Some Ways of Not Being Bored

There are several ways of not being bored, many of which are boring. But there are other ways of not being bored that are actually quite exciting. For example:

Prostitution – This involves having sex for money with random people you meet on the street. You are constantly on the run from the law, and are expected to work in all conditions of weather. You mainly work at night, a period of extended darkness and relaxed moral codes. Suffice it to say, prostitution is not for the faint of heart, but its rewards far outweigh its dangers.

Rooftop Surveillance – This requires pulling down a fire escape ladder and climbing to the top of an apartment building, preferably one that is condemned. You can see the whole city from up there, not to mention the bedrooms of both men and ladies. There is usually a buffet of mangy tennis balls from which to choose, and at least one or two pigeon carcasses.

Stevie Wandering – This is not a mockery of blind people, but a commentary on how blind seeing people are to the plight of blind people. It calls on you to live out small parts of your day with your eyes closed. Darkness makes of the world a joyously impossible place. The biggest fun comes when you venture outside. The remaining four sense organs kick into high gear, along with the cars at the intersection.

To summarize, having sex for money on a rooftop with your eyes closed is the most effective way of killing boredom—and, if you're not careful, yourself.

Hangovers Are Necessary

Gandhi said, “It is wrong and immoral to seek to escape the consequences of one’s actions.”

Therefore, hangovers are necessary; furthermore, products like Chaser Plus (a pill that promises “freedom from hangovers”) are “wrong and immoral.”

I’m no teetotaler, but neither am I a shortcut artist. If I down twelve beers in one sitting, I want what’s coming to me the following day—lesions and all.

Though science may disagree, a hangover is the body’s way of punishing the mind for its poor decision-making. After a night of heavy drinking, I should not awaken refreshed and clear-headed. Rather, I should come to on a stranger’s couch with burning eyes and a wasted mouth; it should feel like cement is hardening in the furrows of my brain. Anything to the contrary would be an attempt to “escape the consequences of [my] actions.”

For those cowardly enough to take it, Chaser Plus provides that escape, a way to “avoid hangovers before they start.” I don’t know about you, but I have grown weary of escape. I am tired of people running and hiding, shucking and jiving. Just once I’d like to see someone step into the ring of life with no shorts, no gloves, and no protective headgear—and take one right in the mouth.

But this will never happen, because Chaser Plus has tricked us into thinking that we are entitled to pleasure without pain, excess without excrement, fun without fury.

Like nature herself, hangovers are a form of checks and balances, a function of the Department of Physiological Oversight. Their headache and nausea—so feared by the dastardly—keep us honest, humble, and dare I say it: human. Eliminate them, and the orgy will never cease.

And God, how “wrong” that would be.