Psychotic Views Part Ten:
As long as I’m on the subject of war, I’m going to address war of another stripe. The war on drugs. There’s an old saying that goes: ‘ The definition of insanity is to keep doing the same thing over and over again and expect a different ‘ Is that how it goes? I think so. Well, if it isn’t exact, it’s close enough. I can’t remember where it originated. Anyway, there’s a damn good example of this phrase playing itself out in real life with the war on drugs. Yes sir, the war on drugs is a fine, fine example of mass insanity on a grand scale. Everyone involved in this war on the political side, the president, congress, the supreme court, all of the lower courts, judges, district attorneys at all levels, law enforcement people at all levels all know that the war on drugs isn’t working. In fact, that is a canyonesque understatement, to put it more suited terms, the war on drugs has been a massive money wasting, a colossal life wasting, a monumental time wasting failure. The war on drugs is absurd.
Everyone knows this to be true. Everyone knows this is a fact. Yet, all of them keep participating in it, all of them keep promoting it, all of them keep saying its working. If that isn’t an example of a dark, deep seated psychosis, I don’t know what is. It’s insane, or, if you prefer a more blunt and colorful description: It’s fucking nuts. Welcome to the White House and the Capitol buildings everyone, or as some people like to refer to them as: Prestigous Houses for the Criminally Insane.
1st Man: I’m going to bang my head on the wall
2nd Man: Why?
1st Man: I want to get rid of my headache.
2nd man mumble under his breath something about idiots being born every minute, but does nothing to intercede.
The 1st man bangs his head against the wall, “Ouch, that hurt,” he says.
2nd Man: Did your headache go away?
1st Man: No, I just made it worse.
2nd Man: So , now what are you going to do?
1st Man: I’m going to bang my head on the wall again.
2nd Man: What for? You said banging your head on the wall only made things worse.
1st Man: Maybe I didn’t do it right. I’m going to bang my head harder this time.
2nd man mumbles under his breath again this time it’s something about the first man.
The first man bangs his head on the wall again, this time with more impact than the first time. The blow jars his equilibrium, sending him struggling backward three steps.
“Jesus Christ that hurt”, he says.
2nd Man: “Did your headache go away this time?”
1st Man: Hell, it’s fucking ten times worse than when I started.
2nd Man: Ready to give up and try something new?
1st Man: Not yet.
2nd Man: Don’t tell me you’re going to bang your head on the wall again.
1st Man: Yes, I am. Maybe if I get a good running start first, it’ll correct whatever I’m doing wrong.
This time the second man doesn’t mumble a single word. He has seen plenty of displays of idiocy before, but this display was so off the planet moronic that it rendered him speechless. Despite this, he still does nothing to intercede. So, the first man backs up as far as he can go. He summons up all of his courage, strength and energy. He charges ahead at full speed, determined to rid himself of his headache once and for all. Just before impact, he lowers his head and prepares to meet the wall. The forace of the blow staggers him in all directions for well over a minute.
Finally, the staggering steps and he is standing dead still, he looks over at the second main completely perplexed and says: “I still don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” He then lurches forward, shudders once and passes out cold on the floor. The second man shakes his head, turns and heads for the door. Just as he is about to leave, he stops for one last look at the other lying unconscious on the floor. “I don’t want to be around when he wakes up”, the second man says. “Even money says he just gets up and bangs his goddamn head again.” And that, ladies and gentlemen, is your war on drugs. How much has been spent on this war? How much time? How much effect? Improving is it? What is it now, half of all the people in U.S. prisons are there for simple possession? More than half?
Families, communities and the country would all be a hell of a lot better off if they’d end this asinine war. Do they realize the damage they’re doing? Do they care? On top of all of the other wrong things about this war is the clearly racial and class brassiness of it. How many white people from upper class, well to do families are in prison doing serious time for drugs? Compare that number to how many black people and poor people are in prison doing serious time for drugs? Do cops cruise rich, lily white suburbs looking for people doing drugs? You wouldn’t want to accidently arrest a politicians kid, a well connected businessman’s kid, or a judge’s kid, would you? No, rich people go to rehab, poor people go to prison. What do you think moneyed kids at fancy, mostly white upper crust schools don’t do drugs and they don’t drink and they don’t fuck. They’re teenagers for Christ’s sake, but all have a get out of jail free Monopoly cards, don’t they?
Hell , this whole goddamn war on drugs could be nothing more than a plot to keep the poor down with no hope of even trying to get anywhere. The CIA certainly has had its dirty little hands in the drug trade on several occasions. Winking, nodding and dealing, Manuel Noriega, the once CIA asset, was a Panamanian strongman dictator. He was also a drug dealer, The Contras were armed rebel para military guerillas in Nicaragua. They were trained by the CIA. They had the backing by the CIA and they were given money and arms by the CIA. They were also drug dealers. Think of how much damage this war on drugs has done to families and communities.
A vast majority of time the person being jailed for drugs is male. So , you’re taking males out of a household and putting them in prison. SO, you’re taking males out of a household and putting them in prison. So, what does that leave you with? A single income household. A poor female with minimal education the ability to only get a minimum wage job and many times there are one or more kids in the mix, which makes the household even poorer. If there are children involved, then someone has to watch them because she can’t afford daycare. You take the male out of the household like that and you will guarantee the household is down, it’s going to stay down, all the way down.
If the real goal of the war on drugs has been to ensure that poor people stay permanently poor then, in those terms, it has been a major success, but these are the only such terms it could even remotely be deemed so, and the argument that if you legalize drugs, everyone will do drugs. Look, anyone who wants to do drugs now does so. This argument, like all of the other arguments involving drugs is a weak as Superman sitting his ass on a kryptonite toilet.
Look at prohibition, look at what banning alcohol did, it pushed the entire alcohol business into the hands of organized professional criminals, and it created a lot of violence, spilled blood and death that otherwise wouldn’t have been there. Did anyone in a position of power learn a lesson from that? No. They don’t learn lessons, it’s their job to keep making the same fucking mistakes over and over again. This is my view of anything that’s a vice. You can make it illegal and push all of the profits into the hands of violent, organized criminals or you can make it legal tax it and use the money for public good and by vice, I mean drinking, smoking, gambling, fucking and drugs.
People are going to do these things whether they are illegal or lega. Making something illegal isn’t going to stop people from doing it. Look at playing the numbers. It used to be all under the table and illegal. Now all of the states run daily numbers and make a lot of money, perfectly legal. Then the very same officials who used to say it was illegal, now say it’s legal. Look at all the states with lotteries and casinos.
Cigarettes kill people. Can you even estimate how many people have died from cigaretts in the last 100 years. How many health problems they have caused. They’re legal, they might be disdained, looked down upon and barred to the outdoors, but they’re legal and how about alcohol. Think about all the damage alcohol does. Liver damage, cancer and other related issues. Drunk driving deaths and injuries . High health care costs, violence, stabbings, shootings, assaults and murders. Domestic violence, men beating on women. How much of this is related to alcohol, all this damage done and not only is it legal, it is allowed to seduce the masses with millions and millions of advertising dollars each year. So, cigarettes kill people and cause a lot of health and financial related damage to a lot of people, it’s legal. Alcohol kills people and causes a lot of health and financial related damage to a lot of people, it’s legal. So, too, prescription drugs kill people and cause a lot of health and financial damage to a lot of people, they’re legal.
So, what’s the criteria for making, say marijuana illegal. Has marijuana killed more people than cigarettes? Has marijuana killed more people than alcohol? Has marijuana killed more people than prescription drugs? Has marijuana ever killed anyone at all? How does the damage done by marijuana ever killed anyone at all? How does the damage done by marijuana compare to the damage done by marijuana compare to the damage done by cigarettes, alcohol, and prescription drugs and the old brain cells. Hell, TV has killed more brain cells than marijuana. Kim Kardashian alone kills millions of brain cells every week with her reality show.
I can hear all of those people who disagree with me saying, ‘ Now you stop right now mister, you stop trying to make me think. My head hurts when I think. I do it so seldom, it can’t help but hurt. SO, you stop this right now. Stop confusing me with facts, logic and reason. It ain’t right, it ain’t right I tell you. You see what you made me do. You had me trying to think and walk at the same time and now I’ve walked right into a brick wall and hurt myself. Thanks a lot asshole.
I will wander off of the subject of the war on drugs and say that prostitution too should be legalized. Prostitution is sex. Sex is fucking. Is fucking illegal? No, fucking is legal. So, why then is prostitution illegal? There is not good reason for it to be, but hey, who said the people who makes laws in this country need good reasons for doing anything. Think of the revenue marijuana and prostitution could bring in if you legalized them and taxed them. No only would there be a lot of revenue, but you have the added benefits a safer and less violent environment for everyone, but hey, who reall y wants that, huh? Safer, less violent and more revenue.
Look everyone, the emperor has no clothes. Jesus Christ emperor, will you please put some fucking clothes on. You’re scaring the children, your confusing the animals and you’re making just about everyone else sick. So, could you please put some clothes on. What a douche bag. This is the DEA and Homeland Security speaking. Do you hear? This is the DEA and Homeland Security speaking, put your hands in the air. Now, drop the weapons and kick them slowly over to us. Drop the facts first, then the logic. Now the reason, and the humor too. No, you’re not allowed to keep the humor. Sir, hand over the humor now, sir, this is your last warning. Kick the humor over to us or we/ll be forced to jam a grant stick up your ass.
Well, I finally got around to telling a couple of people about my situation. Tow of them, in fact and I called them, both on the same day. It was very hard for me to do. They both care about me I know. They’d want to hear my voice and knew how I’m doing even if the news isn’t good. They’d want to know. They deserved to know. Still, the calls were hard, shame for why I was here still rode my heels with each step I took. The first call was in mid-afternoon.
“Hello,” the voice at the other end said
“Hi, this is …”
“Hey how are you doing? I haven’t heard from you in awhile.”
“Yeah, there’s a reason for that.”
“What’s up? Is something wrong?”
“Yes”
“What is it?”
“I could dance around this for a long time if given the chance, but I’m just going to blurt it out and get it over with. They have me in a psychiatric care facility.”
“What? What the hell are you doing there?”
“I’m a patient.”
“Did you have yourself put in?”
“No, I did something to earn my way in.”
“What? What did you do? Did you have a nervous breakdown?”
“I’m afraid it’s a little more serious than that. I tried to kill myself.”
If you want a conversation to come to a cold, hard, white knuckled stop, there are few sentences made which could do a better job and the following prolonger silence wasn’t just awkward. It was full of pain. Deep, dark emotional pain. The kind which is so far down inside you, it goes to the very core of your being. I don’t know how long the silence lasted. It could’ve been a minute, it could’ve been an hour, but when it was finally broken, it was at the other end.
“When did this happen?”
“A few days ago. I was in the hospital for a couple of days. Then they moved me here.”
“And you’re just telling me now? Why didn’t you tell me sooner. Why didn’t you tell me right away. Why didn’t you call and talk to me before you… Goddamnit.”
The voice at the other end was emotionally charged, full of fearful loving anger. It was good to hear, it was hard to hear. There was another prolonged silence. This time I was the one who broke it.
“I’m sorry,” I said. I started to say more, but it was all that would come out of my mouth. The two words were inadequate, but there were no words which would’ve been adequate. The two words carried my shame. Almost to the point of suffocation. “I’m sorry too,” the voice at the other end said. “I don’t mean to yet, it’s just that…” “It’s okay, I deserved it, I should’ve called right after. I was… I was….” The last word wouldn’t come out no matter how hard I tried. “Ashamed? You were ashamed, that’s why you didn’t call?”
“Yes.”
“Can I come and see you? Are you allowed visitor?”
“I don’t know, I’ll ask.”
“How long are they going to keep you there?”
“I don’t know that either. Asking won’t help with that question.”
“Do you want me to come and see you? Are you up to it?”
“It’s not a matter of me wanting to see you or not. Of course I want to see you. It’s just…”
“I understand.”
“Do you? I hope so.”
“Can I at least call you and talk to you every day?”
“Sure.”
“Good.”
“I think I’d like to go lay down for awhile, okay? I’m tired.”
“Okay, talk to you tomorrow?”
“Yeah”
“For sure?”
“For sure.”
“Okay, love you.”
“Love you too, bye.”
“Bye.”
I wasn’t lying when I said I had to go lay down. It wasn’t an excuse to end the conversation. The call had taken a toll on me. It drained my emotional state dry. The tank was now empty and what affects the emotional state also affects the physical state. I needed to sleep. Desperately so that I went to bed, closed my eyes and went quickly to sleep. The second call would have to wait.