Here is how I imagine two research pharmacists came to the conclusion that someone battling depression should be given the choice every morning to take the pill that will help them, or ingest a foreign substance that may bring about sweet, glorious death:
PharmD #1: Hey, Jim. How're you coming with that new class of antidepressant you've been working on?
PharmD #2: Not bad, Sally. The efficacy is great, zero toxicity, and I finally have the side effects down to an acceptable range. It's just that the darn little pills keep sticking together.
PharmD #1: Why not just put a sugar coating on it like ibuprofen?
PharmD #2: No shit, Sally? Like I didn't think of that! Do you know what the per pill cost is at right now? You know I am counting on my stock options.
PharmD #1: I hear ya. Frank and I had to stop renovating our guest wing until I figured out that if we just kept the 20mg Prozac caps the un-dyed blue and gray, the cost per pill would come down enough to put the profit margin through the roof. And all of the furniture in the guest rooms was so tacky and dated; it looked straight out of 2005. That little shortcut saved me quite a bit of social embarrassment!
PharmD #2: You think that's bad? I've promised those Swedish twins I've been dating that we'd spend the summer holiday in Majorca. And you know what villas rent for in August.
PharmD #1: Hey, I know! You could just put a small plastic canister of poison in each bottle!
PharmD #2: Sally, you're brilliant! I owe you big time.
PharmD #1: Don't worry about it. Just burn me a DVD.
PharmD #2: DVD of what?
PharmD #1: Of the web-cams I know you're gonna have set up in that villa!
PharmD #2: Why Sally, you kinky bitch! Consider it done.
I just hope that if they put me on an MAOI that it doesn't come with a cyanide capsule.