If You Did Drugs and Saw ‘Cats,’ You’re a Moron

And an Amateur

Apparently, according to the Washington Post, people are getting high before seeing Cats. 

Oh, really? Did you get high before seeing Cats? That’s so very cool. So original. 

Listen to these maroons:

“I felt like I was losing my mind…I was just concentrating on taking deep breaths.”

“The most terrifying experience of my life. I swear to God my soul escaped me.”

“I went to the AMC bathroom and threw up.”

In fact, more than one person who the Post interviewed said they vomited. Now, did they vomit because Cats is so godawful? Maybe. Or maybe they vomited because they were taking THC edibles, giving them a dose of marijuana 20 times stronger than anyone at Woodstock endured.

Back when I was getting high, two whole years ago and also the quarter-century before that, one five-milligram gummy would keep me stoned from my morning coffee until lunchtime. Ten milligrams would keep me stoned all day. Anything more than that, and I was getting close to vomiting-in-the-movie-theater territory.

Doing drugs to trip in a movie is amateur hour. I was high every day for 25 years. Were these kids quoted in the Post article watching Teletubbies back then? Well, I was a grownup, watching it at home, stoned. Top that, bitches!

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There was no movie, trippy or otherwise, that I didn’t see stoned out of my wits. Some of them were movies that were fun to see stoned, like Mulholland Drive or Thor: Ragnarok. Others didn’t make much sense, like Failure to Launch or anything starring a non-cat Dame Judi Dench. I saw Star Wars stoned, Harry Potter stoned, Spider-Man stoned, Batman stoned, and Birdman stoned. I endured both World Wars baked to the nuts, and returned to Howard’s End on Reefer’s Peanut Butter Cups.

TV was the same way. Oh, I thought, it’s time for The Amazing Race. Better pop a gummy. I watched thousands of innings of baseball while sucking on a vape. I was high all day, all the time, to watch everything.

It didn’t enhance anything. Sure, sometimes I’d get swept away in a fun sequence or react to something with a little extra enthusiasm. But mostly, I just sat pinned to the couch or chair or floor, my darkened brain dribbling out of my ears one neuron at a time. I definitely wasn’t relaying my experiences to a Washington Post reporter for a “humorous” entertainment feature. My intelligence died in darkness.

Read this shit:

“In New York, a 26-year-old man named Ryan, who messaged The Post while still high on the edibles he took for that evening’s screening of Cats, expressed his lust for “a particular cat I would love to do bad things to me.”

What an idiot. And what is wrong with the Post encouraging people to take edibles and go to the movies? This isn’t coffee we’re talking about, people. Let’s do drugs and go to the movies! Let’s get drunk and describe the Civil War.  It’s always hilarious until somebody loses their mind.

“The Washington Post does not condone the use of illegal drugs,” the article says. And maybe that’s true, because marijuana isn’t illegal in a lot of places. But I wonder if any of these 20-something cutie-pies are going to wake up in two decades and wonder where the decades went while they were taking gummies at the multiplex. Because I know that happened to me. I’ve forgotten more plots than these diplos will ever consume. A real stoner is already high and doesn’t need to do anything special to have a “communal experience” at a movie.

And as for the guy who did poppers when Jennifer Hudson appeared to sing “Memory,” well, that’s just hilarious, too.

“I felt myself hit the Heaviside Layer like Grizabella, the glamour cat.”

See you in the ER, big man.


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Neal Pollack

Book and Film Globe Editor in Chief Neal Pollack is the author of 12 semi-bestselling books of fiction and nonfiction, including the memoirs Alternadad and Stretch, the novels Repeat and Downward-Facing Death, and the cult classic The Neal Pollack Anthology of American Literature. A Rotten Tomatoes certified reviewer for both film and television, Neal has written articles and humor for every English-language publication except The New Yorker. Neal lives in Austin, Texas, and is a three-time Jeopardy! champion.

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