keeping comfortably numb is getting harder

Back in the 70s when I was a pothead, my sense of well-being would  revolve around getting high once or twice every day. I eventually kicked that habit by the grace of God, but now I’ve moved on to the hard stuff, shooting up gasoline.

The thing is, I really hate the smell of the stuff, but mmmmmm, it sure does do the trick–take me where I wanna go. What a trip.

I guess there’s no way around these chemical dependencies this side of heaven.
Times are hard, y’all, I’m tellin ya. Its a jungle out there…or used to be anyway, a rain forest.
I mean we’re fighting wars over poppies, for crying out loud, somewhere in the world, and just down south from here thousands of  rateros are killing each other over the privilege of supplying us gringos with controlled substances.

Thankfully, though, our supply lines for those special substances  are well-established on this side of the border; we’re relatively civilized in our dispensing the stuff on this end. Users  who are really hard up for the percydan or darvuset have their little supply routes pretty well hooked up without having to go out on a street corner and hang around under a street light and risk getting shot or some such trauma.

Many of us are leaning on the prozuk or some such legitimatized medicine-cabinet ambrosia to take the edge off. Those habits could get expensive though. Alcohol might be cheaper, and easier to get.

At least we’re not killing each other over the powdery stuff like the Zetas or the Taliban are doing, and we’re not shooting each other over the gas thing. People are getting a litte  hyped-up though, in these capitalist vs socialist ideo-street gangs, with so many getting hooked up to  suppliers of  the hard stuff.

Shooting up guns and gold on one end of the hood, mainlining entitlements on the other.

If the heat gets too intense, though, its comforting to know we can grab the remote and turn on, tune in to the opiate of the people, and drop out of the ratero race for at least a little while.

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