Mad Goblin's Rants and Raves '11
Weed Killer
It seems about unanimous that folks don't support steroids. Even when strictly for medical purposes, the name seems to carry a certain taboo. I don't know much of anyone who feels that their use should go on in professional sports. It's sorta that whole "drugs are bad" mentality. Yet, the impression from the public appears to be that pot is okay.
I hate marijuana -- all drugs, actually. I don't smoke and barely drink. And it is a drug, despite what some hippie liberals may preach. My reasons against it aren't 'cuz "the man" has a problem with it or a fear of random drug screening by employers. Hell, I wish they would screen more. Thin out the herd a little so deserving, hardworking types can get those jobs.
Maybe it seems a little odd that I would be anti-drug. Given my appearance, the bizarre creations rolled out on this site, and my knack for munching sweets, it gives the impression that I am made of weed. However, in spite of this grungy appearance and even jests of total inebriation, I don't nor have I ever touched any drug. The reasons are many. Let's count the ways! Oh, what? You don't really want to hear them? Well, then, get the hell off my lawn. ... Site... Lawn site.
It's creative steroids. Everything I concoct, every idea, each notion, character, and scenario, no matter how far out and zany all were thought up from my gray matter with no chemical aid. I hate seeing a would-be artist with unusual pieces like giant animal-vegetables only to discover that they did a lot a 'shrooms in college. This is disappointing. The idea was seeded from some deep rooted emotion or thought; it's brain damage. Much like the aforementioned athletes, this is fluff, an artificial enhancer. However, steroids only stay in one's system for so long. Memories are with you 'til the end of your days. Once you trip, roll, or bake, that tarnishes your record permanently. You're a fraud at that point, assuming you ever even try to amount to anything other than a wasting lump of shit rotting in your mother's basement. From my experience, that example is pretty spot-on.
It's chemical euphoria. Why improve your life for fulfillment or joy when you can just introduce it artificially? Boy, that sure sounds easier than bettering yourself. Just make certain that you never run out of stock, otherwise you'll have to face the reality of just how pathetic you are. My life isn't great. It's not bad, but no one is buying tickets to be me for a day any time soon. Still, I wake up every day and live my life. I never need to "escape" the misery of my own existence. This is the passport that drugs serve as. Rather than confronting what is wrong with your life or trying to do a damn thing about it, sorry shit sacks just tune out.
It's a waste of time. Can you honestly sit there and remember how great it was to be high? My occasionally stoned buddy could barely pick out distant memories when sober thanks to the leaf, so I doubt the time spent flying left much of an impression on his long term. I can recall good items from my past, as well as others, that weren't flash-in-the-pan moments that last as long a hit. That's due to using my time wisely. I drew, read, learned, made something of my time and myself. A lot of what I did came in use for the rest of my life. Toking all those years gave you ... less healthy lungs? I hate people who had "misspent youths" and, moreso, those who act like being young gave them the right to act like a ass-jacker. You don't have to make your own mistakes, learn from those made by others before you. That's what history is for -- to tell you what everyone else did wrong.
It all comes down to risk/reward. For all of the problems, be them legal issues, employer disapproval, vanishing memories, health ramifications, self inflicted though actions in a stupor, etc., is all of that worth it for a few minutes of false bliss?
Yeah, I'll stick to a shot of whiskey, thanks, and I won't reek like moldy ass furniture.
Written - July 22nd, 2011
