I'm With You in Rockland

criminalwisdom:

2001: “He’s a 50-year-old writer, buys drugs from his son and says they give him the best experiences of his life.” I wonder if he’s still singing the same song eleven years later?

And so the first time I ate E - or X, or EX, or XTC, or MDMA (methylenedioxymethamphetamine) - it was having given my son permission to sell it to me. I became his customer, a buyer, a reliable and steady client, the lowest link on the food chain of the multibillion-dollar commerce that proceeds unabated every day, every hour, in every large city and small town in every state in this union, in what is called by those paid to “war” against them “controlled substances”.

I find it ironic. Because I cannot think of a single commodity in our country that is less controlled than such substances, nor a single “war” that is as pathetically futile, vaingloriously chimeric and long-ago-lost as is this one. Wrestle as you will, you cannot reform or arrest human appetite. Ecstasy is as illegal as heroin. This is just the sort of run-amok governmental lunacy guaranteed to ensure that those like myself - and more importantly, our children - will write off that same government and those who enforce its drug laws as out of touch, coercive, morally bankrupt and, yes, un-American. Because America is not, or did not used to be, about throwing 16-year-old kids in jail for - all in the spirit of free-market capitalism and entrepreneurial enterprise - home-growing a little cannabis, even as the rest of us chain-smoke our Camels, sip our Absoluts with a twist, and devour our Prozac.

(Source: Vaughn Bell)