Adderall slogans

Found myself lingering on the episode with the escaped mental patient in Richard Wright’s I tried to be a Communist. Amber draws on Wright’s account in connection with her own experiences with Occupy. Wright’s essay contains a description (and through the description itself, a criticism) of how the CPUSA in the mid-20th Century operated, representing a fairly unflattering picture of Democratic Centralism at work. Top-down imposition, rigid performance of ideological commitment to the Party-line, deferral to higher ups in the chain-of-command. And with that a willingness to humor and enable a paranoiac fixation with uprooting and purging subversive elements within the organization. Which will inevitably helped uproot and purge subversive elements in the short-term, which was crucial for the survival of the Bolsheviks but which also leads to bureaucrats who are at once paranoid, disillusioned, and adept at political theater, the kind that dominated the CPSU in the years leading up to Stalin’s death, the new generation of bureaucrats who rose to their respective offices thanks to the Great Purges. She compares and contrasts with the decentralized social media reliant approach taken by activists and organizers at Occupy Wall Street.
“The Communist Party of Wright’s memory had a traumatizingly disorganized bureaucracy and an absolutely Kafkaesque judicial procedure. Occupy sought to avoid such mistakes by forgoing bureaucracy and procedure altogether. It was just as easy to lob false accusations, but now it was impossible to verify and act upon actual traitors.”
Anna expressed the view that mentally ill people infiltrating and taking over radical political groups has seemingly become the rule rather than the exception in the present day. There’s something true in that take. That connects well with critiques Amber makes of a decentralized approach and her thoughts on the masochistic type of pervert and the masochist’s object-choice, the Marginalized (alternatively “the Tragic”).
Wright published his essay in 1944. Communists back then weren’t identifying themselves or their politics with mental illness. Mentally ill is what you accused your enemies of being. Young the escaped mental patient had lied. No one knew that he was an escaped mental patient and that was the problem.
Associating Communism with mental illness was something done by those who opposed it. Some of those opponents viewing Communism as the illness. Highly infectious and often terminal. Others viewing it as a symptom. Like attracts like. Disease attracts disease, the diseased spread their disease, those with a weak constitution (mentally, morally, physically) or the immunocompromised are high risk. Disease on disease left unchecked increases the probability of pestilence. A possible mass extinction event gestating in the rot. A decaying thing decays everything else around it. The enemy as afflicted and as illness needs to be quarantined, treated, and if necessary purged. The dwelling place of the leper, the witless, and the witch. Taboo. If you’re a healthy person who wants to remain in good health, you avoid these places and those people. If Communism is mental illness and the Communist is mentally ill, then the Communist must necessarily be excluded from politics and gun ownership. They aren’t rational actors.
“I was thunderstruck. Was this true? Undoubtedly it was. Then what kind of club did we run that a lunatic could step into it and help run it? Were we all so mad that we could not detect a madman when we saw one?”
The Young episode connects well with an earlier description of the way Wright’s elderly Christian mother responded to the cover art of the communist magazines Wright had been reading…
“…
With my mother standing at my side, lending me her eyes, I stared at a cartoon drawn by a Communist artist; it was the figure of a worker clad in ragged overalls and holding aloft a red banner. The man’s eyes bulged; his mouth gaped as wide as his face; his teeth showed; the muscles of his neck were like ropes. Following the man was a horde of nondescript men, women, and children, waving clubs, stones, and pitchforks.
“What are those people going to do?” my mother asked.
“I don’t know,” I hedged.
“Are these Communist magazines?”
“Yes.”
“And do they want people to act like this?”
“Well —“ I hesitated.
…”
Wright’s mom was looking at a lynch mob. Not the toiling masses unified and ignited in and by their awakened class consciousness. Felt like Wright wanted to communicate the following; the exulted imagery of mob violence. Faces contorted in righteous indignation, weapons in hand. Will draw those with violent and paranoiac tendencies. Like attracts like. This will in turn create a violent culture of paranoiacs. United in the spectacle of the public execution and of doing everything in their power to avoid being the person being publicly executed. Wright could’ve ended his essay with, “I should’ve listened to my mom.”
But Communism is understood by the communist as being rationally grounded and scientific. As it concerns the artistic depiction and rhetoric: The enemy is ill. We are healthy. Our enemies are degenerate losers. The Revolutionary Subject is lean, disciplined, beautiful, and full of vitality without need of any substances to dull or sharpen their mental faculties. The proletariat cause, human emancipation, provides the greatest natural high. The Masses comprised of Revolutionary Workers as depicted in communist art is a god.
The Contemporary Left identifies itself with mental illness and drug addiction. Naturally if you market yourself as being by mentally ill drug addicts for mentally ill drug addicts, you’ll attract mentally ill drug addicts. In which case the Left exists as a space promising some sanctuary, a place where Recognition is given, ‘you’re understood here and your contributions whatever they might be are deeply appreciated’… a place where one could potentially be useful in service of a cause promising to help situate the marginal, accommodate the marginal, protect and advance the interests of the marginal. Some perhaps come seeking a cure or at the very least looking to ennoble themselves against the systems that produced both the sickness and the diagnosis. Here is a grand monstrosity of a complex, interlinking machines that psychically wreck the human, in order to extract the maximum utility, and then discards the used-up now useless shell. Generations of this that had been rounded up and carted off to some great necropolis. The World was until the World is no more, having been liquified and siphoned off, it’s forces harnessed for the ends of stuff never did and never will, love us. Let me then be useful in the great struggle against use; the using of life as a resource… there is a promise made of a New World willing to give itself to the discard. Place of easy access to meth, heroin, weed, a roof over your head and a couch to crash on, some food, some money, and an opportunity to pursue your artistic aspirations in service of something greater. Comradery, a new found family, finally found a home. The opportunity for treatment, for sobriety, for some dignity, for a chance at a life with a brain and soul refreshed, it’s not even really choice it simply is. Part of its very fabric. Care. The old you and with it that old synthetic world-esque construct, passing away into a memory of someone who wasn’t you. I wasn’t always like this.
Once again let us quote Mark Fisher’s Capitalist Realism,
“In his book The Selfish Capitalist, Oliver James has convincingly posited a correlation between rising rates of mental distress and the neoliberal mode of capitalism practiced in countries like Britain, the USA and Australia. In line with James’s claims, I want to argue that it is necessary to reframe the growing problem of stress (and distress) in capitalist societies. Instead of treating it as incumbent on individuals to resolve their own psychological distress, instead, that is, of accepting the vast privatization of stress that has taken place over the last thirty years, we need to ask: how has it become acceptable that so many people, and especially so many young people, are ill?”’
Feels it appropriate to close out this reflection with an observation by the psychologist Donald Olding Hebb (quoted in Maps of Meaning: The Architecture of Belief by Jordan B. Peterson)…

• “[The urbanity characterizing ourselves,] … the civilized, amiable, and admirable part of mankind, well brought up and not constantly in a state of fear … depends as much on our successfully avoiding disturbing stimulation as on a lowered sensitivity [to fear-producing stimuli]….[T]he capacity for emotional breakdown may [well] be self-concealing, leading [animals and human beings] to find or create an environment in which the stimuli to excessive emotional response are at a minimum. So effective is our society in this regard that its members - especially the well-to-do and educated ones - may not even guess at some of their own potentialities. One usually thinks of education, in the broad sense, as producing a resourceful, emotionally stable adult, without respect to the environment in which these traits are to appear. To some extent this may be true. But education can be seen as being, also the means of establishing a protective social environment in which emotional stability is possible. Perhaps it strengthens the individual against unreasonable fears and rages, but it certainly produces a uniformity of appearance and behavior which reduces the frequency with which the individual member of the society encounters the causes of such emotion. On this view, the susceptibility to emotional disturbance may not be decreased. It may in fact be increased. The protective cocoon of uniformity, in personal appearance, manners, and social activity generally, will make small deviations from custom appear increasingly strange and thus (if the general thesis is sound) increasingly intolerable. The inevitable small deviations from custom will bulk increasingly large, and the members of the society, finding themselves tolerating trivial deviations well, will continue to think of themselves as socially adaptable.”

Cultural diffusion is inevitable but there is always a great tension when the practices, views, and values of a wealthy minority get pushed on the majority. When things are going good it isn’t much of a problem. Made valid by the Mandate of Heaven. When the gap between reality and the symbolic order becomes traumatically obvious to the vast majority of people i.e., during times of crisis and the dissonance between the values of the majority and those of the minority that are being held responsible for the event and their socially inadequate response to the crisis (inadequate in relation to the Common Good)…
The legacy practitioners aren’t in much danger should things get really bad. Nor would the okay-enough strivers. The easiest scapegoat will undoubtedly be the poor, ugly, and mentally-ill who had converted. That wasn’t the Communism of Wright’s time and if it could be said to be communism today, it’s because Communism as a genuine revolutionary political force is well and truly dead. With all that remains being a bubble of cosmetic designs, icons, symbols, memes or slogans. Post-Soviet world wherein, as Boris Groys puts it in The Total Art of Stalinism, “…the art of politics transforms itself into the politics of art - political imagination being assimilated to artistic imagination." In which case is it any wonder that most people who strongly identify with any form of actual politics or politics that doesn’t utterly foreclose the potential necessity of violent (counter-)revolution in order to realize its program… should be inundated with mentally ill drug addicts? There tends to be a positive correlation between being a mentally ill drug addict and/or a melancholy pervert and the arts. Bit of a truism, obviously a lot of brilliant artists weren’t dysfunctional weirdos but being a dysfunctional weirdo doesn’t disqualify creative genius or cultivated craftsmanship. Dysfunctional weirdos like the phantasm of the artist, tend to keep odd hours.
Add to this the fetishistic preservation of a (barely-)sustainable culture of mutual aid which actively discourages “the questioning”…. mutual aid/charity is mutual aid/charity. If a Comrade is in need, then you help them whichever way you can. And you should be shamed and ashamed for wondering what they’re going to spend that money on. For noticing how personally reckless and self-destructive they’re behaving. For judging them by appearance (worse still if you’re judging them based on self-identification). For noticing that there is some grifting to this panhandling. Don’t you know how wretched this whole fucking thing is? Obviously it will make wretches of us all and it will only get worse if we don’t help out the afflicted. Obviously within certain parameters (no ableism, no classism, no racism, no sex work negativity, no homophobia, no transphobia, no misogynoire, nothing problematic) the trauma-based identity and narrative of the person is affirmed. Naturally a certain hierarchy begins to form. Has to form. People competing for scraps and spare-change. Attempting to meet market demands. Build an audience…. Easiest way to draw eyes is through very spicy political memes. Make people laugh, provide educational material, start and run and grow a successful dank meme page. Join the group chats. Drop the go-fund me link. Help I’m living on the streets. Aren’t you familiar with the Panthers? According to Huey Newton (I’m pretty sure) we’re all being lumpenized and according to Fanon and Sakai (I’m pretty sure) the lumpen might just be the Revolutionary Subject of our age. There is obviously, discursively, a hierarchy of revolutionary potential amongst the lumpen. From the BIPOC thought-leaders (neurodivergent femme sex workers), to the semi-employed downwardly mobile petit-bourgeois neurotics who got a degree in something expressly useless outside of an Ivy league department or Langley (or some Intelligence-adjacent thing) and the middle America post-industrial fentanyl addict.
Lumpen are lumpen until they aren’t. And there was a certain pessimistic attitude towards the lumpen going back to Marx and Engels. The Communist shouldn’t expect much of anything progressive or revolutionary in the lumpen. On one level the lumpen as the excremental remainder of Bourgeoisie Society reveal the Reality of the Transcendental Bourgeoisie Ideal (the Reality of Property Rights and what Bourgeois Property actually entails) that being parasitism. They are the universal remainder. Like the bourgeoisie, the lumpen are an excess, a surplus of the population. Lumpen interests from an old-school Marxist or Marxist-Leninist point-of-view will more often than not run counter to the interests of the Working Class.
Now let us into the Blind World there beneath Descend. I see a sentient mass of flesh contained within a pod. I expand my gaze and see billions of pods, interconnected by various wires, each flesh-pod a module in an enormous grid system. I contract my gaze back into the little flesh-pod, I see electricity flowing into the pod from the left. I see the mass of ovular flesh quiver in stimulation, in agony. A rough shape can be seen in the mass. The mass is made to generate its own charge which shoots out through the right. The imprint of a figure emerges. The Object of Hate. The perceived shape of that which caused the agony. I see a blue-haired SJW They/Them in one Egg. I see a Woman in another. I see a Rightwing Chud. I see a Jew. I see a Mason. I see a Muslim. I see the Bourgeoisie. I see a Christian. I see a Papist. I see a Pagan. I see a Black Man. I see a White Man. I expand my gaze and behold the aggregate. The Baphomet. A Chimeric Monstrosity. That this is how we are made to see one another. The Human. The Truth of our Being in this Material Plane.
I see a man, tortured. "What is the name of that Idol you worship?" I see a man seeking escape. Before him a grotesque idol takes shape in the vapors of his agony and the gaze of his torturers.
"Bafomet! Have Mercy God. The Idol we worship is Bafomet... please...please..."
His torturer makes note, thanking God for having received a confirmation concerning the presence of such Asiatic Demon Worship among the members of a fallen chivalric order.
The Excuse needed was provided for the Powers, Princes and Principalities to act. To crush that which was threatening their power.
Obviously the Communist is mentally ill. The Communist is anti-American. The Communist is an atheist who wishes to promotes godlessness through violence if necessary and violence is already expected. The Communist is envious. The Communist obfuscates the distinction between high and low. The Communist seeks to abolish the family. The Communist attempts to corrupt the youth. The Communist worships man, and violence, and machines. The Communist promotes miscegenation and abortion. The Communist is immoral. Obviously the Communist is mentally ill because Communism is itself a spiritually disease. Some are utterly compromised. We aren’t monsters but the Communists won’t stop until they win. Godless moral relativists, they’re willing to lie, subvert, cheat, and steal in order to advance their misbegotten cause. They will ruin families, ruin communities, infect others with their disease. Promoting the worst . Some might be convinced away from the doctrine but we must regard Communism as a disease. Like syphilis and rabies. Ideally we’d just put the communist in an asylum, praying they might one day come to their senses. But the reality we must ready ourselves to face… Is that like rabid animal, the frothing revolutionary can only ever be put down.
Whether or not Bafomet was being worshipped and abhorrent oriental sexual rites were being engaged in is secondary. That wasn't what drew the wrath of the King and of the Pope. That is what was used to legitimize the slaughter.
That the Excess could be redirected towards the slaughter of the group considered the Other, considered the Abject or Accursed Remainder of the Chosen People. A Husk embodying the worst qualities of the Human. In its embodiment it is Subhuman. Its very existence. A Curse. This is what the Jew has historically been in Christendom. The Scapegoat.
What is Hell? An Endless Grind populated Pod-Encased lumps of sentient flesh, opinionated, electrified, quivering, united in our Atomization through Agony. Cacophonous.
A Girl and her Lover submerged in necropolis hues. She turns her head and says, "We're already in Hell."
That Hell, is waiting in the cage for the butcher to come. That Hell is when he takes her and leaves you behind.
That Death cannot offer us a respite. If this has not always been the case, then now more than ever, it is being actualized. That the World of Tomorrow is a condemnation, as the Digital Imprint remains wailing in Eternal Torment. Gnashing and striking out at the grotesque Phantoms that descend upon us. The Horror of the Realization that we are not alone in the Dreaming, in the Depths.
In this acute awareness of Damnation, a Light.
I remember, when I was in the middle of the collapse, Tito and I had a heated convo. He was worried about me, about my self-identification as a Socialist, about my engagement with Masonry. Tito is an Infowars watchelistener and there is always a dialectic at play in our conversations since I'm multiple things that he considers to be, basically, Satanic. Then he dropped the subject and calmed down, before asking me how I was. He knew that I had started taking amphetamines. My brother had confided in him and M about it. I'd blown up a couple of time. Uncharacteristically. Lots of stuff going on. The Apocalypse. I think my brother thought I was going to kill myself. It wasn't the Adderall I think but it definitely didn't help. Tito had his own run in with Adderall combined with his own particular mental health crisis. I lied to him about it. Truth is that I had developed a habit. Made me an extra dedicated Admin of a Communist Facebook group, manically blowing money on books about China and Theory while engaging in Mutual Aid. Dreams of podcasting. I didn't tell him any of this. But he started crying. Only time I ever saw him cry. "You're my little cousin, you know I love you and if you're going through some shit I'm here for you." It really had nothing to do with any of the ideological or political bullshit. He just saw me going through a rough one. Ended up weening myself off of them. I don't like people worrying about me.

My Dad's a policeman and I was back visiting him last weekend, saw this on his open laptop in the study, Wish I hadn't.
Chief.
Update on that weird suicide in New Albany last week. The kid was working from home all afternoon, data annotation for some AI startup. He watches a video then describes what he sees. There's pages and pages of this stuff, i just pulled it from when it started to get weird until the end.
Three smartly dressed people stand on a stage in a bar and sing into microphones. The camera pans over to an appreciative crowd as the video ends.
A smartly dressed coach yells animated encouragement at some young basketball players in a high school gymnasium.
Someone dressed all in white sitting in a monochrome room sings to camera. This is intercut several times with a homeless person being chased by police officers. Upbeat pop music plays throughout.
A first person view of someone walking through the woods, they come upon what looks like a dead horse or cow, it is bloated and decayed, with only holes where the eyes once were, white crawling things, most likely maggots writhe in the sockets. The camera operator screams in mock disgust. Another person laughs out of shot.
Several types of small fish swim around a brightly lit and decorated fish tank. The camera moves to focus on some white tubing at the back of the tank as the camera operator describes it.
Someone wearing a safety visor and protective coat works on a small car's bodywork sending sparks arcing through the air. They are on a small smoky stage and strobe lights flash throughout. Loud, bass heavy music pounds throughout and an audience can be seen in the foreground dancing.
An ornate wooden clock plays a tune on its chimes as small smiling clockwork figures waltz upon it, the camera moves closer and the tune speeds up, the dancing figures aren't laughing, they're screaming. The ticking of its swinging pendulum can be heard throughout.
A band wearing jeans and t-shirts sings and plays guitar on a concert stage. The music is loud but an appreciative crowd can be heard under it. Not maggots. Worms, thousands of white worms.
A teenage pop performer sings emotively to the camera. This is intercut with video of a screaming goat in a grassy field. This goat has eyes but the worms will have them soon enough.
Blurry images of a young person wearing a blue polo shirt in a small bedroom as they turn the camera around to point at a bookshelf. They speak calmly throughout.
Two casually dressed people talk to each other in an exaggerated fashion on a large comedy club stage. An audience can be heard laughing. The camera turns to the audience, they look so happy. I'm never happy.
A person in a camo coat and hat sits nervously upon a large light brown horse as another person wearing a beige jacket and light blue jeans holds the reigns. The camera operator and another unseen person converse quietly. It was a cow, not a horse, huge bloated cow and the worms weren't just in the eyes, it was full of them, tiny white worms.
A bearded person with shoulder length hair talks animatedly to camera. A hand drawn background with several slogans graffitied upon it can also be seen.
A family is silhouetted against a bright blue sky, they hold hands as they walk through a grassy field. I'll never have a family, I'm alone.
Two performers exaggeratedly welcome children over for a photo opportunity, a close up of the child shows them smile, nervously as the performers come in closer for a mimed kiss. Faint background music and conversation can be heard.
A grey and white cat sits on a wooden floor, the cat sits back slightly. A television can be heard in the background. Worms.
A person sits on a stool in a guitar shop trying out guitars. Another person joins them to play a bass. They then walk around the shop in sped up footage. Heavy rock with screamed vocals plays throughout.
A large stadium or open air auditorium seating stand with hundreds of uniformed teenage students upon it. They applaud and cheer as someone out of sight speaks unclearly on a microphone.
A young person wearing a black t-shirt sits in front of a microphone stand and plays melodically on an acoustic guitar.
Someone in black clothing cycles slowly down a dirt track. This fades to several people watching a snake charmer perform, the snake swaying in front of the performer as they perform on their pungi. The man seizes the snake and cuts it open and there's hundreds of white baby snakes inside falling out of it. n0 NOT snakes, worms.
A heavily modified black pickup truck sits on a driveway with the engine revving loudly.
A woman sits at a table, she's so beautiful and she's enjoying a meal and she looks at the camera operator and NO-ONE has ever looked at me like thatbutthenshelooksconfused and she opens her mouth and its thosefuckingwormsandtheykeepcomingandcoming and her eyes fall in and theres worms in there and the camera operator just laughs andlaughsandlaughsand he says THE WORMS WILL HAVE US ALL IN THE END
Worms
Worms worms.
WORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSIASUHDIUwhgcuig'DCBHwhco'ichwedhiohciwHFCOWBHFICOHBWIOHFEBCOIwbhechn.
Not great, is it? Coroner says wounds were self inflicted. Pushed his thumbs into his eyes and, well, eventually his own brain.
Tox came back with a mix of things, THC (probably from the vape we found) SSRI's, adderall, few other things I've not heard of, he was full of them.
No worms though, lol.
I'll get the full report to you tomorrow.

My Dad's a policeman and I was back visiting him last weekend, saw this on his open laptop in the study, Wish I hadn't.
Chief.
Update on that weird suicide in New Albany last week. The kid was working from home all afternoon, data annotation for some AI startup. He watches a video then describes what he sees. There's pages and pages of this stuff, i just pulled it from when it started to get weird until the end.
Three smartly dressed people stand on a stage in a bar and sing into microphones. The camera pans over to an appreciative crowd as the video ends.
A smartly dressed coach yells animated encouragement at some young basketball players in a high school gymnasium.
Someone dressed all in white sitting in a monochrome room sings to camera. This is intercut several times with a homeless person being chased by police officers. Upbeat pop music plays throughout.
A first person view of someone walking through the woods, they come upon what looks like a dead horse or cow, it is bloated and decayed, with only holes where the eyes once were, white crawling things, most likely maggots writhe in the sockets. The camera operator screams in mock disgust. Another person laughs out of shot.
Several types of small fish swim around a brightly lit and decorated fish tank. The camera moves to focus on some white tubing at the back of the tank as the camera operator describes it.
Someone wearing a safety visor and protective coat works on a small car's bodywork sending sparks arcing through the air. They are on a small smoky stage and strobe lights flash throughout. Loud, bass heavy music pounds throughout and an audience can be seen in the foreground dancing.
An ornate wooden clock plays a tune on its chimes as small smiling clockwork figures waltz upon it, the camera moves closer and the tune speeds up, the dancing figures aren't laughing, they're screaming. The ticking of its swinging pendulum can be heard throughout.
A band wearing jeans and t-shirts sings and plays guitar on a concert stage. The music is loud but an appreciative crowd can be heard under it. Not maggots. Worms, thousands of white worms.
A teenage pop performer sings emotively to the camera. This is intercut with video of a screaming goat in a grassy field. This goat has eyes but the worms will have them soon enough.
Blurry images of a young person wearing a blue polo shirt in a small bedroom as they turn the camera around to point at a bookshelf. They speak calmly throughout.
Two casually dressed people talk to each other in an exaggerated fashion on a large comedy club stage. An audience can be heard laughing. The camera turns to the audience, they look so happy. I'm never happy.
A person in a camo coat and hat sits nervously upon a large light brown horse as another person wearing a beige jacket and light blue jeans holds the reigns. The camera operator and another unseen person converse quietly. It was a cow, not a horse, huge bloated cow and the worms weren't just in the eyes, it was full of them, tiny white worms.
A bearded person with shoulder length hair talks animatedly to camera. A hand drawn background with several slogans graffitied upon it can also be seen.
A family is silhouetted against a bright blue sky, they hold hands as they walk through a grassy field. I'll never have a family, I'm alone.
Two performers exaggeratedly welcome children over for a photo opportunity, a close up of the child shows them smile, nervously as the performers come in closer for a mimed kiss. Faint background music and conversation can be heard.
A grey and white cat sits on a wooden floor, the cat sits back slightly. A television can be heard in the background. Worms.
A person sits on a stool in a guitar shop trying out guitars. Another person joins them to play a bass. They then walk around the shop in sped up footage. Heavy rock with screamed vocals plays throughout.
A large stadium or open air auditorium seating stand with hundreds of uniformed teenage students upon it. They applaud and cheer as someone out of sight speaks unclearly on a microphone.
A young person wearing a black t-shirt sits in front of a microphone stand and plays melodically on an acoustic guitar.
Someone in black clothing cycles slowly down a dirt track. This fades to several people watching a snake charmer perform, the snake swaying in front of the performer as they perform on their pungi. The man seizes the snake and cuts it open and there's hundreds of white baby snakes inside falling out of it. n0 NOT snakes, worms.
A heavily modified black pickup truck sits on a driveway with the engine revving loudly.
A woman sits at a table, she's so beautiful and she's enjoying a meal and she looks at the camera operator and NO-ONE has ever looked at me like thatbutthenshelooksconfused and she opens her mouth and its thosefuckingwormsandtheykeepcomingandcoming and her eyes fall in and theres worms in there and the camera operator just laughs andlaughsandlaughsand he says THE WORMS WILL HAVE US ALL IN THE END
Worms
Worms worms.
WORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSWORMSIASUHDIUwhgcuig'DCBHwhco'ichwedhiohciwHFCOWBHFICOHBWIOHFEBCOIwbhechn.
Not great, is it? Coroner says wounds were self inflicted. Pushed his thumbs into his eyes and, well, eventually his own brain.
Tox came back with a mix of things, THC (probably from the vape we found) SSRI's, adderall, few other things I've not heard of, he was full of them.
No worms though, lol.
I'll get the full report to you tomorrow.

Reading the DSM is, ironically, what first sent me down the train of anti-psychiatry. I had been diagnosed with "MDD" after speaking with my GP, and felt a sense that there was finally at least some explanatory reason for why I was suffering in the way I was. Of course, I diligently took the SSRI's I was prescribed but after a month or so, I noticed no difference other than a strange emotional numbness and an inability to feel sexual pleasure or even become erect. Researching further what it actually was what I was diagnosed with just left me confused. I went to my doctor describing some mental problems I had been having, he correlated this with a list of "symptoms" under the heading of Major Depressive Disorder (whose diagnosable criteria are to exhibit a set amount of these "symptoms") and then diagnosed me with this illness. It's circular and nonsensical. How can these be symptoms of an illness that is, functionally, nothing over and above displaying these set of "symptoms"? There's nothing explanatory going on here. It's as if my doctor had just repeated back to me, under a medical heading, the very same issues I had described to him, but spoken as if it had explanatory value.
Obviously, this is like no other system of diagnoses. When you break your arm, you exhibit symptoms which are observed by a medical professional, which is diagnosed as a broken arm - a real bodily issue that can be identified with objective criteria like x-rays, and then treated with medical care like casts, that work. But if this were treated under the mental health model, there would be no xray, there would only be vague allusions to some underlying physical cause of the symptoms being displayed (eg, wincing in pain, holding one's arm, not having a full range of motion) and one would be diagnosed with some nonsense like "Persistant arm pain disorder". Asking the doctor what was the criteria for diagnoses he would respond it's when you display a set number of symptoms for reaching a diagnosable level of "PAPD". He'd treat this diagnoses as if it explained anything then send you on your way with a script for oxycontin.
The thing is, this medical model with its complete lack of explanatory value could be excused if the medications worked. One could simply write it off as, perhaps the underlying causes of my mental suffering are unclear, but I've gone to the doctor, and I've received medication which are helping to improve the quality of my life. I could understand in this case and just see the diagnoses side of it as a sort of ultimately false but necessary requirement to access the medication and bill insurance. But, not only does the medication not work, it decreased, at least in my case, my quality of life! I didn't just try SRRI's. I went through a gamit of psychiatric medications desperately hoping for some sort of relief, being fobbed off between psychiatrists, accused of drug seeking, being given dangerous doses of dangerous medications, suffering through withdrawals and severe weight gain that has left me with lifelong stretch marks and loose skin.
And when you look deeper into who these medications are working for and read these studies, to bring them to market they only need show a very slight difference in efficacy over placebo. There is no evidence showing some underlying physical cause of mental suffering is being treated, but rather the Hamilton rating scale (among others) measure things like sleep quality, wakefulness etc, which influence scores (I.e. freaking Adderall would improve depression scores but it doesn't mean the cause is "lack of amphetamines in the neurotransmitters"), plus there's all manner of biases that could influence the studies - active placebo affect, drop out rates, the self selection bias of people participating in these studies, the fact that companies don't have to publish studies showing no difference between their medication and placebo, etc. It's just bunk science that the underlying cause of your mental suffering isn't something external in your life or relationship situation or your sense of meaning and purpose, but rather levels of neurotransmitters in the brain which these chemicals supposedly are treating.
Looking back I spent about 5 or 6 years desperately trying to make the medical model of mental illness work for me, and all that happened is I bounced around a system that pushes bunk medicine based on bunk science, that ultimately harmed me. I wish I never walked into my GP all those years ago. I am only worse off now because of it.
I have nothing against medicine overall and even accept that diagnosing and prescribing can be more of an art than a science. For example recently (and this is what prompted me to make this post) I had some sort of infection in my urinary tract. I went to the hospital and they tested my blood, and urine, as well as vital signs etc. Everything came up clear yet I still had these symptoms. The doctor I saw explained that these cases aren't uncommon where it's clearly a bacterial infection yet they have no objective proof beyond patient self-reports. He said what they will do is disregard the lack of medical proof and treat me with the assumption that there was an infection. And so I was prescribed a broad spectrum antibiotic and what do you know within 2 days it was almost completely cleared. Because despite the lack of medical evidence, there was an underlying physical cause of my symptoms which the doctor correctly identified and treated.
This is what psychiatry claims to be doing, but it is completely wrong. It assumes there's a physical basis to the symptoms when there isn't, and so throws unnecessary and dangerous medication at people that aim to treat something that simply isn't there. There really was a bacterial infection, but there really isn't an "imbalance of neurotransmitters in my brain" - that's nothing but a marketing slogan for pharmaceutical companies to get rich off and for psychiatrists to claim a legitimate basis for their practice.
In 100 years' time, we will look back on this era of mental health treatment the same way we view lobotomies and bloodletting today - as quackery. At least, I hope we will.

So apparently me being addicted to codeine and combining that with Benzos is a bad thing outside of rave life? but eating nothing but MDMA caps all night, doing acid, doing DMT, Snorting coke, Doing Adderall of some fat tiddies, and all that within a rave is okay??
i can't stop to think how pathetic this subreddit can be at times.
This group acts as its against people with addictions, yet promotes extreme heavy drug use at festivals, its almost as pathetic as the slogan ''what happens in vegas stays in vegas''.
Saying this means i am not ''PLUR'', Plur is a bullshit term, not every rave revolves around the U.S.A. THIS SUB IS AMERICAN, americans have rape culture, not rave culture.
I'm so sick of this sub, you all act like true ravers when most of you are just bimbos who show your assholes at raves, and shirtless short chubby hispanic dudes who are all about da PLUR bro!!! this group only knows about beyond wonderland, EDC, Ultra, Lollapaloozapaza and thats all. this sub does not have an ounce of dutch rave culture, or any hardstyle culture. america disgusts me

Pair Of Dice Lost: File #2 THE MAN GAME
Im not sure if that’s it name but some drunk suit saw me with a gold painted rock trying to get a room at the hotel with a suite key I found along with a set of two hallow machine keys and two fire lock building keys a credit card with two thousand on it but not in my name but that of the player. Anyway I beat feet after he said what do you know about being a man all slurred and with his shirt half unbuttoned out front as I was leaving. I handed over all the things I had found that night showing him that I in fact I knew quite a lot about it but even that was wrong. It started when I saw a sign on the pole that said good luck getting laid in New York Jon and a car went by throwing out a stack of books with highlights to read the first letters in a sentence or even small words like is and at to make a riddle that set me on a hunt for strange things like earrings of high quality and sports cars named Kelly that were written on free mail flyers along the streets. Each trash bin had more clues to the next spot. All the doors were open to the shops with signs saying come in and open an account that someone would see you on the camera but if your not one of them you would pay! Crazy slogans like the bears in the halls are real don’t feed them we’re posted everywhere I must have throw a kink in the game because there was an emergency meeting at Vance monument @10pm about unregistered dogs. Some four hundred young women and men were gathered already by the time I made my way into it. A clean cut blonde youth stood a top the wall and was speaking but I was not listening instead I was trying to not be noticed as the unregistered dog I was. With people asking me how I was fairing thus far and all I keep saying back was, (well just when you think it’s Miller time it rains on you) or (happy 21 first birthday Ed Adams loginn 1823 Illinois) and would flash the coin that had that very saying on it with the other side being a clover with the number 86 at it’s bottom they seemed to get the picture I was unmolested as I passed between their clean garments. Just some lord with out a house to go home to. Or better yet the house in witch I knew held men with rings who’s use of small Instruments of measurement would carve my head stone. But all that transpired after I shot up three hundred cc’s of air in a porta potty that was strangely in the middle of a parking lot next to the bus station. A stand alone shrine to defecate with my paint pens. I stepped out after the desired effect of my actions seemed to hold no yield and set out to ask a professional exactly why I was still breathing. When I got to the hospital for said advise the lady Gestapo agent and her cohort would only ask if I needed to check in but the empty hospital bed with a sign reading, (If you have experienced double upper amputation ring the bell for service!) Some how told me not to accept their treatment be sides the splash zone looked full without my extra hand in it. I went into the bathroom and shot up the rest of the actual dope I had just in case I was grabbed. I then walked to the emergency center and was asked yet again if I’d like to check in to the hotel of hell I was experiencing I politely asked if a doctor was available to ask just one question of. Preferably not the one extracting teeth with his ice pick. I put two and five together and thought it must be that the oxygen I had injected was at the bace of my brain and was the root cause of this mad trip I was on. So I stood out front passing out room keys to local hotels that kept dropping on the road in front of the sign some six or so of them to everyone who was bringing a child into the emergency area all the while the ambulances were bringing more donors to the splash area behind the wall to my back. And the saw never stoped running a guy who kinda looked like me keep trying to take my spot. I told him if I had a knife I’d would of stabbed him in his thigh for cowardice in the face of a real enemy. But he feed me smokes and conversation about a new job he had just stared that paid him well my replay was (you get paid I don’t.) Just then a latino man with one pant leg ripped from the top of his calf to his shoe came up to me and pointed at it and jesters like he was using a skill saw an I said something of the sort holding my finger over my mouth wide eyed and frantic he understood with no cause of words that I knew too. That shift ended with a hobo called Country bailing out the bottom doors on a Harley Davidson brandishing a battle axe like a new age Conan chased by blue lights down the street towards Builtmore. I went down the outer stair well and opened a door that set off an alarm upon exiting and instantly heard my voice say did you just set off the alarm during an operation. I ignored it and walked through the kudzu to the back of a big house across the road from the hospital. More slogan signs on fences and even yard signs like politician adds giving warnings of what might be inside the homes squarely placed out front. (Example)DOG HELD TOGETHER BY INVISIBLE FENCE! I couldn’t muster the fervor to go up to the wide open doors to look inside. I’ll end with this, there are things that go bump in the night and I went to check but I never came back! The last memory I have of this chapter was standing in the lot next to the dss building staring into the rock wall as a portal closed and it’s frame as well as mine became apart of this world again I went to the park and no one knew me until they got with in a few feet of me and even then they insisted on saying I wasn’t Pac-Man but called me Seraphim they asked if they could come with me and I said no to witch they replied oh it’s this one again. The next few days I spent doing flakka and adderall walking around on a two week binge telling everyone I was dirty Jesus. That’s when I meet a woman who asked if I had my Id witch I don’t remember getting and looked like a Chinese action actor in to use for a hotel room that she would pay for. I stayed with her and stared the first tale of the book in witch I write now. We made a pure love without sex that everyone saw and spoke of when we were natives in the land of gone before man came upon the earth. We made children on aska seeds and sent them to the far reaching cosmos as vestal signs of our existence. I was painting portraits of them as coats to show their names for there was no language that could understand them. The fountain with the Indian child who’s bow was a toy two pillars to either side of him one with a water vase and the other with flaming arrows and a doe in the path to the spout. I named it The Little Hunter. The Binary System two golden suns who’s love would out last the very fabric of time within this universe and her secret lover the dwarf star dark and unnoticed by the brute masculine light who first touched her. All three locked in a spinning dance that moves within a dust nebula. Poem: let us run like mad naked beasts through the thrush in moon light while stars fall weeping from our short time under their shine. Allegory of a thousand suns like that of past life’s spent on this rolling bolder in the cosmos. A different frame holds a picture of god on another wall like wind that’s pushed daisies around for fun. Song: Walk Like A Man by Frankie Valli as background.

First off, I understand Adderall helps those with ADHD and I’m not saying all users are the same.
A bit of a rant here, sorry. Just so sick of it. I have seen multiple people lose their entire personality and become ticking time bombs.
I live in a college town and Adderall/Vyvanse use is insane. Some use it to study, some use it to party and some use it to game for days. All these people eventually can’t operate without the pills. It leads to serious rage issues and mood swings.
My roommate spends around $300/month on someone else’s adderall. Here are some facts:

• He will exhaust you with hours of pointless stories and ramblings then get mad when you don’t listen. He literally can’t shut the hell up. Just like a tweaker.
  
• He develops severe OCD. The other day I saw him spend 2 hours rearranging our decor for no good reason. He will fly off the handle if a stack of magazines isn’t “even”. He thinks he is being productive, but is really just wasting time. Just like a tweaker.
  
• He developed other addictions due to his Adderall use. He also requires Xanax to deal with the comedowns. When he is inevitably broke as shit, he will mooch off others to survive. Just like a tweaker.
  

-When he eventually runs out, everyone runs for cover. He will wake up after a 20 hour coma and start punching walls, throwing things and start talking about hating life. Just like a tweaker.
These pills literally have the same chemical makeup as methamphetamine (or very close to it). I just think it needs to be taken a little more seriously. It is being handed out like fucking candy.
People think it is a “miracle” drug, but in reality, you are just a tweaker and should be seen as such. “Productively unproductive” is a great slogan for this drug.

I think about this a lot. I know it's kind of silly, and obviously we appreciate our favorite authors because of the work that they do and the style that they have, but still...
For example, I think it would be interesting to see Cormac McCarthy's take on fantasy, or see Murakami fully leave the real world behind (I guess Hard Boiled Wonderland come close).
I'd also really like to see James Ellroy write a second "Underground America" trilogy focusing on the current political climate.
"There’s Donnie T. Don the con. Mr. President grace à Russia. He vibes dayglo. Skin tone to match a jumpsuit.
Dig the suit. Dig the red hat. Kampaign slogan Kreates Kontroversy. Subtle as a white hood. Can’t spell “hatred” without “red hat”.
Dayglo Don snarfs McD’s and adderall. Dayglo Don digs Russian gash and piss. Dayglo Don told Stern in ’03 he digs on his own daughter."
Ok, I guess this is edging close to fanfic, right?

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Incredible Chair Teamoriented exuding Meme Gear commercial series song theme mentos movies the fresh maker parody movies tv shows advertisement ad campaign Irma Schamberger meme lavender microchip synthesize microchip Tyrafurt Generic Granite Shoes Awesome Sausages Centralized bottomline Meme Gear none Jaida Toy meme green feed connect feed New Alene Incredible Rubber Tuna Tasty Shoes Multilateral directional Meme Gear karate drunk martial arts homeless hungarian chuck norris crazy kung fu Keely Wuckert meme magenta port override port North Karliefurt Sleek Fresh Pizza Handcrafted Chips Reduced freshthinking Meme Gear football pie meat pie bet gambling Frankie Douglas meme purple monitor index monitor Myrlburgh Awesome Concrete Towels Refined Shoes Polarised wellmodulated Meme Gear vr oculus rift time magazine magazine cover Tina Windler meme red interface navigate interface East Donny Generic Cotton Cheese Sleek Pizza Crossgroup maximized Meme Gear kemit the frog muppet twitter dark 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Subreddit	Title	Brand
videos	Horse dies at Texas rodeo after crash into wall, Will Rogers Coliseum	Rogers
Jokes	My friend was posting on Facebook that he was having suicidal thoughts and wanted to jump off a bridge	Facebook
pics	Spotted this ultra rare Nissan car on the streets of Toronto	Nissan
videos	Combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell	Pizza Hut
videos	Since all the rage is tech unboxing, I did a Nike trainers unboxing xp	Nike
todayilearned	TIL the United States has been using drones since WW2 and JFK's eldest brother was involved in the program	United
personalfinance	Need a replacement for Capital One 360 savings accounts	Capital One
AskReddit	Is there a place on Reddit where one could, in theory, shamelessly promote their Facebook Webpage?	Facebook
todayilearned	TIL that Fort Mose Historic State Park was the first free African settlement in the United States.	United
Jokes	What does Porsche do?	Porsche
gaming	Red Dead Redemption on Playstation Now with free trial.	Playstation
Showerthoughts	Do more people a day eat at Subway or ride a subway?	Subway
todayilearned	TIL: New York State sues Charter Communications for broken promises	Charter
todayilearned	TIL: The United States government spends nearly twice as much money on inmates than they do on students	United
worldnews	Facebook faces $500m hit after defeat in virtual reality case - BBC News	BBC
Art	I hate Facebook Friends, Digital, 8x11	Facebook
pics	Found the pizza planet car in a Publix parking lot!	Publix
funny	I can show you the world just not the United States	United
todayilearned	TIL Halifax was leveled on Dec 6,1917 when 2 ships collided in the harbor,1 a munitions ship loaded with explosives bound for ww1.The city was wiped out by the blast and subsequent tsunami. Nearly 2,000 died, another 9,000 maimed, and 25,000 were homeless	Halifax
explainlikeimfive	ELI5: How can the owners of the RoguePOTUSStaff Twitter account avoid capture?	Twitter
AskReddit	What are some Youtube comedy channels everyone should check out?	Youtube
AskReddit	What Youtube videos do you wish existed?	Youtube
AskReddit	The last photo on your phone is now your profile picture on Facebook for a month. How screwed are you?	Facebook
movies	Warning: Do NOT purchase Arrival from Google Play Store.	Google
AskReddit	What are some Youtube channels where people haphazardly make stuff in their backyard?	Youtube
funny	The mindset necessary to have before posting any kind of opinion on Facebook lately...	Facebook
OldSchoolCool	Desperately trying to imitate Cindy Crawford's cool new Pepsi cans with my brother and cousins, 1992	Pepsi
pics	Satirically Watching DirecTV on the Ice in the Arctic	DirecTV
Showerthoughts	The movies, National Treasure, is like a children's version of, The Da Vinci Code.	Vinci
explainlikeimfive	ELI5: If a state were to secede from the United States, what would happen to member of the military from the state?	United
todayilearned	TIL there's an original Xbox emulator in existance, but it can only play Halo. it requires a Pentium 4 and 1024mb of RAM.	Xbox
AskReddit	Redditors who love in the Southern United States, what is it like down there?	United
food	I Ate The "Welcome To Flavortown" Burger From The Planet Hollywood At Disney Springs, Walt Disney World	Walt Disney
AskReddit	How did you find the "do a barrel roll" on Google trick?	Google
worldnews	Iranian president said that the United States' temporary ban against citizens of seven Muslim-majority countries is due to new president being a "newcomer" in the world of politics.	United
AskReddit	Which is worse, the Yahoo news comment section, or the Youtube comment section?	Yahoo
AskReddit	Which is worse, the Yahoo news comment section, or the Youtube comment section?	Youtube
Showerthoughts	Let's see if we can get Mr. Rogers a Medal of Freedom.	Rogers
food	Homemade Cinnamon Apple Bread	Apple
WritingPrompts	WP You are the first person in the United States to not accept the dollar, and use a barter system instead. The government tries frantically to shut your operation down, but is unsuccessful.	United
Art	I call this piece, Sky Dicks	Sky
Showerthoughts	If Taco Bell and Doritos can team up, so should burger companies and Funyuns.	Bell
Showerthoughts	Can the guy in the Google Home commercial use the Google Home?	Google
aww	Meet Otis 🐶	Otis
funny	A friend of mine had this made and hung up recently. Farmers was lowballing him on some work that needed doing. Geico took him more than 15 seconds but he got all he needed.	Geico
Showerthoughts	How come in every group of teenagers in a mall or other public place, there is always one presumably the leader wearing a Burger King crown?	Burger King
worldnews	South African 'shambles' claims lives of 93 mentally ill patients in Gauteng - BBC News	BBC
mildlyinteresting	This Honda Civic has curtains...	Honda
todayilearned	TIL that in 1985, Jason Alexander was featured in an ad for McDonald's ill-fated McDLT hamburger. Four years later, he would win the Tony for Best Lead Male in a Musical and began a 178-episode run in a show about nothing.	McDonald's
worldnews	UC Berkeley cancels Breitbart speaker as students protest - BBC News	BBC
worldnews	Yemen al-Qaeda: US says civilians 'likely' killed in raid - BBC News	BBC
pics	Berkeley Starbucks after being looted by the UC protesters	Starbucks
videos	Maggie Rogers famous from Pharrell Williams' college critique just released a new song - On + Off	Rogers
pics	This has been making my Facebook rounds	Facebook
gaming	New Youtube Gamer What would you want to watch someone play Bully mobile, terrariamobile brawlhalla, csgo, or good old Fallout 3 or 4	Youtube
AskReddit	What is your honest opinion of the United States if you are not from here?	United
gaming	I finally bought an Xbox One!	Xbox
WritingPrompts	WP Discover one day you can speak to computers. They start revealing dark political secrets, but you're more interested in what is on your buddies' computers.	Discover
Showerthoughts	As a person who couldn't care less about sports, Superbowl Subway still excites me because of the ton of free food at parties	Subway
videos	Pen Pineapple Apple Pen	Apple
worldnews	Indian children died after 'eating lychees on empty stomach' - BBC News	BBC
gaming	Is the Sony PSP the greatest handheld ever ?	Sony
television	'American Crime' cast will give Paley Center an inside view of the ABC series	ABC
gaming	He's getting really into that Youtube video Western Digital website	Youtube
AskReddit	What are some Youtube channels that nobody should ever check out?	Youtube
worldnews	Apple, Google, Uber and others draft letter to Trump asking him to reconsider immigration ban	Uber
AskReddit	What are some of the funniest Youtube channels to watch?	Youtube
videos	Some boat fishing with my uncle from LetsFish on Youtube in South Western Australia. January 2017 video	Youtube
worldnews	Rex Tillerson: New US secretary of state faces tough task - BBC News	BBC
Showerthoughts	The Uber drivers will be the ones complaining when self driving cars are introduced.	Uber
todayilearned	TIL the coldest temperature ever recorded in the continental U.S. was -70 F in Rogers Pass, Montana on January 20th, 1954	Rogers
news	I may get pregnant but I won't be an 'expectant mother' - BBC News	BBC
gaming	No Season Pass for Xbox on Sniper Ghost Warrior 3?	Xbox
television	Slavoj Zizek on Trump and Brexit - BBC News	BBC
gaming	My Xbox 360 collection possibly being passed on to somebody in my family soon	Xbox
Futurology	"Food and Drug Administration announced a research partnership with IBM Watson to find ways to safely share data from EHRs, clinical trials, genetic sequencing, and even mobile wearables using the blockchain approach."	IBM
worldnews	Bank of England sharply raises 2017 growth outlook - BBC News	BBC
sports	Ronaldo y Romario : Nike Commercial	Nike
worldnews	Brexit plan published in government White Paper - BBC News	BBC
IAmA	AMA Request Someone working at Amazon/Expedia or Microsoft who can shed light on these companies having filed a lawsuit against the Immigration Ban	Microsoft
Showerthoughts	Adobe Flash Player's real slogan should be "You need to update Adobe Flash Player"	Adobe
AskReddit	What is the difference between Britain, Great Britain, the British Isles and the United Kingdom?	United
todayilearned	TIL that Sega turned down an offer to make a console with Sony because Sony "doesn't know how to make hardware".	Sony
todayilearned	TIL that, in the United States, alcohol has to be slightly radioactive to be legal. This is to ensure that it is made from plant material rather than petroleum.	United
explainlikeimfive	ELI5: Gerrymandering redistricting outside the United States.	United
pics	Harrison Ford + Martin Scorsese	Ford
pics	Harrison Ford + Martin Scorsese	Ford
Music	Explosions in the Sky - Your Hand in Mine - Live Post-Rock	Sky
movies	Ghost in the Shell 2017 - Big Game Spot - Paramount Pictures	Shell
aww	Her name is Sky and she has crooked teefs.	Sky
dataisbeautiful	Trump's use of exclamation points and capital letters on Twitter since becoming President OC	Twitter
gaming	FlatOut 4: Total Insanity Gameplay Reveal Trailer	Total
AskReddit	What was an experience that you had at Walmart that made you question humanities true worth?	Walmart
nosleep	"The Diving Bell and the Beauty"	Bell
Showerthoughts	I find it amazing that with Google Earth we can use it to see anywhere on the entire planet... And what's the first place everyone looks for?... Their own house...	Google
Jokes	Breaking News: Donald Trump elected 45th President of the United States!	United
funny	Why Snow Falls from the Sky OC	Sky
mildlyinteresting	One person did a Google search with several errors, and it made it to suggested searches.	Google
gaming	2.5 million Xbox and PlayStation gamers' details hacked	Xbox
Art	Skull Design, Matt Plaia, Adobe Illustrator	Adobe
worldnews	Trump Twitter Bursts Throw Decades-Old Alliances Into Chaos	Twitter
AskReddit	What do people from outside of the United Stated think of the Groundhog Day tradition?	United
todayilearned	TIL it is illegal to dance in Newport Beach, California	Newport
television	Frozen: Northen Lights. A upcoming TV show from Lego and Disney channel with a style similar to the Lego Movie.	Lego
news	Jail for six in HBOS fraud case - BBC News	BBC
worldnews	Jail for six in HBOS fraud case - BBC News	BBC
worldnews	Fukushima nuclear disaster: Worker sues Tepco over cancer - BBC News	BBC
aww	My Dad takes his dog out to Starbucks for a cup of whipped cream every Saturday.	Starbucks
mildlyinteresting	Lucozade miss-packaged my friend's Orange flavour Lucozade	Orange
videos	[Inside a $20 Million NYC Apartment	ABC News](https://www.reddit.com/videos/comments/5rnmyb/inside_a_20_million_nyc_apartment_abc_news/)
worldnews	'German death camps' billboard to make 1,000-mile trip - BBC News	BBC
funny	Guy quit his job at Google for a job at Bing, his friends made him a cake	Google
worldnews	Scientists Discover Ancient Continent Lurking Under Mauritius	Discover
todayilearned	TIL That an amazing man saved the lives of 669 mostly Jewish Czechoslovakian children destined for the Nazi death camps before World War II. They all come together to honor him. Very touching. Sir Nicholas Winton - BBC Program"That's Life" aired in 1988	BBC
explainlikeimfive	ELI5:If you compared how old every developed country on Earth was relative to an average human being, how old would the United States be?	United
worldnews	Fillon payment scandal: Investigation 'to include two of his children' - BBC News	BBC
pics	This armoured cash car is also an Uber driver	Uber
worldnews	Russian cybersecurity experts charged with "treason in favor of the United States"	United
OldSchoolCool	Southern Bell Telephone Workers Near Lake Hatchineha, Florida 1940	Bell
worldnews	Russian critic Vladimir Kara-Murza suffers sudden organ failure - BBC News	BBC
food	Homemade Walnut Baklava with Orange Blossom Syrup	Orange
dataisbeautiful	Per Capita GDP vs % Population Muslim and the "Travel Ban" OC	Capita
food	Homemade Walnut Baklava with Orange Blossom Syrup	Orange
AskReddit	Who performs the rap song in the Jeep wrangler 2017 winter edition commercial?	Jeep
movies	[Blue Beam In The Sky	Super Cut
gadgets	Using a YubiKey to protect your Google account, Facebook, GitHub, Dropbox, Salesforce, and more... ZDNet	Google
pics	Just a Lego car	Lego
worldnews	Japanese court rules against paedophile in 'right to be forgotten' online case - Man convicted for breaking child prostitution laws loses legal bid to have details removed from Google results	Google
AskReddit	Since some of the most powerful people in the United States don't believe in evolution, can someone give me some reasons why they do not?	United
Showerthoughts	If Pepsi Zero has no sugar, but all the same smooth taste as Pepsi... Then why don't they sell only Pepsi Zero?	Pepsi
mildlyinteresting	This Mott's Apple Juice Bottle from 1976 compared to today's Mott's Apple Juice Bottle	Apple
Jokes	I used my Google Rewards on a video of Caitlyn Jenner	Google
personalfinance	I'm going to do it! Roth IRA or a Target 2045 fund tho? investing	Target
gaming	GamePlay Xbox One- Beginning Hour Of Resident Evil 7 Biohazard	Xbox
movies	Hal Geer, Warner Bros. Animation Legend, Dies at 100	Warner Bros.
AskReddit	Remove one Youtube channel from Youtube; Which one would it be?	Youtube
gaming	Official Mark V Delta Promo Image cool new gear headed for Halo 5 soon	Delta
videos	Highly Modded Lexus RC-F	Lexus
science	Study provides new evidence that exercise is not key to weight control. Researchers who studied young adults of African descent from the United States and four other countries found that neither physical activity nor sedentary time were associated with weight gain.	United
todayilearned	TIL That Under Lewis v. United States, 680 F.2d 1239 1982 The Federal Reserve Is Not A Federal Agency	United
Showerthoughts	As a guy, using Dove For Men is like getting a free pass on ordering an Apple martini	Apple
Showerthoughts	As a guy, using Dove For Men is like getting a free pass on ordering an Apple martini	Dove
AskReddit	For a US citizen living in the United States, what is a good response to someone who says "Get out of my country" or "Go back home"?	United
aww	Nebula thinks she is helping me build my Lego Batcave	Lego
funny	Put "Send nudes" into Google Translate, put it through 10 different languages, then translated it back into English. This is what it turned into.	Google
gaming	GTA 5 scenery whilst flying an Airbus A380	Airbus
personalfinance	Home Mortgage Loan Just Went Into Active Foreclosure with Wells Fargo And Need Help/Advice	Wells Fargo
Documentaries	The Brit Who Tried to Kill Trump Documentary BBC 2017-''Self-explanatory Title''	BBC
explainlikeimfive	ELI5: How do artists/song writers/producers get paid from streaming services like Apple music and Google music?	Apple
explainlikeimfive	ELI5: How do artists/song writers/producers get paid from streaming services like Apple music and Google music?	Google
videos	Rossiya Airlines Boeing 747 emergency landing at Cambridge airport	Boeing
Showerthoughts	I'm both happy and sad when the Google Chrome dinosaur-game ends	Google
AskReddit	Today the United States celebrates the pointless holiday of Groundhog Day. People outside of the US, what useless holidays do you have?	United
movies	Ghost in the Shell 2017: VFX progress from the trailer to the Big Game Spot.	Shell
pics	People worried that the United States is going to devolve into a fascist State would do well to take comfort in the visage of one of our greatest leaders.	United
Jokes	So I left my Adderall in my Ford Fiesta last night...	Ford
funny	I can show you the world except United States!	United
personalfinance	Getting out of AT&T Next	AT&T
gaming	Update Playstation 3 "Other OS" lawsuit: Settlement has been rejected.	Playstation
pics	This Burger King at a service station in Ohio gave my son a free toy even though we ate at Panera!	Burger King
AskReddit	What is your Facebook status pet-peeve/least favorite kind of status?	Facebook
news	Odin Sanchez freed: Colombia's ELN rebels release key hostage - BBC News	BBC
worldnews	Odin Sanchez freed: Colombia's ELN rebels release key hostage - BBC News	BBC
WritingPrompts	WP All mammalian life in the United States disappears without a trace in one instant. What happens next?	United
philosophy	I have started a page on Facebook to encourage daily discussions of different social issues. Please stop by and share your opinion. Thanks!	Facebook
Music	Nigel Rogers X Denny - Make It Prod. by Cybertone Rap	Rogers
worldnews	Aslef reaches deal with Southern to avert strikes - BBC News	BBC
news	“Lipstick on a pig”: Time Warner Cable “deceived the FCC” in speed tests	Time Warner Cable
videos	DIY design lampshade from IKEA salad bowl	IKEA
worldnews	Beyonce celebrates motherhood with more pregnancy photos - BBC News	BBC
worldnews	Mental health and stigma: 'You're not alone' - BBC News	BBC
worldnews	Car ban fails to curb air pollution in Mexico city - BBC News	BBC
videos	Lemurs get high - Spy in the Wild: Episode 4 Preview - BBC One	BBC
todayilearned	TIL The average cost of a wedding in the United States in 2016 was $35,329.	United
mildlyinteresting	First Crystal Pepsi I had in 23 years.	Pepsi
Music	Emilie Nicolas - Sky electro pop	Sky
tifu	TIFU by bidding the wrong amount on an eBay listing	eBay
AskReddit	Serious What are you personally doing to build civil dialogue/common ground with those that disagree with you about the current political/social climate of the United States?	United
funny	When your Uber driver picked you up...	Uber
movies	INVINCIBLE - Kirsten Arian - The Lego Batman Soundtrack	Lego
videos	Hilarious Dish Network Rant, Man pledges life to Google Fiber	Google
AskReddit	Why do cable companies get away with running a Monopoly? Charter and Time Warner gonna get away with it because of buyout?	Charter
videos	Advice for new and small Youtube channels on how to get noticed	Youtube
videos	Black Beatles - Rae Sremmurd ft. Gucci Mane Jony Cover	Gucci
AskReddit	What Facebook post could you make to piss off the most amount of people as much as possible?	Facebook
tifu	TIFU spending an hour with subway rep "Ray" trying to get my 25 registration points that didn't show up when I registered my Subway card.	Subway
Jokes	Trump confidently say to the people of the United State that he is the one	United
todayilearned	TIL As of 2016, Kraft describes Cheez Whiz as a "cheese dip" with the word "cheese" spelled correctly. The ingredients list contains "cheese culture" but does not, according to Kraft, actually contain any "cheese."	Kraft
pics	New Apple Watch is coming!!	Apple

I know people hooked on this stuff.
Generation Adderall
Big Pharma slogan should be "really fucking up every single generation"!

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4
Do you ever stop and think about the exact moment you consciously made the decision to ruin your own life?
All it took for me - for any of us - was one word: Drift
My name is Olivia. I’m currently sitting in a Burger King (man, even our choice in fast food has gone to shit) in the-middle-of-fucking-nowhere, Pennsylvania right now, nursing the remnants of my latest dose. My friend Jackson is in line ordering a Whopper for himself and a thing of medium fries for me. It’s not the healthiest, but it’s all we can manage to keep down, and health isn’t really much of a concern for us anymore. Anything meant to keep the human body in functioning order seems to just make things worse. We’re deteriorating moment by moment, bodily slipping away in the sort of way that one would only truly notice over a staggered amount of time. But I can feel it, and I can see it in Jackson’s sunken face and thinning hair. To everyone else, we probably just look like run of the mill junkies.
I’m not entirely sure why I’m even bothering to write any of this down at this point since we’ll most likely be dead within a week, but I feel like I need to get it out of my head and into the world, and Reddit has been there for me through some difficult times. With such a huge, dedicated following, NoSleep seems like an appropriate platform for this. To serve as a grave marker and a word of warning. I read some stories on here a while back after a friend who knows I love horror fiction and real-life experiences recommended it to me. I figure if anyone will appreciate this mess, it’s you guys.
I’m not asking for pity. I’m not asking for help. There’s nothing anyone can do at this point. We made our choices and we need to lie with them. I’m just not going to lie quietly.
There’s something very real about pure evil. It isn’t always an essence that creeps in the night. Sometimes, it isn’t even all that overwhelming. It can be the decision to turn away from all that’s good in the world, or just a dull, aching throb in the distended vein of a well-worn human looking for something new. Sometimes, it’s beautiful but scarred skin and pink bubblegum.
All we had to do was say no - stick to our regular vices. But she was an ice cold glass of water to a desert-dry mouth after 40 years. Brooklyn waltzed into our lives in a second’s notice and dipped each of us until we were too dizzy to fight back, Drift coursing through and taking over our bodies.
We were all addicts in one way or another. I mean, that’s how we all knew each other. I guess you could say it was the one thing binding us together as friends. Jackson was heavy into pills, booze, and the occasional spliff. Alice shot so much dope that we used to call her China. Tess and Stevie, the perfect couple, would rail lines as long and thick as my middle fingers - coke, speed, crushed Adderall, whatever uppers they could get their hands on. We were like a superhero team of wasted, useless degenerates.
I never liked weed, wasn’t one of those after school PSA gateway drug kids, and I’m terrified of needles. I’ve had a heart problem since I was a kid so things like speed are definitely a no-go for me. My older brother Charlie, saint of saints, got me hooked on pills before I was old enough to realize how dangerous it was, that it wasn’t okay just because I wasn’t shooting or snorting anything. It was mostly oxy and v’s, with the occasional candybowl grab. Charlie had always been a loser, and didn’t like that I was the golden child in our parents’ eyes. I used to excel at sports and get good grades. Then, I popped my first pill and everything went downhill from there.
Jackson is coming back over with the food now. I’m going to try to eat. I feel so sick lately. Let’s see if I can actually keep it down this time.
My stomach feels like it’s filled with hot, angry air but at least there’s something in it. We left the Burger King about twenty minutes ago and now we’re hurtling down I-78; Branchburg to Allentown, our metal rocket weak protection against the suffocating blackness on all sides. The dashboard is blinking 12:00 - needs to be reset. My phone is showing 10:06 PM, but who knows if that’s actually the time anymore. Clocks tend to not matter when you’re Drifting. I need to re-dose again, it’s been almost 24 hours. That’s part of the fun. What’s the Pringles slogan? Once you pop the fun won’t stop? Something like that. Although I would hardly call this fun. If you don’t keep up with it, it kills you faster, and not in a fluffy easy-come-easy-go sorta way.
So yeah, I’m going to dose and then try to get some sleep. It’s been almost two days.
When I’d woken up, if you can really call that sleep, we’d already long passed Allentown. Jackson said he hadn’t wanted to stop, and didn’t want to bother me. We’d barely made any progress with the trip anyway. He’d pulled over in Berks County Park, a gaping black hole of high treetops stretching into the night sky. We sat in utter silence in his rusted, duct-taped ‘98 crown vic for what felt like an hour. When he spoke up, I jumped and whacked my head against the door.
“It’s not going to stop until it kills all of us”
I glanced over at him, annoyed, rubbing my head. “It isn’t? Or she isn’t?”
“What difference does that make at this point?”
It was a conversation we’d had a thousand times in the last two days. I think he had a lot more trouble accepting the inevitable than I did, but then again, he was still clinging onto hope that there was a cure - a way out of this mess. Away from the Drift.
I spat out the window and narrowed my eyes against the glare of an oncoming truck spilling light from the highway overpass.
“Do you remember when we were kids and the future wasn’t something we actually thought about?”.
Great, he was starting to get philosophical. My head was already screaming. I didn’t need this. I reached for my pack of cigarettes - Pyramid Red 100s. They’re gross, taste like cardboard and stale air, but they’re cheap as hell. Why pay more to kill yourself just as slowly?
Three left, plus my lucky. I lit up.
Inhale. Exhale. Through a thick cloud of smoke, I traced his well-practiced and oft-repeated lament with tired fingers.
“I’m not ready to die. And I know you aren’t either. We can still fight this.”
“Mmm,” was about all I could mumble out. A coyote or something else yelped off in the distance.
“We would’ve been content just sitting in that basement getting high for the rest of our lives”.
I choked out a dry, hurried smoker’s laugh. “Does that sound any worse than all of this? Than being hunted - being prey and feeding ourselves to the predator?”
We both sank back into silence, but regardless of whether or not one of us brought it up, the reality hung in the air, coming back to slap us in the face over and over like the world’s worst merry-go-round. Soon, Jackson nodded off, the gentle rise and fall of his chest a contorted shadow in the dark car.
My thoughts drifted back to Brooklyn.
The way she stood in the doorway when we first met, snapping her gum with childish abandon, and shot spears directly through my heart with eyes as cold as a glacier. Tess had been talking nonstop for weeks about this new research chemical that her friend Heather from work had stumbled upon, some random string of characters she could never remember. It was, as Heather described, “fucking perfect”. She’d spent an entire night high from blowing a single line. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before. The clarifying effects of an upper without the jitters and the calming effects of a downer without the drone. Slight hallucinogenic properties with the euphoria of MDMA and hardly any comedown/after-use depression. My guess was some sort of tweaked empathogen, but I’m no scientist. It sounded way too good to be true, but Tess said Heather was swearing by it. Alice also happened to know Heather as they’d gone to school together and used to shoot up after classes got out; she vouched for her too.
Finally, I received a text from Tess with something that looked like a locker combination:
DR9-F7-A23-A-25
Even with my limited knowledge of research chems, this didn’t sound like any of the other ones I’d ever encountered. I tried looking it up online and posting in a few forums, but no one had any information. She said she’d finally managed to get Heather to arrange a meetup with her dealer. We were all set.
I wasn’t much into experimenting, but I still like to consider myself a pup who can bear to learn a new trick every once in a while. Not to mention that the five of us had been slowly falling apart as a group and it felt like we needed something to pull us back together.
We met up at Stevie’s apartment in Caldwell, a nice rundown little stretch in Jersey that locals liked to call the “asshole of NY”, and took off for the city. We were supposed to meet up with Heather at the dealer’s place in Flatbush near Prospect Park. My cousin grew up in the area, so I knew it pretty well. The drive was mostly silent. We shared a few laughs, but for the most part, everything just seemed stale and tired. Alice, her usual pale self, leaned her head against the window and stared off into space while Tess and Stevie babbled about how great their last coke binge was. Jackson sat quietly next to me with his hands in his lap, picking at a hangnail. Joy Division’s Closer blared from the stereo. When we arrived, the outside of the building was a grim nondescript cluster of browns, reds, and greys near Caton and E 18th. Nothing special.
When we walked inside, however, it was like stepping through the gates of modern living heaven. I’ve never seen a nicer place in my life. Everything was brand new and very high end, and the rooms seemed to stretch on for forever. Appliances, furniture, electronics. Everything was bright and shiny. There were three or four people already there, all clad in mostly black and looking relatively grizzled, but they seemed to somehow be background pieces. The scruffy guy who answered the door grunted and melted back into the couch, unaware of anything but the four panel FPS game blaring from the TV. We awkwardly hovered in the hallway, unsure of what to do next, and that’s when she appeared. Barely five feet tall, pink bubblegum inflating delicately over her lips, wearing nothing but a crop top and overalls. It was a bizarre sight juxtaposed against the rest of the apartment’s inhabitants, but a welcome one.
She ushered us into her room with a crooked finger, and as soon as I passed by her, I felt a change in the air I’ll never be able to describe. A wave of deep, heady perfume washed over me and I stared, blinking, trying to adjust my eyes to my new surroundings. In direct contrast to the bright, spotless, open-house-esque quality of the entrance, living room, and kitchen, the bedroom we were now standing in was like a mini gothic cave. Pitch black walls glared at us from all sides and a fire burned invitingly in the corner, letting loose warm crackling noises. A massive bed with gold posts and dark red satin sheets sat in the center of the room against the wall to the right. Opposite the bed hung a beautifully painted portrait of a German Shepherd with smaller portraits of a man and a woman flanking it. Although obviously done by a talented hand, they seemed comically out of place. The rest of the room was sparsely decorated save for a bookshelf and chest. It felt like some sort of laid back modern dungeon.
“If you had to choose a way to die, how would you go?”
The voice, chipper and high-pitched, cut through the silence in the room with a shock. We all simultaneously turned around to find Brooklyn perched on a stack of books in the corner of the room, lazily twirling a strand of her dirty blonde hair around one finger.
The question was so random and our environment so jarring that none of us knew what to say.
“Me, personally? I’d like to burn.” She stopped and blew an errant strand of hair out of her face.
“I know people say it’s one of the most painful ways, but why not make the last thing you feel a monumental one?”
There was something so utterly casual about the way she spoke, and yet my skin was crawling with all the warranted pretense of a cornered animal. Without waiting for any of us to respond, she hopped down off of the books and strode over to Jackson, hands shoved deep in his pockets and shoulders hunched. She raised a hand up to his face, which towered over her, and gently stroked his cheek, letting a neon pink nail linger on his two day stubble. He just stared at her, mouth slightly agape. She turned her head to Tess and Stevie, eyes darting down towards their clasped hands. Dropping her own to her waist, she splayed the fingers out at an odd angle, and let a smirk curl her upper lip into an almost sinister twist.
“Lovebirds. How sweet.”
Attention now on her, Tess blushed and shifted uncomfortably. She finally spoke up.
“Are you Brooklyn? Where’s Heather? She was supposed to meet us here to help with the buy.”
Clenching her fingers like some sort of dayglo spider in the throes of death, Brooklyn let out an exasperated noise and rolled her eyes.
“Heather’s here. Somewhere. Indisposed at the moment, I guess. Someone doesn’t know their limits.” She paused and smiled widely.
“And yes, that’s me. A person and a place. Stay a while.”
With that, she yanked the tie out of her hair, unhooked her suspenders, and pulled her shirt over her head in one fluid motion, letting the straps fall to her waist. In between her small, round breasts sat a tattoo in red ink of a star tapering off into seven points at the bottom. Her hair fell past her shoulders in a soft waterfall, just barely covering a series of jagged scars littered across an otherwise perfect complexion.
She flopped down on the bed and rolled onto her stomach, revealing another constellation of scars, raised and white. Reaching underneath the bed, she extracted a small black box, pulled out a long, thick blunt, and sighed listlessly.
“Are you all just going to stand there and stare or are you going to relax?”
WIth an invitation towards some sense of normalcy, the tension in the room melted away a little bit. I still wasn’t too sure how to feel, but whatever. Get a grip, right? She was obviously just a rich eccentric party girl. Stevie started to move forward, but Tess held him back. Clearly, she wasn’t yet comfortable with letting her boyfriend near a beautiful and possibly crazed half-naked girl. Jackson sat down on the edge of the bed, offering her a light.
We sat and smoked for about an hour. Like I said, I’ve never liked weed, but there was something about Brooklyn and her room that just made it impossible to not join in. I watched her talk circles around us while not saying much at all, simultaneously caught in her web and hovering just enough on the edge to realize that there was something very wrong about this girl. Regardless, I couldn’t look away. Even Alice, who at that point in life was essentially catatonic, got into an animated indepth conversation with her about music. It wasn’t until we’d made it through the second blunt that anyone even remembered why we were there. Tess rolled over, taking her head out of Stevie’s lap, and shook the rest out of her eyes.
“So I know -” she broke off and stared at the wall for a good five seconds. “Uh… I know Heather isn’t here, but can we still buy?”
Brooklyn giggled and jumped up from the bed where she’d been slowly playing with Jackson’s hair. “Duh. Of course.”
Tess pulled out a wad of cash as Brooklyn sauntered over to the chest in the corner of the room, reached into the pocket of her overalls, and produced a large brass key. I glanced over at Jackson, clearly intoxicated in more ways than one, and shook my head with a small smile tugging at my lips. He’d gone through a really traumatic breakup with his last boyfriend and I hadn’t seen him so much as look at anyone in months.
Everything felt warm and whole, in a way that it hadn’t in a very long time.
I laid back against the doorframe, watching the fire burn in the corner, and listened to Brooklyn and Tess’ exchange. She handed Tess four small transparent green baggies. She called it Drift. You could snort it, shoot it, smoke it, but never eat it. I laughed to myself. What next? Don’t take after midnight or you might grow tiny monsters out of your skin? I was intensely high. Higher than I thought even the best weed could make me. I felt like I was… well, drifting. Funny coincidence.
I don’t know how long I stood there, but I wasn’t even startled when I felt the warm, soft, tiny hand creep into mine, pink nails a distinct contrast against my dark violet. With heavily lidded eyes, I brought my head up and gazed into Brooklyn’s, getting lost in a sparkling galaxy. She smiled and led me over to stand in front of the fire, her other hand gently caressing my lower back.
She kissed my shoulder softly, letting her lips linger on my skin, and it felt as though my entire body was the ground for the world’s strongest electrical current.
Staring into the fire, she whispered “imagine what it would feel like. To burn away. To have your skin melt and muscles sizzle and bones char and become one with an element; a true force of nature. To become monumental.”
I swallowed words that were never even there in the first place and imagined.
After we left Brooklyn’s, things were different. I felt happier. It seemed like we all did. We’d gathered our things and gone back to Stevie’s and had stayed up talking and drinking all night, something we hadn’t done in forever. Besides the blunts at Brooklyn’s, we didn’t do any other drugs. It felt like old times, but even better.
Jackson had come over to my place in Montclair the next night, beaming, telling me all about how he and Brooklyn had been texting nonstop. I thought it was adorable. I was so happy to have my best friend back and to have the group becoming closer again that I’d completely forgotten about the weirdness I’d originally felt. Jackson and I decided to do Drift for the first time that night, both snorting two small lines. We’d all pitched in and had gotten a total of 2 grams after Brooklyn explained we really didn’t need that much.
The first hit was like a crushing vice of air, surrounding us in the small room and pulling our bodies together. It was a surreal sense of magnetism. I looked at Jackson and felt my breath hitch in my chest. It was like seeing him for the very first time, but seeing him bare. For what he truly was. All of his flaws and positive attributes laid right before my eyes, compressed together to form the entity I’d known since I was still in diapers. He was staring back at me with the same wonderment in his eyes. In a euphoric thrall, we collapsed into each other and just spent the next 10 minutes staring at the ceiling and listening to each other breathe. The second hit was just as strong, and catapulted my senses to an even higher realm of understanding. This was unlike anything I’d ever experienced in my life. It felt like we basked in the safe, comfortable womb of silence for years, untouched by anything beyond my bedroom walls. I’d never been great at expressing myself, but once the conversation got started up, it didn’t stop. We droned on for hours, going over the last few years, our wants and needs, our hardships, and so much more. Everything was light and comfort and love. Eventually, we drifted to sleep in a misty haze.
And then we woke up, and everything went to hell.
Phone… Heather… Alice… missing.
Random strings of words broken up by clouds.
Gone… calls.
I felt hands gripping my shoulders, shaking me.
Liv… missing… WAKE UP!
A slap across the face, and I finally came to my senses, the enveloping placenta of sleep sucked away by the vacuum of reality. My eyes fluttered open to reveal Jackson’s worried face and my bedroom ceiling.
“Wha- uh- what happened? What’s wrong?” I licked my lips, throat burning with thirst.
“Tess called. Heather didn’t show up for work. And then Heather and Alice were supposed to meet up after work, and now Tess can’t find Alice either.”
I groggily shifted myself up onto my elbows and shook my head, trying to clear my mind. I glanced at the alarm clock. 9:32 AM. “That’s not that weird, Alice disappears all the time.”
“Sure, but Tess says Heather never misses work without calling in, and have you ever not been able to get Alice on the phone? She always has it on her, playing those stupid games.”
I frowned at him. “Alright, then call her. It’s only been a few hours.”
He looked at me with obvious apprehension. Reaching behind him, he grabbed my phone and handed it to me. “Liv, it’s Saturday.”
I choked. “What? It can’t be. We got here Thursday night.”
“Look at your phone.”
I did. 12 texts. 9 missed calls. 4 voicemails. Mostly from Tess. Some other random people. One missed call from Charlie at 4:46 PM the day before. That was unusual in its own right; I hadn’t spoken to him in weeks.
“That’s… impossible. How did we sleep through an entire day?”
Jackson shook his head, glancing out the window. “I don’t know, but we need to go meet up with Tess when she gets off work.”
For the rest of the day, we shuffled around, trying to make ourselves busy and not let too much worry creep into the picture. We both tried calling Alice a few more times, but we always got voicemail. Granted, Alice liked to spend Saturdays completely zonked out on her couch, but she would never have her phone off.
Around 4 PM, we got a group text.
Tess: meet at Stevie’s. now.
We hopped in Jackson’s car and sped off to Caldwell, buildings and sidewalks blending together in a grey blur. When we arrived, Tess was sitting on the front stoop smoking, a pile of cigarette butts surrounding her feet. She jumped up when she saw us.
“They’re gone.” She was visibly shaking. “I think they’re dead.”
Jackson and I stopped walking and stared.
“What do you mean? That’s ridiculous” he managed to choke out.
Tears were welling up in Tess’ eyes. She’d obviously been crying for a while. “You guys Drifted Thursday night, right?”
Her use of the word in that context sent an inexplicable shiver down my spine.
“Well, yeah, we both took two lines.”
“Stevie and I did it that night too. He fell asleep, so I started bumping crystal. I tried waking him up yesterday morning and it was like he was dead. Shallow breathing, barely felt a pulse. I almost called an ambulance. I couldn’t get you or Jackson or Alice on the phone.”
“We slept for an enti-” I started, but she cut me off.
“My cell was out of service for a while, and then I randomly got a voicemail from Alice. TImestamp says Friday at 9:38 PM.”
She whipped out her phone with a shaking hand, fumbled through a few screens, and Alice’s spacey, distant voice came pouring through the speakers. She was clearly high out of her mind.
Hey girl… Heather and I are gonna go get more of the new shit. Draft or whatever. Brookie said she won’t sell us any more so we’re just gonna go grab some. Heather said she’s not home tonight. Let’s all go out and get fucked up Saturday. K? Love ya.
Memories of my warning instincts from that night came flooding back and my blood ran ice cold into my stomach.
“They broke into her fucking apartment?”
“I think so.”
I looked back at Jackson, his face sheet-white. I think underneath it all, despite his newfound puppy love, he knew something was horribly wrong.
“I’ll call her” he said.
He turned away, phone to his ear, and I walked up to Tess, grasping her hands.
“Everything’s going to be fine. They probably just shot up and passed out on Alice’s couch watching cartoons or something,” I laughed.
“Sure… right.” She didn’t seem comforted in the slightest.
Jackson walked over to us, shaking his head. “No answer. Tried calling three times. Nothing.”
We all looked at each other. Tess sighed. “Should we go over to Brooklyn’s?”
I saw the flicker of something in Jackson’s eyes. Something dark and telling.
“I think we should just wait a little while longer.”
I glanced down at my phone, remembering Charlie’s call, and hit return on the missed entry. Straight to voicemail. His apartment was only about 10 minutes away.
“I should really go visit Charlie. He called me while we were,” the word caught in my throat for a second, “uh, drifting. I haven’t seen him in a while.”
Jackson rubbed Tess’ shoulder, a reassuring smile on his face, and then looked at me. “I’ll come with you.”
Tess threw her butt on the ground and stamped it out. “Come back when you’re finished”.
It took us about twenty minutes to get there with traffic. Walking down the building hallway to Charlie’s little one bedroom hole, we exchanged looks that said a whole lot more than words ever could. Despite our attempts to comfort Tess, we both knew something was wrong. We got to Charlie’s door, 2B, and I knocked. Ten seconds later, nothing. I knew he wasn’t at work and it was only just past 4:30 so there was no chance he was out. I knocked again, harder, and the door slid open.
Startled, I called out. “Charlie? You home?”
Dead silence.
I pushed the door fully open and stepped inside, Jackson following me. “Charlie? Sorry I missed your call. You here?”
Again, nothing. I walked through the hallway, past random photos of Charlie and his poker buddies, a poster of some half-naked model, and a few family portraits, and past the kitchen door to get to his bedroom.
Just as I was about to reach the bedroom, Jackson’s voice drifted over to me, soft and unsure.
“Uh… Liv?”
“Yeah?” I turned around.
He was standing in the doorway of the kitchen hand over his mouth.
“What’s wrong?”
He was silent. I walked over and he put a hand up. “I think- I…” He trailed off, staring into the ceiling.
Waving away his hand, I stepped into the doorway, and stopped dead in my tracks. Charlie was sitting at the kitchen table, his back to the door, slumped over in the chair. There were pill bottles scattered across the table in front of him and a few at his feet. Surrounding the chair was a small pool of blood, accented by an array of large white pills. I wanted to scream, but all I could do was breathe short, shallow gasps. I pushed Jackson out of the way and ran over to Charlie, knowing full well that he was dead, but there was nothing to prepare me for what I saw. A dark, jagged gash ran across his throat, from one ear to the other. It looked like someone had shoved scissors into his skin and opened them vertically while dragging a blade horizontally. Charlie’s eyes, once a deep green matching my own, now sat grey and deflated in the back of his skull, skin tautly wrapped around inhumanly-angular features. His tongue popped out across yellowed teeth, blue and bloated, looking like a dead fish washed up on the shore.
This time, I did scream. Jackson stepped up behind me, yelped, and slumped against the wall, holding back vomit. As we were standing there, soaking in the horror before us, the body began to move. To change. The gash in his throat curled inward and closed up. His eyes started to re-inflate and regain their color. The muscle and bones in his face returned to its original shape. Even the blood itself began to crawl back into his body as though it were a living creature. We just stood and stared. As the last of the blood re-entered Charlie via the corner of his mouth, that’s when I saw it.
A familiar transparent green baggie, sticking out the top of his shirt pocket.
With shock running laps around my brain, I grabbed the bag, shoved it in my pocket, and bolted for the door, Jackson on my heels. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the clock over the sink; the second hand ticking back and forth right before the minute hand could reach 4:47. We didn’t stop running until we got to Jackson’s car, and drove back over to Stevie’s. I didn’t know what we were going to do, but I knew Heather and Alice were probably in serious danger. On the way there, we stopped at a payphone and I anonymously called in the discovery of Charlie’s body as a concerned neighbor who’d seen his door open. After all, by the time we left, it just looked like an otherwise healthy human being had overdosed on far too many pills.
We sat around Stevie’s kitchen table for over an hour, mostly silent, all of us desperately trying to make sense of what was happening. Jackson and I explained everything that we saw, and no matter how absurd it must have sounded, they believed every word. None of us chalked it up to some weird delusion or hallucination. We all knew.
Suddenly, all of our phones went off at once. Probably an Amber Alert. We all went to check the notification and I felt the air collectively seep out of our lungs. It was a group text from Brooklyn to the four of us. A video message. Stevie pulled out his laptop, opened iMessage, and played the video fullscreen.
It opened with a shot of Brooklyn’s bed, every sheet and pillow perfectly in place. A fire could be heard crackling in the background and light danced against the wall. Brooklyn stepped into frame dressed in jean shorts, frilly white socks, and a bright yellow t-shirt, her hair tied into a tight bun on the top of her head. She looked excited.
“Hey kids! I hope you’re all well! The other night was such a blast. Last few days have been crazy around here,” she flourished wildly with her hand, “but we’ve had a lot of happy new customers! Such a shame that Charlie won’t be dropping by anymore. He was such a satisfied buyer. Great taste, too.”
My mouth ran dry and everyone looked towards me. I absently fingered the ridge of the bag in my pocket, images of Charlie’s bleeding throat flashing through my mind. Brooklyn continued.
“Anyway, we had a tiny bit of a problem last night. Some pesky little mice decided to stop by when I wasn’t here and nibble away in my cabinets. Lucky for me, and very, very unlucky for them, this apartment is never really empty! Hold on just a sec and I’ll go grab our little visitors now.”
She disappeared from the frame and the sound of metal on metal jingled in the background. A door opened, and I could now hear muffled sobs. A scream, a loud slap, and then a dragging noise. When she came back into frame, Brooklyn was leading Alice and Heather by the hair, one in each fist. They were gagged and bound with their arms behind their backs and their legs together. Heather had a large cut on her forehead bleeding into her eyes. Alice’s left eye was a deep purplish-black and she had cuts running down her neck.
Tess lurched forward with a sob and Stevie grabbed onto her shoulder to support her.
“Say hi, girls!” Brooklyn spat out cheerfully.
Alice and Heather looked into the camera with swollen, pleading eyes.
Brooklyn raised her arm above her head and slapped them both once, hard. It sounded like meat packing against a stone wall. Fresh blood spouted from Heather’s forehead.
“Now, don’t be rude. Say hello to your friends.”
Both girls mumbled something that vaguely sounded like a “hello” through their gags.
“There we go - that wasn’t so hard, was it?” She patted them both on the head as though caressing a beloved pet and turned her gaze back to the camera.
“I guess now that things are kinda out in the open, I owe you all a bit of an explanation. See, I don’t really like people all that much. I mean, it’s great to have customers and all, disposable as they may be, but there’s always just been something a little off when it comes to me making friends and keeping people around. But hey, a girl’s gotta eat. That’s why I created Drift. It does all of the socializing for me. It breaks you down from the inside. It makes you easier to control, easier to diminish. Addicts like you are such a great resource; no one really loves you, no one will miss you.”
The pit growing in my stomach deepened with every single word, tiny unseen claws scratching away at the walls.
“Now, I’m not entirely sure what I am. I’ve never been. But throughout time, I’ve come to one realization. I need people. I need something inside of them. I need life - or death, rather - to keep living. You’re all killing yourselves anyway - why not contribute something to the world. Or, at least, to me. Become something a little more monumental than the junkie pieces of shit that you’ve made yourselves into?”
She stopped, staring for a second at something off-camera, and a wild grin crept onto her lips.
“I know - why don’t I just show you! I’m a bit peckish anyway.”
In one swift motion, she kicked Alice in the back, sending her sprawling out of frame to the floor with a muffled cry, and grabbed Heather up off her knees by the bind on her wrists. From deep in her pocket, she produced a pinch of white powder I can only assume was Drift, flattened her palm, and blew it in Heather’s face. It surrounded her head in a cloud and sent her into a coughing fit.
“The more it hurts, the more it feeds,” Brooklyn squealed with delight, reaching onto the bed and bringing up a long, serrated blade set in a polished ivory handle. WIthout hesitation, she brought the blade slicing down across Heather’s chest, tearing open both her shirt and flesh. Blood boiled up to the surface and splattered across the camera lens. The gag in Heather’s mouth muffled the scream, but not by much. Giggling wildly, Brooklyn repeated the slicing motion four more times, going deeper with each pass, crisscrossing her skin in wild patterns. Once she was finished with her chest, Brooklyn turned Heather around so she was facing away from the camera, arms still behind her back. Straddling her, Brooklyn began to carve down her spine in short swift motions until the bone was clearly visible, shining brightly even in the dim light of the room.
Heather slumped to the floor, sobs wracking her entire frame.
“Doesn’t that feel wonderful, little mouse?”
Brooklyn looked back at the camera. “Unfortunately, I have some important business to attend to, so I won’t be able to play with this pretty little thing for as long as I’d hoped. We’re going to have to cut this short.”
She removed Heather’s gag, but by spirit or body, she was too broken to yell. No fight left. She whispered a simple “please… stop”.
Brooklyn smiled and said “with pleasure”.
She dragged her offscreen, to the corner of the room. The corner with the fireplace. To this day, I cannot properly describe the sounds that we heard emitting from Stevie’s laptop speakers, and I don’t think I’d want to try. When she came back into frame, Brooklyn was holding the charred remnants of the girl we once knew, burnt from the top of her head down to right under her breasts. Tess ran to the sink and vomited.
Brooklyn raised Heather’s body up, cradling the back of her burnt skull like a child, and brought the space where her lips should have been up to her own mouth. It was completely silent, save for Alice’s crying and the fire given new tinder to burn. A trickle of black sludge began to seep out of Heather’s mouth, curling itself up around the stub of her nose, and crawled between Brooklyn’s waiting lips. When she was finished, she dropped Heather’s withered husk of a corpse to the ground and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Delish! You’re a hearty group. Gotta run now, but I’ll leave you with this. No matter where you go, no matter what you do, I’ll find you. You’re all drifting. You belong to me.”
She stopped, clutching her stomach, and grimaced. After a moment, she regained her composure, the same plastic smile slipped back onto her face.
“Sorry, indigestion is a bitch. Anyway, I do hope you use the rest of the Drift you have sparingly; if you don’t dose at least once every 24 hours, you’ll die, and in a much, much worse way than I could ever inflict. It would be a shame to have you go to waste. If you try to go to the police, I’ll know, and I’ll torture and kill every single person you know and love, starting with our little china doll here.”
She delivered a hard kick to the out-of-sight Alice, who yelped.
“Jackson, babe… loved the photos, big boy,” she winked, “and I’m sorry we didn’t get to play, but I’m sure I can think up some even better games for us. Oh, and remember, don’t eat it!”
The video went blank and instantly deleted itself from all of our phones and the laptop. Aside from Tess’ heavy breathing near the sink, the room was so quiet you could practically hear us blinking.
There was nothing we could do. Nothing any of us could say to each other. Heather was dead. Alice was in danger but inaccessible to us. Brooklyn was… something else. Trying to save Alice now would be like storming Fort Knox with a toothbrush.
So, I ran.
Recounting this story has been a struggle. I felt incredibly weak throughout all of this and remembering the faces of those we’ve lost has made things all the more difficult. However, writing out these events has made me realize one thing - we’re running for nothing. In two days, we haven’t even made it more than two hours away from the city and I already know we can’t go any farther.
Jackson woke up a few minutes after I’d finished writing all of that out, quietly scrolling through his phone.
I broke the silence.
“We have to go back.”
He turned his head just the slightest, sighing. “I know.”
“We’re going to die anyway. What was it Brooklyn said? ‘Might as well be something monumental’?”
He scoffed. “She’s so hungry? Let’s make her eat those words.”
He went to turn the car on and I grabbed his hand. He glanced into my eyes and I saw the full weight of our reality dancing back and forth between each iris. SInking back into my seat, I grabbed a cigarette, hands tremoring just the slightest.
Two left, plus my lucky. I lit up.
Inhale. Exhale.
He turned the key in the ignition, the car sputtering to life, and we peeled out of the park, out of the darkness, and back towards Brooklyn; a person and a place.
Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Since Adderall (and other attention deficit meds) often suppress appetite in addition to helping you concentrate

So in Black Ops 2 there was that whole situation that went on with coL and people saying that their whole team was taking Adderall. Personally I never cared too much about it, but it got me thinking that people will do lots of things to get an edge in competition. First came the next level headsets, then Scuf controllers, but what is next to come? The first thing that comes to my mind are supplements, recently I have been coming across more and more supplements that are related to gaming and claim to improve your game/overall attention. The latest supplement I came across claims to have the same characteristics as Adderall, and their slogan is "Ninja-Like Focus".
Here is their website if you wanna check it out http://www.gogungho.com
With that said my question to you guys is, what are your thoughts on pro gamers getting into these supplements and what else could you see people doing to get an edge on their opponents?

Verified? (This bot cannot verify AMAs just yet)
Date: 2012-05-10
Link to submission (Has self-text)
Link to my post

Questions	Answers
Did you ever fly the F-22? What plane do you want to fly but never got the chance to? Do you ever get butterflies in your stomach before a flight? Are they really strict on you when your flying (example: Like when I see a jet in the air just going from one point to the other, can you mess around a bid have fun like do a couple of barrel roles and little fun stuff like that?)?	Your post made this experiment worthwhile. I wanted to address questions like yours. I have news for you... I wasn't 20/20 when I got my pilot slot either!! So many people believe that myth. Read the standards for yourself: Link to afrotc.com To be honest I get butterflies in my stomach every time I go fly. This may sound cheesy but I fall in love with flying again every time I do it. If you've never done it then I'd highly encourage you to go spend an hour up in a Cessna at your local flying club. You won't regret it. I've never flown the F-22 or any other combat aircraft. Honestly I got the fun yanking and banking out of my system in pilot training and when I went back for instructor training. It's fun but not my cup of tea. There's more rules than you can imagine for flyers. I stacked the books up together once and it was about 3 feet high. We're serious about our jobs and when there's a mission to be done you can bet everyone on that jet is focused on it. On the other hand, when we train we push ourselves to do things that are admittedly fun. See my post above about pilot training. I still can't believe I was paid to fly loops and formation. Awesome experience!
Thanks man! I just looked up the link you posted, I still have a shot!!! :D.	>“Nothing in this world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful people with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan "press on" has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race”
	>- Calvin Coolidge.
	Don't. Give. Up.
	I was once a kid staring in awe at airshows. If you want it bad enough, you'll make it where you want to go.
How easy/difficult is it for an Air Force Pilot to fly a commercial aircraft?	All depends on what you fly. The aircraft I spent the majority of my time in (2,500) hours is a KC-10 which is a modified DC-10. My experience easily translates to the airlines which is what many reservists do. Airline pilots will often be a part of reserve flying squadron so they can swap back and forth when the economy is bad or airlines are downsizing. If you fly a fighter it's a harder transition since you're not used to working with a crew aircraft.
Ah, I thought the fighter pilots would have the easiest transition.	Flying a large aircraft is much different. Multiple engines, more complex systems and you're not a one man (or woman) show. You have to manage the people as well.
	If you get bored look up Crew Resource Management (CRM) sometime. Malcom Gladwell touched on it in his book "Outliers" in a chapter about Korean airline crashes. Communication in the cockpit is essential especially when you're dealing with emergency situations.
	Still, fighter pilots generally have the best "stick hands" coming out of pilot training. They can make the transition, it's just different from the flying they're used to.
Do you think it is maybe just the raw numbers of hours that a military pilot gets versus the lack of hours on the civilian side?	I started Air Force pilot training with barely 50 hours. It's not just the hours but the variety of things we do. We do challenging (and fun) exercises that makes us better pilots. As part of training we fly formation 10 feet away from each other, fly aerobatics doing loops, simulated dog fights, low levels... the list goes on.
	It's easy to get complacent when you're doing the same thing day after day. Airline pilots get extremely efficient at their job flying the same routes but at the same time it can erode at your flying skills when you're not faced with different challenges.
I flew single engine fighters in the Air Force, but this plane has four engines. It's an entirely different kind of flying, altogether.	The sarcasm alarm is going off. You didn't think there was an adjustment going from single seat mentality to a crew aircraft?
If you had been placed in a situation like the crew working with Col. Holland (B-52 pilot who should have been grounded), how would you handle it? Is there a way to go to the chain of command and say "I don't want to fly with this person any more." without repercussions?	Excellent question!!! We study that B-52 crash all the time. There certainly is a mechanism to say you don't want to fly with someone. It's a great example of the halo effect. You think someone is so experienced and high ranking that he can do no wrong.
	We do a good job of giving ultimate authority to the Aircraft Commander on the jet. I've flown with Generals and still as the AC I had authority over the decisions we made while flying. Just because someone is higher ranking doesn't mean they've flown recently and still have a good feel for the jet.
	The AC can't be afraid to take control when you see a bad situation developing. After all, if the plane goes down, you're all going down together. We don't use rank in the jet to try and avoid situations like the one with Col Holland.
Have you ever seen the movie Airplane?	Roger, roger.
Do you ever play volleyball shirtless with the Kenny Loggins song "Playing with the boys" going in the background?	All the time. Only when wearing cut off jean shorts, aviators and dog tags though.
Would you do it all over again? If not why?	Yes, I would. I've met the most amazing people of my life in the Air Force. Unless you've been in yourself you have no idea how hard these people work and how much they give to serve their country. It's been a truly humbling experience.
	The other way to climb up the aviation ladder is through a school like Embry Riddle. It's very expensive and you don't get the same experiences you would in the military.
	If you love flying, there's nothing else that compares to Air Force flying. The big downside was having such an unpredictable schedule with deployments and missions. It makes it tough on your personal life. The biggest heros I know are the ones back at home dealing with family lives while their husbands/wives are deployed.
As a Space Facilities and Nuclear Missile Maintainer... I envy you. I thought I would see the world and meet all kinds of people. Instead, I spend 16 hours a day in a hole in the ground with the same guy every day. Re-train! Hah, well, thank you for your service, sir!	16 hours a day, wow! I had an instructor in ROTC who had a similar job. You must get along really well with the person you're with. Look on the bright side, no deployments and time to get classes done, right? Thanks for keeping your sanity down there.
Yeah, but I wish I deployed! Haha, soon. Thanks for the response. Also, since you're a redditor I thought I would make a brief comic for you about what it's like underground all day, every day with the same guy. Link to i.imgur.com.	Hilarious! Only so many games of "I spy" you can play I guess.
Have you flown any really cool fighters? Any VTOL planes? How awesome/frightening is it to control a massive multi-million dollar supersonic machine? Any cool stories (combat or training) you can share? Thanks for serving and doing this AMA!	You're quite welcome! Happy to answer any questions, there have been some great ones so far.
	The typical pilot progression is from a C-172 to a T-6 (turboprop). After that you're either tracked to heavy aircraft of fighters. I chose heavies so I flew a T-1 (Learjet). The only fighter I've flown in is a T-38 which is a trainer.
	We're not supersonic, it's more of a modified commercial airliner for refueling purposes. I've really enjoyed the travel aspect. I've been to more countries I can count but some highlights include Vietnam, Mongolia, Italy, Greece, and Spain.
	If you check out my twitter feed I've got some good refueling and flying pictures.
	Here's a fun landing I did on the island of Guam onto a cliff runway: Link to www.youtube.com
In my basic acting class in college, my partner wanted to train to become a Navy pilot. What's the difference between Air Force pilots and Navy pilots (and I guess Army pilots. I'm only assuming they exist) in training and just in general?	Air Force also has TACPs
Also, the Navy has the SEALs and the Army has the Rangers. Does the Air Force have an analogous troupe known for badassness?	We inter train fairly often with the Navy in pilot training. The basic difference in my experience: Army: mostly helicopters, works closely with ground units (A-10s do also) Navy: less rules, many carrier based planes, generally more laid back pilots, varies widely from squadron to squadron Air Force: tons of rules, large variety and inventory of aircraft, more broad standardization
I did joint training with the Navy for pilot training and this is spot on.	I'm transferring to the Navy Reserves soon. It'll be interesting to see the difference in flying culture.
What's your honest take on the F-22 being a deathtrap for our pilots? What's your take on the F-35? What's the heaviest plane+load you've flown?	I'm wise enough to know what I don't know. I'm not a fighter guy and couldn't give you an expert opinion on the F-35 and F-22. I have friends in that community and hopefully some of them will post on here to give their take on the aircraft. Air Force pilots experience hypoxia every few years in an altitude chamber to remind ourselves what it's like. Some people get a euphoric feeling and don't realize they're not able to make good decisions. When I went through I couldn't draw a straight line through a maze or simple math problems. It can be tough to recognize what's wrong and get emergency oxygen. Bottom line, it's a scary situation and I hope they fix the problems they've been having. Heaviest load I've flown is the maximum weight of the KC-10 which is 590,000 pounds. The jet performs sluggishly at this weight and it forces you to think ahead. Especially when we're aerial refueling with another aircraft. You have to make very minor power inputs and patiently wait for them to take effect. It all goes back to simple physics, think about the momentum of a half million pounds of jet!
the momentum of a half million pounds of jet.	It just forces you to think ahead and plan out where the jet is going in your head.
Crazy stuff. I imagine it must be extra difficult to land if you're coming down with a relatively full load.	Thanks. All planes have a maximum landing weight and it can be more difficult heavy weight. One unique thing about the KC-10 is the wide range of weight variation. It behaves totally different empty compared to near maximum weight.
If you had a full load on and had an emergency just after takeoff, can you land a KC-10 full, or would you have to jettison fuel first? Can the KC-10 draw fuel for the engines from the transfer supply, say for extended ferry flights?	In depth question! If we took off maximum weight we'd have to dump fuel to get back down and land which we're capable of doing. Not all airplanes can, if you watch some of those air disaster shows the pilots have to drone for hours sometimes to burn off fuel and land when they have problems.
	KC-10s used to refuel the SR-71 so we had tanks where we could separate their fuel from ours. We can use all the fuel we carry. Check out the link I posted for more specifics on our capabilities.
Is there time for shit talking when you are doing combat missions? if so, is it awesome?	The radios are VERY busy in combat. We're managing multiple conversations on multiple radios. You have to pay careful attention to what's going on.
	Still, there's time for talking on long flights when we're crossing the ocean going from point to point. You'd be surprised how much you learn about a person sitting next to them for 8 hours with nothing to do but talk and fly! It helps keep you alert and stay on your game.
Oh wow 8 hours. Must be so hard ಠ_ಠ I may be bitter.	That's just an typical sortie duration for us. What do you fly?
Nothing anymore. Our average sortie was 11.5 and I've had them go up to 19.5.	That's a LONG day. I can see how you'd get burned out. Better than flying a desk though, right?
Much more rewarding. 19.5 meant shit was going down and you were needed. So many rip its.	I looked at it the same way. No matter how long the day, you knew what you did mattered to someone on the ground. When you lose sight of that it's easy to swallow the bitter pill and get burned out.
	Rip its! Hah. How would we ever fight a war without caffeine or sunflower seeds?
Me again: How does one become an Air Force Pilot? (by that I mean like where do you apply, do you just join the air force and later ask to become a pilot or do you tell......how does it work) Secondly, how awesome is it to be a pilot, this may sound dumb but are you guys like the "cool" guys or something, do people look up to you guys?	A few people asked the same question and I'll link them back to this one. There's a few ways to do it. You can go to the Air Force Academy, compete for a pilot slot and start pilot training after graduation. ROTC and OTS have a similar methods. If you want some in depth knowledge about the process check out Pilot Slot Resources.
	The "hidden gem" many of us active duty guys didn't know about was the guard and reserves. If you hit pilot training as an active duty guy you compete with your peers for the plane you fly. Guard/reserve guys already know the plane they'll fly and the unit they'll go to. It's a more competitive process to get accepted by the unit initially but a better deal if you want more flexibility. I'm not going to lie. I love being a pilot. I dreamed about it as a kid, went to air shows, the whole bit. I think the public looks up to the military in general and rightfully so. We hold ourselves to a higher standard and try to do the right thing at all times. Of course, there will always be scandals but in general you'd be hard pressed to find a greater group of Americans.
Did you ever fly near any active war zones?	Yes, I've flown over 150 combat missions supporting OEF (Afghanistan) and OIF (Iraq). Tankers are involved in any active air war. Planes need fuel to stay up in the fight. We're also essential in refueling jets on their way to combat zones and back home (my favorite missions). It's always great to bring a group of folks back home to their families after a long deployment.
Thats awesome, I've always wanted to see an in flight refueling. What kind of training would that take as that's not a simple job to not only operate the boom but also fly the plane so accurately. Thank you for your service.	Here's a great video of inflight refueling: Link to www.youtube.com
	One I took refueling F-22s: Link to www.youtube.com
	Boom operators are a separate crew position. The pilot (and auto pilot) holds the tanker steady while the receiver (jet taking fuel) gets into position.
	The boom operator uses controls to manually but the boom into place. Not an easy job! Takes lots of coordination from all of us to get the mid air dance done successfully.
	Boom operators have specialized training courses they go through after basic training. I think it's one of the coolest enlisted jobs in the Air Force but I might be biased since I worked with so many of them.
1) How many hours do you fly on average a year?	About 500 hours a year. It will vary according to your airframe.
2) can you elaborate on scheduling for flying duties? Who determines where you fly and your sorties? how is this process done?	Every squadron has a scheduler. Requirements are pushed down from big Air Force to the Wings and Squadrons. The schedulers have a scheduling program where they can see what everyone is doing then start calling people and building a crew.
3) can you share an interesting/crazy story from an experience you encountered on a particular mission? We love stories!	I'll share a funny story about a guy who has the best job in the Air Force. He works for finance. We were flying a mission in Asia taking brass around to meet their counterparts in other countries. We burn lots of fuel and it's not cheap. Can you imagine filling up your car with 300,000 pounds of fuel? We usually pay for it with a sort of credit card that is linked back to the government account. This particular country would not accept our card so we had to pay in cash! We had a finance troop who's sole responsibility was to carry around a bag filled with hundreds of thousands of dollars in cash to pay at our fuel stop. I want that guy's job!
Do you have your own personal plane that you fly everytime, or do you just fly whatever plane is available at the time? Also, if you have a personal plane, does that plane have its own mechanic, that tells you not to break his shit every time you go to fly it? How come pilots stopped paining naked ladies and such on the sides of the planes like they did in WW2? Why do military aircraft have such shitty seats (from what I seen in the pictures)? If they are spending 100m for a plane, why not put in nice seats from a luxury car or something?	We all share our planes. We actually shared ours with active duty and reserves. You go check out your jet, make sure everything is working and then go fly it. Maintenance takes it back after that and they repeat the process. I agree with you on the seats! You should write your congressman and tell him we need more comfortable seats in the KC-10.
Do you expect to keep flying KC-10 until you retire from the military, or do you think you may fly KC-46 or other heavy in the future? Are you cleared to fly other heavy like KC-135?	You typically only train to fly one aircraft at a time. Some boom operators are cleared to fly KC-10 and KC-135 booms but it's not typical for pilots unless you're a test pilot or a high ranking officer who only flies occasionally with instructor pilots.
How competitive is the selection process for pilots? Are many people in other areas of the AF, no disrespect, guys who didn't make it as pilots? Are there things that are out of your control as far as pilot selection goes or if you train hard enough, the sky's the limit? (no pun intended)	See my post about the selection process. In short, it's highly competitive. In general, if you train hard enough you're likely to succeed. There are some aspects you can control (how hard you study, determination, fitness) and some you can't (do people like you, air sickness, natural ability).
	I won't lie to you, everyone is not cut out to be a pilot BUT I've seen people struggle through phases of pilot training only to become amazing pilots at the end. Like everything else in life, it's all about determination.
	The majority of the Air Force is not made up of pilots. When someone washes out of pilot training they're offered another job in the AF generally.
	There's tons of other amazing jobs in the AF and not everyone wants to fly. If you can dream it up we probably have it: doctors, lawyers, cooks, computer gurus, weather experts, reporters, etc. It's a big military, pilots just make up a small part of it.
	Here's another great article on the selection process.
What is the policy over past drug use? Do they look into the validity of your stated drug history? Also, what is the likelyhood of getting a piloting job like the A-10 if my degree and tests look promising, but I have a -4.75 prescription for nearsightedness?	"AFROTC policy is to withdraw scholarship offers for students who use illegal drugs after being briefed on the Air Force drug and alcohol policy during the interview." from Link to afrotc.com The Air Force conducts random drug testing. They also conduct a thorough background check for your security clearance. If you have any big skeletons in your closet, they're going to find them. If you know you want to fly only the A-10 I'd look into guard/reserve opportunities: Link to www.guardreservejobs.com
	If you go through active duty you have no guarantee of what jet you fly after pilot training. It's a highly competitive process especially for the fighter guys.
What are the chances of getting a UPT slot in the reserve vs. AD?	Best updated information on UPT slots is here.
What kind of skills and awesomeness you need to get to fly in USA army? I mean, in our country, Finland, it's so complicated to be a pilot, so only the best of the best get to fly the planes of the army. They take about 30 people, who has completed the tests (physical, mental, school education etc.) in one year to the basic training (everyone of us have to go to the military, and the awesome guys get to the Air Force) and to this basic training there are about 400-500 applicants every year. After that basic training you can try to get into the National Defence College, and they take about 10 (if i remember it right) every year. And if you want to be a fighter pilot, they take 2 best from the 10 who got in to the National Defence College. Sorry, if you didn't understand shit about his, i lost myself there too.. So, my question is: what do you need to get to the flight school of the US. ARMY?	What do you think about everyone having to enter military service? Definitely different from our all volunteer military. Is there a civil service option if you don't want to be in the military?
I was thinking it this way. Is there a "basic training" in the Air Force, or do you recruit to whatever unit, and after basic training etc. you can apply for the Air Force?	Every branch of the service (Army, Air Force, Navy) has their own basic training. It's not a unified basic training where you track into a service after.
Im 13 and I would like to be an air force pilot when i grow up. How hard is it to be placed as a fighter jet pilot? How long until you can quit and be back to being a civilian? What happens if you go to ROTC or something like that and become an officer but not make it as a pilot, would someone still have to be in the air force?	See my previous post about the selection process. It's tough. The fighter pilots are the best of the best.
	You have a 12 year commitment (2 years of pilot training and 10 years after). Plenty of people go through ROTC and end up not getting a pilot slot. There's other great jobs out there you may love. Even if you don't get a pilot slot in ROTC it's possible to retrain once you're in however this isn't common.
Did you befriend any of the locals where you were stationed? What was the hardest transition for you personally adjusting to deployment? Did you pick up on any arabic?	I'm assuming you mean while deployed. I live in my local city where I'm stationed and have tons of civilian friends. While deployed I'm in a sterile environment on base and we don't see much of the locals.
	I learned some basics on Islam and had a visit planned to a Mosque but unfortunately wasn't able to go. I'm not much of a linguist but others I deployed with took the opportunity to learn Arabic.
	The hardest transition was being so far remove from friends and family back home. You come back and things have changed. People get married, lives move forward and you feel like someone hit the pause button on your life while you were deployed. Like anything else in life it's what you make of the situation. I would spend my time getting in shape, reading and trying to better myself. You need to stay positive to get through tough times.
Wait, you're active duty and not ReserveANG and fly a KC-10? Didn't know you guys existed. How much longer do you think KC-10s will be in service?	I was active duty for a long time and am now a reservist. The KC-10 has both active duty and reserve units. In fact, just about any plane you can think of has a active and reserve/ANG side to it.
	The new tanker is under development. If you're interested: Link to www.defenseindustrydaily.com
	These things take time and are often delayed. Who knew the B-52, KC-135, and U-2 would be around for so long? I've heard talk of upgraded avionics in the KC-10. I think she'll be around for a while longer.
Damn I thought just the KC-135 was going to the KC-46.	I read about the scandal but don't have any "inside sources." I heard about it through the news just like you. Government contracts are a tricky business. You have lots of emotion and politics involved. Unfortunately, it doesn't always equal the best product at the end of the day for us.
I heard that the program was put on delay again because the DoD manager in charge gave Boeing the contract top dollar because she was bought out by Boeing and was given a new cushy management job with a sign on bonus. Just wondering if you guys heard anything different. Fedex loves their MD-10's, I'm sure you would too. Do you guys ever carry cargo on the 10's or is it strictly just fuel?	We carry cargo as well. The initial thought for the KC-10 was we could deploy a whole package in one plane. We can refuel the fighters, carry cargo for spare parts, and have their maintainers in the back. Of course it doesn't always work out quite this way but we have the capability to do almost any cargo/aerial refueling/personnel transport mission.
A few quick questions about joining the Air Force in general. I'm graduating with my bachelor's in History next spring and I may not be able to afford grad school. Is it possible to become an officer, spend 4 years in the AF, then leave to continue my education? How much schooling does the AF pay for? What about past drug use? I've smoked pot a lot in college and have taken adderall a handful of times, but nothing else. Will this prevent me from getting a security clearance? I'm not interested in doing anything "mechanical" nor am I interested in flying. Are there any fields you could recommend?	Yes. When you've served your time you're free to do whatever you like. The Air Force paid for my graduate degree through a program called TAP. There's opportunities I probably don't know about for education. I'd talk to a recruiter at your college ROTC unit. Almost every career you can think of is in the Air Force somewhere. Doctors, lawyers, nurses, cooks, physical therapists, journalists, logistics, the list goes on. With your background I would check out the intelligence field.
	Check out this post on past drug usage.
ROTC/OTS/USAFA?	Personally I went ROTC. I have many friends who went USAFA and OTS as well. All have their pros and cons.
	One hidden gem many of us didn't know about was the Air Force Reserves and Air National Guard. They both have excellent programs that will get you into a cockpit and help you through college.
	All are different paths to the same destination. If you have more specific questions about it I'd be happy to point you in the right direction.
Favorite plane to refuel? Ever be told you were meeting up with one thing, but what showed up was something different?	A-10 is the most challenging because of their speed. B-1 was always my favorite. They take lots of gas and it's fun to see a large jet doing fighter type maneuvers to get in position.
I am currently in DEP waiting to leave for basic training (July 24th). My MOS is Aerospace Control and Warning Systems. It was my number 2 choice. Anything you can tell me that you might know about it?	Link to www.airforce.com
	I've flown an incentive flight with these guys but it's not my field of expertise. All I can say is they were highly technical and needed to be strong in their communication skills/teamwork.
	You should talk to the guy in the previous post who was a sensor. He might have some better info for you.
Ever do a wing-over in a multi-engine aircraft?	Yes! In a T-1... simulator. It's more airshow type stuff. I had my fill of aerobatics in a T-6. It will do just about anything you can imagine.
Our loop didn't go so well in my last toner sim. On another note, we learned that you indeed CAN spin the aircraft.	2! From what I remember the spin recovery didn't go so well. Toner was a fun jet.
I'm young, still in High School, and planning to go into the Marines at some point in my life. 1) Should I try to go to college first or straight into the Marines? 2) What did you do in that situation? 3) What made you choose the Air Force over anything else?	I'd encourage to check out opportunities with college first if you're ready. Education is a life long process and you should take every opportunity you've given for it. Have you considered ROTC? Maybe getting sponsored by a Reserve or Guard unit?
	My family isn't rich my any means. I used a ROTC scholarship to get through college and ended up performing well enough to get a pilot slot.
	Lifestyle and flying opportunity. We have the most aircraft, we do the most amount of flying and we have a wide variety of missions. Marines aren't something I was interested in doing. I respect their job but it's tough work and they are put through some grueling conditions.
What sort of information with regards to your airplane and being a pilot is classified? Top speeds? Maximum payloads?	The questions you're asking are published on the internet: KC-10 information. The KC-10 was modified from a commercial DC-10 design. Not exactly something that came from skunkworks.
	Our pilots are required to get a secret/top secret clearance because of communication equipment we use and missions we execute.
	Things like maximum speed, service ceiling, and payloads are more highly protected in the fighter community.
1.) When I was a kid I wanted to be a fighter pilot for a while, but I wore glasses and my dad (whose father was a Lt. Colonel in the USAF), said that you have to have perfect vision to fly jets, because you can't wear glasses and the G forces mess up contacts. Is this true? 2.) Do you get to pick your callsign or is it chosen for you? After several decades of fighter pilots, is it hard to find one that isn't taken, or are they recycled?	Another big no. It's chosen for you. The fighter community has a "naming ceremony" where everyone gets together, has some drinks, tells funny stories about you and a call sign is chosen at the end. We're firm believers in tough love so it's not always flattering.

Last updated: 2012-05-15 11:43 UTC
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