mass-transit

My Anti-Drug is Mass Transit.

I had said before that taking public transit is a good way to have a revelation. Well, I didn’t realize how true this was…

The other day, on but one round trip, one could have made a solid case against the legalization of drugs…

The morning began like any other- me getting up, getting dressed, looking out the window and dreading getting on the bus. Simple enough, right?

So I’m waiting on my corner, when I see this white and purple blob walking down the street. As it came closer, I could tell it was a person once… two arms, two legs, one head, etc, etc. Though what it was at that point I don’t know; it was clad in a white T-shirt and apron, purple leggings, slippers – one bunny and one regular, and orange gloves. As it (now classified as a she) walked past, I could hear in a high pitched voice: “need changcukooe, spare change, rent used to get high, got to get high on rent…” and so on. her eyes were so wide and dilated, NASA could use them to replace the Hubble… cause you know all she’s seeing is stars.

Then I get on the bus – an unusually empty bus – maybe 5 people other than me. One of these people was all alone in the back having a good ole time for himself. Every few minutes or so, he make a sucking noise then laugh hysterically while pointing at the ceiling. Personally, I don’t find the bus’s roof all that funny, but hey to each there own. I glanced to see what this fool looked like, and not to my surprise he was the stereotypical bum: long beard, torn khaki pants, bandaged hands, brown bag of unknown origins, high-end Mp3 player, and Air-Jesus style sandals.

Sigh…

After classes, ’twas time to head home. So again I get on the bus. This time I had the fortune of sitting next to two burnouts making plans for that night. They were arguing over who’s car is smaller and more airtight. After that, they were relaying stories; one of which went like this, which I shall sum up: She and some fiends had gotten really baked in the park one night. After she got home, she realized that her cell-phone was missing. Sooo, off they return to the spot they got spotty; and, guess what – no phone. Back and forth they went in their altered states searching for this “lost” phone. Well, to make a boring story short… it was in her hand the whole time. I’ll say that again – THE PHONE SHE THOUGHT SHE LOST WAS IN HER HAND THE WHOLE TIME. Ok, now for all you in the cheap seats – THE PHONE SHE THOUGHT SHE LOST WAS IN HER HAND THE WHOLE TIME.

The persecution rests, your honor.

Ssoapboxee here’s the thing, these people (at least the last grouping cause they’re not in walking comas yet) will tell you that pot, acid, banana peels, and whatever is just what the world needs. If everyone was high, there would be no war… peace would rule the land.

We as a people already lose our glasses on top of our heads, spill coffee in out laps while looking at our watches and lose our keys in the front door… sober! The last thing we need is substances that make us misplace our fingers.

Sure there’d be no war, but that would only be because we’d all get FA’s in geography class.

Note: I still don’t know what my stance is on the subject, but this sure as hell pushes me in a direction.

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Written by

Ryan Livingston

Ryan Livingston

Artist / Writer / internet disk jockey / retail wage slave / carbon based lifeform. Founder of the New World Otter and RML Studios

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