It’s illegal for drug companies to advertise to consumers almost everywhere in the world. The only exceptions are the US and New Zealand.
In most of the world, it is illegal for pharmaceutical companies to advertise prescription drugs directly to consumers. Countries in the European Union, Canada, the United Kingdom, and the vast majority of Asia and South America restrict these promotions to medical professionals only, arguing that patients aren’t equipped to evaluate complex risk profiles or weigh safety data. Health agencies instead encourage evidence-based prescribing and physician-guided care. Direct-to-consumer advertising, they argue, can distort demand, push expensive brand-name drugs, and pressure doctors to prescribe treatments based on marketing rather than medical need.
The only two countries that broadly allow direct-to-consumer advertising of prescription medications are the United States and New Zealand. In the U.S., drug commercials became widespread after regulatory changes in 1997 made broadcast advertising easier, eventually turning them into a multibillion-dollar industry. New Zealand follows a similar model, though lawmakers there have repeatedly introduced proposals to ban the practice. Critics, including many international health organizations, note that direct promotion can contribute to higher drug costs, encourage over-medication, and increase demand for newer medications with less long-term safety data. As a result, America and New Zealand remain notable outliers in a global landscape that overwhelmingly keeps pharmaceutical marketing out of the consumer spotlight.
A guy upset with his then girlfriend for not properly mourning his father’s death hatched a plan to marry and conceive a child and then kill it later after the wife had bonded with it. He was convicted for murdering the 7 month old.
The murder of seven-month-old Tyler Shanabarger is one of the most chilling and premeditated crimes ever to come out of Indiana. Investigators discovered that the child’s father, Ronald Shanabarger, confessed to intentionally plotting his son’s death years before the baby was even born. According to police, his motive stemmed from resentment: when his own father died, his then-girlfriend didn’t immediately return from a trip to comfort him. Instead of confronting the pain like a healthy adult, Ronald began nurturing a grudge so twisted that he allegedly vowed to one day make her suffer. He later married her, conceived a child, and allowed time for her to emotionally bond with the baby — all as part of a revenge fantasy.
On Father’s Day weekend in 1999, Ronald put his plan into action. He suffocated his infant son using plastic wrap and then placed the baby face-down in the crib, staging the scene to resemble Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. When the mother found Tyler unresponsive, she believed it was a tragic accident. Days later, however, Ronald confessed to police in chilling detail, describing the murder not as a moment of rage, but as the fulfillment of his carefully nurtured plan. Detectives and prosecutors described his demeanor as disturbingly cold — void of empathy, remorse, or normal parental instinct.
The more investigators uncovered, the more grotesque the case became. This wasn’t a breakdown or a sudden snap. It was premeditation stretching across years, driven by spite, entitlement, and a desire to inflict emotional destruction on another human being by weaponizing innocence. A jury convicted Ronald of murder, and he received a lengthy prison sentence. Even seasoned detectives struggled to process a motive built on petty resentment rising to the level of calculated infanticide.
A man who went on a year-long gambling binge at Caesar’s Palace. He ultimately lost nearly $127 million, which accounted for 5.6% of the casino group’s yearly gambling revenue
In 2007, Omaha businessman Terrance Watanabe embarked on one of the most infamous gambling binges in Las Vegas history. Over the span of a year, he wagered an estimated $825 million at Caesars Palace and the Rio All-Suite Hotel & Casino, ultimately losing nearly $127 million — roughly 5.6% of the casino group’s annual gambling revenue. His presence was so valuable that casino operations quietly shifted around his behavior. Dealers and pit bosses were assigned according to his sleep cycle, high-end suites and private butlers were comped at all hours, and VIP staff were tasked with keeping him gambling as long as possible.
As Watanabe spiraled, witnesses described an increasingly impaired player. Employees later testified that he slurred his words, nodded off at the tables, and sometimes leaned on the felt to stay upright. Nevertheless, he was continuously served alcohol, and regulators investigated claims that casino staff provided prescription pills to keep him awake and playing. Several workers eventually blew the whistle, alleging they were instructed not to cut him off despite his obvious intoxication. Nevada gaming regulations prohibit allowing visibly impaired patrons to gamble, prompting a rare inquiry by the Nevada Gaming Control Board.
The level of pampering extended far beyond standard high-roller treatment. Caesars reportedly gave him millions in complimentary perks, assigned him multiple butlers, and provided luxury amenities on demand. Internally, he was treated as a critical revenue stream, and staff monitored his moods and betting patterns to adjust comps in real time. Despite losing staggering sums, Watanabe refused to learn basic game strategy, sometimes burning through millions in a single night at blackjack while heavily intoxicated.
When the spree ended, Watanabe still owed approximately $14.7 million in unpaid markers. Caesars pursued criminal charges, leading to his arrest on felony theft counts that carried potential decades in prison. In response, he countersued, accusing the casino of exploiting addiction, supplying intoxicants, and violating gaming regulations. The case attracted national attention and triggered compliance changes within the industry. Ultimately, both sides reached a confidential settlement, and Watanabe entered treatment for gambling and substance issues — leaving behind one of the most extreme and financially devastating runs Las Vegas had ever seen.
The 5th oldest tree in the world was destroyed when a 26 year old model set a fire to see better while she was smoking meth inside the hollow trunk.
In January 2012, residents of Longwood, Florida woke to devastating news: The Senator, a massive 3,500-year-old bald cypress and one of the oldest known trees in the world, had burned from the inside out and collapsed into ash and debris. Standing 118 feet tall before hurricane damage shortened it, the tree was older than the Roman Empire and pre-dated the construction of the Egyptian pyramids at Giza by centuries. When investigators traced the blaze back to its source, they arrested 26-year-old Sara Barnes, who admitted she had crawled inside the hollowed trunk after hours to smoke methamphetamine. Needing light to prepare the drugs, she set a small fire that quickly intensified, turning the ancient tree’s hollow core into a natural chimney. Barnes reportedly later showed friends photos and video of the burning trunk, boasting, “I can’t believe I burned down a tree older than Jesus.”
Barnes was charged with arson and possession and received probation along with mandatory drug treatment. Her accomplice was also arrested. The case drew national ridicule and outrage, not just because of the bizarre circumstances, but because the tree was considered a local monument: for generations, schoolchildren visited it, railings and platforms were built to protect it, and dendrochronologists studied its growth rings. Fire officials said the destruction was permanent — no amount of watering or conservation effort could restore what had stood since before classical antiquity.
The aftermath was surprisingly hopeful. After the collapse, park officials collected surviving pieces of the tree, and the Seminole County horticulture team salvaged living tissue from the stump. They grafted the surviving material onto new rootstock, successfully producing a clone nicknamed “The Phoenix,” which was planted on the same site in 2014. Today, it grows behind protective fencing as a living genetic descendant of the original giant. Sculptors also carved artwork and benches from unburned Senator wood recovered from the debris, allowing pieces of the ancient tree to endure around the community.
The hollow interior of The Senator had been a structural weakness for decades — even before the fire — but its destruction still left a symbolic void. For Florida forestry experts, losing a 3,500-year-old living organism was comparable to losing an irreplaceable artifact: once gone, the span of human history it silently recorded vanished with it. Big Tree Park remains open, and visitors can now see The Phoenix growing taller each year, a living reminder of both the scale of what was lost, and the possibility of renewal.
In 2013 The Wall Street Journal discovered a cache of files that revealed the U.S. government lobotomized over 2000 veterans against their will after WW2. The veterans were lobotomized for reasons such as PTSD, depression, schizophrenia, and occasionally homosexuality.
In December 2013, The Wall Street Journal published a major investigative report revealing that between the 1940s and 1950s, the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs oversaw and funded more than 2,000 lobotomies on military veterans after World War II. The surgeries were performed inside VA hospitals across the country, often without meaningful consent and sometimes over the objections of family members. Many veterans targeted for the procedure suffered from what was then called “shell shock,” now recognized as post-traumatic stress disorder, as well as depression, anxiety, schizophrenia, traumatic brain injuries, and other service-related mental health problems.
The lobotomy — a neurosurgical operation that severs connections in the brain’s prefrontal cortex — was promoted by some physicians as a cutting-edge treatment for severe mental illness during a period when psychiatric medications did not yet exist. But the procedure was crude, risky, and devastating. Patients often emerged incapacitated, emotionally blunted, or permanently cognitively impaired. The Wall Street Journal documented case files describing veterans who returned home unable to hold conversations, remember loved ones, or care for themselves. In some instances, records show lobotomies were recommended or performed because patients were deemed difficult to manage, agitated, violent, or non-compliant with hospital rules.
Among the most disturbing revelations were the reasons occasionally cited for the procedure. In some files, homosexuality was listed as a justification, reflecting the era’s classification of it as a mental disorder and the military’s aggressive attempts to “treat” or suppress it. In other cases, veterans suffering from combat trauma or depression were subjected to surgery instead of therapy, rehabilitation, or emerging pharmacological treatment. Internal memos uncovered by the investigation showed that some VA doctors privately raised ethical concerns at the time, but the practice continued for years.
The surgeries declined rapidly in the mid-1950s after the introduction of antipsychotic medications such as chlorpromazine, combined with increasing public skepticism and mounting evidence of harm. By the time the practice ended, thousands of veterans had undergone irreversible brain damage inside government hospitals meant to care for them. The Wall Street Journal investigation — built from archival records, death certificates, and interviews with surviving families — remains one of the most comprehensive windows into a little-discussed chapter of American medical and military history.
There’s a stinging plant called the Gympie Gympie that produces a toxin so painful, it’s driven people and animals to suicide. It’s been described as being sprayed with hot acid and electrocuted at the same time. A man was reported to have shot himself after using the leaves as toilet paper.
Deep within the rainforests of northeastern Australia grows the Gympie-Gympie plant (Dendrocnide moroides), widely regarded as one of the most painful botanical lifeforms on Earth. At first glance it looks harmless, with broad, heart-shaped leaves and delicate hairs. Those hairs, however, are actually microscopic silica needles that operate like thousands of tiny hypodermic syringes. When touched, they break off and inject a powerful neurotoxin called moroidin into the skin, triggering agony that has been described as being simultaneously sprayed with hot acid and electrocuted. The pain is so intense it has reportedly driven animals — and even people — to panic and suicide. Soldiers training in Australia during World War II claimed they feared brushing against the shrub more than encountering enemy booby traps.
Once the needles lodge in the skin, the torment can continue for astonishing lengths of time. Victims report that even gentle contact, cold air, or hot water can reactivate waves of pain months or years after the initial sting, because the microscopic spines can remain embedded indefinitely. Historical veterinary reports describe horses that brushed against Gympie-Gympie screaming, bolting blindly into trees, or smashing themselves against walls, often dying from shock. Airborne hairs are equally dangerous: leaf fragments floating on the wind can cause nosebleeds, swollen eyes, allergic reactions, and respiratory distress to anyone nearby.
Field researchers learned quickly to approach the plant with full protective suits. One botanist, Marina Hurley, who spent years studying the species, suffered repeated hospitalizations and even temporary blindness from airborne fibers. She eventually abandoned her doctoral work because exposure risk became too extreme. Burning the plant isn’t a solution either — fire vaporizes the silica needles, turning them into a toxic aerosol capable of inflaming the lungs and throat. Indigenous Australians were well aware of the danger for thousands of years and intentionally avoided areas where the shrub grew thickest.
Among the most infamous accounts is that of a military officer in the 1940s who allegedly shot himself after accidentally using a Gympie-Gympie leaf as toilet paper. While some historical details are difficult to verify, the medical consensus surrounding the plant’s pain response is not. As terrifying as the toxin is, its effects on pain receptors are so unusual that scientists are now studying its chemistry in hopes of developing new, non-opioid painkillers. For now, the Gympie-Gympie remains a strange paradox of nature: a deceptively soft-looking rainforest plant capable of producing one of the most excruciating sensations known to science.
A man trapped in a coma for 9 years was aware of everything. His hatred of Barney reruns constantly playing helped him to regain control of his mind
In the late 1980s, South African schoolboy Martin Pistorius fell mysteriously ill, losing the ability to move, speak, or even make eye contact. Doctors believed he had the mental capacity of an infant and told his parents to take him home and simply keep him comfortable until he died. But around the age of 14, Martin’s mind slowly “switched back on.” He became fully conscious and aware of everything happening around him, yet he remained completely unable to communicate. For nearly a decade, he listened as nurses spoke over him, watched caregivers tend to him, and endured countless hours of children’s television reruns that were meant to soothe—but instead became a kind of waking torture.
One show in particular stood out: Barney & Friends. Martin later described the endless purple dinosaur songs as psychologically agonizing, looping day after day in the care facility where he sat immobile. Eventually, the irritation became fuel. Determined to escape the monotony, he began focusing intensely on the slightest movements he could control—tiny neck twitches, eye shifts, and muscle contractions. A perceptive therapist noticed these subtle cues and pushed for further evaluation. Astonished specialists confirmed that Martin was aware and responsive. With technology, therapy, and years of rehabilitation, he regained the ability to communicate through a computer, published a memoir titled Ghost Boy, and built a life beyond the condition that once imprisoned him. Today, his story is a haunting reminder that some patients diagnosed as vegetative may, in fact, be silently awake.
Related Posts:
