You Are A Worthless **** So Off To Rehab You Go
Imagine, if you will, you are a punk rocker. That’s what **** was indicating in the title, punk-not the “F” word. You are trucking through life with a nice spiked orange mohawk waiting to play your next gig. All seems well; there are others like you and you’ve built a small following. It’s the music that drives you and shapes your life. Then, one day, the police detain you and all of your spike-haired fellow punks. You have no idea what is going on, but then you find yourself being given a haircut, your wardrobe has been taken away and replaced, you are bathed in a communal pool, and given prayer material…all in the name of “rehabilitation.” I didn’t realize being a punk rocker was a disease. Apparently this is how things roll in some parts of Indonesia. W…T…F…
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I know I live a relatively sheltered and comfortable American life. I mean, we surely aren’t perfect as a society, but damn man! Sent off to rehab, not for drugs or alcohol, but being a punk rocker? Scratching my head and thankful I was born and raised where I was.