rv581
12-30-02, 01:07 PM
from www.laststory.com
“Enough with Depression”
According the “experts,” 19 million Americans are currently suffering from depression. Does that number seem a little high to you? In a country of almost 300 million, is one out of every 16 people really clinically depressed? Well, this is a capitalistic society and people vote with their credit cards for goods and services. And according to government statistics, Eli Lilly, the makers of Prozac, accrues 2.6 billion a year in sales from that drug alone. The number seems absolutely staggering—but illustrates that depression is a major industry with elevated profits. Question: Who are these 19 million Americans suffering from depression?
Answer: Pussies.
Look… if you live in the United States of America (and to a lesser extent, Canada) in an air conditioned apartment with a fully-stocked refrigerator, telephones, television, and indoor plumbing, you have absolutely no right to be depressed. Ever. Period. End of story. Do you realize that nearly 50% of the earth’s population suffers from severe malnutrition or starvation, 70% has no running water, and over 75% is routinely subject to either brutal human rights violations or lives in a warzone? The “wealthy” man in Rwanda would give his left nut to be a “depressed” man in the United Sates.
Folks… if you’re not happy in America… where the fuck do you plan on going?
It’s a good thing Gandhi never “suffered” from depression, eh? Or Mother Theresa. In fact, if you asked a sewer-dweller in Calcutta or New Delhi if he was feeling “depressed” today, he’d probably tell you that he didn’t have time for depression—he needs to somehow feed his family. Depression is a relatively new phenomenon, almost exclusively limited to the middle-to-upper class of society. Poor people, you see, can’t afford depression. It’s out of their price range.
By and large, depression in America is a self-induced defensive mechanism for society’s elites. Pampered, coddled bourgeois citizens, upon realizing that they just might never become the epicenter for the entire fuckin’ universe, become “depressed” and need medication. But it wasn’t always this way. The World War II generation saved Europe from Nazi annihilation, battled through the Great Depression, and cured Polio. They knew that their personal happiness was predicated upon their own drive and initiative. Unfortunately, the children they raised, the over-fed and over-indulged Baby Boomers, gallivanted through existence with a sense of entitlement. They honestly believed that their lives should become the focal point of everything, that no cause was greater than their own. And the “me-first” Baby Boomers, full of arrogance and pomposity, taught their children a similar lesson… only amplified. We now have two sets of generations that have been completely pussified, each believing that their lives are blessed above all others, with happiness and success an inalienable right bestowed by their Creator… who was made in their image. It’s sickening.
So many Americans have become so insulated, so self-absorbed that they can no longer derive joy or happiness from nature, friendships, commerce, spirituality, or an unyielding supply of food, drinks, and entertainment. The very fact that they’re living in the most amazing era of human development—in a country of unparalleled wealth and opportunity—has become a burden to these weak-minded babies, a constant reminder that as good as they have it, someone else just might have it better. A carnivorous ego turns within and these whiny, bratty, pussified people channel their malcontent into nuevo-ailments, such as depression. It’s not their fault, you see… They’re suffering from a “disease.”
You know, if you really wanted to, you could manage to be unhappy at Disney World. Happiness and sadness are self-fulfilled prophecies, completely dependent on one’s state of mind. If you seek depression, you will find it. If you seek happiness, you’ll find that, too.
Of course, there are some individuals with legitimate disorders and chemical imbalances, but I’m convinced that they comprise a tiny percentage of the 19 million “depressed” Americans. And most of those with legitimate ailments are upbeat and thankful, eternally grateful to live in a time when medication and treatment can help them enjoy all that life has to offer. The rest of the “depressed” people are using depression as a crutch as they limp through life, blaming this outside force for all their woes. It’s not that they have it bad, you see… it’s that they don’t have it quite good enough. These children of privilege realize they were lied to—that their guaranteed greatness and celebrity status will never occur. Something must be impeding their imperial destiny… Hmm… physically they’re fine… aha! It’s a mental problem that they couldn’t possibly be expected to overcome without intensive psychiatric therapy and thousands of dollars worth of prescribed medication. Scapegoats sure do come in handy. I know lots of people with numerous scapegoats. I also know those without any. The ones without are capable of dusting themselves of the ground and ultimately persevering, believing life is what you make of it.
Depression is for pussies. Don’t be a pussy.
“Enough with Depression”
According the “experts,” 19 million Americans are currently suffering from depression. Does that number seem a little high to you? In a country of almost 300 million, is one out of every 16 people really clinically depressed? Well, this is a capitalistic society and people vote with their credit cards for goods and services. And according to government statistics, Eli Lilly, the makers of Prozac, accrues 2.6 billion a year in sales from that drug alone. The number seems absolutely staggering—but illustrates that depression is a major industry with elevated profits. Question: Who are these 19 million Americans suffering from depression?
Answer: Pussies.
Look… if you live in the United States of America (and to a lesser extent, Canada) in an air conditioned apartment with a fully-stocked refrigerator, telephones, television, and indoor plumbing, you have absolutely no right to be depressed. Ever. Period. End of story. Do you realize that nearly 50% of the earth’s population suffers from severe malnutrition or starvation, 70% has no running water, and over 75% is routinely subject to either brutal human rights violations or lives in a warzone? The “wealthy” man in Rwanda would give his left nut to be a “depressed” man in the United Sates.
Folks… if you’re not happy in America… where the fuck do you plan on going?
It’s a good thing Gandhi never “suffered” from depression, eh? Or Mother Theresa. In fact, if you asked a sewer-dweller in Calcutta or New Delhi if he was feeling “depressed” today, he’d probably tell you that he didn’t have time for depression—he needs to somehow feed his family. Depression is a relatively new phenomenon, almost exclusively limited to the middle-to-upper class of society. Poor people, you see, can’t afford depression. It’s out of their price range.
By and large, depression in America is a self-induced defensive mechanism for society’s elites. Pampered, coddled bourgeois citizens, upon realizing that they just might never become the epicenter for the entire fuckin’ universe, become “depressed” and need medication. But it wasn’t always this way. The World War II generation saved Europe from Nazi annihilation, battled through the Great Depression, and cured Polio. They knew that their personal happiness was predicated upon their own drive and initiative. Unfortunately, the children they raised, the over-fed and over-indulged Baby Boomers, gallivanted through existence with a sense of entitlement. They honestly believed that their lives should become the focal point of everything, that no cause was greater than their own. And the “me-first” Baby Boomers, full of arrogance and pomposity, taught their children a similar lesson… only amplified. We now have two sets of generations that have been completely pussified, each believing that their lives are blessed above all others, with happiness and success an inalienable right bestowed by their Creator… who was made in their image. It’s sickening.
So many Americans have become so insulated, so self-absorbed that they can no longer derive joy or happiness from nature, friendships, commerce, spirituality, or an unyielding supply of food, drinks, and entertainment. The very fact that they’re living in the most amazing era of human development—in a country of unparalleled wealth and opportunity—has become a burden to these weak-minded babies, a constant reminder that as good as they have it, someone else just might have it better. A carnivorous ego turns within and these whiny, bratty, pussified people channel their malcontent into nuevo-ailments, such as depression. It’s not their fault, you see… They’re suffering from a “disease.”
You know, if you really wanted to, you could manage to be unhappy at Disney World. Happiness and sadness are self-fulfilled prophecies, completely dependent on one’s state of mind. If you seek depression, you will find it. If you seek happiness, you’ll find that, too.
Of course, there are some individuals with legitimate disorders and chemical imbalances, but I’m convinced that they comprise a tiny percentage of the 19 million “depressed” Americans. And most of those with legitimate ailments are upbeat and thankful, eternally grateful to live in a time when medication and treatment can help them enjoy all that life has to offer. The rest of the “depressed” people are using depression as a crutch as they limp through life, blaming this outside force for all their woes. It’s not that they have it bad, you see… it’s that they don’t have it quite good enough. These children of privilege realize they were lied to—that their guaranteed greatness and celebrity status will never occur. Something must be impeding their imperial destiny… Hmm… physically they’re fine… aha! It’s a mental problem that they couldn’t possibly be expected to overcome without intensive psychiatric therapy and thousands of dollars worth of prescribed medication. Scapegoats sure do come in handy. I know lots of people with numerous scapegoats. I also know those without any. The ones without are capable of dusting themselves of the ground and ultimately persevering, believing life is what you make of it.
Depression is for pussies. Don’t be a pussy.