This just in: Prozac is a better treatment than talking to your kid. Isn't life fabulous? By Mark Morford
Is your teenager depressed? Throwing things? Sulking like she hates you and only speaking in monosyllabic grunts and playing their Staind or Avril Lavigne or Hoobastank MP3s way too loud? Sure they are. Damn kids.
Are they slouching way too much and wearing low-slung clothes and locking the door to their bedrooms and masturbating chronically, and then racking up huge cell-phone bills as they complain endlessly to their best friend about their unrequited loves and horrible parents and how much they hate life and how they're always despondent and put upon and pimply and miserable?
Solution: You need to give them drugs. Lots of drugs. Expensive ones with nice little corporate logos on them. This is the only way.
Haven't you been reading the papers? Watching the commercials? Drugs are in. Drugs are the new black. Drugs rain down from the sky like pretty purple Skittles. Drugs are mandatory and the most important advancement in child rearing since the invention of the cane and the padlock and the Catholic priest....
