to discuss hypocrisy in the business world. Time to shift gears and get back on track

Not for nothing, but I really wish that this Mississippi library and Wal-Mart would just let the people decide what they want to read. A select group of unauthorized people making such a decision for a larger group of people is not only asinine, but counterproductive as well. And the reasoning behind it is about as solid as your "number two" following an all-night binge at South Of The Border. I mean, when was the last time a book made someone pick up a shotgun and start picking off midgets? Never!

And that’s the other thing that pisses me off. These holier-than-thou businesses somehow think that the written word will influence people to do horrible things. Well if a book, song, movie, or TV show “drives” anyone to commit violent, textbook sociopath behavior, did you ever stop to think that the seed was already in that person’s head? Did you ever put on the brakes and realize that maybe, just maybe that person was a tad bit unstable to begin with? Folks, I realize some psychos out there may need to be taught how to load, aim, and shoot a gun. But they have to want to acquire that gun in the first place. A piece of art is not going to actually speak directly to that person. That only happens in the confines of an unhinged mind, and any psychologist or attorney will tell you the same.

Folks, I gotta close friend who is an avid reader of social theory and philosophy. While he and I share very similar political views, he has a much grimmer outlook on life, and yeah, quite a bit of it stems from what he's come across. Despite our differences, I respect the hell out of the kid for going out of his way to ask questions and seek answers. I respect him for keeping an open mind to another way of thinking, another form of logic and belief. Most of all, I respect him for using his fuckin' brain and absorbing all of these ideas in order to shape his current belief system. He's done more reading on life and society than most of us will do in our lives, and he's only 20 years old. And while I may not always agree with him, I gotta admire how open he is to new perspectives.

See, to me, it’s all about setting the precedent. Sometimes all it takes is one person or one small series of events to set the ball into motion, and that can be both good and bad. In this case, we’re swinging a sharp right at bad, because ideas, be they satirical, revolutionary, or simply thought provoking, should never, I repeat, never be hindered in any way. And if they are, then we might as well throw in the towel, because we’ll officially be halfway to the world depicted in Fahrenheit 451.

And I know damn well that is not what Ray Bradbury wanted when he penned that masterpiece.

Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.

Well, the holiday season be upon us once again, and the year is about to draw to a close. Normally, I’d wrap up the year with a few standard issue posts (Christmas List for Celebs, Top 10 Albums of the Year, etc.). But it seems everyone has their own little take on end-of-the-year awards. VH1, Comedy Central, shit, I’m sure fuckin’ PAX has a year-end special. Still, I started a tradition last year with the first ever "Jump The Landshark" Awards, and I feel obligated to at least keep that tradition in season.

However, instead of handing out multiple honors as I did this year, I have one massive clusterfuck of an award I like to call the Universal Jump the Landshark Award.

And this prestigious honor I bestow upon…

Everyone.

Because every single man, woman, and child on the face of the earth jumped the Landshark in some way, shape or form, this calendar year.

You did it, your mom did it, your lover did it, your sibling(s) did it, even I did it.

My ex made me watch the MTV VMA pre-show. I still feel contaminated.

In all seriousness, though, 2004 was the year from hell. Superficiality overtook substance. Intelligence became a major liability that no one seemed to shell out extra for. Style became a language in and of itself, and altogether eclipsed the importance of talent. Ignorance was bliss to millions of humans. Media dulled the senses and dictated what we needed to know. Logic took a backseat to just about everything. Our culture continued to be dulled by massively stupid public figures. We got a taste of human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together, and mass hysteria. And most troubling of all, people never seemed to want to question the “truth.”

In truth, I found 2004 to be the most frustrating and disappointing year I have waltzed through in some time. Now I’m not trying to bring anyone down, nor am I trying to bear an oversized and much-unneeded cross on my shoulders. However, those of you who know me well know that I underwent a great deal of personal and professional hardship throughout the year. To be fair, there were some highlights, no question about it. And I would like to think that in the end, the positive experiences outweigh the negative. But I can’t shake the fact that the negative were far more numerous, and much too frequent for my liking. For me, the three best things about the year were completing and receiving my MBA, being elected to the Sons of Pericles Supreme Lodge, and the Red Sox winning the Series. Aside from a few weddings I attended and thoroughly enjoyed, the rest of the year kind of blew koalas.

And when I wasn’t encountering death of friends and family, unemployment, or failed relationships, all around me it seemed the rest of the world was just heading nuts-first into a tailspin and not really giving much of a shit. Maybe it’s me (but then again, it’s my blog, so I’m allowed to be me, and fuck you if you don’t like it), but it just seems like all the principles of logic, reason, common sense, and progression have fallen tragically by the wayside with a resounding thud. I don’t know who or what to blame, but I know that it makes me excruciatingly sad. I just feel like people, in this nation and around the world, don’t seem to care about anything anymore. More and more, it seems we the people of the planet Earth are growing more resigned to just putz around like a tribe of hopeless lemmings.

And folks, believe me, I am not limiting this to political outlooks. I’m talking in very broad, general terms. It’s just that… I don’t feel the rules seem to apply to folks all that much anymore. It’s like I meandered directly into this bizarre Wonderwasteland where everything is ass-backwards and no one really seems to care al that much. Let’s just be complacent with the feces that’s forked over to us at the buffet and sport a big shit-eatin’ grin while we devour it.

See, I can’t do that. I learned a long time ago not to remain complacent with myself, or the events around me. I learned that if I feel something is wrong, it’s my duty to speak up about it. It’s one of the reasons I started this stupid blog in the first place, and this mass realization is no different for me. There is something horribly wrong with the world today, and while I cannot put my finger on it precisely, while I cannot look to one lone source and say, “there it is,” I can sense, in very broad terms, that things are way too far left of center.

I feel that, in short, narrow-mindedness has overtaken our nation. To me, that’s frightening. As a child, I was always taught to ask questions when curious, or doubtful, or unsure. And I do to this day. I question everything. Beliefs, leaders, actions, authorities, everything. And that is not to say that I am looking at this through purely biased eyes, ladies and germs. I may not agree with everything that goes on around me, and I shouldn’t have to. The world should not have to suit my needs at all times. However, I can’t shake the feeling that there’s a major bug in the system that is somehow reproducing in brain matter across the globe.

Perfect example. I saw someone at the local pharmacy purchasing the Clapper today. The fuckin’ Clapper. I didn’t even know they still made those damn things.

I think the one moment that hit home the most for me this year was Jon Stewart’s appearance on Crossfire. Stewart commented (and I’m paraphrasing) that there is “something very wrong with the nation right now.” He went on to say that the host, who touts himself as a serious reporter, really isn’t doing anything about it.

I agree with Jon, and I think we should all be allowed to point the finger at the masses and ourselves and say that we’re not doing anything about it. And those of us who at least are cognizant of the problems at hand don’t know where to start.

Admittedly, I don’t know where to start myself.

But I, for one, fully intend to fight the battle with the greatest weapon I have at my disposal. When armed with it and fully loaded, I am slightly invincible against literal and figurative slings and arrows. When wielding it, I can cut through the thickest slab of idiocy, inconsistency, and dishonesty possible. And when using it on others, I can at times influence them to join the good fight.

It’s called my brain. I invite you all to lock and load along with me, and raise the roof in the ’05.

Farewell to this horribly sad and tragic year. All honesty, I won’t miss it a bit.

Goodnight, and have a pleasant whatever.

go oBefore you go any further, I’d suggest you bring yourself up to speed with what happened in Columbus, Ohio this past Wednesday night.

Now, I’m not one to typically comment on major losses in the entertainment industry, save my praise for the late Johnny Cash last year in lieu of MTV’s petty disregard for him.

But Dime… Dime hits close to home, for some reason. Part of that unidentifiable reason may be the fact that if you were a fan and knew anything about the man, he seemed like family to you. And to hear that he was cut down without the slightest hint of provocation is downright heartbreaking.

To put it bluntly, this entire thing makes no sense. It’s all so damn surreal, it seems like a horribly bad episode of Law & Order. Sadly enough, odds are that this scenario will be “ripped from the headlines” and projected onto the small screen.

And in truth, that probable homage would give this incident more coverage than mainstream music media has bothered to grant the situation. I mean, it received major news coverage, no doubt. CNN, MSNBC, all the major outlets carried the story. But you’d think that major music outlets, i.e., MTV, VH1, and radio would pay more attention to this. Y’know, since it’s relative to the industry.

But per usual, said outlets have given this situation nothing more than a small blurb on their websites or between-program news briefs. Even most rock radio stations didn’t carry the story for more than a few hours.

I remember back in 2002 when Layne Staley died, and his passing received a modicum of coverage. One week after his body was discovered, Lisa Lopes was killed in a car crash, and MTV treated her like Princess Diana.

Y’wanna know why? I’m gonna throw political correctness by the wayside and say it’s ‘cause Dime and Layne were slaves to the white man!

Oh, wrong prejudicial preference. Sorry. It’s really ‘cause they’re of the hard rock/metal genre. See, ‘cause rock in general is considered passé by MTV and VH1 (unless you’re in one of those horrendously overrated indie college bands like Modest Mouse, Franz Ferdinand or Bard’s Ballsack). I wish these fucking narrow-minded twits would call a spade a spade, and a loss a loss.

And believe me… Dime is a loss. The guy was a fucking phenomenal guitarist. I had the privilege of seeing him play with Pantera once in New Haven, and they were amazing. Dime was especially impressive. I’m something of a guitar aficionado (which means I love guitar-based music, but am not good enough to play myself), and I can just tell when a guy is playing with everything he has. I’ve seen it with Joe Perry, Zakk Wylde, Eric Clapton, Steve Vai, and yes. I saw it with Dime, too. The guy was so innovative, and really helped to put a new spin on the world of thrash, which was waning at the time.

That’s one reason why Far Beyond Driven debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard charts in 1994. These guys built their following the old-fashioned way: working their asses off from dusk ‘til dawn in front of live audiences. C’mon, you really think most rock stations would play Pantera at any point in time? Trust me, it’s a very rare thing. That’s why the band was so special to a lot of people. They were the workingman’s metal band when Metallica and Megadeth were going down more commercially gainful roads, musically speaking.

I never had the pleasure to see Dime and Vinnie play in Damageplan. I missed the opportunity by a hair’s inch on December 4th of this year, when they tackled the Webster Theatre in Hartford. Unfortunately, I could not make it. I just figured that they’d be around again in no time.

And to me, it’s sad to know that such a return is never going to happen. And I’m not the only one feeling it. The hard rock community has banded together, forsaken all feuds and beefs with one another in Dime’s name. Zakk Wylde, Ozzy Osbourne, Lars Ulrich, Dave Mustaine, Scott Ian, Rob Zombie, Jerry Cantrell, even Dime’s former bandmate turned apparent rival Phil Anselmo has offered up a tribute whilst still grieving.

That speaks highly of the individual, to me. Here was a guy who seemed to get along with practically everyone he met. That’s what makes this senseless death even worse. Dime did nothing to hurt anyone. He never did anything to deserve this. Neither did the three other innocents who were gunned down by a flat-out psychopath.

No one deserves to die because their band broke up. It’s that simple. And make no mistake about it… Dime may have been a long-haired, tattooed, cursin’, cussin’, dirty ol’ boozehound of a metalhead. But this is still a tragedy.

I’d say something touching like, “keep shredding, Dime,” or, “it’s gonna be real quiet without ya, Dime.” But I didn’t know the man. So instead, I’m gonna fix myself a couple of black-toothed grins in honor of the man.

Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.