Welcome (Back) To The Jungle

If this were 10,000 years ago, a predator would now be singling me out from my little ragtag group of primates. "There", it'd think, "that particular ape thing looks rather dazed. There's a stunned quality to him. He doesn't seem to be quite in control of his limbs yet." And then it'll pounce. Sure enough, as the rest of the pack scrambles away in a frenzy of hoots and hollers, I'd be wheeling about nauseauted and dehydrated, right out of the gene pool.

But no. This is the 21st century. Civilization and the development of society has ensured that I can blast my mind with psychoactives until it tries to flee my body and not have to worry about getting eaten by a smilodon while nursing my hangover the morning after.

No worries. I'm doing a pretty good job of taking myself out of the gene pool, thank you very much. It's just taking a bit longer than usual. Indeed, while life may not be nasty, brutish, and short, it's now tedious, annoying, and meandering.

I need a goddamn joint.