No kidding. Sounds like these are two existentially doomy areas of deep concern. You could almost hear the despair in the voices of these learned folks. The only hope that was offered? Maybe something so terribly bad will happen, the Humans will change course? Yikes. Talk about hanging by a thin reed. Seems the Humans are playing with fire in multiple ways, and well, we may end up burning the whole house down.
Alternatively, the vibes are so fucking bad, maybe an electoral bloodbath, a blue wave of magnificent proportions could be brewing? I mean, who knows?! Fingers crossed. Hope dies last.
So, yeah, let's punish the Republicans for punishing us. Sounds like a good idea.
Still, talk about Mojo-killers. What to do? We didn't want to just stew in the pot of doom. We decamped to our rehearsal studio and played music. We ran thru an album's worth of unrecorded songs. Sounds like a new album. But we were struggling thru. Sometimes, you know, you have to fake it to make it. We faked it for a few hours. It was quite helpful. Fake it good enough, and suddenly you are not faking it.
We also made a visit to our local THC dispensery. Pick your poisons wisely, Grasshopper. "Sleep gummies." Yes. A good night's sleep is a necessary corrective for so much b.s. The "Stay Asleep" gummies are a new essential item in our survival kit. The young person at the counter processed our order and sent us off with these encouraging words: "Stay Stoned Out There..." Yes. Indeed. Faking it. Making It. Rocking in the Free World...
