Hallucinations are bad enough. But after awhile you learn to cope with things like seeing your dead grandmother crawling up your leg with a knife in her teeth. Most acid fanciers can handle this sort of thing. But nobody can handle that other trip-the possibility that any low-rent degenerate with a Wi-Fi signal and a text box can manifest the Almighty over the Hollywood Hills, screaming digital blasphemies at the 101 freeway for the price of a monthly subscription.
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