As an example of why us anthropoid apes are doomed, take the beverages I drink. This is a tipple I've been quaffing a lot of recently:
Not entirely by choice, mind you. Oh, I don't mean that an unseen hand tips my head back and pours Vault by force down my unwilling throat: but my dentist complains that Coca-Cola stains my teeth beyond his poor power to remedy, and they replaced all the Mello Yello in the law school with this stuff.
I had actually grown to like Mello Yello: I miss the double entendres it provoked from people, its relatively unpretentious bottle, its lack of dark dyes that inflicted poisonous harm upon my unwitting bicuspids. I was even coming to appreciate its cloying citrus taste. By contrast, Vault has several annoying features: a incredibly overwrought name that needles me to the point where I refer to it as "Leap", "Bound" or even "Lockbox" rather than its Xtreme sports name. It tastes like the bastard love-child of a lime and blackboard chalk. The sporty, overdesigned bottle has a groove in it that reminds me of certain unmentionable features of my own anatomy, while obviously being designed to facilitate the chugging of Hurdle at the same time as a Nollie No Fakie 360, or whatever it is Tony Hawk does on a skateboard.
It has 15.5 more milligrams of caffeine than Mountain Dew.
Add all this together with wormwood, and I'm sure I'd be seeing the Green Fairy in no time. And yet I drink this poisonous swill because my schedule is such that I must consume absurd quantities of caffeine to avoid passing out in front of a professor and every other option is almost equally as bad. How is it possible that I have to consume an artificial stimulant (and have done since I was at least seventeen or eighteen) on a daily basis simply in order to keep up?
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