A Treatise on the Current State of World Affairs; or, Pessimism.

My brother Matt was monologging again. I really hated it when he shot himself up with LSD (cut with God knows what else, it might have been weed killer for all we knew) and got “enlightened”. Another reminder of why I hated San Francisco. “Going to Cloudcuckooland,” Sam called it.

“And for how long,” he mumbled, “are you going to be force-fed that ‘appetizing’, addictive, placate-the-masses bull by the so-called ‘industrious’ elite? The only ones anybody takes advice from nowadays is some insane Hollywood psychiatrists who just want to round everybody up and shoot you like some awkward deer hunting trip!”

“Will you knock it off?!” I yelled.

“I don’t know you anymore…what happened to us all?”

Sam, my girlfriend, interjected. “Dave overdosed and is now buried under six feet of ground, Jeff got blasted and blasted his brains out, and AJ wised up after a bad trip and moved to Texas.”

“Dave is with your cat now…he is it and it is him and…”

He just had to bring up her cat. Which he killed while stoned. Great.

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