Prescription Thugs

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1

I'm Raymond Massey,

and I have a special message

for senior citizens.

Today's doctors, drugs

and medical devices

truly work medical miracles

for young and old alike,

but there are some as phony

as a $3 bill,

like this Zerret Applicator,

for example,

which has claimed to cure

arthritis with Z-rays.

There are no Z-rays.

Investigate before you invest

in health services or products.

Help stamp out quackery.

Welcome to the United States

of addiction.

We want everything big,

we want everything now,

and we don't want to work

for it.

In 2008 I made my first film,

"Bigger Stronger Faster,"

about my heroes and their dirty

little secret:
steroids.

I mean, steroids were

for cheaters and losers,

and worse yet,

they kill you, right?

Well, actually no.

It turns out they won't kill

you.

But what I didn't know then

was that there was another

skeleton in the closet

that was hidden from view,

a real danger lying

beneath the surface,

like Jaws waiting to strike.

The actor Heath Ledger

was found dead today

in an apartment

here in New York city.

Pop superstar Michael Jackson

is dead at the age of 50.

Suddenly my heroes started

to die, lots of them.

But it wasn't from steroids.

It was from drugs.

- The full extent of

- Michael Jackson's

dependence on prescription drugs

is splashed

across today's front pages.

And not the illegal kind,

like you would expect.

We haven't lost someone

to heroin in a while.

We've concluded that the manner

of death is accident,

resulting from the abuse

of prescription medications.

People were dying

from prescription drugs.

Prescription drug abuse

is killing more people

in this country

than car wrecks.

Legal drugs, the kinds

the doctors give us, you know,

the kindly old doctor

that used to be by your beside

when you had the mumps and

gave you all your flu shots?

The good guy, the one

looking out for our health.

Prosecutors say you didn't

need an appointment.

All you had to do was

send a doctor a text message

and open your wallet.

But these days,

the doctors are starting

to look more like drug dealers.

Dr. Verbovsky orchestrated

a scheme to trade prescriptions

for pills, in exchange

for sexual favors and money.

And if they're the dealers,

what does that make us,

the junkies?

Today a widespread fondness

for pharmaceuticals

has turned the US into a nation

of pill-poppers.

How many people

in this b*tch pop pills?

- We only represent 5%

- of the world's population,

yet we consume 75% of the

world's prescription drugs.

We've got no business popping

as many pills as we do.

According to the federal

government,

last year more than

six million Americans

used OxyContin

for recreational purposes.

In 2010,

254 million prescriptions

for opioids

were filled in this country.

That's enough painkillers

to medicate every American adult

around the clock

for a month.

I have never experienced

the kind of euphoria

that I got from a pain pill.

- We have drugs for everything.

- Hell, we even have drugs

for things that aren't

even diseases.

The first and only FDA approved

prescription treatment

for inadequate

or not enough lashes.

So, how do we get this way?

- Talk to your doctor.

- Ask your doctor.

- Talk to your doctor.

- Talk to your doctor.

- Ask your doctor.

- Just talk to your doctor.

Every night on TV, you see

a weird-ass drug commercial

trying to get you hooked

on some legal sh*t,

and they just keep naming

symptoms till they get one

that you f***ing got, okay?

It's like, are you sad?

Are you lonely?

You got athletes foot?

Are you hot, are you cold?

What you got? You want

this pill, huh, motherf***er?

You've got to take this pill!

Ask yourself... is it really

a war on drugs,

or are we just a nation

of prescription thugs?

Growing up in Pokipsy, New York,

my brothers and I

never even saw drugs.

My parents were kinda nerds.

They didn't even drink.

We practically

grew up in church.

Our parents always taught us

right from wrong.

We knew drugs were bad,

so we got into sports.

From an early age, my big

brother Mad Dog was my hero.

We always knew he was destined

for greatness,

so when he told us he was going

to wrestle for the WWE,

like our heroes the Hulkster

and the Warrior,

we believed

he'd finally made it.

The sky was the limit

for the Bell brothers,

and Mad Dog was leading

the charge.

But like most things in life,

the reality of the situation

wasn't that easy.

You see, he never really

got the big contract.

He wasn't ever allowed to win.

He was more like a carny

traveling alongside the circus.

He was feeder material,

a jobber.

Like most wrestlers,

Mad Dog was thrown out

of the ring and injured

and quickly found himself in

the jaws of a serious addiction

of Vicodin and other pain meds.

His wrestling career

took a dive,

and Mad Dog never quite

recovered from it.

It was his worst fear

to be average, a nobody.

Since "Bigger Stronger Faster,"

Mad Dog has been in and out

of rehab, wrestling

with a major addiction

to prescription pills.

He's decided that he's had

enough, so my father's

flying out to California

to see if he can help.

Hey, how you doin?

Good.

Hang on,

it's still locked.

Good.

What's been going on

with you, though,

that you had to have him

come out here?

Like, what in general's been

going on, drugs or...

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