Acid Reality Quotes

We are all wired into a survival trip now. No more of the speed that fueled that 60's. That was the fatal flaw in Tim Leary's trip. He crashed around America selling "consciousness expansion" without ever giving a thought to the grim meat-hook realities that were lying in wait for all the people who took him seriously... All those pathetically eager acid freaks who thought they could buy Peace and Understanding for three bucks a hit. But their loss and failure is ours too. What Leary took down with him was the central illusion of a whole life-style that he helped create... a generation of permanent cripples, failed seekers, who never understood the essential old-mystic fallacy of the Acid Culture: the desperate assumption that somebody... or at least some force - is tending the light at the end of the tunnel.

LSD was an incredible experience. Not that I’m recommending it for anybody else; but for me it kind of – it hammered home to me that reality was not a fixed thing. That the reality that we saw about us every day was one reality, and a valid one – but that there were others, different perspectives where different things have meaning that were just as valid. That had a profound effect on me.

While reading, all my confusion and hurt dissolved, and when I reentered reality, I was a little bit better of a person, a little more capable of learning from my missteps.

Reagan filled his inner circle with pro-industry scientists who denied the reality of every environmental ill from acid rain to climate change. And seemingly overnight, banning and tightly regulating harmful industrial practices went from being bipartisan political practice to a symptom of “command and control environmentalism.

In its essence, any art that relies on words makes use of their ability to eat away—of their corrosive function—just as etching depends on the corrosive power of nitric acid. Yet the simile is not accurate enough; for the copper and the nitric acid used in etching are on a par with each other, both being extracted from nature, while the relation of words to reality is not that of the acid to the plate. Words are a medium that reduces reality to abstraction for transmission to our reason, and in their power to corrode reality inevitably lurks the danger that the words themselves will be corroded too. It might be more appropriate, in fact, to liken their action to that of excess stomach fluids that digest and gradually eat away the stomach itself.

Maya yearns for that time in her own life, not out of some need to escape reality—reality is fine—but simply because she was born that way. Born to yearn, as some people are, for more magical times. This is her fourth acid trip, so she knows about the sadness of coming down, the sense of God having vacated the garden.

Stand in front of this fantastic machine, my friend, and for just 99¢ your likeness will appear, two hundred feet tall, on a screen above downtown Las Vegas. Ninety-nine cents more for a voice message. “Say whatever you want, fella. They’ll hear you, don’t worry about that. Remember you’ll be two hundred feet tall.” Jesus Christ. I could see myself lying in bed in the Mint Hotel, half-asleep and staring idly out the window, when suddenly a vicious nazi drunkard appears two hundred feet tall in the midnight sky, screaming gibberish at the world: “Woodstock Über Alles!” We will close the drapes tonight. A thing like that could send a drug person careening around the room like a ping-pong ball. Hallucinations are bad enough. But after a while you learn to cope with things like seeing your dead grandmother crawling up your leg with a knife in her teeth. Most acid fanciers can handle this sort of thing. But nobody can handle that other trip—the possibility that any freak with $1.98 can walk into the Circus-Circus and suddenly appear in the sky over downtown Las Vegas twelve times the size of God, howling anything that comes into his head. No, this is not a good town for psychedelic drugs. Reality itself is too twisted.

People hate these shows, but their hatred smacks of denial. It's all there, all the old American grotesques, the test-tube babies of Whitman and Poe, a great gauntlet of doubtless eyes, big mouths spewing fantastic catchphrase fountains of impenetrable self-justification, muttering dark prayers, calling on God to strike down those who would fuck with their money, their cash, and always knowing, always preaching. Using weird phrases that nobody uses, except everybody uses them now. Constantly talking about 'goals.' Throwing carbonic acid on our castmates because they used our special cup annd then calling our mom to say, in a baby voice, 'People don't get me here.' Walking around half-naked with a butcher knife behind our backs. Telling it like it is, y'all (what-what). And never passive-aggressive, no. Saying it straight to your face. But crying...My God, there have been more tears shed on reality TV than by all the war widows of the world. Are we so raw? It must be so. There are simply too many of them-too many shows and too many people on the shows-for them not to be revealing something endemic. This is us, a people of savage sentimentality, weeping and lifting weights.

Reality, he wrote, “has to be funneled through the reducing valve of the brain and nervous system. What comes out at the other end is a measly trickle of the kind of consciousness which will help us to stay alive on the surface of this particular planet.” Mescaline and LSD, he theorized, inhibited the systems in the brain designed to shut out impractical stimulation, so humans could keep coloring within the lines and go about the business of survival without being distracted by the astounding awesomeness of the universe—or as Huxley put it, “the glory, the infinite value and meaningfulness of naked existence, of the given, unconceptualized event.” Huxley

This was the fatal flaw in Tim Leary's trip. He crashed around America selling "conciousness expansion" without ever giving a thought to the grim meat-hook realities that were lying in wait for all the people who took him too seriously. After West Point and the Priesthood, LSD must have seemed entirely logical to him... but there is not much satisfaction in knowing that he blew it very badly for himself, because he took too many others down with him.

various Belgian policemen and security officers - nominally under the command of Tshombe but, in reality, following orders from Brussels - had, on the night of 17 January 1961, driven Lumumba from the villa where he had been taken to rendezvous with a firing squad of local Katangan soldiers about forty-five minutes’ drive from the airport. Lumumba, his face battered almost beyond recognition and his clothes spattered with blood, was made to stand against a large anthill illuminated by the headlights of two cars. He was then executed by firing squad and his body buried in a shallow grave. Fearful the grave might be discovered and turned into a shrine, the Belgians and their Katangan stooges later moved to erase all traces of the Congo’s elected leader. The day after the execution, the corpse was exhumed and driven deeper into the Katangan bush, where it was reburied in another shallow grave until arrangements could be made to get rid of it once and for all. Under cover of darkness on 22 January 1961 two Belgian brothers, with connections to the Belgian security forces, returned and exhumed the body for a second time. They used a hacksaw and an axe to dismember the decomposing corpse, before dissolving the remains in a 200-litre petrol drum filled with sulphuric acid taken from a nearby copper-processing plant. One of the brothers later admitted he used pliers to remove two of Lumumba’s teeth as souvenirs.

Time corrodes feelings like an acid; it destroys them in the routine of seconds, of minutes, always identical to themselves. But we were an interminable present, a shadow materialising, a ghost taking shape. To taste and smell you was beyond imagining. You were real. We were real, amidst the cackling of tourists, the stifling heat, the eyes of passersby watching us smiling, and the Fountain in the centre of the square spraying water between our comings and goings of sex and laughter.

Indeed. But what is sane? Especially here in ‘our own country’––in this doomstruck era of Nixon. We are all wired into a survival trip now. No more of the speed that fueled the Sixties. Uppers are going out of style. This was the fatal flaw in Tim Leary’s trip. He crashed around America selling ‘consciousness expansion’ without ever giving a thought to the grim meat-hook realities that were lying in wait for all the people who took him seriously. After West Point and the Priesthood, LSD must have seemed entirely logical to him…but there is not much satisfaction in knowing that he blew it very badly for himself, because he took too many others down with him. Not that they didn’t deserve it: No doubt they all Got What Was Coming To Them. All those pathetically eager acid freaks who thought they could buy Peace and Understanding for three bucks a hit. But their loss and failure is ours, too. What Leary took down with him was the central illusion of a whole life-style that he helped to create…a generation of permanent cripples, failed seekers, who never understood the essential old-mystic fallacy of the Acid Culture: the desperate assumption that somebody––or at least some force––is tending that Light at the end of the tunnel. This is the same cruel and paradoxically benevolent bullshit that has kept the Catholic Church going for so many centuries. It is also the military ethic…a blind faith in some higher and wiser ‘authority.’ The Pope, The General, The Prime Minister…all the way up to “God”.

The glue that holds the natural world together appears to be a harmonious balance of opposites: day and night, light and dark, winter and summer, liquid and solid, acidic and alkaline, male and female, wave and trough, proton and electron, etc. There prevails in our reality an explicit duality that represents an implicit unity (the “oneness” about which I’ve previously babbled), and the line of separation between those things just named is as thin as it is necessary: yang rubs up against yin, yin against yang, distinct but mutually supportive.

Quality is the response of an organism to its environment’ [he used this example because his chief questioners seemed to see things in terms of stimulus-response behavior theory]. An amoeba, placed on a plate of water with a drip of dilute sulfuric acid placed nearby, will pull away from the acid (I think). If it could speak the amoeba, without knowing anything about sulfuric acid, could say, ‘This environment has poor quality.’ If it had a nervous system it would act in a much more complex way to overcome the poor quality of the environment. It would seek analogues, that is, images and symbols from its previous experience, to define the unpleasant nature of its new environment and thus ‘understand’ it. “In our highly complex organic state we advanced organisms respond to our environment with an invention of many marvelous analogues. We invent earth and heavens, trees, stones and oceans, gods, music, arts, language, philosophy, engineering, civilization and science. We call these analogues reality. And they are reality. We mesmerize our children in the name of truth into knowing that they are reality. We throw anyone who does not accept these analogues into an insane asylum. But that which causes us to invent the analogues is Quality. Quality is the continuing stimulus which our environment puts upon us to create the world in which we live. All of it. Every last bit of it. “Now, to take that which has caused us to create the world, and include it within the world we have created, is clearly impossible. That is why Quality cannot be defined. If we do define it we are defining something less than Quality itself.” I remember this fragment more vividly than any of the others, possibly because it is the most important of all. When he wrote it he felt momentary fright and was about to strike out the words “All of it.

In case after case, Fred Singer, Fred Seitz, and a handful of other scientists joined forces with think tanks and private corporations to challenge scientific evidence on a host of contemporary issues. In the early years, much of the money for this effort came from the tobacco industry; in later years, it came from foundations, think tanks, and the fossil fuel industry. They claimed the link between smoking and cancer remained unproven. They insisted that scientists were mistaken about the risks and limitations of SDI. They argued that acid rain was caused by volcanoes, and so was the ozone hole. They charged that the Environmental Protection Agency had rigged the science surrounding secondhand smoke. Most recently—over the course of nearly two decades and against the face of mounting evidence—they dismissed the reality of global warming. First they claimed there was none, then they claimed it was just natural variation, and then they claimed that even if it was happening and it was our fault, it didn’t matter because we could just adapt to it. In case after case, they steadfastly denied the existence of scientific agreement, even though they, themselves, were pretty much the only ones who disagreed.

Few grown humans can normally survive a fall of much more than twenty-five or thirty feet, though there have been some notable exceptions—none more memorable perhaps than that of a British airman in World War II named Nicholas Alkemade. In the late winter of 1944, while on a bombing run over Germany, Flight Sergeant Alkemade, the tail gunner on a British Lancaster bomber, found himself in a literally tight spot when his plane was hit by enemy flak and quickly filled with smoke and flames. Tail gunners on Lancasters couldn’t wear parachutes because the space in which they operated was too confined, and by the time Alkemade managed to haul himself out of his turret and reach for his parachute, he found it was on fire and beyond salvation. He decided to leap from the plane anyway rather than perish horribly in flames, so he hauled open a hatch and tumbled out into the night. He was three miles above the ground and falling at 120 miles per hour. “It was very quiet,” Alkemade recalled years later, “the only sound being the drumming of aircraft engines in the distance, and no sensation of falling at all. I felt suspended in space.” Rather to his surprise, he found himself to be strangely composed and at peace. He was sorry to die, of course, but accepted it philosophically, as something that happened to airmen sometimes. The experience was so surreal and dreamy that Alkemade was never certain afterward whether he lost consciousness, but he was certainly jerked back to reality when he crashed through the branches of some lofty pine trees and landed with a resounding thud in a snowbank, in a sitting position. He had somehow lost both his boots, and had a sore knee and some minor abrasions, but otherwise was quite unharmed. Alkemade’s survival adventures did not quite end there. After the war, he took a job in a chemical plant in Loughborough, in the English Midlands. While he was working with chlorine gas, his gas mask came loose, and he was instantly exposed to dangerously high levels of the gas. He lay unconscious for fifteen minutes before co-workers noticed his unconscious form and dragged him to safety. Miraculously, he survived. Some time after that, he was adjusting a pipe when it ruptured and sprayed him from head to foot with sulfuric acid. He suffered extensive burns but again survived. Shortly after he returned to work from that setback, a nine-foot-long metal pole fell on him from a height and very nearly killed him, but once again he recovered. This time, however, he decided to tempt fate no longer. He took a safer job as a furniture salesman and lived out the rest of his life without incident. He died peacefully, in bed, aged sixty-four in 1987. —

Etiology, epidemiology, nosology, and preventive public health would have no basis in reality. Pasteur began to develop an alternative theory during the 1850s. At that time he devoted his attention to two major and related problems of French agriculture: the spoilage of wine transformed by acetic acid fermentation into vinegar, and the spoilage of milk by lactic acid fermentation. This spoilage was universally considered to be a chemical process. Pasteur demonstrated instead that it was due to the action of living microorganisms—bacteria that he identified through the microscope and learned to cultivate in his laboratory.

Being around people made me realize reality is a fish in the sea who doesn’t know it is swimming in water.

If Reality - Expectations = Happiness, then I hope I look like a fool.

Where was the end of the story? Surely, the final stage would be reached when the audience forgot it was an audience, and became part of the action. To achieve this would involve stimulation of all the senses, and perhaps hypnosis as well … When the goal was attained, there would be an enormous enrichment of human experience. A man could become—for a while, at least,—any other person, and could take part in any conceivable adventure, real or imaginary … . And when the ‘program’ was over, he would have acquired a memory as vivid as any experience in his actual life—indeed, indistinguishable from reality itself.” Too freaking true!

The fire, what came after the fire, the reality of my sister's life, her death - the truth has fallen in slow rain. Even now, I know I have yet to turn my face to its last acid drops

Taking a moment to be thankful for the things that easily could be, but are not. If we live in a place where there are no bloodthirsty lions walking around on the roads, let's be thankful. If there's no inbound asteroid or other imminent extinction event befallen on us, let's be thankful. If we are mostly free of disease or disorder in ourselves and those around us, let's be thankful. If there's no starvation in our own house or the house of neighbour, let's be thankful. If there's no lifethreatening pollution in our parts of the atmosphere, or water, let's be thankful. If we're not isolated, imprisoned, without any real prospects of a good future, let's be thankful. If we do not live near an active volcano, or within an area prone to earthquakes, super storms or other destabilizing natural phenomenae, let's be thankful. If it's not raining diamonds or acid [as is reality on some cosmic bodies], and if every part of our mighty Earth is habitable and healthy, let's be thankful. And if we collected some parts of tranquility for ourselves, or others, in this otherwise brief life, let's be thankful. It can be difficult to see, without concious effort to remind ourselves, that things are probably pretty good, also. Though, it is no excuse for laziness and inaction with regards to our duties in lending a hand according to the size of our hand, and perhaps with some regard for our own dignity, and to foresight.

I Found A Reason” played. Halfway through the song, I smiled and realized, If perception is poisonous, and you are what you perceive, then right now is better than the past. Robby’s right—reality is an illusion. I smiled and thought, Happiness is possible. (A wonderful thought to have for someone who has been depressed their whole life).

The beginning of a beautiful friendship is when you can say whatever is on your mind—even when it sucks to say. I love when people shame my mind. I love when people help me sail a better angle. Man, a tall brick wall of comfortable action is self-imprisonment, but the problem is—we’re conditioned to live in comfortable serenity because our ancestors ran away from predators, but now we run away from uncomfortable conversations. We are all in prison until we unlearn conditioning, live dangerously, and embrace madness, man. Suffering will sing a beautiful symphony. We are flawed creatures, man—blind to perception, man. Perception is poisonous, man. Perception is desiring and fearing, man. Perception is thinking and anything and everything back in time, affecting how you behave right now, man. Unfortunately, what we have here is fear of looking like a fool, kid—oh, how bad I feel for your nut inside a nutcracker—about to go to heaven, man.” I still didn’t want to respond, so I didn’t. “If reality is an illusion and everyone is your crew, man, and you are the skipper driving a sailboat, then speak so I can help you sail a better angle, man.

To see where the psychedelic revolution really started, we have to go back to April 16, 1943, when LSD's creator, Albert Hofmann, mixed a batch of the stuff that he had synthesized from rye fungus five years earlier. He was hoping to find a cure for the common migraine and decided to do more research with a substance he called ¨LSD-25.¨ While mixing it up, a small amount was absorbed through his fingertips. Notes in his diary record history's first acid trip: [What overcame me was] a remarkable but not unpleasant state of intoxication . . . characterized by an intense stimulation of the imagination, an altered state of awareness of the world. As I lay in a dazed condition with eyes closed there surged up from me a succession of fantastic, rapidly changing imagery of a striking reality and depth, alternating with a vivid, kaleidoscopic play of colors. This condition gradually passed off after about three hours.

Jon Kroll, a game show buff who had been raised in a hippie commune, amid what he described as “naked acid parties, hot tubs, and madness”—a perfect résumé for the job.

Sabrina surely had one dead ex-boyfriend on her record. But did Martina have a deceased ex-boyfriend in her past too? Biggie’s words swirled in my head, mixing with the reality I faced: ’Sabrina reminding me of Lil Cease with her crocodile teeth, the warpath we rode apart and together, our laughter, our tears—my tears, their laughter—the player haters, the cocaine-snorting bitches, the cats with no dough, try to play me at my show, pull up and crack doors, short-change bitches with 5 to 20 euro notes not enough to powder their beak and nose. They still tickle me, Sabrina and them midgets cripple me, make me as hard as Martina's nipples be, I'm sour like a pickle be. You disobey the rules. Now the year’s new and I want my spot back; fake two, all the planes I flew, all the bitches I went through, mothersnuggers mad, cause I’m blue, bitches envy us, too many bitches in my club guard your dogs before I stick you for your re-up, maniacs put my name in raps, living by hugs from fake friends, your whole life you live sneaky, you burn when you creep me, you slipping try to break me, living by my love, hating me, they like to hustle backward, Acid rain, Cadillac Fleetwood look what you made me do, you made me and my girl Marine blue make you, open the safe too’ Della Reese had been on my mind since a while as if she wanted to tell me something a wisdom she wanted to share with me. The lyrics and the words the bad people played mindgames with me kept mixing up in my head. ’Maniacs put my name in raps; the club is dead without me they can hustle only backwards with all the beef against me. Blunt wraps and Dutchies, all the smoking accessories; they can't touch me. One third is on me. Martina's butt a public touchy-touchy. My enemies holding their cats shaky. Sabrina is dead or alive, her ghost is under me.

Many people are afraid of the symptoms caused by overbreathing, believing that something dreadful is about to happen. These feelins are known as thoughts of 'impending doom'. Not surprisingly, when the brain believes that we are losing blood we are bound to interpret those symptoms catastrophically. Often people believe they are going to have a heart attack, or that they are going mad, or that something terrible is about to happen. In reality, all these symptoms (and the subsequent catastrophic interpretations) are simply cause by overbreathing and the ensuring acidity changes.

Good thing for you I don’t like typical, predictable, boring bedtime stories. I like mine with a few unexpected turns, game-changing twists, and—instead of the dreaded happily-ever-after—I prefer it’s less-well-known, not so spilling-over-with-shit cousin, reality-ever-after.” “Reality ever after?” He lifted a brow, still keeping his eyes down. “I don’t need the promise of happy from a prince or pauper or villain or whoever it is in the story.” That’s what we were still talking about, right? Bedtime stories? “Bursting at the seams happiness all the time isn’t reality. However, I’ll keep the ever-after part. Princes and princesses? Can you say tired cliché? Dragons and demons? There are monsters all around us, so why profile such a small minority? Love at first sight and true love’s kiss breaking spells? Stop dropping acid, reread your shit when you’re done riding the LSD snake, and tell me if that’s the kind of crap we should be filling young girls’ brains with, past fairytale writers.” At

Earth’s not so bad—” “How would you know?” Tan’elKoth said acidly. “It is only in these past few days that you have had contact with the actual realities of Earth. Are you having fun?” He waved toward the window, where Kollberg now had one hand openly kneading his groin while he leaned one cheek and the side of his open mouth against the glass. Avery flinched and looked away. She hugged herself more tightly. “I don’t understand. If you hate what they’re going to do, why are you helping them?” “I am not helping them!” Suddenly he was on his feet, towering over her, shaking an enormous fist. “I am helping you. I am helping Faith. I am . . .” The passion drained out of him as swiftly as it had arisen. He let his fist open and fall limp against his thigh. “I am trying to go home.” Outside the window, Kollberg panted like an overheated dog. “Well,” Avery said finally. “I’m afraid you’re out of luck.” “How do you mean?” She shook her head. “You’re such a man, Professional. That’s why you can’t find this link of yours.” “I do not understand.” “Of course you don’t. That’s what I mean: You’re a man. You think this link is with the river. It wasn’t. Faith spoke of it, in the car on our way back to Boston when I first picked her up. She was quite clear about it. Her link was never with the river. It was with her mother.” “Her mother—?” “Her dead mother, now.” Tan’elKoth’s eyes narrowed. “I have been a fool,” he said. He spun and seated himself once again at Faith’s side, bending over her with redoubled energy. “Power,” he murmured. “All that is required is a usable source of power—” “What are you doing? She’s dead, Tan’elKoth. There is no link.” “Dead, yes—but the pattern of her consciousness persists, even as your son’s does within me. It was trapped at the instant of her passing. It is powerless, yes—having no body to inform it with will. It is analogous to a computer program stored on disk, you might say: a structure of information that requires only a computer on which to run, and the necessary power to activate.” “What kind of power?” From the doorway behind her, the soulless rasp of Arturo Kollberg said, “My kind of power.” DURING HIS YEARS of walking the world, the crooked knight came to find himself bemazed within a dark and trackless wood. In this wood, all paths led equally to death. The crooked knight did not lose hope; he turned to various guides for help and direction. His first guide was Youthful Dream. Later, he turned to Friendship, then Duty, and finally Reason, but each left him more lost than had the one before. So the crooked knight gave himself up for dead, and simply sat. He would be sitting there still, but for a breeze that came upon him then: a breeze that smelled of wide-open spaces, of limitless skies and bright sun, of ice and high mountains. It was the wind from the dark angel’s wings.

screwed up reality that has nothing to do with actual hacking? Well, take one of those movie scenarios, give it enough acid to drown Las Vegas, and then double that amount of cocaine.

If “there’s no such thing as time” — because the lighting suspends the distinction between day and night; because drugs affect time-perception — then you are not prey to the urgencies which make so much of workaday life a drudge. There is no limit to how long conversations can last, and no telling where encounters might lead. You are free to leave your street identity behind, you can transform yourself according to your desires, according to desires which you didn’t know you had. The crucial defining feature of the psychedelic is the question of consciousness, and its relationship to what is experienced as reality. If the very fundamentals of our experience, such as our sense of space and time, can be altered, does that not mean that the categories by which we live are plastic, mutable?

The glue that holds the natural world together appears to be a harmonious balance of opposites: day and night, light and dark, winter and summer, liquid and solid, acidic and alkaline, male and female, wave and trough, proton and electron, etc. There prevails in our reality an explicit duality that represents an implicit unity (the “oneness” about which I’ve previously babbled), and the line of separation between those things just named is as thin as it is necessary: yang rubs up against yin, yin against yang, distinct but mutually supportive. The line separating tragedy

What's worse, gossip magazines or pot? Whenever I laid eyes on those gossip magazines, they looked like death, like the worst possible fate was to end up reading that bullshit. A harbinger for an even more pathetic celebrity-centric reality show future, these magazines are designed to make you feel ugly and inadequate, or in turn, encourage a hollow sense of self-worth.

We were taught, growing up, that man was basically good, but that evil is a force that must be resisted. Although you learn about the Holocaust in school, how is a kid supposed to come to grips with the notion that human beings could be so evil as to trap and incinerate millions of their fellow human beings? This is not a rhetorical question; the answer is far from simple. The Nazi ideology dehumanized Jews to such a point that the industry of mass murder relied on numbed obedience. Did Hitler’s volcanic hatred seep like acid into the soul of the Nazis who ran Auschwitz and other death camps? How did mass brainwashing happen? My head felt like it was exploding. The message of the museum, “Never again,” kept reverberating in my mind. We can’t let this happen again. And then the realization came that we had done something like this in America with slavery. The systemic evil of Nazism was the closest thing to the Southern society that relied on slave labor. I was torn by the connection between these two realities of history, different in time and place, but with a common root, a warped sense that some people are superior to others, a supremacy trapped in its own frozen heart.

We had already realized from the disaster on Mars that transplanting Earth ecology wouldn't work. Crops would not grow without specific symbiotic fungi on their roots to extract nutrients, and the exact fungi would not grow without the proper soil composition, which did not exist without certain saprophytic bacteria that had proven resistant to transplantation, each life-form demanding its own billion-year-old niche. But Mars fossils and organic chemicals in interstellar comets showed that the building blocks of life were not unique to Earth. Proteins, amino acids, and carbohydrates existed everywhere. The theory of panspermia was true to a degree. I had found a grass resembling wheat on our first day on Pax, and with a little plant tissue, a dash of hormone from buds, and some chitin, we soon had artificial seeds to plant. But would it grow? Theory was one thing and farming was another. Then a few days before the women had died from poisoned fruit, Ramona and Carrie had seen the first shoots, ...

I read and reread J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit. In the sanctity of my quiet time I disappeared into its world of teas, cakes, and breaking through to the other side of self-imposed limits that constricted adventurous spirit. While reading, all my confusion and hurt dissolved, and when I reentered reality, I was a little bit better of a person, a little bit more capable of learning from my missteps.

What’s worse, gossip magazines or pot? Whenever I laid eyes on those gossip magazines, they looked like death, like the worst possible fate was to end up reading that bullshit. A harbinger for an even more pathetic celebrity-centric reality show future, these magazines are designed to make you feel ugly and inadequate, or in turn, encourage a hollow sense of self-worth.

Though framed in terms of sexual liberation and scaffolded by religious ideas imported from the Orient, the central shaft of the counterculture was drugs, and one drug above all: d-lysergic acid diethylamide 25, or LSD. Synthesised in 1938 by a Swiss chemist looking for a cure for migraine, LSD is a powerful hallucinogen whose function is temporarily to dismiss the brain’s neural concierge, leaving the mind to cope as it can with sensory information which meanwhile enters without prior arrangement - an uncensored experience of reality which profoundly alters one’s outlook on it. Recruited by Dr Timothy Leary to, the existing underground pharmacy of marijuana, mescalin, and magic mushrooms, LSD came to the attention of the mass media in early 1966 when, as state legislatures moved to ban it, Allen Ginsberg urged that all healthy Americans over the age of fourteen should take at least one ‘trip’ in order to perceive ‘the New Wilderness of machine America’ as it really was. ‘If there be necessary revolution in America,’ declared the poet, ‘it will come this way.

When the universal acid of Darwin’s dangerous idea is poured onto our perceptions, it dissolves the objectivity of physical objects, which we assumed exist and interact even when no one looks. Then this acid dissolves the objectivity of spacetime itself, the very framework within which Darwinian evolution has been assumed to take place. This requires us to devise a more fundamental framework—without space, time, and physical objects—for understanding reality.

Oradentum Reviews and Complaints (November 2025) – Doctor's Warning, Real User Results & Hidden Side Effects (7hxo) ## Oradentum Reviews and Complaints (November 2025): A Deep Dive into This Herbal Dental Supplement In the bustling world of health supplements, Oradentum has become a prominent name in 2025, sparking considerable discussion. Marketed with claims of supporting strong teeth and gums, and promoting fresh breath, it has garnered both enthusiasm and doubt from healthcare professionals and consumers alike. But does Oradentum live up to the hype? CLICK HERE TO Visit The Official Website CLICK HERE TO Visit The Official Website CLICK HERE TO Visit The Official Website This article delves into the realities behind the marketing, examining the available clinical evidence, FDA disclosures, verified user experiences, and potential safety concerns. Our goal is to provide you with a comprehensive understanding of Oradentum and whether it’s a worthwhile addition to your oral care routine. ### What is Oradentum? Oradentum is a dietary supplement formulated to promote oral health. It utilizes a blend of natural ingredients to target specific physiological pathways, according to the manufacturer. While many of its components have been individually researched, clinical validation of the complete formula is still evolving. ### Expert Opinion _"Oradentum presents an interesting case study in supplement marketing versus clinical evidence. The peer-reviewed research supporting certain ingredients shows promise, though real-world outcomes vary significantly among patients. I recommend thorough consultation before use."_ - Dr. Sarah Williams, PhD, Clinical Nutrition & Pharmacology ### Why People are Seeking Alternatives to Conventional Dental Products Many individuals are seeking alternatives to traditional toothpaste and mouthwash due to concerns about harsh chemicals and a desire for more holistic oral care. Are you experiencing any of these issues? * Bleeding gums * Persistent bad breath * Tooth sensitivity * Receding gums * Inflammation If so, it might be time to explore options beyond conventional oral care. ### Oradentum: A Holistic Approach to Oral Health Oradentum distinguishes itself by combining ancient herbal wisdom with scientifically supported ingredients. It's designed to support teeth and gum health with a blend of 21 natural compounds, positioning itself as a comprehensive option for those seeking a plant-based approach. [] ### The Science Behind Oradentum's Formula Oradentum's formulation is based on the principle of synergy, where the combined effect of its ingredients is greater than the sum of their individual effects. Here's a breakdown of key ingredient categories: * **Traditional Himalayan and Ayurvedic Botanicals:** These herbs have been used for centuries to promote oral health. * **Antioxidant-Rich Vitamins and Minerals:** These nutrients support tissue health and protect against oxidative stress. * **Advanced Herbal and Amino Acid Support:** These compounds promote detoxification and nourish oral tissues. ### Key Ingredients and Their Purported Benefits Here are some of the key ingredients in Oradentum and their traditionally recognized benefits: * **Yarrow and Bitter Melon:** Traditionally used for anti-inflammatory and antibacterial properties, supporting a balanced oral environment. * **Licorice:** Used in Ayurvedic dental care to protect mucous membranes and freshen breath. * **Banaba Leaf (Corosolic Acid):** A rare herbal co

Oradentum Reviews and Complaints (November 2025) – Doctor's Warning, Real User Results & Hidden Side Effects (6b8) ## Oradentum Reviews and Complaints (November 2025): A Deep Dive into This Herbal Dental Supplement In the bustling world of health supplements, Oradentum has become a prominent name in 2025, sparking considerable discussion. Marketed with claims of supporting strong teeth and gums, and promoting fresh breath, it has garnered both enthusiasm and doubt from healthcare professionals and consumers alike. But does Oradentum live up to the hype? CLICK HERE TO Visit The Official Website CLICK HERE TO Visit The Official Website CLICK HERE TO Visit The Official Website This article delves into the realities behind the marketing, examining the available clinical evidence, FDA disclosures, verified user experiences, and potential safety concerns. Our goal is to provide you with a comprehensive understanding of Oradentum and whether it’s a worthwhile addition to your oral care routine. ### What is Oradentum? Oradentum is a dietary supplement formulated to promote oral health. It utilizes a blend of natural ingredients to target specific physiological pathways, according to the manufacturer. While many of its components have been individually researched, clinical validation of the complete formula is still evolving. ### Expert Opinion _"Oradentum presents an interesting case study in supplement marketing versus clinical evidence. The peer-reviewed research supporting certain ingredients shows promise, though real-world outcomes vary significantly among patients. I recommend thorough consultation before use."_ - Dr. Sarah Williams, PhD, Clinical Nutrition & Pharmacology ### Why People are Seeking Alternatives to Conventional Dental Products Many individuals are seeking alternatives to traditional toothpaste and mouthwash due to concerns about harsh chemicals and a desire for more holistic oral care. Are you experiencing any of these issues? * Bleeding gums * Persistent bad breath * Tooth sensitivity * Receding gums * Inflammation If so, it might be time to explore options beyond conventional oral care. ### Oradentum: A Holistic Approach to Oral Health Oradentum distinguishes itself by combining ancient herbal wisdom with scientifically supported ingredients. It's designed to support teeth and gum health with a blend of 21 natural compounds, positioning itself as a comprehensive option for those seeking a plant-based approach. [] ### The Science Behind Oradentum's Formula Oradentum's formulation is based on the principle of synergy, where the combined effect of its ingredients is greater than the sum of their individual effects. Here's a breakdown of key ingredient categories: * **Traditional Himalayan and Ayurvedic Botanicals:** These herbs have been used for centuries to promote oral health. * **Antioxidant-Rich Vitamins and Minerals:** These nutrients support tissue health and protect against oxidative stress. * **Advanced Herbal and Amino Acid Support:** These compounds promote detoxification and nourish oral tissues. ### Key Ingredients and Their Purported Benefits Here are some of the key ingredients in Oradentum and their traditionally recognized benefits: * **Yarrow and Bitter Melon:** Traditionally used for anti-inflammatory and antibacterial properties, supporting a balanced oral environment. * **Licorice:** Used in Ayurvedic dental care to protect mucous membranes and freshen breath. * **Banaba Leaf (Corosolic Acid):** A rare herbal com