A couple of things that I’ve learned as I wave a cowboy hat and ride this live explosive we call Earth:
Stop being so fucking prudish. Seriously, the universe is out there, beautiful and terrifying in it’s infinity and you’re worried about some grainy, pixellated areola.
You’re all far too hung up on sex. It’s fun and it’s cheap and that should be more than enough to make it the nation’s number 1 pastime. Just be an adult about it.
Your sexual history doesn’t matter. The number of people you’ve fucked is as relevant as the number of people you’ve played chess against. There’s no such thing as a slut, just people who know how to enjoy life without getting mired in pissant bullshit.
Criminalisation of drugs is some pedantic nonsense invented by someone who wasn’t getting enough of the former. Legalise it all and reap the utopia. I can think of no more personal hell than having to live life sober. My shade is alcohol, find what works for you and run with it. If it doesn’t work for you then move on - knowing is half the battle.
Squeeze the toothpaste tube from the bottom.
Voting should be a privilege earned, not one given. You don’t respect something you didn’t have to fight for.
Your brain has over 100 trillion synaptic connections. It is the most astonishing piece of machinery ever conceived. And you’re feeding it Pawn Stars. See the point above.
While we’re on the mind, why isn’t that the measure of a person? Instead we judge them by their genitalia, their skin pigmentation, which sky wizard they bend knee to or which pink bits they like to rub their pink bits against.
Dubstep is not music.
Stop caring what other people think. You can’t swim in those concrete shoes.
Education is the panacea to most of life’s problems. You can’t have too much of it. Don’t wait for it to come to you. I’m not saying you should be scouring neuroscience peer reviews, but pick up a book and go to town. Any book, as long as you didn’t find it in the bedside table of a two star motel. (Neuroscience papers are fascinating though, get in on the ground floor of the future)
Go outside and look at the stars - that pinprick dot of incandescent gas, the last sigh of a sun that died a million years ago and ask yourself if you really give a fuck what Jenny in marketing thinks.
Eat an ice cream cake. Piss in the bath. Know that you’re an insignificant speck in an indifferent universe and that nothing happens when you die. Realise that this is not a bad thing.
Call your mother.