It always sounds like the right decision — your new (and temporary) best friend Eclipse, whom you first met in the crowd for Fleet Foxes (after you locked eyes during “White Winter Hymnal,” she placed a flower crown on your head without a word and for a second you thought she was an angel, which may have been because you were dehydrated and only drinking white wine that you smuggled in with a Lubiderm bottle), promises you that she knows a guy who knows the guy who makes the stuff and it is absolutely, without a doubt, pure (well, as pure as something made in a basement in Albany can be) and just one hit makes you feel like you are living inside of the music, man, and isn’t that such a beautiful thing? Yes, for the record, that is a beautiful thing. Unfortunately that is never what you experience: instead of feeling like you have just built a yurt of safety and love inside of some Vampire Weekend song, you become convinced that your best friend’s face has been possessed by a seventh-layer demon and that mud can eat you.
Below is a clip from Chris Gethard‘s Comedy Central standup special, set to air this Firday at midnight, in which he describes taking molly for the first time at Bonnaroo and pretty much losing his shit. So listen up, kids: if you’re ever approached by a flower-crown-wearing, midriff-bearing festival nymph and asked if you want to “drop” something, you tell her that you drop clowns like her on the BBall court. …Or something.