To health in a handbasket

Turns out I don't have diabetes yet, but the doctor has put me on Lipitor for excessive levels of the naughtier varieties of cholesterol. (My good cholesterol is high too, but not high enough to compensate for the naughty. Typical worthless goody two-shoes -- I'm going to kick your useless nambypamby ass!) Going on a prescription fills me with a nameless sinking dread, and with this on top of the ongoing teeth-grinding that has resulted in a busted molar and sleeping with a night guard, I am feeling decidedly middle-aged and trapped in complex mortal dilemmas. Where did my grandkids get to anyway? I need someone to mow the lawn while I catch my breath and have another beer.

The doctor joked that if we just put Lipitor and an antidepressant into the drinking water, we'd all be a lot better off. That's a funny joke, but it's also scary, because it says we are a nation of fat, depressed people. Nuke us now, Iran, before the punchline becomes a sentence. (Oops, I hear Homeland Security at the door. I'll be right back!)