It’s a hard world. These days it’s hard to get through even an hour without something hammering down on you and covering you in an iron weighted coat you have to carry through the rest of the day, week, or month. It’s a real slog, and almost no one can avoid it. Certainly no one with even a sliver of morality or conscience.
You pick things in the future on the calendar to get through the grind. Maybe it’s a friend’s party on the weekend. Maybe a show you want to see a couple of weeks away. A game you got tickets to somewhere down the line. Big date — whatever it may be. Maybe on a nightly basis, or maybe every once in a while, you get something you ingest, or imbibe to level you out. Maybe you can ride that feeling out for a few days, even after the effects have gone. Some things work that way.
Sadly, I’ll now have to get rid of one of mine, because uber-doofus Aaron Rodgers has told the world that he has discovered DMT, and how he couldn’t discover self-love without it:
I’m not here to shit on whatever Rodgers needs for his mental health, though it seems curious he’s talking about self-love when there’ve been few people more in love with the sound of their own voice the past few years than Rodgers. But maybe it was all a front, something he did to protect himself. Rodgers certainly knows about maintaining a facade in a lot of areas. And there has been evidence that psychedelics can help those who have had cognitive problems.
But still, I can’t be associated in any way with the mayor of Dipshitville like Rodgers. If he’s doing psychedelics then I don’t want to be here. I clearly am in the wrong place, as rent is about to go way up. It’s a shame I’ll miss the challenge and rush of breaking down a Cole Hamels trade in the 40 minutes I had before shit kicked in. Or trying not to laugh hysterically at nothing in front of my friends for no more than 15 seconds at a time so they don’t get uncomfortable. Or feeling a unique connection with a guitar solo that may or not be happening. These were good times, and I’m sorry to see them go.
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But yeah, Rodgers ruins the whole thing. It’s like Elon Musk saying he likes your favorite band, except Rodgers is actually good at some stuff. Or when everyone who made fun of you in high school for listening to Pearl Jam is now listening to Pearl Jam. The whole thing is poisoned.
I’ll have to find something new. Cocaine is still overrated, right?
Anyway, let’s finish with a Oneil Cruz missile that traveled some 430 feet in the time it takes to clip a toenail.
Fun baseball players are fun. Too bad more teams don’t want them.