ATTENTION METH ZOMBIES

[tyrannosaurus vex]

As you stand there all bouncy and fidgety in front of me checking out at the convenience store, twitching and gnawing on the frayed ends of your blitzed out 1992-model haircut, what I really want to do is grab you by the saggy neck skin, pull you outside, and dump a bucket of pig vomit right on your sunken skeletal face. It's 2010, the Post-American Century; the world is cracking and falling apart, and seeing people like you just kinda buzz through life defining yourselves (more than you realize) by your addictions and lack of self-control just remind me of how thoroughly fucked we all are. Power has always rested with the People; and now the People are completely devoid of all ambition and drive.

If it was just one or two of you fuckers every day, I would chalk it up to the "down and out" among us. People who just for whatever reason never quite became much of anything. But it isn't just one or two a day. It's one or two in ten -- and climbing. Your disease is not only one of addiction, and it is not just a singular occurrence that strikes a few people here and there. It is a growing, thriving, contagious disease of the will. A spreading epidemic not only of a failure to achieve, but a lack of desire to achieve. And every time I see one of you shriveled-up zombies come slithering around a corner, it send chills down my spine because I know that someday, whether it's because of a drug or just plain old hopelessness, we'll all share your fate.

"Life" for you is the shit you deal with between hits. "Normality" is being anywhere but here, anyone but yourself. And that's what we're all being driven toward: lifestyles we can't afford paid for by credit we don't deserve; lives spent behind bars, or behind desks - equally as inescapable (of course, a jail sentence ends, usually). I find myself repulsed by your appearance - not only because you are a walking corpse with no sense at all of reality, but because you are the physical embodiment of what we all are becoming on the inside: dried up, powerless, addicted, and unable to communicate despite a constant stream of ineffective and meaningless babbling. Before you know it, you'll fit right in.

So, Meth Zombie, take heart. You are shunned, but you are America™.

[Phox]

As you stand there all bouncy and fidgety in front of me checking out at the convenience store, twitching and gnawing on the frayed ends of your blitzed out 1992-model haircut, what I really want to do is grab you by the saggy neck skin, pull you outside, and dump a bucket of pig vomit right on your sunken skeletal face. It's 2010, the Post-American Century; the world is cracking and falling apart, and seeing people like you just kinda buzz through life defining yourselves (more than you realize) by your addictions and lack of self-control just remind me of how thoroughly fucked we all are. Power has always rested with the People; and now the People are completely devoid of all ambition and drive.

If it was just one or two of you fuckers every day, I would chalk it up to the "down and out" among us. People who just for whatever reason never quite became much of anything. But it isn't just one or two a day. It's one or two in ten -- and climbing. Your disease is not only one of addiction, and it is not just a singular occurrence that strikes a few people here and there. It is a growing, thriving, contagious disease of the will. A spreading epidemic not only of a failure to achieve, but a lack of desire to achieve. And every time I see one of you shriveled-up zombies come slithering around a corner, it send chills down my spine because I know that someday, whether it's because of a drug or just plain old hopelessness, we'll all share your fate.

"Life" for you is the shit you deal with between hits. "Normality" is being anywhere but here, anyone but yourself. And that's what we're all being driven toward: lifestyles we can't afford paid for by credit we don't deserve; lives spent behind bars, or behind desks - equally as inescapable (of course, a jail sentence ends, usually). I find myself repulsed by your appearance - not only because you are a walking corpse with no sense at all of reality, but because you are the physical embodiment of what we all are becoming on the inside: dried up, powerless, addicted, and unable to communicate despite a constant stream of ineffective and meaningless babbling. Before you know it, you'll fit right in.

So, Meth Zombie, take heart. You are shunned, but you are America™.

It would be more funny, if it weren't so goddamn true.

[ñͤͣ̄ͦ̌̑͗͊͛͂͗ ̸̨̨̣̺̼̣̜͙͈͕̮̊̈́̈͂͛̽͊ͭ̓͆ͅé ̰̓̓́ͯ́́͞]