There are those who yearn to belong. You know the type (a few of you may be the type). In my last high school, there was a pudgy guy with unfortunate features and bad acne. Jocks, future frat boys, good looking girls, student government, and even the science club wouldn't have a thing to do with him. What was left were the freaks. The long haired hippy types. The kids who not only stole booze from their parents liquor cabinets but pills from their medicine cabinets. He learned folk-rock songs on the acoustic guitar and tried to fit in with them. This carried on through college and for a couple of years afterwards, until enough LSD had his ball pop off the tether, and he limped home to cut his hair, wear a necktie, and join his father's commercial food supply business. Thus began his rightward march into militant Christian nationalism. Now, this thrice married insurance salesman speaks of how hallucinogens helped him recognize business opportunities and envision better ways to witness for his faith. Yes, mister "Reagan was a rino" believes that his tripping has made him better at what he does.