Leaving aside the fact that reporting this and speculating on it makes us a mere step above the ambulance-chasing antics of TMZ, we couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at a blog posted this morning by The Dillinger Escape Plan’s super-hench frontman, Greg Puciato.

Specifically, a blog about a recent near-death/near-insanity experience he had this past weekend under the influence of….something.

We’re reading a few things between the lines here, as you’ll see in just a minute, but we don’t think we’re making too much of a leap of faith to guess Greg was overdoing the psilocybin over the weekend. Let’s just check out what he posted over on his blog, shall we?

I would like to thank the six police officers, fully staffed fire truck, and the several EMTs(thanks Brian Vanina for writing to me afterwards) that showed up over the weekend…to witness/enjoy what surely must have been a beyond hysterical/bizarre/confusing sight to them. Without going into too much detail…let me just say that it was ENTIRELY worthwhile to eat enough(way too much) of something(I won’t go into what but I’m sure your assumptions are probably accurate) to induce a total near death experience, have full blown entirely realistic hallucinations(including fake people that I had conversations with), have no ability to tell what time/age period of my life I was in(12, 17, 22, 29….all seemed simultaneous) and run around almost naked both in and outside singing, screaming, and asking the police if I was dead and whether or not Ben Weinman, The Dillinger Escape Plan, Liam, and various other people in my personal life, were in fact real people or part of a dream that I had while part of a separate larger reality. When I look back on being on a stretcher outside at 3am, frantically telling police that I was already dead and insisting that they tell me the truth, while accusing them of not being real either, and my girlfriend crying and being terrified that I had gone “too far” and would be permanently insane from that point forward…..it all seems obvious what you should tell kids about drugs. “Just say…maybe.”

There is no “twelve” after “eleven”. It goes straight to “thirteen”. It’s dark if you go there. So if you’re ever at eleven and wanna go further…just be forewarned and remember that eleven jumps to thirteen and it gets fucking dark RIGHT AWAY. But it is, in hindsight, a wholly worthwhile place to visit now and then. For the record…all I gave a fuck about when I was out of my mind and convinced I was dead, was four or five people, and The Dillinger Escape Plan. Crazy.

I’ve never felt more psyched to play some fucking shows. LA tomorrow. Orange County Thursday. LET’S FUCKING DO THIS.

Why don’t you watch our video of Greg discussing Jurassic Park while you let all that sink in?

Oh, Greg. Don’t ever change. I mean, please don’t ever die after a ridiculous drug binge, or start messing around with guns while on a drug binge or anything like that, but other than that: don’t ever change.