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So I was at a meeting of Narcotics Anonymous in the Morning Alano Club. A false light. A day that never dawns. This particular strain of Numinous Narcs were completely psychotic and trying to cure those same psychoses with a meeting and a Big Book. Personally, I think we need to do a lot more research into drug treatment; some silly form of religion is no way to deal with a crippling psychological disorder. As long as the paradigm in drug treatment is Scoobyism, we are in the Dark Ages.

Enter, White Death Rat. From out of the Bobo Boat Bus.

So Paul Camper van Beethoven, just off the bus from the State Mental Hospital, enters. Somebody asks, "Does anyone have a topic, step, or tradition for us to discuss in this sick little conclave of burnouts like Willy Maze, the biker who traded his wife and kid for a pound of pot?"

"That was my THIQs that made me do that," Willy said. THIQ is a substance in the brain formed from the interaction of alcohol and dope, but the moron had never heard of "dopamine" and thought his THIQs came from "alcohol and dope."

White Death-rat proclaimed, "I wanna commit suicide."

I spoke first. I forgot what I said, but I ended with, "Whatever you do, don't stop taking your medication."

Rather than agree with this extremely logical advice, they all started screaming, "I was in a mental hospital once, and they had me on all kinds of shit, and I threw away all my pills and felt much better!"

Yeah, sure--a lot of drugsters wind up in Bobo Boats, so they'd all been there themselves. Even that damn ass Willy had to admit eventually that the psychiatrists were right when they diagnosed him a paranoid manic-depressive. He now lives in Electric City and takes pills just like the rest of us.

Eventually, this nurse, Jackie Offski, finally settled the debate by saying, "Narcoholics Numinous has no opinion on outside issues. Medication is an outside issue. But I was on antidepressants myself, and threw them away and felt much better!"

Yeah, and we should send all the voyagers in the Bobo Boats into spin-dizzys to Scoobify them instead of giving them treatments which actually work. I finally quit drugs on my own, but I used my "pills" as a higher power--knowing that there'd be interactions and that the efficacy would be cut down. I did not pray to the Spirit in the Sky or the corpse-eating Earth or the wholeness of the Sea, nor Air, Fire, nor Ice.

Finally, I could take my sponsor's pressure to quit my meds no more. I told the asshole to stay away and completely severed my relationship with the organization. Except for Jeffer Auss. He never tried to convert me and we remain friends even to this day.

When I made my first stab at Scoobification, Dr. URL proclaimed Scoobyism as an exacerbator of manic-depression. Finally, he said Narcoholics Numinous was OK, mostly to give me a social life. I have that now in the Perky Pam Layout. And my "pills." I do i>not need the meetings, the Big Book (Bible of libel) or the Dawn Scooby Club. Now, I have Layout Lust in Trish the Dish's soft machine. White-light/white-heat created when the two become one. Spice girls on nutmeg binges. Better Baby than Ginger.