Me vs. All the Liars and Cheaters in the World, Including YOU!
                                   Ch. III 
          "If Only We Had A Big Cardboard Box Full of Cheap Handguns"
                                      or
             "Who Gave These Guys Drugs And What Was He Thinking?"

  It was about 3am, and the 12-hour blotter paper brain enema wasn't even
half done. The supplemental CNS stimulants were winding down, leaving us
unable to do much more than sit on the balcony overlooking the street
smoking cigarettes. The first two hours were spent making noise on the roof 
of the UCLA co-op dorm, a hideous ten story cast concrete monolith, and
walking down to the mini-mart to get gum and smokes. When we returned, we
made replicas of various Star Trek starships out of gum wrappers while 
C. Young obsesed about the Ensign Ro character on the Star Trek: The Next
Generation TV series. Then we set the models on fire. As the peak
approached, we put "Pink Floyd - Live at Pompeii" in the VCR. After that,
we discussed whether police cars have imitation wood paneling inside, like
regular cars often do, and if we had a pet monkey, what would be the most
disturbing thing to teach him to do (chase a headless chicken around the
living room in a chariot pulled by a pig, dressed as a roman centurion,
complete with helmet, sandals, and greaves). That's when we went out on the
balcony.
  
  The conversation turned to the subject of stupid people, specifically, why
were there so many, and why do we have to deal with them so often. C. Young
and I related our solution for removing forever the boat anchor of others'
stupidity that drags us down so. It goes like this:
  "You start somewhere like the co-op dorm at 2am on a tuesday. Take a big 
box of cheap handguns and, with a gun in hand, knock on the first door. When
someone answers, ask only: "Are you stupid?". You will get one of two
answers. The stupid ones will answer "Huh?", to which you give no answer,
instead you shoot them between the eyes and go to the next door. If they are
among the smart, however, they will answer simply "no". To them you give a
handgun from the box and tell them to start knocking on doors as well, for
the Time of Liberation is At Hand!"

  Our conversation fragmented then, as hallucinogens are wont to make it do,
and finally returned to the subject of police cars and whether or not they
have imitation wood panelling. J. Kelley and I developed this plan:
  "You start here on the balcony about 2am on a tuesday. Take a big box of
cheap handguns, the cordless phone, the big water-balloon launcher we made
out of surgical tubing, and a comfy patio chair. First you sit down and get
comfortable. Then you dial 911 and say there's a fight in front of the
apartment building across the street. Wait patiently until a black and white
shows up to investigate. When the officer or officers get out of the car,
casually lean over the railing and shoot 'em. Then, using the water balloon
launcher, launch the gun onto a random balcony across the street. It's a
five story building with six balconies per floor, so just take your pick.
When another black and white appears to investigate what happened to the
first, tell them that the previous two cops were shot by the occupant of the
apartment whose balcony you launched the gun onto. They'l go up there, find
the gun, and arrest the occupant. Just as they're about to put him in the
car, lean over the balcony and, using a gun from the box, shoot all three of
them. Repeat the previous steps until the street is full of empty police
cars. Then take a notebook down there and conduct a thorough survey of
what percentage of the cars do or do not have imitation wood paneling."

  We then forgot all about police cars and boxes of cheap handguns and
turned to the subject of cars made out of indestructable plastic. Only
people like us would be allowed to have them. What was entailed in "like us"
went undefined, but I basically meant Not Just Anyone, or the equivalent.
These cars would have ultraviolet headlights, to make things glow neato;
tinted windows, so not only could no one see in, but so the driver could
barely see out as well; they would have a light bar on to, like police cars,
only in green and purple instead of red and blue; the siren would play
a particular house/techno song we all knew that sounded like a siren, only
faster and descending in pitch in three steps (indescribable thru a text
interface); the steering wheel would be replaced with a super sensitive
lever that, at the slightest touch, would send the car careening around 
corners and through store windows; instead of a gas pedal, speed would be
regulated by the volume control for the music. Of course, traffic laws
wouldn't apply, and people would just have to run for cover when they 
saw/heard the car coming down the street. Required uniform for driving one
of these was decided to be oversized overalls, a knit cap, Doc Martin boots,
and, optionally, a T-shirt with something incomprehensible printed on it or,
alternately, the formula for MDMA printed on the front.

  At this point the sky was brightening in the east, signaling that it was 
time to go to Denny's for breakfast. We all ordered coffee and toast, except 
for J. Kavulic, who ordered a real breakfast. The coffee-toast breakfast is a
lesson gleaned from previous experience. The coffee stimulates the mind which
has been up all night and also warms the extremeties, which usually suffer
from poor circulation. The toast is the best choice for food, since after two
bites you realize that you only want to LOOK at food, not eat it. Toast,
being the cheapest menu item, is a better deal for just looking at than a
four dollar Grand Slam breakfast, as the only difference in the end is cost.

  We walked home around 5:30am and delighted in giving sunday early risers 
the famous "We've been up all night for chemical reasons" look. We smoked
cigarettes on the balcony for another hour before going inside for tea, to
fortify us for the drive home. Nothing happened on the drive home.