Positive Drug Story

...Today, a young man on acid realized that all matter is merely energy condensed to a slow vibration, that we are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively. There's no such thing as death, life is only a dream, and we're the imagination of ourselves




*enjoy the ride

Its a new day..

and I'm feeling GOOD ;)

Fashion Trends

Dead is the new unambiguous. Bipolar is the new undecided. Heavily armed is the new born again. Bald is the new head... and the new crotch. Hairy is the new face. Sheepishly admitting to having an STD is the new flirting. Purell is the new face of fear. Finding the time that's right for you is the new impotence. The smiley-face emoticon is the new "sincerely yours." Smoking is the new outdoorsy lifestyle. Looking forward to insanely expensive private schooling, thousand dollar a week nannies and soccer is the new yuppie birth control. Misinformed is the new patriotic. Veganism is the new "tastes like chicken." Serotonin uptake inhibiting is the new crowd control. Texting is the new talking. Talking is the new singing. Singing is the new hubris. Gay marriage is the new "be careful what you wish for." And finally, and only because I really need this to catch on, twenty-four years old is the new twelve.

...... ugh

The smoke curled out of the barrel of her gun and drifted up to the ceiling where it caused an odd halo effect above the bare light bulb protruding from the cheap glass fixture that was meant as decoration but only served to sharpen the 100 watt glare that shone down upon the blood-soaked body of the man who had only moments before told her he loved her and would marry her as soon as he divorced his wife and worked out a financial arrangement that would allow them to leave this godforsaken city and never look back nor be haunted by the dark memories of lust and betrayal that she more or less had forgotten about but now came rushing back with a sudden ferocity when she remembered that she'd recently escaped from an insane asylum where she'd been held for eighteen years as a result of shooting her big sister's high school boyfriend after having sex with him and listening to him tell her that he loved her and wanted to marry her in a way that was eerily reminiscent of the dying man on the floor who had no idea that his wife was her big sister until she whispered it in his ear and then shot him in the head causing a hole that looked like a period

Gone fishin'.

Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Gone fishin'. Well, not really. I don't particularly care for fishin'. I enjoy a nice piece of fish, but not fishin' per se. I suppose I could've said "gone nappin'," but that doesn't sound quite right. There will be moments when I'm quite conscious. Other phrases I considered were "out to lunch," but you can see the problem there. So, for the time being, we'll just stick with the fishing metaphor, ignore its dated quality, yet take the time to relish its timeless intent.

Saving the Planet

....save those snails!! *

Beware!

CHUCK LORRE PRODUCTIONS, #171 (CENSORED)

We on Two and a Half Men are aware that our humor has offended some viewers with, shall we say, more delicate sensibilities. We have read your blogs, articles and postings which detail your outrage. If you are one of these viewers, and you have just watched and been appalled by tonight's episode, I'd like to tell you the old joke about the hunter who goes into the woods to hunt for a bear.

THE JOKE

A hunter goes into the woods hunting for a bear. When he is deep in the woods he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns to see an enormous grizzly towering above him. Before he can fire, the beast rips the rifle out of his hands and proceeds to sodomize him. Mortified, the hunter retreats to his cabin, arms himself with a double-barrelled shotgun, and races back into the woods to find and kill his furry assailant. But once again, the bear sneaks up behind the hunter, pulls the weapon from his hands and has his lusty way with him. Undeterred, the hunter equips himself with a machine gun and treks back into the woods where he is again ambushed, disarmed and defiled by the bear. Now, apoplectic with moral outrage, the hunter flies to a third world country where he buys a heat-seeking, shoulder-launched, nuclear-tipped rocket from an international arms dealer. Convinced he finally has the upper hand, he returns to the woods, tracks the bear to his lair and patiently waits to vaporize him. And yes, again, the bear surprises, disarms and sexually assaults him. But this time, before the hunter can run off to acquire more lethal armaments, the bear enfolds him in his massive arms and says, "You don't really come out here to hunt, do ya?"

Well, that's the joke. Take from it what you will with one caveat: The moral is not "beware of homosexual bears."