Really, I just thought Seth was cute.
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Look. I'm an okay person, and I'm okay charming, and okay known.
But this was comical.
I became known as the guy who ate 30 hits of blotter and survived.
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I went outside, headed back to my actual dorm, and there were the usual number of casual people one might meet along that way.
Except.
Total strangers had already heard of my "exploit".
They smiled. They waved. They came up to me and hugged me.
I was a celebrity.
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I woke up, someone had gotten me out of jail, I have no idea who. I must have been awake for the getting out, but I got nothing, I woke up on a mattress in a building I'd never been to.
Seth, and his peeps, whatever, they had got me out of jail and put me on this mattress.
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So I spent the night in the jail in Oberlin, Ohio, having eaten 30-odd hits of acid.
I was very wasted, don't get me wrong, but it was fine. I survived it.
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To be sure: eating that third of a blotter card was amazingly stupid. In those days, they had no tech that could detect acid. Further, they did not care. They knew we were gown, not town, they were just cashing us in for the night.
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When the police came, as, of course, they did. We were gown not town, to be sure, but we had actually stolen bicycles, it was very scary.
So scary, in fact, that I needed to make sure they did not know about my substances.
So I ate them.
I ate thirty hits of blotter.
Look, I know I have some young ones in my crowd, talkin' micrograms. Every single square of that blotter was intended to make a person have a fifteen-to-eighteen hour trip. We're not in microdose territory here.
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So we liberated some bicycles, and we were all riding our stolen bicycles outside of Oberlin, Ohio, in the corn fields. And it was really nice.
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'79, maybe '80?
I had a card of blotter, which I was delivering, here and there, to them as wanted.
And there was this guy. Seth.
And. Well. And. Friends, I was pretty sweet on Seth. Serious bidness, he was fine, in a kind of muscular Sephardic way, with the curly black hair and the tan skin and the dark eyes eyes eyes.
So Seth declared that we were gonna go out. AND HE INCLUDED ME.
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And so but anyway, did I ever tell you about the time I took ~30 hits of blotter and spent the night in jail?
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Dear followers of a non-standard type, L, or G, or B, or Q or T, or +, or really any kind of preference/presentation choice.
I FUCKING LOVE YOU.
I have learned so much from you. I think you're beautiful.
(Yeah, yeah, I also think you're not like me. Whatever. Being like me is overrated.)
I welcome you.
I want you in the world.
I want you in my life.
Apropos nothing, really. I just wanted you to know.
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To construct a serious future, one must call on, think about, and work with, one's past.
To construct an insane (fascist) future, one must wipe out one's past.
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Just so ya know, pirate bay is still out there, mirrored a thousand times.
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Or. Wait. Were you asking me about how I really feel about everything else?
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Fine. That's fine. You want to know what I really think?
Michael Jordan is the GOAT, & none of the other candidates comes close.
Whatever dude you gonna name, ask two questions:
Michael Jordan, however sociopathic, is the GOAT, and that's how I really think & feel.
Don't @ me.
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I knew this guy Burt, who was, by day, a stonemason, and by night, a rolfer.
He was very sweet-natured, kind, respectful, and didn't like that we knew he smoked sometimes -- we smoke, not a big deal for us -- and he was astonishingly good at massage.
Stonemasons have very large very strong hands.
I miss him terribly.
"Burt, wherever you are, please come home. All is forgiven!"
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General strike? I'm dtf. Keep me posted.
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The thing about tariffs -- pro-tip, pronounce it tah-reef to make it sound Arabic, which freaks out MAGA people -- is that they have never worked in any economic situation in history.
People who've studied such things know this.
Tah-reefs sound like a great idea, but the evidence is that sounding like a great idea is the best thing they do. Everything else they do is bad.
These people are so mired in transactional zero-sum they can't conceive that hurting others often hurts oneself.
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People turning formerly public federal documents into samizdat was not, I must admit, on my prediction list.
But good on 'em for doing it.
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Anyway, remember: Every single person who confuses correlation with causation, sooner or later, dies.
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