As I trudge thru the BS that the War On Drugs so rapidly spreads across our globe I get discouraged. At least once a day. And I really get discouraged when I have inactive activists questioning my tactics and the results of work done by me and my friends. Ya know folks like that?
I have no problem with my resume... but I do hate wasting my time chatting with folks about what they see as less-than-perfect activism. But those folks are part of what you get sometimes in a real world.
I've got some anger myself and there are plenty I could point fingers at... but why? Whats the point of me wasting my breath complaining about others? I mean I'd really rather not have to deal with the drug war at all. There is a lot of fishing and hiking to do... But there are these names I can't get out of my head... Zeke Hernandez and Peter McWilliams, Donald Scott, Ismael Mena, Steve McWiliams, Patrick Dorismond, Kathryn Johnston, Isaac Singletary, Accelynne Williams, Charity Bowers, Jennifer Odom... and those names just won't go away.
I've spent decades as an activist in one realm or another of American life and politics. I love being an active citizen, knowing I get to stick my 3 minutes and $.02 in occasionally. And I've recited that litany of names in public. I don't need a piece of paper to help me remember because like the words of a catchy popular song, those names go round and round and round and round my head... and Zeke's smiling face is etched in my mind, so often have I seen it while surfing the wwweb:
I mean look at that face. Zeke looks like a good, sweet kid. I don't see any larceny in those eyes, I see a mother and father's loved son shot dead because of the Anslingerites and their agenda of evil. I mean Timothy McVeigh knew about Zeke Hernandez... But that litany? Those names? They will never come from a drug warrior's mouth. Our lying drug czar John Walters won't ever utter those names lest he melt in gruesome fashion like some vampire doused with holy water (or garlic water) or like the witch in the Wizard of Oz... Seriously. It is because of the drug war legacy being such an abomination that prevents Anslingerites like Walters from appearing in public, or *Heaven Forbid* engaging in an open and public debate.
One of the surest signs you're dealing with a corrupt bureaucracy is the elaborate facade they construct to hide behind. Smoke and mirrors and secret passageways... in to a city and out again before those legalizers discover he's in town... like an anonymous fart in an elevator...
Walters is a coward. A bureaucrat and miscreant of the lowest stripe, he hides under the skirts of power, his nose firmly implanted up the arse of Mammon. Yet when he does appear it is before a fawning press that hungrily scoops up another load of his papous dreck as fact and gospel, swallowing every pustulent utterance that ooozes from this jerk's mouth. Face it America, our Drug Czars lie and get paid well to do it.
Thank goodness Tommy Chong is seeking the job because we need someone with experience in that position. And Tommy, in spite of his stereotypical role playing the dumb stoner... ain't no dummy.
I intend to use this space a lot more in the coming months, so come by more often. Bring some Romulan with you when you do... In case Willie comes by.
