THERE IS A TIME AND PLACE FOR THAT. IT'S MARIN.

This evening the bus back from Marin smelled like Cheech and Chong. Dang. Surprised the busdriver managed to keep it on the road. It's that horrible lemony-skunk odour. The smell you associate with all the "hey man be cool" hippies and that fellow student who had majored in philosophy because it was supposed to be easy. This morning, the only other person at the bus stop in SF was someone crouched over in that fentakneeling pose, possibly inspecting her feet for ten minutes, but more likely entirely out of it just not keeled over yet.

Some middle-aged hippie was keen to tell me all about the therapeutic and good-timey qualities of weed yesterday, and I was keen to not hear a word of it. I used to live in the Netherlands, so I know all about the wondrous effects of tetrahydrocannabinol etcetera.
I thoroughly despise potheads. And other druggies.

The only psychoactive substances of which I approve are caffeine, nicotine, highly refined sugar, cooking sherry, and kitten pictures.

In the past I also approved of acohol within reason, but one of my prescribed medications in combination with liquour might destroy my liver. Not a huge risk, but I'm not taken any chances. The liver is absolutely essential. Single malt Scotch isn't.

If you, however, want a drinkie, please go right ahead. Don't swill the cooking sherry, have some whisky. Within reason. It goes great with a bowful of aged flake in your pipe. I would suggest Fribourg & Treyer (multiple possibles), or something from the Cornell & Diehl or Greg Pease categories. Or Rattrays. Always a solid choice.

The same tobaccos are also a good way to start the day. But with coffee, not whisky. One or two cups of coffee at the crack of dawn, then tea every two hours or so till teatime (four o'clock), then either Scotch or Sherry followed by dinner and some coffee afterwards.

Pot, fentanyl, and other drugs are purely for submentals.

It's always time for kitten pictures.
Which is good clean living.



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