Its okay, this is a safe place, you're amongst friends...

I'm not some tragically burnt Phish food addict blindly dedicated to a prolonged derangement of the senses in the vague hope that drugs may actually transform the music into something worth listening to. Adversely, I roundly reject, nay, blatantly condemn this outlandish waste of time and resources so perfidiously dubbed the "War on Drugs". Since the inception of said war, every last one of these grossly wasteful law makers has cast a lifetime of stones at the demonized "drug crazed" children of America. And for all the bruises that had been inflicted, we still stand, ragged crazed and dangerously aware of the hands then held us down. However grimly disguised as upright citizens, the denizens of the drug culture have proven one thing beyond all else. Drugs don't make you a monster, political discourse takes care of that transformation.

It's terror, really, that keeps us subdued. Not ours but theirs. The powers that be keep it all out of reach for fear that one day, one of their own young wet behind the brain children might roll up a joint at the dinner table, crank the Zeppelin on the family Victrola, and in one massive coffin sealing outburst, reveal once and for all before the gathered generations of old white money that "Yes Mom and Dad, I've met someone. His name is Terry, he is beautiful, and by the way, I voted democrat." ....The horror the horror...
    

 This, according to my watch, is about the time that the average reader will open the mental trash shoot and dump me in with the rest of the "Legalize it" crowd. Don't mistake me for a flower strewn lay-about hugging trees and haplessly hacky sacking his way across the quad bound for ultimate frisbee tournament glory with joint in hand and I won"t go mistaking any of you for the "average" reader. You know as well as I do that if you wanted some hack to feed you garbled lies you could easily tune in to fox or cnn or the weather channel. But you're here with me now which sets you apart from the shaved apes in suits. You desire a different brand of news. The sort not often practiced these days. The accurate portrayal of life outside the prison walls.

Which brings us round to the point... which is usually not my way...filling rants with gibberish is one thing, but factual statistics to support outlandish ideas, well shit, that just not the way we operate around here...but here it is from the folks who brought you the Zapruder film, the 911 commission, illegal wire taps and police issued sunglasses...

...Inside actual prison walls exists an enormous population of ( 25% of American prisoners or 500,000 to be exact) non-violent offenders incarcerated on marijuana related charges. One could argue that a country wallowing in deep recession could benefit from the conversion of these charges to time served thus freeing up the annually dispersed 2 billion plus dollars spent on housing said inmates. True there are no web pages dedicated to the locating and tracking of "pot heads" which will make it more difficult to protect your precious Doritos from these glassy eyed undesirables, but opening up all those misappropriated jail cells would make room for the sex offenders, murderers and other violent recidivists our justice system feels slated to let off with what many agree to be far from adequate sentences.

What the square community is running from in advocating harsher penalties for any drug related offense is the basic fear pounded into them by main stream medias ignorance of the drugs themselves. For decades anti-drug/pro-fear propaganda has steadily circulated through society in an unyielding attempt to terrify the law abiding into "just saying no". However, these same scared citizens have either ignored or just plain weren't told, that the dangers associated with these drugs have been egregiously exaggerated. Now don't get the wrong idea, there are a slew of dangerously addictive life stunting drugs out there, and your doctor can prescribe you all of them.
 
Point of fact, marijuana isn't one of those drugs. You will not go half mad with rage or break into your granny's house in search of silver heirlooms. You most certainly will not throw yourself from a moving vehicle under its influence, unless of course a hostess truck is heading in the opposite direction. At best, you chance getting bored of conventional wisdom moving to India and finding inner peace through transcendental meditation. More than likely you'll stay home on the couch laughing at Scooby Doo reruns and eating Funions.

The Occupation

The emaciated bellies of the working/starving class groaned in unison. As the sound tore through the empty evening a thought emerged and wouldn't yield. Soon an idea grew and refused to be stifled. Collectively they plotted against the old guard...united they stood, a nation of misrepresented and utterly ignored citizens. A plan was hatched to put things right, and in the eyes of these abused and broken, this would be the revolution their country so desperately desired.  Soon they gathered in the city squares determined to obstruct various injustices in an attempt to make their case heard. Naturally camera crews would be dispatched to infiltrate the swarm and get a sniff of the "real story".

Reporters from every major network would eventually descend upon the growing protest in search of a ratings boost. But just who do you think they'll drag out of the crowd to represent the thousands gathered against the machine? Surely no one who would be taken seriously by the story hungry media monster. Don't for a second assume the newly appointed spokesman will be articulate or even warmly quotable. No sir, the seasoned mass media drones will no doubt drag some half stoned unwashed "freak" out in front of the nation to stumble through a host of bizarre questions perfectly designed to make the gathered masses look like fools. The game is afoot. Prepare to mock the potentially dangerous situation into comedic obscurity and send the slaves back into the mines.

Soon the rumor mill begins churning out a chaotic curmudgeon of misinformation. Weeks of Early Show pokes and prods will reduce what started as a noble attempt to shift the balance of power to an unintelligible infantile "fit". The protesters will be given fair warning now to vacate. Slowly the rest of the nation, buying into the propaganda, (as it is in our nature to believe whatever the television tell us to believe) will turn on the protesters and the police will employ riot dispersal tactics. Teargas canisters and mace bombs fly into crowded streets. It begins to become clear now to the beer swilling recliner bound retiree glued to the television that non-violent protesters exercising their rights are a force to be reckoned with.

Each day will begin the same in cities across the nation. A request to disperse followed by a warning. Before long innocent men women and children singing songs of freedom and embracing a new ideology are assaulted on all sides. Newscasters paint a picture of rebellious youth turned misguided mob mentality running wild in YOUR fair city streets. While threats of violence and the fear of legal reprisal send some quickly to their homes many others will stand their ground and wind up behind bars for their "seditious" acts. Warped statistics will speed across television screens: 200 arrested, 12 officers assaulted.

The morning papers flooded with misinformation hit the stands swaying more and more onlooker opinions before the ink has had a chance to dry.

"Peaceful Protesters Resort to Violence!"

"Madness in The Streets!"                               

"Drugs Play Large Part in Death of Protest"

The onlookers stop now only to stare at the twisted wreckage of protesters tangled in the gears of the propaganda machine. Ongoing, but less frequent coverage of the growing confusion will paint a picture of failure.  Clever editing plays its part in proliferating authoritative claims, further banishing the actual message into an abysmal mass media fog.

There are media outlets who in an attempt to clear the air will want to speak to those who spearheaded this campaign. A small amount of ink will be allocated to the truth. But by this time the national opinion is set in stone. The damage is done. A few hundred like minded souls will pull off similar but drastically smaller demonstrations and those of us who get the meaning will be wary of any media attention.

This pattern of counter intelligence is no new tactic. Create confusion and turn the people against each other to disrupt the flow of accurate information. When the hippies got the upper hand on the country Nixon and his successors worked tirelessly to destroy any chance of ever again losing over to the unwashed masses. And in the new millennium it seems the villainous plot is ever thickening. But be warned, while the cameras turn away in utter dismissal, the unseen revolution grows by leaps and bounds.


       
 

"Progress as a concept is a many headed beast. Some of these heads have more uses than others, and those heads of the whore beast we find ourselves inclined to abuse for the purposes of furthering our own endeavors become tools in the process of putting said beast down."

observations of a bloodshot mind

 

On the outskirts of a shanty town, borderline inconsequential USA. A duty free half metropolitan nowhere. All morning haunted by strange occurrences leaving my weary mind in semi-panic. These streets are jam packed with crushed and crumpled automotive disasters. The inhabitants of this sprawling distopia meander through traffic with blank faces. A steam like haze hangs eternally here. Sweat pours and the soles of old shoes stick to what long ago could have been called pavement. I make my cautions known to the dozens of strange silent wanderers with a blow of the horn every fifteen feet or so. My charge on this unforgiving afternoon lay less than one half mile from here, though it seems several hours may pass between now and my arrival. I can make no sense of this paradox, so I light another in a seemingly endless line of cigarettes and wait for the fifth revolution of this meaningless traffic light. I let out the clutch and roll four and a half some odd feet forward. One mindless indecisive bastard piloting a ravaged mini van makes his way into the intersection, stops, contemplates the magnitude of the left/right inquiry fumbles about the turn signal and proceeds forward in the nick of time. The light is red again and I fight the urge to vomit vengeful rage. It is at this moment, with the magnitude of the day upon me, that I catch a calming glimpse of ravaged beauty. A dizzying realization. A rare porcelain memento kept frozen in minds eyes to be reflected upon for many...minutes to come. 

"No dogs...?"

Truly baffling to have never seen this. For years I've crawled along these nearly uninhabitable homes keeping the pace of slumbering snails in an effort to keep the food fresh and the lights on. Yet never before noticing the lack of a canine presence. 

"Sweet fucking mystery of mankind", I cried out, "This place isn't fit for stray dogs. How do they entice the humans to stay...?"
 

At my earliest convenience, which took the form of an ambulance thoughtlessly charging the street corner, I changed course for the farthest bar. If a dog wouldn't drink in this shit hole, I damn sure wasn't going to take a nip.

Still, there's something more than disturbing about this town. Its as though its citizenry all survived some phenomenally unnatural disaster that no ones had the gumption to explain. An endless blockade of corpses walking silent and thoughtless toward a common uncertainty.     

what i learned on my summer vacation...

I have in my festering and often disheveled mind an old photo. That of a man and his son hard at work toiling away the sun drenched afternoon in the field adjacent to their home. Suffering the heat to bring home the fruits of their various labors...the family business so to speak. From the porch Mother can be obviously viewed. She no doubt awaits the two for supper as the day nears completion.

The house stands in solitude on acres of property undisturbed by what we would come to understand as "progress". They will suffer drought this very summer and the land in its callous manner, will yield no crops. They'll quickly discover the reserve of coin will only stretch as far as September. Half a herd of cattle frozen dead from a too long winter and the mortgage will soon need attention. The bank will send a low level flunky two or three times in the months to come. Inevitably the Sheriff himself will ride out to inform Pa that the time has come to cut his losses. Family farms have a way ,historically speaking, of falling out from under the families who built them, thus leaving the lands sole salvation in the greasy fingers of the soul crushing banker. Sure a missed payment may go unnoticed and equally be forgiven after harvest, but this year is different. This year the "progress" once only softly spoken of as though a dangerous secret, has come to town and taken up residence at our farmers front porch.

"The railroad shows great interest," the savage banker explains. "And we'd be more than happy to forgive your debt and help you relocate with a few extra bills in your fold. But the forfeiture of this land is eminent, so a choice must be made."

After many tearful discussions Ma and Pa decide remorsefully to embrace the banks "generosity". Days later, with son in toe, and  very few meager keepsakes at their side, they march off toward an unknown future. A once proud lineage of relentless determination and harmony with the soil has been dashed to pieces. The sun sets over our farm for the last time. Had this been a movie the screen would fade ominously blank and we'd leave with the knowledge that by this time next year the kitchen where mother once proudly provided loving nourishment for her kin will be just another ticket window.


Not what you'd call a feel good flicker show. Though the brutish reality is captured forever as we watch our neighbors painfully deteriorate into similar situations. Years of prompt or even occasionally early payments to a blood sucking beast (whose unquenchable thirst emaciates the modestly stocked cash box on interest alone) mean nothing when your job is outsourced. A second or third job may afford you the luxury of paying off the late penalties while simultaneously attempting to stay current on the monthly note. Of course amenities will be cut to down to bare necessities and family time will be reduced to mere moments each day. Soon the choice of food over gasoline. Then water or electricity.  Eventually the farmers choice becomes yours. The only conceivable way of surviving. Never mind the ten plus years of faithful service to the plump parasitic sadists at the helm. That was then this is now. and now we have a fucking railroad to drive through your backyard. or a shopping mall to erect in honor of the gods of capitalism. So pack your shit, see you next Tuesday, be out by dawn. But the screen somehow wont lose its illumination just yet. The credits refuse to roll because the shows not over till your at the end of a rope with a magnum in your teeth. In between we'll follow our characters through a series of social service offices scum bag motels part time jobs and trips to several last chance bars until what little dignity remained after being relieved of your hard earned life has dwindled to just enough courage to beg for a dollar to buy one more attempt at drowning your self in booze before finally putting yourself down rather than wait for the dog catchers to swoop in and castrate the stray.

What manner of civilization is this?                  

well then, welcome aboard my festering brain come in come in

People of...whatever shit hole planet you happen to hail from... i bring you good tidings of vigilante journalism too improperly educated to obtain a high powered career anywhere on the fast track to glory. Instead, my friends, we set up shop a few miles to the left on a blistering remorseless two lane blacktop just close enough to the square community to be seen with the lights on.

My intent here is to spread a sort of message to mainstream medias victims and its slaves that there are still those of us who can see what is really going on. We few with eyes and minds opened wide enough demand a fair shake and a chance at the dreams we were told to hold fast to in our youth.

Let this be a free source of information, ideas and opinions not heard in everyday travels.

Be not alarmed my dears, this is only a test...of your courage and willingness to fight the beasts of oppression and censorship.

 But lets not get too far ahead of ourselves. For now may i just say hello, welcome, and please check your ignorance at the door.