Reply #5: Ah, devil ether.

[MiddleFingerMom]

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Raoul Duke: (Narrating) Ah, devil ether. It makes you behave
like the village drunkard in some early Irish novel. Total loss
of all basic motor skills. Blurred vision, no balance, numb
tongue. The mind recoils in horror, unable to communicate
with the spinal column. Which is interesting because you
can actually watch yourself behaving in this terrible way,
but you can't control it.
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You approach the turnstiles and know that when you get
there, you have to give the man two dollars or he won't
let you inside. But when you get there, everything goes
wrong. Some angry rotarian shoves you and you think
"What's happening here? What's going on?" And you hear
yourself mumbling...
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Raoul Duke: Dogs fucked the Pope... no fault of mine.
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Raoul Duke: (Narrating) Ether is the perfect drug for Las
Vegas. In this town they love a drunk. Fresh meat. So
they put us through the turnstiles and turned us loose
inside.
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