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Monday

10/03/03


Overdue for a Hangover



Suppose, if you will, that it’s 1982. It’s about nine o’clock on any Saturday night, and you’ve just arrived at a party. The party-thrower’s parents have just left for Florida, and even better, forgot to hide the key to the liquor cabinet. By midnight everyone’s having a great time. The patio furniture is in the pool, the dog is drunk on beer and all the bedrooms are locked and in use. Every one is pumped up and feeling great, and you can do anything ‘cause you’re the King of the World!!!

But now it’s eleven in the morning and the only reason you came-to is because you’ve just rolled off the couch. The sun is hurting your eyes, your head is pounding, there’s something sticky all over your shirt, and the furniture in the pool doesn’t seem quite as funny any more.

Then there’s that faint voice in the back of your head saying, "Happy now? I fucking told you to take it easy. Jerk. Now go clean up the dog vomit."

My point? From this week’s cover of Time Magazine it looks as if America may finally be coming-to.


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