Open the Vox

Open the Vox

Open the Vox

A Reactive approach to Enlightenment

You can scroll the shelf using and keys

Alcohol and Heroin

April 28, 2017

I never understood what’s the bees knees all about with our obsession for depressants. Why do we love alcohol so much? Alcohol is legal everywhere in America except Indian Reservations. I mean I enjoy a good IPA. I could live without it. But that’s me- no judgment- I’ve seen the effects of what happens when you drink your way through life- I’d rather not drink my way through life- but that’s me.

I’m still mad about the anti- smoking laws in public bars. First of all, all bars are privately owned, the government better not own any bars. Second, the money put into campaigning against anti-smoking laws could have been used to build anti-smoking bars. Third, most bars now include a smoking lounge, so what difference did you truly make? None. And another thing, if you support non-smoking in bars, that means you support a smoke-free environment for non-smoking alcoholics to enjoy. So, that means you support second-hand drinking and driving more than second-hand smoking. Keep the poison at home- where you belong anyway- you backward thinking self-righteous punch line to my joke.

I understand why we don’t like cigarette’s today. They tell us about the arsenic-laced rat feces and the weirdo preservatives they put in it, which they put in everything like I don’t know, McDonald’s. But you’d turn down a raw pure cigarette over the shit they put in beer to keep it fresh while they ship it overseas? You’re favorite beers stacked up high in big phat cargo holds. I wonder how many beers explode from the heat before the survivors make it to your refrigerator?

And the people’s choice of beer over weed is crazy. That’s like if you had a pile of fermented berries and someone offered you a fresh potato, and you’re like fuck that, that ain’t my thing, I like to keep my fresh foods around for awhile until it becomes a poison. But thank you very much for the fresh organic nutrients which have no symbolic relevance to mankind’s triumph over nature, where did you find that thing, in the woods? ha. ha. ha. Loser.

I use to think that Alcohol was the problem. But my opinions become less reactive over the years. Like for example, I had a homeless man ask me for a beer. I thought to myself, “maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for alcohol- dumbass”. Then I had a stroke of conscious and realized that I met a lot of alcoholics on the job over the years, coming in every day hungover, stinking of booze. And yet, they were so established in their position that they could walk up to me and punch me in the face and I would be the one to lose my fucking job. You know, unless they fuck their spine up like this homeless guy did, then you’re done. You’re fucking done. So I bought him the most expensive beer at the gas station and gave him a slice of my fancy pizza. You know why? Because, that could be any of us someday, maybe not Bush, but I’m not a part of their inbred weirdo clan, so fuck ’em.

Even crazier is the heroin epidemic going around in this country. I know more people who have overdosed and died in this country than I do drunk drivers. I had one friend who smashed a bus load of cheerleaders. This was before the accident. The man’s a legend. I don’t know if that’s true. I would like to believe it is. No. He hit an elderly couple on their way to starting a simple life. My friend and the wife were killed in the crash. The old man died a year later. That’s a sad story. And yet- doesn’t it seem strange that only in a rare moon do you ever hear of two drunk drivers hitting each other, that means their in the wrong lane just far enough to miss each other the majority of the time. No. It’s always they end up smashing a van load of teenagers. You know, during the accident. Not before- not after- but during- so, keep your mind out of the gutter.

The truth is I envy heroin addicts. That’s an expensive habit. One day you’re a Middle-Class suburbanite with the whole world ahead of you- and the next thing you know- you’re waking up on a soiled mattress in the good part of Detroit Michigan with a part Coyote, part wolf, part German Sheppard, Part Pitbull, part Chihuahua? What the fuck? Knawing on your infected arm with the rusty rig hanging from it.

Heroin is a comfy ride down the river Styx. You’re like Tom Sawyer with a scarf and blanket drinking hot cocoas watching your value of life decline substantially until you wake up with an arm that looks like a burn victim. Shooting up in your dick vein because your arm looks like burnt swiss, and every time you touch it, a thick green discharge of puss comes out with a tinge of blood. So maybe I don’t envy heroin addicts.

I just like showing the darker side of depressants especially alcohol. I think too many people try to portray Alcohol as the good guy. You know what alcohol is to me? He’s the shitty deadbeat who wants to help you out but expects something in return. Alcohol wants you to give him money, alcohol secretly covets your wife, alcohol wants you to roof his house for fucking free. You know what. You can have all the alcohol in the world. Drink it up until your liver becomes as hard as a rock. Like a rock. oh! Like a rock. Just keep your overly depressed ass in Quarantine. That’s all I ask. Stay in bars and stay in your homes. And please, just keep your disease away from me. That’s all I ask. I’m not asking you to change.Ruin your lives. I don’t care what you put in your body. I don’t. I really don’t. I’m just asking that you please, quit trying to drag me down, I don’t need to escape with drugs, I need drugs to escape from you and your bullshit.

What do you think?

Please keep your comments polite and on-topic.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


Ironically. I woke up to find my car was stolen by the man who ruined his life with drugs. Dragged his family through the gutter. Uses his children for money. And lives off his parent’s productivity. But you can call him dad.


Jordan Dumer

April 28, 2017

%d bloggers like this: