Monday, September 28, 2009

I Was A Hippie/I Was A Burn Out/I Was So Wasted I Was Out Of My Mind/I Was So Wasted/(Still Am!)

America eats its young. Those it doesn't chew up & spit out eventually have to kill (or at least seriously numb) themselves in order to function in the death-worshiping society of anguish, fear & pain that is This Great Nation Of Ours™.

Slate now notes that some can no longer get the job done w/ the Death Culture's obliviant (Did we just coin something there? Just because Chrome™ spell check doesn't recognize it doesn't mean it's never been used before, natch, but, hey!) of choice, Demon Rum.

(Alright, does anyone care if that's what Slate typed, or is the important thing here what we may believe or make up? Does it make a dime's worth of difference? We're just getting at implications here.)

The implication being that older Americans, having boozed for their thirty to forty yrs. on the production/consumption treadmill to death & final oblivion, can no longer handle the recommended daily allowance of Victory Gin, & as the current American situation requires so much more numb obliviousness (Especially for those who realize their guilt in worsening the situation by having contributed to, produced for & allowed this worst of all possible worlds.*) that they're back on the weed.

And why not?
In 2001, a team of researchers from the Harvard Medical School found that smoking marijuana causes a transient, fivefold increase in risk. (Exercise, sexual activity, and bouts of anger can cause similar short-term risks.)
Hell, since we never exercise, & neither sex nor rage has killed us yet, maybe we'll take up this reefer stuff.

*OK, not the absolutely worst of all possible worlds, but bad enough as it is for we, the spoiled.

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