Mister Jones wore a jumpsuit with thermals and waistcuffs. He smiled and waved, as best he could, to his family in the gallery. Three generations of Jones women attended; his mother, grandmother and sister. Also attending was a handful of ladies from the Brown family including Tyairr Brown, quite a normal looking toddler except that she did not toddle. She sat in a special pram with a thick foam harness that held her upright as her spinal chord has been severed at the ninth thoracic, right around the height of her elbows. Today was Judgement Day for Mister Jones. His most recent crimes and my peripheral role in them, you already know.

He took a guilty plea to no surprise from anyone. Ms Tamera Brown, Tyairr’s mother was not in court although according to the prosecutor she was free to show up and speak. Having made her own guilty plea to related charges she is on probation and has lost custody of her daughter. Her sister has taken the child into her own care and it seems to be good care indeed. That lady spoke to the details of Tyairr’s injuries, her prognosis and the reality of the daily round for a paralyzed infant. She expressed no animosity for the man in the dock though the Brown ladies stared sternly while the Jones girls quietly wept.

You may have wept also. A series of pro-forma questions were asked, one being to state your name for the record; “Marcus D’Angelo Jones.” What is your age as of today? All of Jones’ words were a mere mumble. “Twenty-five or twenty-six,” he said. It seemed to not surprise the judge that he was unsure of his own age. So your birthday is September sixth, nineteen eighty-six, right? He shrugged microscopically. You are twenty-five today… as of today. And how far did you advance in school? “Sixth.” Sixth grade? A nod. Again, an unsurprising statement. Are you able to read, write and understand english? This was the first one Jones seemed to genuinely consider, “Um, not good.”

But good enough. The state prosecutor, a thin and efficient woman, consumed nearly all the half hour or so of the proceedings with a recitation of his history, a record of crimes heinous and hilarious extending back a decade. He is in the habit of swiping cars, employing them in other crimes and fleeing the police however briefly. He was on probation sixteen days before the last incident. He has robbed. He has assaulted. He has dealt and consumed drugs including attempting to sell candies as crack cocaine to get money to buy crack cocaine although some crack cocaine was already in his possession. But on that icy night when he bolted through rush-hour traffic with the police in pursuit his blood work-up reveals he was under the influence of exactly nothing. No coke. No pot. No barbiturates or any other prescription medicine including those that he was supposed to be taking to keep him level. BAC 0.00%

So what did get into Marcus Jones? If he was especially fearful of incarceration he was in fear all his life. A social worker, a stout white lesbian, has made a career out of him. Or so I hope though perhaps her days are filled with other men like Marcus Jones. Perhaps worse. But she and his public defender stood lovingly with him before the judge and the various eyes in the gallery while his tale was told. Boxes of county-issue tissues are all around the courtroom. The bailiff dispenses them. The mood was one of resignation reflecting that of Marcus Jones.

The prosecutor dealt crisply in mathematics. Taking into account all the re-imposed sentences, the default warrants, the record of criminality, insanity, depravity and the dire  costs she came to a sentence of twenty-five years, having whittled that down from a theoretical maximum of life plus one-hundred and thirteen years without the possibility of parole. In my previous estimate I did not take into account the volume and severity of Mister Jones’ record though I stand by my original calculus. He has drawn one-seventh or so of the maximum; the life sentence is owing to the kidnapping charge which would have applied whether Tyairr were injured or not.

And what of those injuries? Absent this crushed life the whole event would yet be a giggling affair; an urban scene from The Dukes of Hazard. A mother and two sons were almost killed on the sidewalk but were basically unharmed as Jones took flight over them, careening off the curb. The prosecutor told this tale well. It is good she did, taking her evidence from dash-cam video (that was not shown), as the officer involved has since been murdered in the line of duty. She took us on a wild ride, detailing each bump and dash including the original failed chase where the clearance of my Liberty took Jones and company over urban obstacles that a high-speed cruiser could not attempt. Inside the car, all was chaos. Tyairr was not strapped in although I found a baby seat when I went to the scrap yard. Jones was not strapped in. Tamera Brown was not strapped in but has previously testified that she grabbed her baby from the back seat and clutched her to her chest. It is the opinion of the spinal surgeons that it was the inflating airbag that broke the little girl’s back although certainly her subsequent rough treatment was aggravating.

So Mister Jones has gone away, not far but for a long, long stretch. What is twenty-five years though, to a man who does not know how old he is? If it were me, I would be three years from release now. The last twenty-two years of my life have passed so quickly I can barely score them. Will they pass more quickly for Marcus Jones? Or will this be, in his experience, a sentence to eternity? Will a grey and crumpled ex-con one day meet a vibrant, if crippled, twenty-seven year old woman of accomplishment and brio and receive her kind dispensation? Or will he be hooted into hanging himself by angry denunciations? Almost certainly we will never know. The world will turn without Marcus Jones and that turn seems to be accelerating rapidly. Alone in his cell he will be unaware of it, as unaware as he was of the weight of his crimes until caught, and perhaps still. He had little to say for himself and nothing exculpatory. “I’m sorry for the people I harmed. Especially my mother,” was all he entered into the record. I happened to ride the elevator down with his public defender, a smart young woman in colorful rainboots as today is a most dismal Monday. “How much will he actually do?” I asked her.

“Every day,” she answered without looking.

“Every day?”

“Every day of it. Have a good one,” she said as the doors opened to her floor.

Whitney Houston is dead at 48 due to a self-administered overdose of warm, soapy water; to which she was addicted. It is unclear when she set off down this path. Many observers blame her widower, Bobby Brown, saying that before he came along Whitney took showers, ran through the car wash or just re-applied her hairspray. What cannot be denied is that hers was a daily habit involving gallon upon gallon of the substance she clearly felt was so sweet and embracing but wound up taking her precious life at a tender age. There has been some confusion and dissembling. It should be obvious why Big Bath would be interested in diverting attention from their own intoxicating wares and onto the drugs prescribed for Ms Houston by her doctors or perhaps onto those medicinal preparations from her herbalists. These monopolist robber-barons are already in a stink owing to the epidemic of bath-salts snorting among teens. They fear that their decades…. nay, CENTURIES of sloshing murderous tubs and fragrances onto a hapless humanity (at a tidy profit) might finally come to an end.

Hopefully this will be so. More current numbers seem not to be available but in 2000 there were nearly 400 deaths due to bathing, most of them children! How have we let this menace continue for so long? Many responsible commentators are asking that question. One of the foremost is well-known statistician and advocate for the dead, Jamie Lee Curtis. Sporting a degree from John Carpenter University, and a spotless Hollywood pedigree, Doctor Curtis has the cure for what ails us. All of it.

“There are millions of people in the world addicted to something. Food, shopping, porn, alcohol, prescription drugs and illegal drugs…”

Indeed there are. The levels of food addiction here at home and abroad are truly shocking; at least in the double-digits percentage-wise. Shopping addictions are the silent epidemic revealed only in rustling bags and elevated credit card charges. Alcohol is quite the scourge as the doctor informs us. If there were any malady that could inspire a national program of banishment one would think it would be alcohol, John Barleycorn being the second-oldest blight of man (after food), but no. Let this be the starting clarion on Action Against Alcohol at all levels of government and society. We can call it Proscription. Or something. Finally we get to the nub; drugs, of one sort or another.

How we define “drugs” is a murk. Left out of Dr Curtis’ list of horribles is tobacco. Odd, since that weed plausibly killed her father though booze and coke are more officially blamed. What and whom are specifically absolved of blame?

“It is not fame’s fault. It is no one’s fault.”

The Hollywood BS factory is immediately cleared but then so is the “victim” and everybody else. No one is to blame but EVERYONE is responsible. “Addiction” hovers over even the infant’s bed, besotted as the little imp might be with his pacifier and diaper cream. “Addiction” takes on a spectral, malignant and implacable form, much like Michael Myers.

It is a disease and like cancer, diabetes and depression, it is everywhere. Alcoholism and addiction is ever present and it wants you dead.

Setting aside depression as a prime facet of addiction itself, it is curious and revealing that Dr Curtis uses cancer and diabetes as her models. It is always the “cure for cancer” that is held out as the object of all charity and research. It is cancer that justifies the control scheme used for tobacco and it is cancer that is the symptom when no other symptoms can be found. Yes, cancer is always with us but it could be mitigated mightily by, say, eliminating cigarettes from public consumption. Likewise diabetes is caused, or said to be caused by the easy availability of sugar, especially to children. A control of diabetes and obesity (another murk) is what sparked the recent conversion of Mars Inc. into Jenny Craig, which is to their liking as Big Candy now gets to reduce their ingredient costs without complaints from their actual customers. The doctor’s list seems to imply that a drug is anything that you do, consume or perhaps cogitate over. Is an addiction to salacious memories or fantasies distinguishable from an “addiction” to pornography? Anything can be “addicting” therefore everything is a drug. Except coffee, that’s a miracle!

We might need a new taxonomy. I recall a Michael Cain movie where he was aboard a ship, trying to explain the little plastic squares of white powder to a crew of primitive pirates. “Oh that? That’s cocaine.”

“What’s cocaine?”

“It’s a drug.”

“A drug? What does it cure?”

And with a moment’s thought Cain replies, “Indecision.”

But cocaine IS a drug. What does it cure? Pain.

Again the doctor’s credentials are impeccable. She became entranced by legal painkillers after a peculiarly arduous eye-job though she blatantly jumped over into illegality by stealing drugs prescribed for her sister who whined of phantom pain from fractured bones. All Curtis’ drugs or other vices were liberally lubricated with alcohol. While she doesn’t mention cocaine consumption here, we know of her fondness for it from other sources. All this self-dosing was for legitimate pain mitigation, also, as the story says, to get high and to combat loneliness.

What is the doctor ordering? The illegal drugs are already illegal and the penalties severe, if unevenly applied. Perhaps she wishes that law enforcement had come up her circular drive, knocked down her doors with rams and carted her off as they do for many a user and trafficker in cocaine, heroin or oxycontins across her LA stomping grounds. There. There goes another storm door off the hinges. Would Dr Curtis prefer that she had been arrested, flex-cuffed, tased, fingerprinted and arraigned? That she had made bail and then plead guilty to a lesser charge for court-ordered supervision? We know she would not subject herself to the ordinary round of public “treatment” for addiction or she would have done it. Would she want it for her beloved brother? Or father?

Or even Lindsay Lohan?

Her record is unblemished by any snitching or any sort of discipline imposed by her on others or on herself. An up-tempo version of the Drug War is no folk-remedy in Hollywood so we can assume Dr Curtis does not mean, make more arrests, incarcerate the addicts longer and under more severe conditions. Certainly she is not saying that the sentencing norms in Compton should be reproduced in Beverly Hills. On close reading, she doesn’t seem to be saying anything at all, although she names The Administration the most likely agent for Real Change. Now, we are onto something. Dr Curtis is no medical doctor but a sociologist, perhaps an epidemiologist and she wants Addiction, like cancer, diabetes, obesity, depression, gonorrhea, shyness, bulimia and nerdism to be treated as a public health issue, meaning subject to medical coverage.

The infinite nature of such a project, we have addressed but there could be a way to introduce a true health-issue based philosophy to our treatment of the drugs predicament that would be dramatically better than the system we have or that a Dr Curtis might impose. First thing is to address first principles. The government, high or low, has no standing to prohibit drug possession, production, traffic or use. None. But that is not the world we are living in. Our society and reality is bifurcated. We have the wealthier, whiter, recreational drug culture and we have the poorer, blacker and vocational drug culture. One is allowed their drug use, even to the point of self-harm, delusion, violence, theft or public lewdity so long as they pay lip service, community service and legal services. Another is allowed their drug use so long as they occasionally disgorge a patsy, often the only man left with no one to betray, who will be sentenced to a stretch that even malice murderers rarely serve. Both now are to be brought into the public health system, treated and hopefully sent out into the world to work and not to re-offend. The high-class drug offender is already in this situation. The idea is to make the treatment of movie-bigwigs the norm, something that is desirable if only because it means less lives of men spent in lockdown. Yes, many many lives of men.

Now, to apply our principles. All criminal drug laws are struck down as Unconstitutional. The FDA will concern itself with advertising claims and the dose safety of patented drugs; their purity and consistency. That is it. The efficacy of any prescribed drug will be a matter of competitive, open medical testing, including non-clinical but voluntary use for off-label purposes; meaning for maladies they were not conceived to treat. If that sounds like Frankenstein in the pediatric ward, you should know that this is the way it was until recently. Any drug approved for market sale could be prescribed by any physician for any use, the only limiting factors being the dose safety and medical liability. Only recently and still, not fully, has the FDA been opposing off-label use. Now the medical apparatus declines to pay for those uses but they have yet to be banned and many people with desperate medical conditions are glad it is so, since they would die without such innovations. The pharmacist’s position in our lives will scarcely be effected. They will still dispense medicinal drugs by doctor’s note, as it has been. But once legally in the hands of an end user no criminal penalty will apply to any other consensual use whatever. If this seems a chaotic prospect to you, imagine instead a regime where every pill is accounted for under penalty of imprisonment either for the dispenser or the consumer for that is the state of the law today, awaiting only the technology to enforce it.

So we make the distinction between medicinal or patented drugs and, let us call them, agricultural drugs. Dr Curtis does not even distinguish abusive self-knowledge from the plagues of addiction but we shall. What is an agricultural drug? It is one that grows out of the ground, whether with coaxing or without. Again, this is a return to a time not long ago when opiates and other preparations were available from any corner store. Those who gaze on such a situation with horror should understand that all these prohibitions “for your own good”, are also infinity traps since the perfection of “your own good” is never realized. Recent studies reveal that black gentlemen have superior longevity and health outcomes in prison than out. For Your Own Goodism would imply a national round-up is in order so we know it is an absurdity even before we consider that the most troublesome of drugs, tobacco and booze, ARE available at every corner store and that stern prohibitions of agricultural drugs would have to include nutmeg, cinnamon, coffee and many another leaf or powder in your possession. Agricultural produce must all be treated equally; inspected for cleanliness and integrity but otherwise available without impediment.

This would be Whitney’s Law, not because she would advocate it but because she lived it due to her wealth and notoriety. We all deserve the same opportunities. But she killed herself with her opportunities! Indeed she did and indeed many of us will whether skateboarding or tripping in the tub but, as Whitney demonstrates, that can happen now. Few admit something everyone knows, Whitney was in a tiny minority. No, not black chicks with green eyes. Those were contacts. Whitney was one of that tiny minority to reveal serious issues with her use of any substance or indulgence of any vice. Dr Curtis reminds us of the poor shopaholic but the shops are full every day. Is that rampant shopaholism? Of course not. It is the same with patent and agricultural drugs as it is true with alcohol, pornography or self-righteous sermonizing in that vast numbers of people indulge and yet a tiny fraction is ever treated, demonstrably needs treatment or is ever afoul of the law. Among this small cohort, the vast majority who “quit” or otherwise deal with their consumption habits do it “cold turkey” as they say. This includes even those slaves to the most addicting substance: tobacco. No patch, no nothin’. They just stop. Crazy. So rather than inflict a coercive regime that can only benefit a tiny few at a great expense to liberty and public accounts, instead let’s have an expansion or just more energetic application of the laws of civil commitment even to the point of commuting the sentences of already imprisoned persons in great numbers. Neither Whitney nor Bobby nor the Curtis Clan would want any of their addicts thrown in the slam but they might commit that spouse, child or parent to confinement and treatment as a danger to themselves or others. There would be public AND private facilities, some charities. The judge would intervene on a complaint from kin or the State that would not lay a criminal conviction; something that removes the offender from honest employment ever after if he is less than a stage sensation. Those who saw Whitney destroying herself could have done something about it. Now, that would mean Bobby Brown would have to be the adult in the room, a prospect that would be terrifying if not so unlikely, but the alternative is to invite the State to be that adult with all its myopia, contempt and cruel apathy. And if you are going to do THAT, might as well outlaw bathtubs. They are deadly.

INTELLIGENCE ALERT
PINKARSKY COUNTY SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT

The Pinkarsky County Sheriff’s Department was recently made aware of a potentially dangerous threat to our children, in the form of music that mimics the feeling of euphoria that comes from taking drugs. Sheriff’s Department officials would like to warn parents about this troubling development, and encourages all parents to be vigilant and make sure and monitor any music that your children listen to, to ensure that they’re not “getting high” off it.

“Of course, we’re concerned about what the children of Pinkarsky County are listening to,” said Sheriff Waldo Heiny, at a press conference called specifically to announce this troubling development. “We want to make sure that the parents, who already have their hands full with their jobs, or unemployment worries, or whatever, understand that the Sheriff’s Department will do everything it can to help them to deal with this dangerous threat targeting our youth, by making random stops of children who exhibit odd behavior in public, and by making random searches of the CD and MP3 collections of the county’s children.”

The Sheriff added that the silence from some neighboring counties on this potentially devastating problem has been deafening.

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
DONAR COUNTY SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT

The Sheriff’s Department of Donar County recently learned that some parents had become alarmed by the idea that some kids might be trying to get high by listening to music. Donar County Sheriff Whitty Crain wishes to assure parents that there is little threat of children getting high from music. The real threat is from girls dipping their tampons in vodka, and then putting the tampons in their vaginas, where the vodka is absorbed through the soft, tender tissue of the girl’s vagina.

“Girls, teenage girls, have these really soft, tender vaginas,” said Sheriff Whitty Crain, of Donar County, during a press conference. “It makes it especially easy for them to get drunk by absorbing vodka through their vaginas, so parents need to be especially vigilant about this potential crisis situation.”

The Sheriff suggested that parents check their daughters’ vaginas for the odor of vodka, but he added, “We in the Donar County Sheriff’s Department won’t leave parents to deal with this potentially deadly situation on their own. We’ll have deputies stopping girls on the streets who exhibit unusual behavior and making random vagina checks, sniffing their vaginas for vodka.”

The Sheriff explained that unusual behavior could consist of anything from laughing in public, to crying in public, and anything in between.

“The important thing is that we keep our children safe by checking their vaginas,” Sheriff Whitty Crain added. “And of course we need to show that Donar County keeps things in perspective, and we don’t get all worked up about phoney stuff like some other neighboring counties I could name, but I won’t.”

INTELLIGENCE ALERT
PINKARSKY COUNTY SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT

The Pinkarsky County Sheriff’s Department has received a number of inquiries regarding the potential of teenage girls to become intoxicated by dipping their tampons in vodka, and then inserting the tampons into their vaginas, where the vodka is then absorbed by the tissue in the vagina. The Department would like to assure Pinkarsky County citizens that it is doing everything it can to check the vaginas of its teenage residents.

At a press conference, Sheriff Waldo Heiny stated emphatically that he was personally instituting a new vagina-sniffing protocol to ensure an orderly standard of teenage vagina sniffing. But he also stated the importance of pro-action in the fight to keep our county’s residents safe.

“To be honest, some counties have been caught flat-footed by some of these crises that we’ve been dealing with,” Sheriff Waldo Heiny explained. “Who saw the meth crisis coming? Who saw the Four Loko crisis? Who saw the candy with names that kind of sound like marijuana crisis? While some counties I could name but won’t are just sitting around scouring the internet looking for epidemics, we here in Pinkarsky county are actually trying to identify potential epidemics before they start, so we can nip them in the bud!”

Sheriff Waldo Heiny added that the night before he and his family had eaten asparagus for dinner. “Now, my wife doesn’t usually make us asparagus,” the Sheriff said. “But she did last night, because it was on sale at the Sav-A-Way. I think it was about two dollars a pound. Anyway, the asparagus was all right — she fixed it using a recipe she’d found on the internet. So we all ate it.

“Well, that night I went to the bathroom and peed, and I noticed that my pee smelled really funny. It had a more earthy and interesting odor than usual.” The Sheriff explained that because of all the teenage girl vaginas he’d been smelling lately, he had come to consider himself to be something of an expert on the odors of urine.

The Sheriff continued: “I didn’t really think too much of it until later that night, we were putting the kids to bed, and no one could find our son. It turns out, he was in the bathroom, with his head over the toilet bowl, sniffing the asparagus pee water. I hardly recognized him — it was like he couldn’t help himself.”

Sheriff Waldo Heiny warned residents that they should be aware of the potentially addictive qualities of asparagus pee odor. “My son even said that he wanted to pee in a bag so that he could keep the pee with him and sniff it whenever he wanted. Now, my son is sort of retarded, so if he could come up with an idea like huffing a bag of asparagus pee, imagine what ideas a smarter kid might come up with, to get his asparagus pee fix.”

The Sheriff added that he is working with local stores that sell asparagus, to help them to come up with voluntary protocols for the sale of asparagus, and warning signage that they can post on the potential dangers of asparagus pee sniffing. “This is a lot more than some neighboring counties are doing,” he concluded.

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
DONAR COUNTY SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT

The Donar County Sheriff’s Department would like to warn parents of a potentially devastating epidemic that is afflicting one neighboring county, and could potentially spread here.

At a press conference this morning, Sheriff Whitty Crain sounded the warning alarm. “This is an addiction that strikes regardless of race or ethnic background, or skin color. It doesn’t care if you’re some poor slob who only has enough money to shop at the Sav-A-Way, or if you’ve got a little more money and a lot better taste and you shop at the Super Pic-A-Lot. Our children are at risk, and the time to think is past, and the time to act is now!”

Sheriff Whitty Crain said that the trend of asparagus pee huffing, which he said that some children might start calling “Aspeeing,” for short, would be devastating to Donar County, if it is allowed to spread unchecked. “We all know how these epidemics go,” the Sheriff said. “At first it’s just an addiction, then pretty soon people are dying left and right.”

The Sheriff added that unlike some counties where they are taking a more “casual approach” to the crisis of Aspeeing, in Donar County they were going into full crisis mode, to stop this potential crisis before it starts. “I am happy to report that the town council all got together and voted on a resolution requiring all stores in Donar County to get identification from anyone buying asparagus. No one under the age of 21 will be able to make these purchases, and no one will be able to buy more than a pound and a half of asparagus at one time.” The city council agreed that a pound and a half of asparagus seemed reasonable to them. “I don’t understand why anyone would need to buy any more than that,” the Sheriff said. “Unless they’re trying to get their Aspeeing fix.”

The Sheriff’s Department is also announcing a special Aspeeing Task Force, the duties of which will include monitoring the internet for asparagus recipes. “A lot of these websites try to entice young people by making asparagus look appetizing. And it is, don’t get me wrong. But these kids eat too much of it so that their pee smells really earthy and interesting, then they pee in a bag and keep the bag with them all day, and all they can think about it sniffing their pee bag, and soon they’ve dropped out of school and they’re dying on the streets because we didn’t do anything to stop this before it started.”

Sheriff Whitty Crain added that he has instructed deputies to make random raids on homes where asparagus has been purchased, or those homes where someone has accessed Barefoot Contessa‘s website. “We’re working with Simons Cable to get IP information, or whatever,” he added.

“The best way we can protect our children is by raiding peoples’ homes, handcuffing them, shooting their dogs if they get in our way, and ransacking their homes looking for asparagus,” the Sheriff concluded.

The Donar County Sheriff’s Department wonders if some neighboring counties care even a little bit about their residents, that they’re not willing to take these simple steps to combat what is a growing crisis.

INTELLIGENCE ALERT
PINKARSKY COUNTY SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT

The Pinkarsky County Sheriff’s Department is pleased to announce that it is taking further steps to ensure the safety of its residents in the wake of the Aspeeing epidemic that has swept across at least two counties, and now threatens the entire state.

Sheriff Waldo Heiny, of Pinkarsky County, held a press conference at which he displayed a table of asparagus that had been confiscated from the back of the Sav-A-Way on Kitchen Truck Road. “This is what we’re dealing with, people,” he said, as cameras flashed. “It looks innocuous, but to potentially millions of people, this asparagus has the potential to ruin countless lives, kill potentially millions of innocent people, and leave potentially millions of children as orphans.”

The Sheriff’s Department has engaged in 38 asparagus raids in the two days since the Aspeeing Epidemic was first recognized. There have been 54 arrests. “Technically, these people haven’t violated any laws, because the law is working too slow to keep up with this potentially devastating crisis,” the Sheriff said. “But we’re working with our state legislator, Doug ‘Big Bud’ Hightone, to get an emergency bill introduced to ban the sale of asparagus in the state.”

In the meantime, the Pinkarsky Sheriff’s Department has unveiled it’s latest weapon in the war against Aspeeing, a rocket propelled grenade launcher, which will be used to take down airplanes or trucks that attempt to bring asparagus into Pinkarsky County. “As of now, we are an asparagus-free county,” the Sheriff declared. “Because we care about our residents, and want to ensure their safety.” Sheriff Waldo Heiny added that that the rocket propelled grenade launcher was being used in conjunction with the county’s other high-tech weapons, including four armored vehicles, 450 AK-47s, and body armor. “This is a war,” the Sheriff said. “We are dealing with a relentless enemy that is targeting our children. We will spare no expense in protecting those children.”

“Top that,” Sheriff Waldo Heiny concluded, in a jab which was aimed squarely at the sheriff’s department of a neighboring county.

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
DONAR COUNTY SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT

In a series of well-coordinated, daring midnight raids, the Donar County Sheriff’s Department confiscated more than twelve pounds of asparagus, which many fear is being used in a potentially deadly practice known as “Aspeeing,” in which victims become addicted to the earthy and interesting smell of asparagus pee. Among those places raided were the Super Pic-A-Lot on Greasy Hollow, and the home of Charles and Marie Mileton, of 1298 Follow Rooster Lane, near stop 238.

“It was a successful mission,” Sheriff Whitty Crain said. “We definitely sent a message, that Donar County will not tolerate the targeting of its most vulnerable residents in this insidious manner.”

Following the raid on their home, Charles and Marie Mileton were taken to County General hospital, where they were treated for multiple gunshot wounds before passing away. Sheriff Whitty Crain noted that while the deaths of the Miletons were tragic, they were an unavoidable consequence of dealing with the Aspeeing Epidemic.

“Aspeeing doesn’t care who it targets,” the Sheriff said. “Tonight’s battle was a victory, a small one, but the war will no doubt rage indefinitely. In fact, we’re already making plans for a long-term war.” The Sheriff added that during the raid the Miletons exhibited suspicious behavior when they accused deputies of violating their “fourth amendment rights.” These accusations made the deputies participating in the raid feel threatened, because asserting “fourth amendment rights” is typical criminal behavior.

Sheriff Whitty Crain went on to add that he was alarmed by what he saw as another potentially devastating crisis on the horizon. “It occurred to me while I was coordinating tonight’s missions: If people are now peeing into bags and huffing them, what’s to stop them from pooing into bags, and huffing that? That’s why this morning I am pleased to announce the formation of a brand new anti-Dooking task force, to help us coordinate our efforts in combating what has the potential to be a devastating new addiction for our children.”

The Sheriff had to cut the press conference short, as there were rumors that a small passenger plane carrying asparagus had entered Donar County airspace. “We will be taking that plane down with one of our Stinger missiles,” the Sheriff said, exiting the conference room. Later, after the passenger plane had been taken down, he winked at Channel 7′s camera and said, “Check, and mate,” in a comment apparently directed at a certain neighboring county’s sheriff’s department.

INTELLIGENCE ALERT
PINKARSKY COUNTY SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT

The Pinkarsky County Sheriff’s Department, in response to the recently uncovered Dooking Epidemic, is pleased to announce that it will be conducting random bathroom raids to ensure that people are defecating into their toilets, like they’re supposed to, and not defecating into bags and then huffing it, which is potentially dangerous and addictive.

“If these raids find evidence of even one person even thinking about Dooking, it will all be worth it,” Sheriff Waldo Heiny said. He added that parents can help the Sheriff’s Department by talking to their kids about the dangers of Dooking.

“What we found with Aspeeing is that the epidemic came upon us so fast that most kids hadn’t even heard of it, and didn’t even know about the danger they were in,” the Sheriff explained. “Now, we’re asking parents to help us spread the word about Dooking, and the process by which a person first defecates, or poops, into a bag, then places the open end of the bag up to their face and firmly closes the end of the bag around their mouth and nose (creating as air-tight a seal as possible), and then inhales deeply the aroma of feces (poop).”

The Sheriff added that parents should be on the lookout for suspicious behavior from their children while discussing these dangers with them. For instance, if a child claims never to have heard of Dooking, the Sheriff’s Department should be immediately contacted so that a raid can be coordinated. “Claiming to have never heard of Dooking is a defensive move common among Dookers,” the Sheriff said. Other suspicious behavior among Dookers includes having no interest in the subject of Dooking, asking too many questions about Dooking, or not asking enough questions about Dooking.

“To be safe, we’re planning on raiding the homes of all Pinkarsky County residents,” Sheriff Waldo Heiny said. “We’re just gassing up our armored vehicles, and then we should be ready to go.” He then added that he didn’t care what other, neighboring counties did, all the cared about was protecting his own residents.

DEA INTELLIGENCE ALERT – FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

The Drug Enforcement Agency is issuing a bulletin for all domestic police agencies. Over the past week, the Agency has become aware of two separate addiction epidemics, Aspeeing, and Dooking, which have devastated two small counties in America’s heartland. Thus far, more than 784 people have been killed, as law enforcement agencies in those communities have struggled to fight these addictions that are targeting our nation’s weakest people.

The DEA wishes to assure residents all over the world that it will spare no expense in fighting these scourges. It is pleased to announce that it is currently working with Senator Chuck Schumer to craft legislation that will empower federal law enforcement agencies to direct all necessary resources to fighting these two potentially devastating epidemics. “I see this as a real opportunity for us to get out in front of what has the potential to be a serious epidemic,” Senator Schumer said.

The DEA would further like to thank Sheriff Waldo Heiny of Pinkarsky County for bringing these epidemics to its attention.

FROM THE DONAR COUNTY EXAMINER
SHERIFF WHITTY CRAIN ARRESTED ON SUSPICION OF MURDER

Sheriff Whitty Crain has been arrested on suspicion of murdering Pinkarsky County Sheriff Waldo Heiny yesterday. Witnesses claim that Sheriff Crain was jealous that Sheriff Heiny had been mentioned in a press release from the Drug Enforcement Agency while he had not.

“This is a real tragedy,” said city councilwoman Irma Davois. “The Sheriff has been a tireless crusader for law and order, especially lately as he’s been out in front of two potentially devastating addiction epidemics — protecting our children from Dooking and Aspeeing. To see him facing these charges is a real blow.”

The body of Sheriff Waldo Heiny was found last night in own home. He’d apparently been shot with an AK-47, and his body squashed flat by an armored vehicle. Unconfirmed reports suggest that the words “I’M DOING MORE TO PROTECT THE PEOPLE IN MY COUNTY THAN YOU EVER DID IN YOURS, YOU STUPID JERK!” were found carved into his chest in tiny little letters, in handwriting similar to that of Sheriff Whitty Crain.

“He did have really distinctive handwriting,” said an unnamed source in the Donar County Sheriff’s Department.

Although charges are pending, Sheriff Whitty Crain has said he has no intention of resigning as sheriff. “There is still much that needs to be done to protect our residents. These charges are proof that I’ve been too effective. They’re all afraid of me, and how I’m protecting the people in my county! I can do it from jail!”

The Sheriff then began laughing maniacally and said that he was creating a task force to combat a new crisis he’d just heard about or thought might attack his county, this one in which people pee and poop on tampons, and then put them in their vaginas while listening to addictive music that comes from listening to pee and poop in a bag. He then added cryptically that, “No one wants to return to a time when just anyone could buy all the cold medicine they want without showing an ID, do they? Do they? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

The Sheriff’s lawyer, Manny Simon, noted that Sheriff Whitty Crain still has the community’s full support. “No one has done more to help this community through two recent crises, and everyone knows that.” He cited the fact that the Shriner’s of Columbus had not changed its plans to give Sheriff Whitty Crain its “Man of the Year” award next Saturday.

“He’s been a pillar of the community,” Simon said. “Unlike the sheriffs of some neighboring counties.”

Far from the land of Noah lived Moah. He also was warned of the flood but his task was simpler, rather than saving all of land fauna, Moah built his ark to accomodate all the people and livestock of his little town, most prominently his triplet sons; Bovus, Vincent and Cornelius. Before god spake to him, Moah was a skillful worker of the earth. Grains, cattle and vines he knew best of all men. Like even the ignorant he also kept chickens, sheep and gardened other crops like basil and mint. These arts he taught with perfect consistency to all three of his sons and all three became as much the master of them as their father. Came the day of rains and all the townspeople and their seed and their beasts boarded the ark and waited for the rains to end. Once they did and the waters receded the ark was wrecked on a mountaintop. Moah drowned in this disaster which saw the three sons with equal goods and equal survivors drift apart. Each finally settled on different sides of the mountain, separated by rock and ravine, thinking themselves the only party to live through the deluge.

Cornelius, his wife and children and friends, all came to rest on the eastern plain. Here there was fine earth for raising grain, good sun, just enough rain but too much for vines and there was little pasturage for the herds. Vincent’s people came to rest on the sou thern slopes where the warmth and loose soils made vines grow like well-fed sons but the plains were rocky; turning back seed and producing little grass for grazing. On the western side landed Bovus whose cattle devoured luxurious grass that stretched off far but the plain was no good for farming as the sod was so tight it could scarcely be cut with a knife, much less plowed. Vines would hardly flower given the cold mornings, brief sun and harsh soil of the permanent afternoon on the far side of the mountain.

Time passed, as it will, and each tiny, isolated community grew well. But finally the day came when the three sons, now old men, breathed their last. As they were born, so did they die. Simultaneously. All the mourners on whatever side of the mountain came to the same conclusion: our great man is dead, we should bury him with his father, or as well as we can. So they all set out for the ruined ark on the mountaintop which all could see but where none had ever set foot since that long ago day. The funeral parties, in as much finery as their hands could produce, came over the ridge and gazed at each other in amazement. The sons of Bovus came in thick clothing made of hides. They had been nursed on milk, meat and little else. They were strong and brutish; in the habit of killing whatever they ate. Alone among Moah’s people they had become hunters of game, fishers and gatherers of the few roots at the edge of their lands. Vincent’s people were fine and pale. Their clothes were of thin wool finely woven as their few sheep were coddled and treasured for their wool. Cattle they knew but could only keep a small herd on their poor grass. They had urns of wine though, and had been raised on grapes, olives, garlic and forrage. The clan of Cornelius was dressed in rude cloth made from the fibers of wheat stalks. But they had been raised on bread. Bread, bread and more bread. From farming grains on their good land they had more food than they could eat so they grew numerous. Their party was twice the other two put together. And they also knew cattle although they could not graze them. They fed their beasts grain also so there were not so many of them but they did produce milk and meat in limited quantities. Wine, they had forgotten; their old vintners died in frustration, but they had found beer while making their bread and the masters of beer and bread had discovered an amazing thing. Cheese.

All had heard the old stories, of course, and discovering that they all spoke the same language and had the same grandfather they came together, buried their fathers together and had one great mourning feast in the shadow of their once shared home. Each returned to their people with the astounding story and with the proof of it in goods the likes of which their families had never seen. The Bovines were astonished at bread, wine and most of all, cheese. In Cornova they marveled at clothes of wool and leather, having always been poorly clad. In Vineland they devoured the meat and fish that they usually had only on feast days while beer seemed a muddy miracle. Excitement boiled through all the people. It seemed like a new world had opened while an old one was re-discovered. They could rebuild everything now, re-populate and re-make all of Creation.

But in each camp there were some who did not think much of re-making. They had risen and prospered in their trades and were suspicious even if these were their long lost brothers. In Vinland the winemakers looked on beer as a horror. There was no art to this and no practical limit on its raw material of grain. Cheap beer poured into their houses producing drunkards in shocking numbers, drawing the boys from the vines and polluting even their women with daily drunkeness. In Bovus they devoured bread and drove herds over the mountain passes to trade for it but this was difficult. To even get a few beeves over they first had to get grain to feed them on the trip; grass could not be transported. But once in Cornova no one would trade for their cattle immediately for they knew that the cattle could not be grazed and therefore the price would come down over a few days time as the Bovines had to trade for grain just to feed them. In Cornova there was shock and angst over imported manners from both the Bovines and the Vintners; the one crude and violent, the other effete and superior. Wine and beef drove out beer and bread while both outsiders sought cheese above all and much desired the secret to its making to the point of spying, stealing and lying for it.

The result all around the mountain was a tranche of laws to control and finally forbid the cross border trade; laws that were subverted or ignored although great efforts were made to enforce them. The enforcers, after all, also liked beef and cheese and wine and beer which they were forbidden to get honestly. The tiny communities could only devolve into a state of near war; smuggling and hoarding led to raiding and thieving which led to kidnapping and murder. Grudges developed into feuds and feuds into battles. The most numerous Cornovans could spare the most men but the Bovines were most fierce. The Vintners, most cunning. On all slopes there were more men committed to protecting the fields and storehouses and fewer to working them. Where cooperation, a bit of patience and a bit of trust could have produced plenty for all, instead there came to be a wasteland, the mountain region returning to much what it was before the flood; before the coming of man with man himself becoming little more than a larger beast with stranger habits including an inexplicable animosity for similar beasts from the far valley. These idiosyncrasies were little noted by the outsiders who also had somehow survived the flood who one day came in numbers and with arms to take all they could find from all over the mountain leaving the sons of Moah bereft and astonished and now unable to distinguish one brother from another. So they dissappeared from the knowledge of men.

Former Green Bay Packers kicker Chester Marcol’s new autobiography looks to be a real humdinger.

From the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel, an excerpt:

“I had tried coke for the first time the week before, as training camp was winding down at St. Norbert’s College in DePere, Wisconsin. I was at a party and a woman asked me if I wanted to buy a gram for one hundred dollars. I vaguely remembered a friend warning me, ‘Don’t ever do cocaine. You might like it and get hooked.’  But I was drinking – I already had a problem with alcohol at that point – and your intellect doesn’t function very well when you’re drunk. So I bought the coke and tried it. To say I liked it would be an enormous understatement.

“Within a very short amount of time, I was buying a quarter-ounce of cocaine a week. I had purchased Kruggerands, gold pieces, as an investment and I remember going to the bank to withdraw them and selling them one at a time so I could buy coke. I ended up putting those Kruggerands right up my nose.

“My friend was right. I liked cocaine. I REALLY liked it. The second I snorted the drug for the first time, I was hooked. During the 1980 season, until I was cut by Coach [Bart] Starr, I used cocaine before every game. To this day, I’m convinced the coaches and management never knew about my coke use.

“When I discovered cocaine, it was the beginning of the end. Between alcohol, the prescription drugs I was abusing, and coke –especially coke – I was hardly ever sober anymore. In short order, I became an absolute mess.

“That’s why the Packers cut me. I couldn’t perform because of my drug use, though the team had no way of knowing that cocaine, alcohol, and pills were the reason for my erratic kicking. Drug-testing in the N.F.L. was still years away. I’m sure my decline baffled Starr and the coaching staff.”

xxx

William F Buckley was a miraculous man in several regards. Born with a platinum trust and a silver tongue he invented the Public Intellectual as we know him today; the glib proprietor of some venue, inviting in those with similar ambitions but divergent opinions for a quick flensing before a hostile scrum. He was quite nearly the inventor of modern conservatism, the ungay marriage of dusty, rarely followed moral precepts and musty, never followed fiscal principles. An iconclast, he managed to be unpredictable enough to rise to be the ONE out and proud conservative to be grudgingly admitted a modest intelligence. Somewhat famously, later in life, he made libertarian-based drug legalization his personal hobbyhorse and the open editorial position of The National Review. Less famously this came after a rather sanguine philosophical failure.

When it came to drugs, Buckley was against them before he was for ‘em. The internets only reveal evidence of Mr Buckley’s climb-down; a debate he engaged in with Charlie Rangel where he opposes Rangel’s nanny-state based expansion of the nation’s longest war by far, today’s War on Drugs. But I remembers it, oh yes I does. In the vid you will see Buckley state nonchalantly that he favors the execution of drug dealers to children, meaning minors. Before you break your neck in enthusiastic agreement with this bit of Hunnism, recall that the majority of those selling drugs to teens will likewise be teens, a complication not considered by the Buckley of ’91. And the Buckley prior was both more consistent and more savage. He was for a level of surveillance, intrusions and criminal sentencing that would make Mussolini crap his drawers. Perhaps Buckley’s writings contain something other than the usual ignorant braggadocio of the Drug Warrior to support this position but my memory of thirty years vintage states otherwise. Yes, Buckley was for prohibitions across the board enforced through capital punishment. But at least this would-be Caesar proved more educable than his peers. At least with the dramatic failures, costs and depredations decades of the Drug War revealed, he was able to moderate his position; really invert half of it and double down on the balance. Thus he arrives where he calls for decriminalization generally but capitalization as regards minors.

There was however an interim step. For years, as I recall it, Buckley was for SUPER-criminalization, using his slouch and chuckle to persuade his audience and his guests that nothing less than a campaign of prison-cities and mass hangings could stem the “disaster” of drug proliferation. Further, anyone who was not down for Terminator without the robots was “not serious” in their opposition to drugs.

This was a very weighty charge indeed, perhaps more so then than even now. To be unserious on drugs was to laugh at Len Bias’s funeral or to rejoice over John Belushi’s body bag. So any fool standing in the cockpit of Buckley’s ship had best be equipped with a pocket full of no no noes and but but buts.  The result of course was that the public pressures worked a ratchet; harshening sentences, expanding enforcement and deranging the dialogue. Privately, well, do you think a Buckley or a Gore or a Kennedy or a Bush would be subjected to such a regimen? We know better, some of us personally. Here the charge of malicious and debilitating racism is quite well founded. Plain old favoritism also obtains. So the whole edifice is rotten, contradictory and not working, some would say unworkable. Yet it thrives and not least because of the ancient machinations of William F Buckley which he came to revise but not publicly regret. Even later he became a fanatic prohibitionist of that most deadly of consumer products, tobacco but only after the death of his beloved wife (at a ripe age) to smoking related illness. What we must conclude, with some surprise, is that the giant Bill Buckley was not, in the end, a man of principle.

Nope, he was a reactionary and subject to manic passions. How else can we explain his flips, his flops and most damaging of all, the fact that neither he or anyone else in public office ever denounce these grotesque usurpations on principle. Isn’t this the interminable bleat of the proud “conservative”? Where ever the Conservative looks he sees a breach of the Constitution. So riddle me this? What enumerated power in the Constitution validates the War on Drugs? The response will be a hemming and hawing at the Commerce Clause that makes Obamacare’s presumptions sound convincing. And yet still, excepting only the Pauls, there are none in public life who will ask this obvious question. And why? Because it has an obvious answer. No Virginia, there is NO Constitutionally valid foundation for forbidding anyone to pick a plant from the ground and put it into their body.

And Lefties, you can just quit smiling. The simple and factual declaration of Dr Paul on our natural born freedoms were used as a cudgel to rubbish the Republican debate and any sprouting dissent on the Drug War in one whack. This is the pattern and you know it. It is plain that questions on medical marijuana or drug issues generally are scrubbed from Obama and Democratic town halls. How much of Obama’s support came from those who thought he had a secret desire and plan to mitigate the Drug War? And yet what has been the result? The only softening, predictably, is in the public but quiet surrender of the term, War on Drugs while Kinetic Incarceration Action continues unebbed.

Waive away all these old grudges and throw out the ledgers. Now, clowntime is over. There is a threat too great for any of us to ignore. The devil’s comin’ out of Georgia and he’s lookin’ for a poll to steal….

Newt Gingrich. Newt Gingrich. Feel the stench of that name in your throat because Newt Gingrich is grooming himself for a bust in the Mad Tyrant Wing of whatever museum might survive his existence. For Newt has taken a page from Buckley; he embraces execution of so-called “drug dealers” on a Singaporean model. Now, in this instance he was not burping up his own idea, a fondness for Singaporean Justice was slo-pitched him by OReilly, that dim-witted model for wrinkle cream. But neither of these besuited offenses to public decency could spare a syllable for the differences between ourselves and the Chinese nationalist relic in the swamp that is Singapore or whether those differences might be there for a reason. These chumps seem to think we will scarcely notice a smooth transition to Singaporean norms which also outlaw chewing gum and feature public floggings for things like vandalism. Where is THAT in the Constitution, I long to learn.

Some may complain that this animated effigy of Bilbo Baggins is a harmless sort. Look at him snigger and jig. And maybe in his heart, he is a good leprechaun, but that is worse. That would mean that he knows good and well that the Drug War is unworkable, illegal and in full measure un-American. Yes, it certainly is within the habits of the Newt we know for him to conciously ape that long transformation of Buckley’s, later to become the libertarian champion of de-crim as Buckley did. But to achieve this aim he will promote a tyranny over citizens that even Hitler did not. That’s not hyperbole folks, that is fuckin’ fact. Maybe it IS Newt’s goal to scare us straight but as the super-smart historian he claims to be, certainly he must know that many a war or other disaster has come from the untimely detonation of this kind of reverse vulcan nerve pinch maneuver in the perpetrator’s face. But it would be just like him to know this and believe that his knowledge would protect him from such a misfortune. He is about the only figure we know that would try to cynically claim the mantle of the toughest Drug Warrior of all time and then cynically burn that as a sacrifice to emerge as the generous despot, ceremonially opening the granaries that had been filled through confiscation.

Of course to do that he would have to go further than Buckley, especially since he will be, if the plan works out, President of These United States. Newt of course will have to ACTUALLY hang some drug dealers. He will have to hold court over a vigorous few years at least of random citizen drug tests, thoroughly patrolled and controlled borders, doubled, tripled, quadrupled drug sentences famously including death and then, when the time is ripe and disaster has touched every street and every life, regretfully accept his failures.

Oh yeah, THAT’S the Newt we know!

This loon needs stopping and I don’t mean soon.

10. You don’t care who you get your shamrocks off with

9. You keep going up to strangers and saying, “Ire me; I’m kiss-ish!”

8. You think a tube of toothpaste is astronaut food

7. You keep wishing someone would drive the snakes out of your head

6. You wonder how you wound up with a lower stomach tattoo that says “Kiss My Lucky Charms!”

5. You’re now thinking Sarah Palin is Presidential material

4. You can actually see leprechauns

3. You make Charlie Sheen look like Justin Bieber

2. You wonder how you wound up with a bent shillelagh

1. You spend the entire night doing your Linda Blair impression
 

Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.

10. During your physical, they found traces of blood in your alcohol

9. At AA meetings you begin: “Hi, my name is… uh…Wait, I know this as well as I know my own name….‘Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday, dearrrrr…’”

8. You keep claiming you’re “as jober as a sudge”

7. You make Lindsay Lohan look like Susan Boyle

6. The room is spinning faster than a hamster wheel

5. You’re wondering how you wound up with a chest tattoo of Cloris Leachman

4. You have toilet seat bruises all over the back of your head

3. Your idea of cutting back is less salt on the rim of your Margarita glass

2. You keep falling off the floor

1. You think Sarah Palin would make a great President
 

Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.

No, I am not talking about the heartwarming 1993 movie about the love affair between a young boy and a killer whale. I am talking about the weekend arrest of grizzled country music star Willie Nelson for marijuana possession. It just ain’t right.

I wouldn’t necessarily say I am digging Willie Nelson getting arrested for pot possession, it’s more like angered and amazed by this.  Let me preface this all by saying that I hate country music with an unbridled passion. I try not to use the word hatemuch, and reserve the word only for country music, the show TMZ, the band Nickelback, and the entire New York Yankees organization.  So while I am not a Willie Nelson music fan, I am definitely a Willie Nelson person fan. He is no doubt an icon with that greasy ponytail and crusty beard that probably still has food in it from something he ate in 1972. The guy also made a cameo in “Half Baked” where he said the classic line, “I remember when a dime bag used to cost a dime.” And for that alone, I think Willie Nelson seems like a pretty cool dude. So who could possibly arrest this beloved free spirit for doing something he truly enjoys doing?    

I think it is also fair for me to say that I am not one of those “Legalize Pot” advocates either. While I certainly think the stuff should be legal to some extent, or at least decriminalized, I am not like that guy we all knew in college who would marvel at all the wonders of hemp. Like hemp could do all this incredible stuff and achieve world peace, end world hunger, and solve a Rubik’s cube. But I do think it’s absurd that someone would waste their time arresting Willie Nelson for it.  

I can imagine this country-fried hillbilly sheriff rubbing his hands together in glee as if Roscoe P. Coltrane finally caught the Duke boys.  Great work Sherlock Holmes! You found some weed on the bus of a 73 year old country music legend who openly expresses his love for marijuana and is the co-chair of the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws (NORML).

Here are some more crime tips, Columbo: you may find weed on Snoop Dogg or Cypress Hill’s tour bus as well, or find a lethal amount of ozone killing hairspray on Bon Jovi’s bus.  And it’s pretty’s safe to say you will find a cache of weapons, weed, and Cristal champagne on any given rapper’s bus. 

I’d be thrilled as a taxpayer in Texas to know that money and time was spent on busting Willie Nelson for pot. I’m sure everyone in Texas is sleeping better tonight knowing that despicable and dangerous criminal is off the streets. Oh, and I am certain ol’ Willie learned a lesson and will never ever touch that naughty weed again.  And if you believe all that, you must be smoking the stuff yourself!

After a long day at the office (my couch), I can’t think of a better way to unwind than with my favorite caffeinated malt liquor beverage: Four Loko. You can see why, then, I was so shocked to hear that my beloved Loko was being pulled from shelves. What’s the matter, Uncle Sam? Scared of a good time? Afraid you might have too much fun? I didn’t realize our government was run by a bunch of grandmas.

Upon hearing the dreadful news, I decided there was only one reasonable way to make the case against the banning of caffeine in these beverages. I was going to buy a case of Four Loko, share it with my friends, and record everything in my journal. Here’s what happened:

I got back to my apartment with my new case of Four Loko (I decided on Four MaXed Gold flavor. I normally think of myself as more of a regular plain Four Loko drinker, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to really pull out all the stops on this one.  It’s like picking Mountain Dew over Pepsi.  You’re still getting the kick, but you look cooler) and threw it down on the coffee table. Next, I was going to call up all of my friends.  They would love this idea.

“Hey _____, it’s Matt!”

“Oh hey Matt.  I’m so glad you called. You’re a great friend.”

“Thanks, I know. Hey, here’s a question. Would you like to drink a case of Four Loko with me to show everyone how it’s NBD?”

“Wow, Matt. That sounds great. I’d love to help. Be right over.”

I decided to crack my first Loko in the process and got to the calling.

Unfortunately, all of my friends were busy. But hey, that’s what happens with these real life experiments. Some people just can’t hang. You can’t plan this sort of thing! This is life on the edge. Guerilla Journalism.  That’s quite alright, I thought. I’ll just do it myself.

I figured I should try and accomplish something practical while drinking my Lokos so as to prove that they did not hinder my judgement any more than any other beverage would. A quick look in my day planner revealed I had nothing planned.

Oh, I actually forgot to mention this, but it’s probably important. I’m not really a drinker. Meaning, I’ve never drank before. I figured that would make me an even better test subject for my experiment. I’m pure.  It’s like drawing a picture on a fresh piece of paper. It’s the best. I’m the best.

Cut to a few hours later. Six Lokos deep and wandering around my local pharmacy. It’s amazing what you can accomplish when you have a few liters of Loko in you. Before I knew it I was getting all my daily errands done in record time, and making a lot of new friends along the way. I couldn’t believe anyone would rally against this. Especially the government! What better way to stimulate the economy than to give your citizens a drink that not only makes them forget all their troubles, but also gives them the energy to accomplish everything they’ve become too depressed to do?

Turns out, I was never at the pharmacy. Apparently, Four Lokos can make you black out when you drink eight of them. I woke up the next morning in the dumpster of my local Panera Bread covered in sourdough bread bowls. I was also covered in vomit.

Well, wait a minute. What can we take away from all of this? Is Four Loko bad? The short answer is, I have no idea. In fact, none of this really happened. I made it up. This was a fiction piece. Thank you. Have a great weekend!