Tag Archives: depression

Top Ten Warning Signs You Might Be a Clinically Depressed Werewolf


Depression.  It’s the pits.  It’s even worse when you’re a werewolf.

I mean, if you’re just a guy, the world isn’t missing much if you lock yourself up and cry over anything.

But if you’re an awesome werewolf and allow those powers to fester over depression, that’s a waste.

Are you a werewolf?  That’s cool.  Please don’t eat me.

Are you a clinically depressed werewolf, like my blog’s columnist, “Clinically Depressed Werewolf?”

You won’t find out until you read this list.  From BQB HQ in Fabulous East Randomtown, it’s the Top Ten Warning Signs You Might Be a Clinically Depressed Werewolf:

#10 – You Must Be a Werewolf

If you’re not a werewolf but you’re sad all the time, then you are merely a clinically depressed human.  Still, seek professional help, but all you need to worry about is the depression part, not the werewolf part.

#9 – You’ve Lost the Will to Howl at the Moon

Werewolves love to howl at the moon as if the moon will respond to them.  Idiots.  Still, if you’re not able to muster up even the briefest of “Arwoos!” then you need to consult a werewolf psychiatrist posthaste.

NOTE: This can either be a werewolf who doubles as a psychiatrist or a human who knows how to treat the mental illnesses of werewolves.

#8 – You Don’t Want to Eat People Anymore

I mean, you shouldn’t be doing that anyway but if you were eating people a lot and now you aren’t, that’s a bad sign.

#7 – Your Fur is Falling Out

It could just be werewolf pattern baldness but if you’re worrying about a lot of random stuff, then it could be a sign of werewolf depression.

#6 – You Spend All Your Time Listening to James Blunt’s “Your Beautiful” Song in Your Werewolf Lair

This song is the saddest song ever written.  Personally, I think James Blunt consulted with the CIA to produce a song that makes people so sad they want to off themselves just to control the surplus population.  My lawyer says I must stress I have no evidence or proof of this so as far as I know, James is just a good singer who apparently likes to use his vocal powers to make people sad as fuck.

Anyway, if you’re a werewolf, you should be enjoying your great strength and powers, using them to do badass shit and bang all that bomass werewolf pussy.  So, if you’re just listening to James Blunt instead, them I’m sorry to inform you that you are a clinically depressed werewolf.

#5 – You Keep a Silver Bullet Around Just in Case

If there’s one thing a werewolf hates, it’s a mail man.  If there are two things a werewolf hates, it’s a mail man and a silver bullet.  Silver bullets are the only thing that can kill a werewolf, so if you’re a werewolf, you want to keep them far away from yourself as possible, unless, of course, you’re thinking about ending it all and you’re keeping that silver bullet for when you are ready.

Please, whether you are a human or a werewolf, if you are having suicidal thoughts, please seek professional help immediately.  Suicide is never the answer.

#4 – You Cage Yourself During the Day

You’re only a danger to others at night,  so that’s the only time you need to be caged to keep yourself from wolfing out and eating humans.  If you’re caging yourself during the day, then you’re cutting yourself off from the world.  So sad.

#3 – You’re Preoccupied with Death

We all have to go someday, but with a little luck and some hope, that day is a long, long time away.  Don’t focus on it or you’ll think of nothing else, especially if you’re a werewolf, because you’re stronger than most.  I mean, nothing can kill you but a silver bullet so, holy shit, just stay away from silver bullets and you’ll be fine, bitch.  Stop worrying.

#2 – You Smell Worse Than Usual

Werewolves always smell bad, but if you smell worse than usual, you’ve let your hygiene go because…you are a clinically depressed werewolf.

#1 – You Think You Might Be Depressed

Holy shit dude, if you think you are depressed then you might be.  Seek professional help.






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Clinically Depressed Werewolf – Dropped Ice Cream as a Metaphor for Life

By: Clinically Depressed Werewolf, Official Bookshelf Battle Blog Sad Lycan Correspondent


Arr…arr…arrrwooooooo…oh who am I kidding?  Howl today, gone tomorrow.  What am I even howling at?  Whatever it is, it is only a temporary blip on the endlessly changing radar screen of life.

I went to the ice cream parlor the other day, 3.5 readers.  I was hungry because, you know, I’m a werewolf and the one good thing about being a werewolf is that we can eat as much as we want and never gain any weight.  You’d think that’s a positive thing but honestly, I can turn any positive into a negative.  Frankly, if you’re constantly eating and never gaining any weight then it’s like it doesn’t even matter, like pushing a boulder up a hill only for it to fall down and then you have to push it up the hill again.

Where was I?  Does it even matter?  Oh right.  So I went to the ice cream parlor and I got a three scoop cone.  I got a scoop of rocky road, a scoop of strawberry, and a scoop of peanut butter fudge.  Three diverse scoops, all bringing their own benefits and detriments into the mix.

I got it into my mind that I could not exist without these three flavors missed together.  But alas, a freak gust of win blew in and knocked the peanut butter fudge off the top of my cone.

Oh, how I cheated I felt as I stared at that glop of peanut butter fudge ice cream lying on the ground.  I didn’t have any idea what to do next.

I’d already paid for it so I felt cheated.  I paid for three scoops so I should have gotten three scoops.  But it wasn’t the ice cream parlor’s fault.  They don’t owe me what they already gave me.

Then I was mad at myself but why?  It’s not like I could have preconceived that the wind was going to knock the scoop off my cone.

Suddenly, I was mad at the weather, the forces of nature, the world.  It felt like the fates were conspiring against me to prevent me from having any kind of enjoyment.  Oh, what a depressing feeling.

At one point it popped into my head that I should just lick the ice cream off of the ground.  I mean, sure it had germs on it but who am I?  The King of England?  I’m a werewolf.  I eat people, like, all the time.  And you know what?  People are dirty.  They’re extremely filthy, you have no idea.

I’ve eaten people who haven’t bathed for days.  I’ve eaten people who just got off of a sixteen-hour double shift at a hot, sweaty machine shop who tasted disgusting.

Hell, I’ve even eaten people who were sitting on the toilet who were right in the middle of doing their dirty business, a half pinched loaf stuck you know where.

Yet, all of a sudden, I’m all like, “Look at me.  I’m so fancy.  I shouldn’t have to lick peanut butter fudge ice cream off of the ground.”

Then I felt an internal struggle inside of me.  Am I a pretentious prude for not eating ice cream off of the ground?  Am I just being a proud werewolf, that I believe in myself too much to do something so disgusting and better yet, I deserve to feel that way?

Was all this mental turmoil really about the ice cream?  Was it about life instead?  Are we all just a bunch of ice cream scoops, happy to be a loved and desirable part of a cone one minute only to be knocked off our pedestal and left alone to rot in the mud the next?

Ahh…such is life.

So many questions.  So few answers.  I got so upset that I ran to a farm and ate seventeen sheep.  For awhile I was starting to feel better…until the eighteenth sheep fell on the ground.






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Clinically Depressed Werewolf – Hello, I Guess

By: Clinically Depressed Werewolf, the Bookshelf Battle Blog’s Official Sad Lycanthrope Correspondent


Arr…arr…arr..wooo….oooo…ooo…oh who am I kidding?

Seriously.  What’s the point of howling at the moon?  It’s just going to rise again.

Hello, I guess, or whatever, 3.5 readers.  Clinically Depressed Werewolf here.  I’ve been playing in Video Game Rack Fighter’s Super Violent War Shooter league for awhile and well, I don’t really play.  I just log on and steer my character into a corner and listen to other people play.  I’m so lonely that if I don’t do things like that then sometimes my mind begins to wander and then I begin questioning whether or not I’m really like, real, you know?

I mean, think about it.  Do any of us actually know if we are really real?  We think we’re real but maybe we’re just a figment of someone else’s dream.  That’s why I don’t even bother to bite people anymore.  Where’s the fun if I’m just going to disappear when the person dreaming about me is eventually going to wake up, thus shattering my branch of reality?

Anyway, Video Game Rack Fighter told me she won this blog in a divorce.  Sigh.  Divorces are so sad.  Why do people even get married in the first place when divorce is such a real possibility?

Then again, I don’t understand why people even leave their homes when getting run over by a truck, falling down a well, or being eaten by a happy, non-depressed werewolf are all real possibilities.

Don’t worry about me.  I don’t eat people.  Too much effort.  I’ll just get hungry again.

Moving on, VGRF said I should try my paw at being a columnist for her blog.  She felt there aren’t many columns written by clinically depressed werewolves and that immediately made me sad.  I mean, the idea of a column written by a clinically depressed werewolf can’t be that great if no other clinically depressed werewolf has ever written one before, am I right?

Yikes.  Why do people even blog?  Why do people read?  I just want to lie down in my cage, lock the door and take a nap.  Don’t even bother letting me out once I turn back into a human and the full moon is over.  I might as well stay in here seeing as how next month’s full moon will be here before you know it.

I’m sorry.  I’m not a very exciting columnist.   I will try to lighten the mood with some Clinically Depressed Werewolf jokes:

#1 – How Many Clinically Depressed Werewolves Does it Take to Screw in a Lightbulb?

None.  Clinically depressed werewolves prefer the dark.  The light allows us to see everything that disappoints us.  Also, why bother to change a lightbulb when the new one will blow out sooner or later?

#2 – Three Clinically Depressed Werewolves Walk Into a Bar…

…and there they sat, nursing their beers and commiserating over days gone by, talking about dreams deferred and yearning to turn back time, to get a do over at life yet accepting that just isn’t in the cards.

#3 – Why Did the Clinically Depressed Werewolf Cross the Road?

He didn’t.  He knew that sooner or later he’d have to return to the other side again, so he just stayed put and it was as if he never left.

Conclusions, I Guess, Whatever

I’d say I hope you enjoyed this column but really, hope is just a form of delaying the inevitable dissatisfaction that we all experience sooner or later.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to gnaw on a dead water buffalo carcass and listen to some Coldplay.  Clinically depressed werewolves love Coldplay.

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