At one time, a name under consideration for this blog was Wrong Planet. This is because I often walk around saying, “I must have been born on the wrong planet.” I tried to register that name but it was already taken by another blog. (Which has since gone offline.) It turns out that the phrase “wrong planet” has been adopted by the Asperger’s Syndrome community.
Why do I think I’m on the wrong planet? Because I feel so unlike the other humanoid creatures I encounter on a daily basis. The universe must have seriously fucked me over by sending me here. At the earliest opportunity I plan to leave. Maybe I could settle on a secluded planetoid in a restricted neighborhood in the asteroid belt around Jupiter. Perhaps I could do a little homesteading in outer space. Yeah, I could hang with that.
In the meantime, I’m forced to deal with the here and now.
I like to stop at the grocery store at 7:45am on the way to work for a fresh jalapeno and cheese bagel. This morning there was a fidgety looking guy of unkempt appearance loitering around the garbage can by the grocery’s Star Trek doors. As I walked up to the store he pointedly made eye contact and said, “Good morning.” Uh oh, here it comes, I thought. Here comes the pitch. But he didn’t ask for anything and I made it inside. He’ll probably get me on the way out, I figured.
On the way out, though, he again left me alone. I was in my car and getting ready to leave when I realized what was going down. Another guy came out of the store with a small bag of groceries and a case of beer. The beer was quickly transferred to Fidgety Guy who merrily strolled away with a peppy bounce in his step. Ah, the itch has been scratched for one more day. Tomorrow the dance will begin anew.
I assumed I had just witnessed a food stamp transaction. Food stamps can’t be used on cigarettes and beer, so an accomplice (with cash money) is needed. The accomplice is enticed with a 50/50 split of the proceeds for the services rendered, namely purchase of beer using the cash money. The accomplice gets $40 worth of food stamps for groceries and only spends half that on the beer. It’s like a 50 percent discount coupon. A true win-win for everyone.
The junkie (for lack of a better term) is more than willing to bleed half the value of his food stamps in exchange for his fix. Why do I get the feeling that Mr. Fidgety was poppin’ the top on a cold one before he even made it home? Beer on the Wheaties. Truly the breakfast of champions!
I feel for the guy, but I can’t help but wonder: What if marijuana is legalized? Between cigarettes, alcohol, caffeine, prescriptions, sugar, fast food and much much more, we are one addictive society. We have an overwhelming desire to intoxicate ourselves. Why do I get the feeling that making another option even more accessible is not going to be a good thing?