It was another brain-boiling hot day in the valley of darkness, and in between the purple hills Tony felt like all hell was freezing over. His autumn project was hitting the clearly defined boundaries of gravitational feasibility and plain old common sense. He didn’t blame them. He knew big beer had them all in its pockets. “It’s a conspiracy of one”, he said, and also "somebody’s watching me”. Even when he was in the shower, he was afraid to wash his hair. For all he knew, someone was actually standing there. It took a few sniffs of that little brown bottle and a shiny red pill to change the rules of engagement. Soon enough furry monkey balls plopped menancingly on the table. “Lets do something vaguely English”, the mushroom spoke out softly. Tony got startled and tripped spastically all over his bohemian-grown meditation rock. He slipped and tumbled all the way down the rabbit hole. “The government really should put a lid on that”. Again Napoleon added his two centimes.
But in all truthfulness, nobody can escape the laws of physics or virtual sanity. And how deep does it go? Tony didn’t really care. All this going bananas finally created a fully-fledged and officially certified Basket Case.
We honestly don’t know what it is. Do you?