Anyway, so, as someone whose family dog used to be on some form of doggy Xanax and whose ex-boyfriend's ex-cat used to take a variety of pills for schizophrenia and obsessive-compulsive disorder, I can tell you, I have occasionally wondered, whether all their playing sweet and dumb crap wasn't simply a Canis familiarus-wide conspiracy to leech off the upright race's superior work ethic and tireless capacity for scooping up feces. (Fun fact: American pet spending has risen 30% or eleven and a half billion dollars over the course of the past five years, a period of time during which the average American household income did not increase at all.)(!!) But…

The underlying controversy of the story seems to be, do pets only know basic fear/joy/pain type feelings, or do they have actual consciousness? Because dogs can be compulsive and anxious and schizo and crap. But, you know, until I hear a little more evidence there is some epic existential barking tradition being endangered by the nation's shock collars, I am going to venture that the whole thing is just one more case of humans overintellectualizing their bad tendencies, when it's really pretty clear a lot of the crap we do is primal and doglike and basically dumb, which probably explains why we so dote on and empathize with the lesser species, and the only solace is that consciousness allows us to recognize that, and also, why we keep sleeping with assholes.

Pill-Popping Pets [NY Times]

Related: How Prozac Sent The Science Of Depression In The Wrong Direction [Boston Globe]

Why invent a disease? Well, if you've got a drug with a limited market — like Pfizer's Lyrica, originally developed for seizures, it's pretty genius business to make up a mysterious new ailment that a lot of people could potentially have or be scared they have. Where do you think ADD came from? What about "bipolar disorder"? "Irritable bowel syndrome"? Oh sure, those diseases affect one in 1.5 Americans, and we have them too, but:

...Those figures are sharply disputed by those doctors who do not consider fibromyalgia a medically recognizable illness and who say that diagnosing the condition actually worsens suffering by causing patients to obsess over aches that other people simply tolerate.

Drug Approved. Is Disease Real? [NY Times]

The pharmaceutical industry is sort of like women's magazines: staffed by blandly attractive people, determined to make you feel bad about yourself, and brimming with new ways to stop you from being fat! Unlike women's magazines, however, Big Pharma has come up with a few weight loss ideas that actually work, which is why have learned to sit back in consent as it decimates the American health care system. With that in mind, welcome to our first installment of 'Pillhead', in which a real connoisseur reports on this exciting field and tries not to crap her pants in the process.

Some basics about Alli, if you've missed the huge marketing campaign:

• It's the first FDA approved over-the-counter diet drug.
  
• It became available late last week at drugstores and online.
  
• It works by keeping some of the fat you eat in each meal from being digested.
  
• It costs $60 a month, which depending on your situation is generally cheaper than Adderall.
  
• If you take it with a meal that has too much fat, ORANGE OIL COMES CASCADING OUT OF YOUR ASS IN A RIVER DOWN YOUR LEG AND INTO YOUR BOYFRIEND'S FACE.

  Okay, that's not exactly what the marketing materials say, but they do suggest that you wear dark pants.

  The makers of Alli call the side effects of taking an Alli pill and then going crazy with a Bloomin' Onion "treatment effects". The message board posters more cleverly call it an "Alli-oops". I call it "IM-ing Moe and saying "Oh my god I can't do this. What are you making me do? I can't do this!"

  A survey of the "personal experiences" board yields mostly callouts to join groups (40 Year Olds, Brides-to-Be, People Who Live in New Jersey) and most of the posters seem to have not yet experienced any of the dreaded "treatment effects". But then there are the posts like these that I'm praying were written by pranksters:

  I Can't Believe I Just **** All Over Myself!

  Oh god.

  As a husband, just want to clue you in on a request....when you head to the ladies room, by all means turn the fan on. Something is indeed needed to mask the ungodly sounds emanating from the toilet. It sort of takes away the mystery, the romance if you will of a romantic interlude. Plus, the kids find it hysterical...I have even had my 11 year old record mom's tunes and has created a digitalized version with her actual sound samples (and god knows there were plenty!). Just a heads up ladies, turn the fan on, or even better wait until no one is home to start your syphmony.

  I took a picture of what came out of me today (gross, I know, but the people need to know), but I don't know how to load it. The water in the toilet actually had grease floating on the surface...a lot of it!

  All of which adds up to "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!", but I am willing, gentle reader, to try Alli for one week and report back, Slutmachine TMI style. Mostly because I'm getting paid. And not planning to eat any fat of any kind. You're welcome!

  But don't worry, no pictures.

"The excess fat that passes out of your body isn't harmful, but you should be prepared for the possibility of it happening," cautioned a book, Are You Losing It?, that GlaxoSmithKline was distributing, Dianetics-like, at the pavilion. "In fact, you may recognize it as something that looks like the oil on top of a pizza."

Allis Folly [NYObserver]
Related: Round Table Pizza