Gimme Gimme My Vioxx

Your own BigCityLib occasionally suffers from an debilitating condition known as metabolic arthritis, or in the common tongue, gout, which is caused either by eating too many fried chicken wings or drinking too much beer (but most likely, in my case, the latter). Every once in awhile I get these shrieking pains in my left big toe, and if they go untreated I wind up spending the next week or two hobbling around like an old man. However, several years back when the symptoms first appeared my doctor prescribed these wonderful little pills, and it used to be I would pop one of them and presto the pain would go away and I could tap-dance to my heart's content. However, the last time I ran out of these pills I discovered that they were actually Rofecoxib, or Vioxx, which the FDA banned in 2004 because a small minority people had the bad taste to drop dead of heart-attacks after taking them. Because the next best Cox-2 Inhibitor, Celebrex, compares to Vioxx the way watery coffee compares to LSD, I was disappointed yesterday when I read that the FDA would not approve Arcoxia, Merck's successor to Vioxx.

And so I am doomed to go forward in this life forever watching what I eat and drink so as to prevent flare-ups.

And let me just warn my readers about the hazards associated with beer. For when you are young it can seem to be a wonder substance, cold and golden and filled with bubbly happiness--better than women, even, because beer never whines about "rights"and its socially acceptable to have six in one night. When you get older, however, ill effects begin to appear, like the way your gut starts to fall out through your ass and yes, the onset of embarrassing ailments like metabolic arthritis.

If I were to do it all again, I'd stick with ganja and cool-aid.