The LSD Revolution

"I'm tired of this shit." Frank worked

as the superintendent of the water

works plant of greater Washington

D.C. His employees loved him 

because he was fair and listened to 

them. It didn't matter if some politician

tried to get a retarded or criminal

relative a job there. If they weren't 

going to work out, Frank made it 

uncomfortable for them, or, they had 

an accident. The latter possibility might

seem cruel, but, Frank knew the 

populace depended on water, so, he 

wasn't about to fuck around with his

responsibility. 

His employees were aware of this, and

had a respect for him close to worship.

If it was a cult, it was a benevolent one.

George was an old college friend of Frank.

George was an artist and musician. They

had reconnected after many years of 

having lost touch, but, took up where they

had left off with their friendship. Frank and

George had been in college in the Sixties,

the same school. George jumped into the 

Sixties, head first, as it were. Frank was too

much into the sciences at the time, but was

an aficionado of Marx and Leary. He thought

"Howl" by Ginsberg was one of the greatest

poems, in English, of the second half of the

preceeding century. Long story short, they had 

many intense discussions about what was 

wrong with the USA, and what needed to be 

done. Frank would drink wine, occasionally

take a toke. There was no telling what George

was on at any given time.

They were at the last point of the productive

period of their lives. (In George's case, make

that semi-productive.) Frank was a couple of 

years short of retirement. George had taken

up his usual temporary residence in Frank's

basement. They jumped right back into their

serious discussions where they had left off,

but each with an acquired world wise life 

perspective. 

They had been on a marathon discussion

this weekend, because George had brought

up somehting that Frank could no longer, in

his life, ignore. 

"You're right," Frank continued. "I thought that

if I worked in the system to make things better...

or, at least, support the good things about it, that

there would inevitably be a positive change in 

society. It sure seemed like it for a while. I feel 

good about maintaining the water quality in D.C.,

but it sure falls short of my old ambitions."

"We are closer to each other's way of thinking

than we've ever been. I guess life experience

has a way of clarifying concept." said George.

"You're making a lot of good points. I always felt

art wasn't enough to actually effect change...I 

always felt put the right people in the right 

situations, and the right change would happen."

"You know that's what we've been talking about,"

said George, "and you know that's exactly what 

we have right now!"  

"Yeah," Frank shook his head, "but, isn't dosing

the entire water supply of D.C. with LSD an act of 

terrorism? Or, even, war?"

"We've been over this point already," George said.

"Let me characterize it a different way: it's an act

of enforced anarchy." 

"What about people's freedom of choice?" Frank

wasn't yet convinced. "What about their free will?"

George: "Look, you know as well as I that most people

have lost those things already...or, never knew they 

had them in the first place, or, given the system,

are in the process of loosing them even more."

"What about practical considerations? How will the

people handle a population of crazies on LSD?"

"Well, we'll need a ton of straight jackets...mostly

for the straight people...(sorry, bad joke) and, the

politicians. The medical profession will handle it

rather easily, I think. After all, most of them are 

already on something. And the military, who have 

their own water supplies can be brought in to help. 

Some cover story will have to be made up. I think 

media will be up for something like this, since, for

once, their lying can be for the good. And, it will

be a killer story."

"Wouldn't other nations see this as an opportunity 

to attack?"

"I doubt it," George put out a cigarette and opened 

a fresh pack. "They long so much for the USA to

be different than it has been since Vietnam that I

think they would be fascinated and want to see

what will happen."

"Well," Frank drained the last of his glass of 

chardonney, "when do we do this?"

"How's about Valentines Day next year? My 

supplies of the new LSD that won't break down in

water so quickly should be ample by then. It's

a perfect symbol for this revolution."

"OK, I'm in." Frank wasn't sure how much of

him and how much of the wine was talking. But,

the logic was pretty water proof. And, the times 

desperate for direct action. "Time for bed."