"I love drugs, but I hate hangovers, and the hatred of the hangover wins by a landslide every time"
About this Quote
Cho’s line lands because it refuses the tidy moral arc people expect from “drugs” talk. No sermon, no scandalized confession. Just a brutally practical cost-benefit analysis, delivered with the deadpan efficiency of someone who’s done the math. The joke isn’t that she loves drugs; it’s that the hangover, that unglamorous tax on escapism, is what finally enforces sobriety. Desire doesn’t get defeated by virtue. It gets defeated by logistics.
The specific intent is classic Cho: puncture the fantasy while keeping the appetite intact. She lets “I love drugs” sit there as a deliberately provocative opener, then swerves into a complaint so mundane it’s almost suburban. That contrast is the engine. It drags a taboo subject into the realm of everyday annoyances, where it becomes legible and, crucially, funny. The “landslide” is doing extra work: it borrows the language of elections to frame self-control as a democratic decision, as if the body votes and the body is overwhelmingly anti-morning-after.
The subtext is a quiet indictment of how we romanticize altered states while ignoring aftermath. Cho positions herself not as a cautionary tale but as a competent narrator of her own impulses, using humor to claim agency. In the broader context of her comedy - candid, confessional, and built on undercutting shame - it’s also a way of talking about coping without begging for absolution. The laugh comes from recognition: most people don’t quit what hurts them because they “should,” they quit because the price stops being worth it.
The specific intent is classic Cho: puncture the fantasy while keeping the appetite intact. She lets “I love drugs” sit there as a deliberately provocative opener, then swerves into a complaint so mundane it’s almost suburban. That contrast is the engine. It drags a taboo subject into the realm of everyday annoyances, where it becomes legible and, crucially, funny. The “landslide” is doing extra work: it borrows the language of elections to frame self-control as a democratic decision, as if the body votes and the body is overwhelmingly anti-morning-after.
The subtext is a quiet indictment of how we romanticize altered states while ignoring aftermath. Cho positions herself not as a cautionary tale but as a competent narrator of her own impulses, using humor to claim agency. In the broader context of her comedy - candid, confessional, and built on undercutting shame - it’s also a way of talking about coping without begging for absolution. The laugh comes from recognition: most people don’t quit what hurts them because they “should,” they quit because the price stops being worth it.
Quote Details
| Topic | Witty One-Liners |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
More Quotes by Margaret
Add to List
