Dementia and changes.

I conclude, by means of interacting with pilgrims here, in Santiago de Compostela, that all guys between sixty and eighty five are seriously scared about dementia. They were all born between 1958 and 1933. As a matter of fact, I’ve been recently thinking they could constitute some kind of “demented” movement, or “demented army”: Dementia against Imperialism,” or even “Dementia against (Fake) Democracy.”

All the guys I mention know the rock and roll classics. All have been losers their whole life.

On the other hand, in some places places they serve me alcohol here, in others they don’t. I do not quite trust  the places where they don’t. They say it’s because of your health, but actually it’s about your diagnoses, and your lack of bargaining power, and your weaknesses, and the fear of eventual collateral dangers. What would happen if you unleashed real mayhem and someone thought  them accountable  for fueling your fury, for instance?

I think places where psychotics  are not served alcohol should definitely  be marked in touristic guides, and explicitly labeled  as “psychotics unfriendly.”

Because, obviously, places can be “psychotics  friendly” (that should be the usual label, the usual descriptive trait – as “gay friendly,” or “pet friendly” – in web reviews), or just the opposite.



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