Man, save the trouble of making the simple pleasures of intoxication into a business transaction.
Do what I do.
Learn to cook pure, black tar heroin from your very own kitchen.
Become a success.
Pump iron, eat three raw eggs for breakfast, and feed on stem cells. Not because you're paralyzed and need strength, but because you're a fucking badass who eats babies. Minority babies. Patrick is a racist, baby-eating heroin addict. Don't mess with him; he'll fuck you up with a jack-knife and a collection of Phil Collins records.
I'd rather make an ass of myself than preach like 95% of the other posters that bothered entering this thread.
Pat. Pat eats babies.
"Somebody told me when the bomb hits, everybody in a two mile radius will be instantly sublimated, but if you lay face down on the ground for some time, avoiding the residual ripples of heat, you might survive, permanently fucked up and twisted like you're always underwater refracted. But if you do go gas, there's nothing you can do if the air that was once you is mingled and mashed with the kicked up molecules of the enemy's former body. Big-kid-tested, motherf--ker approved."
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