i was his kid's entre to the Chicago punk scene and he wound up trying hard drugs through his adventures there in some truly ludicrous circumstances. he hated everything his dad stood for, of course, so naturally ten years later he was a lobbyist for Podesta Mattoon.
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okay, i really should explicate the ludicrous circumstances. so, aforementioned punk scene was on the North Side centered on Clark & Belmont, home of the Dunkin Donuts that naturally we referred to as the Punkin Donuts. you had the Vic and Medusa's and the Alley, yadda yadda
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during my tenure the Alley did that thing where it joined up with other shops there to make an "Alternative Shopping Complex", fucking gag. anyway for a while there was a cafe there called the Gargoyle. Hastert kid and i eat there while waiting for a show or something.
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some raggedy guy comes up and asks Hastert kid to watch his jacket for a minute. HK agrees. then raggedy guy *convinces HK to give him his jacket as security* and promptly disappears forever. after we work out that HK's jacket has been stolen, HK goes through raggedy dude's.
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naturally there are some quite serious drugs in the pocket. HK kicks the idea around for a couple weeks and eventually decides that instead of trying to cook up DMT from the recipe in the Anarchist's Cookbook like he was going to he's just gonna go with the ready-made shit.
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liked it fine i guess? we were graduating and starting to lose touch around then so i'm not sure if he got a habit or anything. last i talked to him he was bragging about the sex cult he had started around some communal blood-drinking ritual he made up. good times.
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