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An Alcohol Anti-Cleanse Worked For Me, And It Could Work For You Too

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tfm cleanse

Conventional cleanses are bullshit. You’ve probably seen an acquaintance try one in an effort to turn their unremarkable life around. It starts with them slipping it into every fucking conversation they have.

“Oh, I’m on a lemon juice coffee enema cleanse,” they say. “OMG you’ll feel amazing! Totally recommend doing that on top of a menstrual blood facial every night. I’m like… totally glowing.”

Yes, indeed. We’re blinded by that glow. Like light from the sun, the mediocrity beams off their basic-ass faces and burns our fucking eyes. Enter the anti-cleanse, a protest of the sad state of youth culture and a genuine scientific endeavor. If normal cleanses do nothing, and the “anti” of nothing is everything, the anti-cleanse must do everything a normal cleanse can’t.

Backed by that ironclad logic, I drank 8-10 drinks a night for exactly a year. Over the course of that year, great and curious changes took place. I emerged from the cleanse having attained the spitting image of superiority – and you can too. Results by no means guaranteed, and you almost definitely shouldn’t even think about doing it. But who knows?

Now it’s likely not realistic you can start with 10 drinks right off the bat, so buy a six-pack and a fifth and eventually graduate from there. Start chugging around late afternoon so you can time your finish for around bedtime. Keep ibuprofen and water by your bedside, ‘cuz you’ll need it. You might as well call it vitamin I, since you’ll be downing them every day like your life depends on it.

I’m sure red flags are popping up. You might be asking, “How the fuck are we supposed to get work done?” Patience, young padawan; patience.

In the beginning, it will be hard. Depending on your tolerance, simple arithmetic and grammar might take a hit. Thankfully, studies show that skills learned while drunk can be retained and recalled — but only when you’re drunk again. After a short refractory period, you’ll be back to your academically-mediocre self. Some subjects actually benefit from drinking. As the great Hemingway supposedly said, “Write drunk, edit sober.” Speaking from personal experience, this most certainly works for literary writing (programming and foreign language skills improve as well).

Indeed, my theory held true. For the first time ever, yours truly made the Dean’s List while on the anti-cleanse.

This is because daily binge drinking creates a highly efficient routine. Because you force yourself to drink every evening, you can’t procrastinate. Science and math should be for the early-evening “buzzed” territory. General humanities and social science (which require far more confidence than brain power) are for later. Crashing at around 10 p.m. will give you about 9 hours of uninterrupted unconsciousness every night, leaving you hungover but adequately rested the next day. Take some Advil and down a cuppa’ joe and you’ll be good as new. Congrats! You’re good for another day.

Now of course the consummate fraternity man cannot just be of sound mind; his body must be sound as well. With rampant alcoholism comes weight gain, but one man’s alcoholic weight gain is another man’s dirty bulk. I’m not sure if it’s the calorie surplus or some fucking booze voodoo, but my bench press jumped 160 to 285 in half a year while anti-cleansing. My deadlift went from 225 to 335. I can still curl fucking 100s.

Brothers would ask, “Dude, are you on the juice right now?”

Fuck yeah I was — orange juice and vodka.

One day, while anti-cleansing and playing pong, I tore through my shirt; the act beautiful and symbolic. I arose from the threads like a butterfly from its chrysalis, a completely anti-cleansed man. Peers, parents, and doctors were all flabbergasted that I wasn’t just pure flab. Friends and professors were impressed by my grades. All-in-all, the anti-cleanse was a success for me.

But I can already hear the masses calling BS. Yes, like every cleanse, the anti-cleanse has its shortcomings. Your wallet will take a hit. Your brain and liver will suffer long-term damage. Your life choices will be judged. You might even spiral into addiction and die. I’ve actually developed a strangely high blood pressure that simply won’t go down. But like the capitalist adage says, “In risk is reward.” And risk or not (read: RISKRISKRISK), the rewards are certainly rewarding.

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