He loved admitting it, even.

sing cocaine "when you can afford it" and still doing so up to "the time I was 20" can't be dismissed with more of the same "everybody does it, let's move on, top one percent, ..., for The Children^®" worn-out DemObamarat mantras.

As less-than-one-term junior freshman do-nothing Senator Oblowma says in his own 1995 hagiography,

I had learned not to care. I blew a few smoke rings, remembering those years. Pot had helped, and booze; maybe a little blow when you could afford it. Not smack, though.

For those not familiar with illegal-drug-user/drunkard lingo: pot is marijuana, booze liquor, blow cocaine, and smack heroin.

The dope elaborates:

Junkie. Pothead. That's where I'd been headed: the final, fatal role of the young would-be black man. Except the highs hadn't been about that, me trying to prove what a down brother I was. Not by then, anyway. I got high for just the opposite effect, something that could push questions of who I was out of my mind, something that could flatten out the landscape of my heart, blur the edges of my memory. I had discovered that it didn't make any difference whether you smoked reefer in the white classmate's sparkling new van, or in the dorm room of some brother you'd met down at the gym, or on the beach with a couple of Hawaiian kids who had dropped out of school and now spent most of their time looking for an excuse to brawl.

That's some heavy-duty tripping out, "flattening out the landscape of my heart, blurring the edges of my memory."

And don't forget, "Look at the intense colors, man. Look at the colors!" He could've mentioned those too.

Baracocaine Hussnortin' Oblowahhhhh rolls another one off the tip of his tongue:

You might just be bored, or alone. Everybody was welcome into the club of disaffection.

When I'm bored or alone I usually busy myself with keeping the place tidied up, like wiping off the bathroom counter top or cleaning a mirror. Not doing a line off one.

Kokaine "Kid" konkludes,

I was a confused kid and was making a bunch of negative choices based on stereotypes of what I thought a tough young man should be. Those choices were misguided, a serious mistake.

Well, at least he didn't hook up with some domestic terrorist and dole out millions upon millions of that terrorist's grant money to liberal hate-America^(birm) groups like ACORN in order to radically brainwash Chicago school kids with more of the same worn-out DemObamarat Communist mantras. That really would've been a misguided choice as well as a serious mistake.

What?

Oh, that's right.

Jr. Sen. Ocokehead had a nose for doing that too.

Labels: anti-America liberals (BIRM), liberals unhinged, megalomaniacal liberals (BIRM), narcissist liberals (BIRM), tax'n'spend liberals (BIRM)

	7:08 AM

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