Terror, Drugs Passe, Here's Fodder for New War!

You'll hear from various people a variety of things that lead to drug use.  Some say it's marijuana.  But if you're smoking weed you're already using drugs and I'd say it's near impossible to be lead where you already are.  Unless maybe you are stoned.  And beer as a gateway?  Never have I sipped a Strohs and thought, "Man, an elephant tranquilizer would hit the spot right now."  The president of some neighborhood organization of bored mothers will announce that "Marijuana is a gateway drug."  Yet I've never heard someone who is stoned say, "now I need some black tar!"  No they will request a pizza.   Perhaps pot opens the gates to obesity?

Here's why people start doing drugs:  they don't know what they are doing.  If you don't know what you are doing you are bound to do anything.  For example, right now (other than sharing my typographical Tourette's with you) I'm trying to figure out how to make an impressive Powerpoint.  I see those people in ads and in movies and all they  do is plug in and animated charts explode onto the screen.  A soundtrack of inspirational music accompanies a visual layout so stunning that Disney could option it for a theme park attraction.  I want that, but don't know how so I want a beer and a cigarette.  Somehow that seems like the perfect thing to do.  My brain isn't able to kick on and so I'll kill part of it.  And while I'm at it I'll set an example for my lungs, "no oxygen for you until the brain does it's job."  And then like when the basketball coach made the entire team run until I wrote "I do not agree with Meeker's coach that we are mediocre" twenty times on the lockerroom blackboard I could use peer pressure from a wrongly punished respiratory system to motivate my nerve center.  

Think of one of the actual gateway to drugs, higher education, and you'll note that what most students do is sit around their dorm rooms and try to figure out what to do.  "Whaddya wanna do?" could be a school mantra.  Maybe a call and response cheer.  Opposite bleachers yelling "whaddya wanna do?" and their counterparts shouting back "we don't know!" and then the guy cheerleaders would throw a girl in the air while the others too heavy to toss  excitedly jump around. 

Yet for those who don't know what they are doing there is no answer until someone comes up with drugs.  Or a cult.

"Whaddya want to do?"  

"I don't know."  

"Good.  Have some Kool-Aid."  

It's that simple.  And terror?  Yep. 

"Ahmed, whaddya wanna do?" 

"Blam!" 

I bet if Osama had an X-box and some weed we'd still have our towers. 

The War on Not Knowing What To Do begins now.  And I can't think of a better way to start it than with a beer.