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Big Tobacco had it right: smoking is for kids. It’s a young person’s drug. Smoke beyond age 30 and you start to fear the throat hole, or worse. I’ve given it up, and now I’m stuck with the patch and Wellbutrin—and I’m still waiting for the happy juice to kick in. For now, I’ve got this deep funk and a patch booklet that suggests I play with metal balls or a rubber band. I’m not a cat, dammit! You can’t play with metal balls while you’re driving. You can’t take metal-ball breaks at work. So when are those pills going to make my life good again? Samuel H. Barondes must know. His book Better Than Prozac: Creating the Next Generation of Psychiatric Drugs tells me that my pill won’t cause limp dick. Cool. But I’ll ask him when the rest of me gets to feel better when he reads at 6 p.m. at the S. Dillon Ripley Center, 1100 Jefferson Drive SW. $15. (202) 357-3030. (Jason Cherkis)