You Put Your Weeeeeeeed In Here (and by “Here” I mean David Brooks’ Ass)

A stoner, a drunk or a druggy who would you rather stand next to

PAN KISSES KAFKA

Here’s a shocker: I have smoked marijuana.

Here’s another shocker: I don’t smoke marijuana anymore—I don’t smoke, I don’t drink, I rarely even take Tylenol, and I don’t even drink caffeinated coffee. I am as stone-cold sober of a stone-cold sober prude as you will ever, ever meet. But I don’t regret my Wacky Tobackey Era even the slightest bit, and although nowadays I personally find the idea of being stoned utterly terrifying—first I get paranoid, then I crave a bunch of junk food, and then me no think good no more? Nein, Danke—if I had to choose to be chained to either a stoned person, a drunk person, a legal-drug pharma’d out person, or a cigarette smoker for the rest of my life, I would choose the stoner hands down, a-duh. Why? It’s obvious. See…wait, I just had it. Gimme a second. {Ten minutes of silence

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