As a child of the 80’s, we were inundated with various levels of panic growing up. Never talk to strangers. Especially ones with puppies, candy and white panel vans. Satanic panic was real and Ozzy was taking us straight to hell. I mean the princes of darkness did bite the head off a dove and a bat.
This did not incline me one bit to make an altar and worship Satan. I do, however, believe that Warpigs by Black Sabbath is one of the greatest antiwar songs ever. Second only to Fortunate Son, which I found it amazingly ironic to be used during President bone spurs’ super fun birthday military parade party.
Much like Reefer Madness in 1936 was used to warn the kids of the dangers of dope. We were gifted a gem in 1979 called Over The Edge. Matt Dillions first movie. It was a great tale of kids growing up in a planned community losing their minds on drugs and ending it all with mayhem and murder.
None of this phased me, but I was always afraid that I was going to get dosed angel dust in my pixie stix on Halloween. Maybe chase it with a razor blade apple and a cyanide Tylenol.
No worries folks, everything is going to be ok. We were blessed with a gift, a simple phrase to keep us safe. Say it with me…
Just say no.
Who knew that regime meddling by the CIA could have a an impact on the eventual crack epidemic. The Iran-Contra affair is a wicked awesome part of American History. Either way it did end up starting a War on Drugs, which ultimately became just a war on American addicts.
I am bouncing from tip to tip of various icebergs of information rabbit holes to travel down. I feel like I should tape up my tinfoil hat now.
I know too much…
Whatever. They never teach the good shit in history class. School curriculums seem to skirt provocative truths. However we did get the DARE program.
So for the uninitiated, let me set the scene.
This had to be during 7th grade science class. We had a special visitor. One of Flower Mound’s finest showing up with a metal case to class. This metal brief case looked important, as if he was in charge of the nuclear football for the President. Once opened up, we could gander at the collection of what some people would consider a bitchin’ weekend. Labeled under the Lexan glass, were all the drugs. Coke, crack, weed, acid, mushrooms, uppers, downers, heroin, syringes, vials, pipes and goofballs. But wait there’s more.
Our over exuberant science teacher, looking like Jack Tripper from Three’s Company, had a joint. A fucking joint, that he proceeded to light up in class in front of us for educational purposes.
We all knew that this was not the first joint to ever be in this questionable man’s hands. Maybe the first time that day. He then went on to hot box a bunch of 7th grade kids so we would know what the devil’s lettuce smelled like.
So every once in awhile, when talking with others who have been indoctrinated, we seem to come to the same conclusion. Were they trying to scare us into becoming narcs. On our parents. Take the war on drugs home and confiscate some poor kid’s parent’s stash for their own personal testing and educational needs. Who knows, I do love a good conspiracy.
Fast forward to today and what the DARE program did not prepare me for. The war on drugs has changed. The enemy was positioned to be either someone we knew or some dudes on an NWA album cover.
They arrested Tommy Chong for selling bongs and finally caught Willie Nelson at a border checkpoint with some grass. I guess Ice Cube got the hint the gig was up and went on to make family friendly movies.
The crack epidemic became passe and over half the states have legalized weed. OMG, the end of days are here. I could give a shit. I do not partake and do not care if that is what people chose to do.
The enemy now is big pharma. Painkillers and mommy meth are the true gateway drugs to fentanyl and actual meth. Get them hooked, profit, then leave them to chase the dragon down on the black market.
One cannot watch television without being pitched another drug. They all seem to fix one problem, maybe unless you are allergic. Then never take this pill.
You. Will. Die.
You will have a fabulous head of hair and a boner, but then there is an unending list of ways this prescription will permanently disfigure you. Somehow, 4 hours is the magic time frame when a stiffy needs to be amputated. Can’t sleep, take some Lunesta, you will not remember you were awake for the drive to commit a murder of someone that made fun of you as a child. I still remember the punk that called me an ice cream cone head in elementary school and the bite he received was no way near the level of retribution he deserves. That reminds me, I need to get his address before I slip into a deep sleep. I am not right in the head If I don’t get a solid eight hours.
The social media algorithm has become the new pusher.
Who knew in the days of the DARE program we would all have a device in our pockets, that in itself is addictive, but tailors messages to individuals to try this new drug. With so many different ways that CDB is being infused into everything. Other elixirs have been contrived to offer the benign benefits of mood enhancement and mental clarity. Mushroom teas and coffee additives to essentially micro dose. Better living through chemistry. Most of these things that have been sourced by the head of procurement are just snake oil, taste like crap and make me feel dumber than I already am.
Be warned, there are things that turn out to be way more than you expect on the instabook. Mushroom infused chocolate bars. If you make the mistake of ordering this on the interwebs and the label states it does not contain psilocybin. DO NOT, for the love of all things holy, eat the entire bar simply because it’s delicious.
I was going to post the picture of this evil chocolate bar, but I figured that my warning would be taken as an endorsement.
I do not need you guys scrambling for your head phones curled up on the couch listening to music by Beck and Cake losing your mind.
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