The Ginches

I would not exactly call them normal but the most sober family in the neighbourhood I grew up in were the Ginches. They were Jehovah Witnesses. The adults never had any booze, dope or even a cup of fucking coffee in the house so when their children got old enough to want to get good and plastered they turned to the only substance in the house they figured they could get a decent buzz from - airplane glue.

I remember seeing Gary and Anna Ginch coming out of their family's tent trailer across the street from Curly's place where they had been getting loaded. "Beer!" I made out Gary saying as his sister toppled onto their front grass like Paris Hilton falling into her prison bed. "Gabba Labba Futth Oh noooooooo."

I do not know what came of the Ginch kids. But they were the most delightful teenagers around until they started driving mom and dad's car with glue in their head. If they are still alive, which I doubt, their brains are more disturbed than any of their peers, even the drug garburaters' brains.

The Ginch kids are why I want to deck Prohibitionists every time they open their mouths about imposing their wicked idea of Eden on the world. There's no such thing as Eden motherfuckers. Have a beer, smoke a joint, enjoy the real world before it gets too hot.