bigger than life, Lucifer-may-care ways, I'm the kind of fellow who loathes hippies. I truly can't stomach the rancid little Earth Goblins.
Sorry, but I must confess that I have no stock options in Patchouli Enterprises. I don't think Phish was the second coming of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. I wouldn't even feign to spell Bobbaganoosh, let alone introduce its organic evils into my sacrosanct digestive tract.
I also can't believe that Frisbee golf is any more a sport than catching The Clap is. And I don't like hanging around humanoids who smell like the business end of my taint-neighbor after a spirited game of racquetball.
Yes, I understand that popping rainbow dust opens the catacombs of one's mind. But it also is a gateway drug to being less desirable to all of the Ladybox Life Support Units out there.
And Double D don't play that.