Dillo Day’s coming up next weekend. Let’s talk about alcohol responsibility. A lot of the time, it is pushed with the scare tactics that if you don’t watch yourself, you definitely will drink yourself to death and oh, what a terrible shame that would be. This year, I’d like to try a different approach.
Yes, you can kill yourself if you drink large amounts of liquor in a very short period of time. It’s happened here before, it can happen again, and there’s no reason that it should. However, the much more likely result of binge-drinking is a catatonic stupor. Picture it: You over a toilet, your friend holding your hair back and cooing a lullaby to keep you from staggering away and puking over their nice carpet, because you have essentially turned yourself into an infant. Another likely scenario is you spending your day slurring like a moron trombone about how drunk you are and how the music sucks and/or is awesome. In either case, nobody less drunk than you will enjoy your company.
Do you think drinking makes you cool? This idea is not yours. It has been pushed on you by a lifetime of alcohol commercials that suggest that getting thoroughly wasted is like partying in an exclusive club where everyone is good looking and has an interesting thing to say. Don’t reward their lies by downing shot after shot chasing this nonexistent state of being.
But I know this line of reasoning won’t reach many people. So I have a suggestion for those of you itching to do jäger bombs at nine o’clock in the morning: LSD. Put up or shut up, people. You want to get “crazy”? You want to get “wasted”? LSD is a chemical purpose-built to drive the sensory centers of your brain into a phantasmagorical conniption fit of light and sound. I mean, you could get drunk and make Regina Spektor’s music slightly more tolerable or you could eat some acid and maybe you’ll actually see it, thanks to synesthesia. Or she could turn into an anthropomorphic piano, like in a Disney film!
To be sure, the side effects of LSD are no laughing matter. First off, there is a chance you’ll experience moments for the rest of your life where the hallucinations return. Nothing like running out of the room screaming that the clocks are running backward fuchsia to mess up your thesis defense. There’s also the possibility that you’ll turn into a gibbering lunatic and castrate yourself because your testicles contain “monsters.” But at least you won’t be puking on my shoes.
Come on you wimps, buy the ticket and take the ride. Yes, there will be snakes. No, they will not be real (except for the plastic ones I throw at you for giggles).
Or maybe you can cut the act, get a little buzzed and enjoy a nice outdoor concert.
Weinberg senior Michael Gsovski can be reached at [email protected]
