Change the Channel

Television commercials depress me. Have you really considered them lately? If our society is heading toward its downfall—Roman Empire style—commercials are the death knell.

It's bad enough that doctors are being treated like pushers, and it's bad enough that our society is (legally) drugging itself into blissful oblivion, do we really need to advertise it? To make it into some catchy jingle with a handsome spokesperson and warm, nostalgic post-production effects? It's gotten to the point where these people think selling a cholesterol drug is like staging a production of Hamlet.

"I didn't know you could play the trumpet like that, dad!"

"Neither did I, son. Neither did I."

I'm not making this up. Someone, for the love of God, shoot me now.

Drug commercials depress me more than any other: More than the Chevrolet commercial which equates patriotism and the American Spirit with a 2007 Chevy Silverado ("This is our truck!"); more than the "reality" show teasers airing on every major network, which are full of such hopelessly fake people it is a wonder they actually exist; more than Budweiser or Captain Morgan's Spiced Rum or Miller Genuine Draft reminding me to drink responsibly—as if they give a shit.

But drug commercials. God help us.

I don't know whether to feel depressed, nauseated, angry, dismissive, or hopeless. Sounds like I should talk to my doctor—fast!

I bet he could prescribe something to address my problem.