I have never read a positive word about PCP, and that’s what makes it such an exciting drug. And I haven’t read much about it at all since Jimmy Carter was president, which makes me miss it that much more.
This is how it ends? This is what I worked for? This is why I fought in the war and paid my taxes?
I don’t need being reminded of tuberculosis, hepatitis, and HIV while struggling to construct a workable fantasy.
There are no fishermen left in Washington State. As of July 1, they are all now “fishers.” There are no longer any “firemen,” only “firefighters.” The state’s “clergymen” have been banished to make room for a genderless “clergy.
But weak minds crave certainty, which is why most people seem to fall rigidly within one of the two camps.
My life has been an uninterrupted parade of having my balls busted and busting them myself—often simultaneously. And I feel I’m the better man for it. Rather than choosing to spend my life fleeing from pain and conflict and challenges, I tackle them head-on as if I was wrestling a gator.
I have news for both sides. Guns and abortions are both only meant to kill. That’s a statement of fact, not a value judgment.
I don’t mean to offend any (or all) of you lemmings out there, but lemmings seem hardwired to believe that anyone who isn’t with them is somehow against them.
So it’s not for duck-hunting or strictly to form a “well-regulated militia”—it’s for citizens to keep government in check.