Fuck your Acid.

Some men breathe through tubes, others through joints. Some men breathe through saxophones, and others breathe through their wife's lungs. Outside... It's America. We can hear it through the thin two-pak walls, dri-rite absorbs loose moisture but not loose hardship. The state of vegas looks down on sodomy, but when you look at their government, it's like a conga line of fancy boys banging each other sideways, all vying for yet another thumb in the pie that is their zoning regulations.

In vegas, he who controls the land, controls the universe. Excuse my herbert-esque diversion there for a moment, because what I really wanted to talk about was the difference between reality and the sub-quantum state of dissonance most people live in.

Here's a handy spotter's guide. If you wake up and can't remember whether or not you did something important the day before, you need to slap yourself out of the fugue we call 'society' as soon as possible.

Wake up. Brush your teeth. Pull on some gumboots and go let alligators loose in the subway. Wash down a handful of pineal glands with a chaser shot of adrenochrome. Let that shit wash your soul clean. Buy a nice little pocket .32 and stick it in the back of your belt when you go for the job interview as an ice-cream truck driver. Kill rabbits, and blame cats.

Break the mold a little. Keep the media on their toes by phoning in anonymous tip-offs and photoshopping politicians into politically demotivating scenarios. Above all - remember your name, and dress to depress.