The rains here in Virginia have resulted in a plethora of mushrooms sprouting in all types and shapes. I know that some of them are poisonous. Some of them are psycotropic. Some of them are a bland tasting garnish to dinner. I cannot tell them apart.
I have done plenty of dangerous things in my life and I am pre-disposed to doing so again. I have jumped from aircraft in flight. I have commanded field units of armored vehicles launching high explosives. I have walked through mine fields to prove that there were in fact no mines. I have leapt into snake pits to prove there were in fact no snakes. I have trusted my own wisdom in felling tall trees and not getting crushed by them, or crushing other people or assets.
But I have never wanted to eat a mushroom badly enough to pick one up off the ground and pop it into my mouth. They just aren’t that good.
How is it that drugged out hippies trust the contents of that baggie of dried mushrooms to give them one outcome and not certain death? How are there still so many former hippies walking around? You KNOW Obama tried them. Why didn’t he die anonymously in college?