Seriously, just think about some of them for a moment. No, not later. Right now. This post will be irrelevant(or more irrelevant) if you think about
Don't screw this up for me! I didn't waste a good chunk of my time writing this so you could just
glance at it and openly defy my instructions.
This isn't pick and choose, pal. Just play along and everything will be cool.
Okay, let's put aside your irritating lack of obedience and start over before I declare this post ruined by your selfish little desires...
The more I think about them the more it feels as if everyone in the medication naming department is given a bag of Scrabble tiles and asked to come up with something before Sonic's happy hour expires. And when I say 'something', I mean 'anything'.
Sudafed, Lyrica, Prevacid, Yoplait... the list goes on and on.
More often than not it seems most medications are given names that almost sound like the names of, oh, for lack of anything better let's use the word 'creatures'.
You know, the kind of creatures that can be caught in the wild and be trained to fight in fantastic tournaments and befriend stuck-up
children with delusions of grandeur, all while making millions through an endless plethora of nauseatingly-cute merchandise.
Yes, those kind of creatures.
These hypothetical creatures might even be suited to appear on various entertainment platforms.
There could be video games, card games and maybe even a television show!
Hmmm...I wonder what a show like that would look like...
But I'm getting ahead of myself here. There'd first need to be a video game to precede such hypothetical nonsense. The kind of video game that could easily draw hapless children into a friendly and magical world involving plagues, viruses, diseases, second opinions, exciting unexpected side effects, never-ending lines at pharmacies, and the intense OCD desire to "Catch it all!". 'Cause that's what you gotta do. Catch it all. Or contract it all. Depending on how you play.
There could even be an incredible game
soundtrack filled with all your favorite "your call is important to us" hold music. Looped over and over and over again until your ears bleed.
WOW. Sign. Me. Up.
Just using my imagination I pulled from my left armpit these exciting screenshots from a Pokémeds game:
Okay, some of them might literally blow your mind, but that's what insurance and that chained box in Grandma's sock drawer is for.
You'll get to experience so much fun and you'll never be afraid of cake ever again! You won't know what hit your deductible until that
refrigerator box starts calling out to you like it thinks you're Antonio Banderas.
See, children, the truth is, sometimes when people come up with too many kinds of medicine, the people whose job it is to NAME the medicines get really bored and start coming up with really idiotic names. Most likely because they aren't even the slightest bit aware of the kind of
power they've been employed/promoted into.
Also because they probably majored in art or political science.
And this is when we have to stop and consider the chain of command one has to climb to somehow access a job like this.
I mean, I'm no political art scientist but I know I could do this job.
How hard could it be?
BAM! How easy was that? It was easier than
eating soup with the wrong end of a spoon.
With my help you'd have no more stupid medicinal names.
No Pokémeds games. No Pokémeds show.
No collectible plushies or playing cards.
No, I didn't forget the cards. The Pokémeds cards would probably look something like this:
But at the end of the day perhaps people really don't mind all these stupid names. Maybe people enjoy waking up in the morning and shouting out stupidities such as "Chantix, I choose YOU!"
or "I think my socks taste like almond pancakes!"
I dunno. I think people are weird enough without some crazy phenomenon like "Pokémeds" disrupting the natural flow of society.
Conversations like this would eventually become commonplace amongst the youth of today:
Oh well. I type in vain, for I know that despite my complaints and/or wise warnings the world will continue to spit out silly med commercials and I will forever be haunted by travesties such as
animated Twinkies, depressed umbrellas, and people who take their pet elephants to the fair.
It's sad but true.
And before I go eat my almond-flavored socks, I'd like to end with a helpful word from our sponsor: