Frequently, I hate this country for the exact same things that make me think this country is made out of awesome. Take “third parties” for example.
Back in college, a “third party” for me was generally the afterclub where drugs were taken, fake names exchanged and all manner of body parts inserted into various people, places and things until someone decided to pass out or get breakfast. Then, of course, you have to actually see in shockingly bad light exactly what you just blew your essential oils into and that…well, that can be sobering.
Like sleazy, easy sex at circuit parties, so too third political parties: it’s a mixed bag, but there’s always someone out there wanting to stick it in you. And a spoonful of meth helps the desperation go down.
