Satire

The life of a marijuana drug dope fiend according to Jeff Sessions

Unapologetic confessions of a hopeless marijuana junkie.

It is 2018 and I live in the center of moral decay more commonly known as Los Angeles.

There are taco trucks on every corner and the LGBTQ community buys cakes while good Christians cower in fear. Every woman has an abortion whenever she feels like it and we protect the illegals who are destroying America and trying to kill you, dear American, in your beautiful home with the white picket fence.

I will burn your white picket fence to the ground.

I revel in this den of sin as I finally wake up at 1 p.m. I am a marijuana addict and so I cannot find a job because it interferes with the marijuana. My brain is feral and angry now, because the marijuana, and I am a danger to American morality.

I buy the marijuana in the grocery store next to the carrots as a baby cries. The mother begs me not to do the marijuana because her baby is crying, but I have no care for mothers when I hold the cannabis so sweetly in my hands. I take a big bite of the dope right in front of her.

I live with my grandmother who hates the marijuana but there is nothing she can do because I am a dangerous criminal and she is an innocent American who just wants Christian prayer back in public schools. I play violent video games for hours while yelling obscenities at 12-year-old boys but I feel no guilt because the marijuana coursing through my veins has laid my underactive conscience to waste.

I call the welfare store that exists solely so I — and people like me — can survive on the backs of moral, hard-working Americans while I continue to shoot up marijuana intravenously. They come to me right away, the welfare store does, and I choose the welfare I want and they hand me lots of dollars. Then I buy two fillet’s-o-fish, two Big Macs, and a chocolate malted. When I eventually get diabetes, I will require the Obamacare you pay thousands of dollars for to keep me alive.

If only I had completed the DARE program, I may still be a contributing member of society. If only I didn’t dance with the devil’s shrub, I may still love my mother, and America too.

Featured image via Mashable

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