It's Cliche to Say I Weep for Our Future, Yet Here We Are

When I was in high school, the local stoners would attempt to get high by licking frogs. Supposedly these amphibians would emit some kind of hallucinogen from their skin and the trip was similar to that of LSD. Generally, nothing happened when the hoods would score some fresh frog, largely because they should have been tonguing toads. (Specifically, the Bufo alvarius.) However, my Huntington North High School Viking classmates didn't understand the difference between frogs and toads because they were the product of a poor public educational system, particularly in regard to arts and sciences. (Related note: once at Rotary Club my father almost punched the HNHS Vice Principal for complaining about the State's new English requirements, lamenting that the kids were going to miss out on some really great shop classes. Incredulously, Dad said, "So you're telling me that you're sorry they're going to have to read Beowulf?" To which the VP replied, "Who?" That's when my father's fists clenched.) Regardless, I'm sure my old classmates have figured it all out by now and are running really, really successful meth labs. Anyway, last night we were watching Stossel (that's how we roll on a Saturday night) and a guest said teens were now, um... inserting vodka soaked tampons into their, um... various back doors in order to get drunk without the smell of alcohol on their breath. They're also doing beer bongs the same way, which is called "butt chugging," along with pouring vodka in their eyes. Dude. Dude....