THINGS ARE DIFFERENT THERE

Please imagine how disconcerted I am to hear that because I take acetominophen I am going to give birth to an autistic foetus. This per a medical expert, self-proclaimed, who warned me with grave tones about this. I thought I was simply dealing with the soreness in my upper back an hour after starting the day at work. First thing I do after getting to work is pop an extra-strength tab, knowing that it takes about two hours or so to take full effect.
Mid-afternoon, half a regular strength tab, to maintain the "high", if that's what it can be called, till I lock the door and head home.

So okay then. Autistic foetus.

I do not possess a womb.

And I'm male, straight, and past menopausal age.
But Marinites live in an alternative reality.


I've got a little row of medications I take every day for high blood pressure etcetera, half of which warn me not get pregnant while taking them, not to nurse an infant, and may cause dizziness. I can religiously affirm that I have done nothing which might cause any pregnancy since they were first praescribed, nor nursed any infants, and I haven't gotten dizzy either. So I'm baffled as to where the autistic foetus might come from. Is there something about Marin County I should know? Magic babies? Karmic aura pregnancy irrespective? Ectoplasmic womb fulfillment? Mad scientists hiding behind the shrubbery?


Autistic foetuses my ass.

Many people in Marin are spiritual and have third eyes. Their consciousnesses have been raised, and they've done their own research. Their past life experiences have made them wise beyond their years. They are, consquently, exceedingly irritating.


Somewhere in Marin there's a place where elderly hippies go to die when they feel their end is near. The local tribes don't talk about it, for fear that outsiders might harvest all the tie-dye.

Theories focus on hippie behavior during lean times, suggesting that starving or elderly hippies who have worn their teeth down to a point that they can no longer chew tougher foods gather in places where there is lots of tofu and subsequently die there.

Prolific big game hunter Walter "Karamojo" Bell discounted the idea of the hippie graveyard, stating that "bones and grateful dead tee-shirts were still lying about in the bush where they had lain for years", but he probably just wanted to keep it all for himself.



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