Addiction Fiction

The breaking news at the Hotel Melanoma is that some med school professor has published a study that suggests tanning is addictive. Forgive me, but that sounds to me like psychobabble and I suspect the study was funded by some porky federal government stimulus grant.

I played in a geezer golf match yesterday, got incredibly lucky on a couple of par-4 holes, and made two birdies that, thanks to my high duffer handicap, won me some money in the skins game. I know birdies are bad for me because they just might start to make me hallucinate and think I’m a competent player. But those birdies felt really good, and helped my partner and me win our match, so I’m just dying to get back out there and do it again. An addiction to golf? Fiction!

Which reminds me of a great old song performed by a guy who knows a lot about real addictions, Eric Clapton’s “Cocaine”…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3L4spg8vyo&feature=related


If you wanna flame out, you ought to try it out.
Tanning
If you wanna get brown, end up under ground.
Tanning.

You might die, you might die, you might die;
Tanning.

If you want bad news, and hope to fill them pews.
Tanning.
When your treatment’s on and your hair is gone.
Tanning.

You might die, you might die, you might die;
Tanning.

If your sense is gone and you wanna die young.
Tanning.
Don't forget this fact, you can't get life back.
Tanning.

You might die, you might die, you might die;
Tanning.

You might die, you might die, you might die;
Tanning.