Dr. Purelove (or) How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Hate The Bong

My fellow Unfinished Readers! I am extremly pissed off right now. You may be asking yourself why I would be in this current state and I would have to answer that I have just confirmed the fact that computers are the most technologically deranged objects in this world. I was writting a very nice dissertation on my current state of sobriety when along came my esc button and I managed to erase EVERYTHING I had penned. (and it was damned good too.) So my friends what we have here is, to coin the term losely...a problem. I refuse to retype it all again and you my loyal followers will have to get the slam-bam-thank-ya-mam version of everything I was trying to say. Here it is...

TAKE THE BONG OUT OF YOUR MOUTH EVERY SO OFTEN! DON'T FALL INTO A STATE OF UTTER CONFUSION IN WHICH YOU QUIT YOUR HIGH PAYING JOB, DUMP THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE, AND QUIT SCHOOL IN ORDER TO JOIN THE CIRCUS!

The American Indains say that Marijuana is a medicine. That it heals your inner soul and your physical self. Yet, what happens is you take to much Ex-lax? You'll have the shits for weeks. Take my advice and use Marijuana wisely. This is your last warning...

You my friend are a crazy bastard. I don't even own a bong!
Ex-Lax? What does that have to do with the price of a quarter sack in Mexico?

Email: goldenma@aol.com