It’s not just my body that’s given up, my brain is quickly going the same way. At the very least it is when I’ve had a few drinks. It started showing itself as a problem at the new year before last when I thought it’d be a good idea to walk 6 miles home, through the snow, at 3 in the morning. Since then, virtually nothing will stop the drunken me from succumbing to the overwhelming urge I feel to immediately leave wherever I am and go home to bed. It’s not a comment on the company I keep, nor particularly on the amount of booze I consume, but a suggestion of how poorly I rationalise ideas (and that one idea is all I tend to consider) as they pop into my head. My brain and enough motivation, usually based on how tired I feel, tend to convince me it’s the best thing to do.
It routinely happens when I’m out in Wycombe of a night with mates. I could have 8 Jagerbombs in the Antelope, so I’m full to the brim with booze and Red Bull, and still feel the overwhelming urge to stagger back up the hill home and go straight to bed, even if I’m so beaked up on caffeine that I’m buzzing like a bee using a dildo.
It’s why I approve of eugenics. Years ago, people like me, with our crap lungs, odd personality disorders and dodgy knees, would’ve been herded up and euthanized for the good of the species. If humanity can do anything with its immense brain power before the introduction of wide genetic modification, it’s to stop the weak from carrying on. The people of the future would be grateful that there would be nobody slowing down the system. My leech-like reliance on the NHS alone is surely a big enough reason. And just because the Nazis did it does not make it a bad idea, per se.
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