To prevent questions: I do not mean the sports. Though, of course, the sports as well. But there, all goes without words: this is an initially antihuman occupation, and one cannot hope for just a minimal reasonability. Admit that you need to learn swimming (or ballroom dancing). Is there any sense in stuffing oneself, for that purpose, with any drastic medicines? But when it comes to competition (that is, eventually, to the partition of money), any filth will do, albeit to the detriment of one's own. What is fun for a sensible person, a sportsman (or sportswoman) does with an inhuman effort, the eyes out of orbits. Since, in this affair, the sportsman is just a minor screw of the heavy mechanism, while the main bulk of the capital circulates elsewhere, nobody is going to ask the speaking tool about its preferences, and no objections are appropriate. Grow up to a highest sports elite, but never fail to obey the sports bureaucracy. There are lots of easy ways to keep the obstinate in check. Doping, for one. Just outlaw popcorn, and the athletes of the major popcorn-consuming countries will instantly get out of business, with any side income automatically cut off by the considerations of demagogical morality and commercial prestige. When you run, jump, or dance just for pleasure, will you ever concern of any qualifications or disqualifications? Not for a damn! One couldn't care less for decrees and verdicts, and nobody is ever obliged to pass a single doping test.
So, no sports, no doping? Is it, though, as simple as that? And if your affairs are going to collapse, so that you need to work hard day and night to fix it? You'll certainly have to buck you up with a cup of coffee or other energetics, with the inevitable need to fight to consequences by means of an intensive medicine. Yes, all that is obviously due to a poor organization of work, somebody's short-sightedness, or thoughtless negligence. But somehow you happen to get engaged in compensating the world's deformity by deforming yourself, don't you?
Alright, there are things like the pressure of circumstances, technological restrictions and moral obligations. But take a creative freelancer, like a writer, a composer, a physicist, an inventor, a philosopher... All the time, breaking their back for yet another contribution into the cultural treasury of the humanity. And chasing inspiration in stiff drinks, sex, cigarettes or other drugs, in extremal entertainment and criminal news. One might ask: why? When nothing comes to mind, just drop it. If there is something to one's name, it will inevitable come out, some day. What's the need of torturing one's talent?
Further, the flocks of sheep fill the temples for one more kick in the ass, without which they are just incapable of dragging themselves forth in their life. Some get engrossed in love stories (or math papers); some others get high of rock music or sink in TV serials; there are those who cannot suffer a single day without drilling in yet another portion of renovation on the neighbor's wall, as well as those who just race their bikes along the street robbing people of their night sleep.
It seems that, for a slightest achievement, the humanity needs stimulators, aperitifs and aphrodisiacs, that it cannot otherwise digest its own history and embolden itself to writing one or two additional chapters. What's the matter? If this is its attribute, that is, inalienable and constitutive property, then isn't it better to just flush it down, the sooner the better? Or, maybe, we have not yet matured enough to recognize our inherent infinity and our great mission of building the culture beyond time, for all times? Ok, come on, make a little effort, and we'll do it! But first, let's take a gulp of something, for more lucidity and will...