The “Human” Stage

When Pink Floyd said, “I was just a child then, now I’m only a man,” they were hinting that we tend to dismiss our failings by minimizing our capacities. Being the idealistic fool that I am, it disturbs me when bad behavior gets written off as “merely human,” especially when the one doing the “writing off” is also the one who has behaved badly. Even when motivated by more “altruistic” concerns, I’m still disturbed that we demand so little from ourselves and each other. And no matter how good we’ve become at settling for less, I have to ask: How has our trying to cheat our way through worked out for us?

An unfortunate fact of reality is that our abilities to conceal, ignore, pretend, and steal help out a lot when dealing with those who would do us harm. And I’ll bet that those same abilities were very useful in all of those hostile environments that our species have had to evolve through. But another unfortunate fact is that those same abilities have also been the root cause of all human conflict. And while we may still face many “natural threats,” the most undeniable fact of all is that, in today’s world, we are our own worst enemy.

As I said in my article, It’s Nature’s Way Of Telling You Something’s Wrong:

But the laws of God or Science (your choice) use volcanism and weather to maintain the Earth’s energy balance. They also use famine and disease to maintain the Earth’s wildlife population balance. And despite our apparent belief that mankind is above the law, those same forces provide the means to keep us in check as well.

It’s called War….

The fact that we have such a knack for behaving badly, combined with that behavior having been so instrumental in getting us to where we are, might lead some to think that we’re locked into a fatal “Catch-22″ that will inevitably result in our destruction. I have to admit that I swing back and forth between excepting that we truly are fated to destroy ourselves, and what I’m afraid is a hopelessly idealistic faith that we can work things out. Considering the epic numbers of prescriptions being written for depression and other anxiety related illnesses, I think that I have more than a little company in that regard.

In a comment thread on What side of your Brian do you use?, I said (talking about yoga):

Building up my strength, balance and flexibility sounds good. Maybe it’ll ease my mind from thoughts like “Peace from the type of troubles we have is going to require another step in our evolution.”

Could it be that we must grow beyond the “Human” stage in our evolution in order to survive yet another great threat to our existence? We’ve done it before. Can we do so again quickly enough to avoid extinction?

Perhaps it’s as they say, “Timing is everything.” What do you think?

I want ice water.

Tolerance… Not! Smoking

At the risk of wasting even more of my precious breath, I want to talk about the new taxes being levied against us smokers. No, I’m not going to try to defend smoking - I know it’s bad for me. Blah, blah, blah. Instead, I want to defend my right to be treated as an equal in this society. An equal who should be free from the “targeting of convenience” mentality that seems to be running rampant in cash-starved government revenue agencies.

Being a cheapskate on a fixed budget I make my own cigarettes, so having the price of a 16oz bag of tobacco go $18 to $44 seems a wee bit EXCESSIVE to me. Regardless of all the babble about encouraging us to stop and using the money to fund health care efforts, we all know that this is nothing more than a grab for cash from a group who isn’t “popular” enough for anyone to defend. Hell, I’m probably one of the few smokers even willing to speak out. But before you dismiss me a just another nut fighting a lost cause, take a minute to allow me to add some reality to the issue.

First of all, what will happen to all those poor people whose health is being “saved” with this new revenue if this “encouragement to quit” blackmail actually works? Do you really believe that they think we will all quit? Second, if my health is such a concern to the government, then why do they block every attempt of the tobacco and pharmaceutical industries to market a smoke-free nicotine delivery system? While you can argue that nicotine is unhealthy, only a fool would say that it poses the health threat of all those other chemicals in cigarette smoke.

Of course, the real question is this: If tobacco is such a dangerous thing that poses such a threat to all of us, then why doesn’t the government just ban it outright? Please allow me to spell it out for you. The government knows that a ban on tobacco would only lead to a massive black market that they cannot prosper from. Then why not allow healthier alternatives that can be taxed? Because, like any addict, they’ve told so many lies that they simply can’t figure out how to do the right thing without revealing what monstrous hypocrites they truly are!

Indeed, the marketplace offers many opportunities for revenue generating regulation and taxation - drugs and prostitution are just a couple more examples. But rather than face the truth and deal with these things with the rational thinking they say we should use, they prefer to maintain their “because we said so!” attitudes and continue wasting precious lives and billions of dollars on lost-cause anti-crime efforts and drug wars.

And speaking of drugs, there’s a medium sized debate going on about whether or not marijuana should be legalized. While “the conservatives” argue against it because of the so-called “gateway” effect, the health nuts argue that marijuana smoke is even more unhealthy than cigarette smoke. But do you hear any of them admitting that making the prescription drug Marinol available over the counter to adults would solve this problem?

In closing, I want to remind you that smokers aren’t the only “targets of convenience” available for these new revenue enhancement measures. Drivers should be concerned about all those traffic cameras and the talk of new fuel consumption taxes. And what about the “fat taxes” I keep hearing about? The bottom line is that anyone not protected by the umbrella of “popularity” should keep an eye out - and up - for the big boot of government.

I am always amazed at how casually some can simply dismiss the rights of others simply because they don’t approve of how “those people” live. The issue here is not about health, the poor, or the Prez’s agenda. The issue is whether or not the majority has the right to target an “unpopular” group for taxation that is not shared across the board by all citizens. My answer is No! In a free society, there can be no such thing as the right to deny the rights of others.

On a more humorous note, maybe this ultra-litigious society provides hope after all. Remember all those new laws intended to protect the decent non-smokers from the horrors spewing from my mouth? Recent polls show that less than 20% of Americans smoke these days, while I think at least 95% spew forth mind-crushing second-hand bull#$%@. Where do I go to get laws passed protecting me from them?

I want ice water.

Me No Know KeyMoSobbi - Part 6

Again with the endless questions. Please note that this time there will be a test.

1. The ’progressive’ U.S. tax system requires the wealthy to pay more taxes than the poor. In fact, those at the top end of the income scale are sometimes expected to pay thousands of times more than those at the low end of the income scale. Why then, are people surprised that the principles separating freedom fighters from pirates have become corrupted?

2. How is it that American citizens can express more outrage at the treatment of people who openly desire the destruction of our country than they do at the treatment of Americans imprisoned simply because of how they chose to treat their own bodies? Or should the question be why are they surprised that those prisoners are being treated that way considering how we treat our own people? Please note that just as ’high minded’ butting in has inspired the terrorists, it has also inspired a flagrant disregard for the law by many of our own people.

3. The news is filled with talk about the racist history of the Washington, DC area. I suppose they think that shocking us with such ’terrible revelations’ will inspire us to watch their wall-to-wall coverage of the upcoming Obama inauguration. But considering that we know all to well that this country was built on the backs of slaves, just who is it that they think will be shocked? I just want all the hoopla to be over so the man can get on with the monstrous task ahead of him. What would shock me would be for all those talking heads to shut up for a change and let the poor guy do his job!

4. Being the eternal optimist who always looks for the silver lining, do you think that maybe my distant cousins will finally get Manhattan Island back after all is said and done? Okay, enough with the laughing about the ’eternal optimist’ bit!

5. Who in hell designed the standard keyboard layout? After all this time using it, I still hit Delete when I want End and write nad when I mean and. It’s not my fault I tell ya!

6. I don’t normally watch the show Ghost Whisperer because it’s so depressingly reminiscent of all that supernatural crap from my childhood. But the lack of cable has caused me to watch a lot of shows lately that I wouldn’t normally watch. Having it on my TV right now has inspired me to wonder about some of my own dead friends and family. Here are just a few of my thoughts:

a. Was my brother sad that he wouldn’t be able to spend the Easter of 1970 with me while he was dying from two gunshots to the chest? The police said that the shooter was my brother’s best friend, in a drug-induced craze, using my brother’s own gun. Others said that the police had framed my brother’s friend for a hit actually done by them to prevent my brother from testifying in a police-involved stolen property case.

b. What was it like for my father to die all alone in the V. A. hospital during that same year? I don’t know the actual date because I was considered ’too fragile’ to be told right away and I was to pissed to ask when I was.

c. Did the fact that our friendship ended, over a dispute about Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged, have anything to do with my former best friend’s suicide in 1980?

d. Was the son we lost ever conscious after labor had to be induced when my wife’s water broke too soon? I’m ashamed to admit that I don’t actually remember the date this happened, but I’ll bet that my ex-wife does.

e. I never said so before he died in 1995, but did my friend from work - the friend who taught me so much - ever know just how much I liked him? "You’ve got to be smarter than what you’re working with," is still one of the coolest things I’ve ever heard.

f. What were my mother’s final thoughts while dying, unnoticed, on the floor of the L.A. rest home she had been left in by my niece, who apparently couldn’t be bothered with her any more? That was in 2004.

g. From tonight’s episode, how would I react to having someone tell me that the ’memories’ I seem to be having are actually true recollections from a previous life?

h. What was really going on when I was in that medically-induced coma, when I seemed to be flying over strange lands, out into space, and even into the future?

i. And does the fact that, in my dreams, I return over and over to people and places I have no conscious memory of mean that I actually exist in multiple worlds at the same time? While I find the possibility quite intriguing, the reality of it scares me half to death.

7. I read or heard somewhere that plants like wheat and rye are subject to disease that can cause people to become sick and/or delusional. I’ve even heard it said that, during the Salem witch trials, some testimony about things the accused had supposedly done where actually hallucinations caused by ingesting bread made from tainted grain. If this is true, then doesn’t it shine doubt on other visions of ’supernatural events’ referenced in our history books and religious tomes? Speaking as one who has had hallucinations from illness as well as from ’other’ causes, I know all too well just how real they can seem.

8. Regarding the last item, I suppose that there are those who now asking, "Is that why he’s so &#%@ed up?" The fact is that, however hallucinations are caused, the processes within the brain are the same. You should no more doubt my faculties than you would doubt the faculties of anyone who has previously had a high fever. While I may have shown poor judgement in the past, you should judge my current reasoning capacity by my current actions. And I submit that the contents of this Weblog stand as clear testimony that my rational faculties are in good working order. Bedeep, bedeep, that’s all folks!

9. I hear that Barak Obama is trying to quit smoking. Borrowing a bit from the movie Airplane! "Man did he pick a hard time to quit?"

10. Am I the only one who sees the ultimate irony in Visa calling their new credit card The Black Card?

Just kidding about the test. Did the thought of it make you thirsty?

I want ice water.

Me No Know KeyMoSobbi - Part 4

Here are yet more of those endless questions.... Yadabing, yadaboom. You know how this goes.

1. Why do people insist that Robin Hood was a thief who robbed from the rich to give to the poor, when the story was actually about a man fighting to regain the riches stolen from him by the government? Equality by any means is Not the same as fighting for a just cause.

2. I heard that some ’great thinkers’ once debated the number of angels that could stand on the head of a pin. How did people stupid enough to waste their time like that ever learn to count in the first place?

3. People whine and complain about how they suffer from other people’s second-hand smoke. Who do I complain to about all the second-hand bull crap I have to put up with?

4. Why are Israelis and Palestinians killing each other over land that would be considered worthless by any other that mystical standards?

5. In the song The Last Resort, The Eagles said that when you "call some place paradise, you kiss it goodbye." History proves just how true this statement really is. But why?

6. Just because I live in Ohio, is it really fair that I’m limited to watching the Cincinnati Bungles and the Cleveland Clowns on Sunday? Maybe when I’m all growed up and rich and stuff, I’ll be able to get that NFL Sunday Ticket on Direct TV!

7. If we really want to get rid of racism, shouldn’t we just force everyone to make babies with someone of a different race? Nah! It wouldn’t work. We’d just replace racism with ’shadism.’

8. For those who want to guarantee the ’purity’ of their race, may I suggest in-breeding? Oh wait. That’s how you got to be that way to begin with. No, I’m not just being facetious. The races quite literally evolved over the millennia through isolated groups breeding only within their group.

9. Why are people just now realizing that they can save money by re-using their sandwich bags? While I don’t have much use for sandwich bags, I’ve been washing and re-using my resealable storage bags for years. Not only do I save money this way, but it’s ’eco-friendly’ to boot.

10. Why do people keep shooting each other? Haven’t they ever heard about lead poisoning? Okay, I know it’s a lame joke and also two questions, but I’m just a kid at heart. What do I know? "Oops I did it again..."

11. If, as Rush says in Entre Nous, "The spaces in between leave room for us to grow." Then why do we fill those spaces with barriers to prevent us from growing together?

12. If, as Pink Floyd says in Your Possible Pasts, "I was just a child then. Now I’m only a man." When do I get to be more?

13. I think it’s so unfair to burden our children with being ’the hope for our future.’ Wouldn’t it be better to inspire them by demonstrating that we are ’the hope for their present?’

14. We adults don’t like talking to our kids about a ’sensitive’ subjects like sex. And we damn well won’t allow other adults to talk to them about it either. But do we really think that our kids are better off learning about sex from other, equally ignorant, kids on the streets and playgrounds?

15. Why is it that, no matter how long I’ve waited for a bus, it always comes right after I light a cigarette?

16. Will someone please tell me just what kind of mighty morphin’ movie magic was used to transform our system of Justice Tempered By Mercy into the system of Mercy Tempered By Justice we have now?

17. If it’s true that sweet attracts more flies that sour, then why does a steaming pile of crap have them both beat hands down?

18. I may be an Unbeliever, but I absolutely support the right of a doctor or pharmacist to refuse to provide what they consider to be legal yet morally objectionable services, as long as they don’t act to prevent other doctors and pharmacists from doing so. My only question is: Why deny this freedom to other business owners regardless of their reasons? I don’t want to do business with someone who thinks I’m a piece of crap, and a truly free society will always have those who care more about my money and less about my politics.

19. With the ’bad economy’ causing so much downward pressure on both wages and prices, I wonder if we could’ve avoided some of this trouble by not being so greedy in the first place? If so, then perhaps there’s nothing ’wrong’ with our economy at all and this is all simply a ’market correction.’

20. The next four items can be categorized as "But why Daddy? Because I said so!" or "Do as I say, not as I do!"

a. Considering how we treat the rich as if they couldn’t possibly have earned their wealth, should we really be surprised when only those who’ll take it any way they can get it seek to be rich?

b. After spending so much effort denigrating the legal and political professions, why should anyone be surprised that the people willing to go into them are also the kind of people who can be tempted into corruption?

c. After spending so much time, effort, and money criminalizing the activities of millions of Americans, why should anyone be surprised that our society is now filled with outlaws?

d. After making it the sworn duty of our police to arrest people who have harmed no one other than themselves, why are we then surprised when the resulting conflict of interest leads to corruption and dereliction of duty?

The following should be read as if spoken by Walter Cronkite. ’And so it ends for now. Join us again next time for more questions from the ridiculous to the profound on...’

I want ice water.

Tolerance... Not! Racism

Because of the profound effect that this issue has had on me personally, deciding how to tackle the subject of racial intolerance has been a difficult task. Growing up in the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s as the offspring of racially mixed parents has provided me with more than a little experience with racism. So much so that I hardly know where to begin. But I know that in order to give this issue a fair and rational review, I must be willing to set aside the emotions evoked by it. As one who suffers from depression, brought on in part by my experiences in this area, I hope that you can understand why this is difficult for me. I’m certainly no Mr. Spock, but I do know to use reason and logic to get at the root of a problem.

The first thing to be done is to untangle of all the imagery and confusion that any discussion of race is bound to provoke. Now everybody knows about America’s history involving the enslavement of Blacks. And while there is absolutely no way to excuse that, it is helpful to remember that Blacks represent just one case in a very long history of similar travesties committed by Man. In fact, I think you’d have a hard time finding any group that hasn’t been similarly mistreated at one time or another. Next we must realize that many acts considered to be racially motivated have actually been motivated by what is commonly called peer pressure. I call it collectivist politics.

Anyone who has spent much time with other people, and I’ve had just about enough, has to have noticed that a person’s behavior can be profoundly influenced by those around them. Only an idiot actually believes that a person deserves to be mistreated because of his skin color. But even an idiot knows he can be outcast if he doesn’t get with the program. This same logic applies whether the issue involves race, religion, ethnicity, sexual preference, or the side of the tracks one was born on. So you see the real issue is not racism at all. This is behavior motivated by collectivist politics - the evil acts of one group against another as justified by the mere fact that the first group is stronger and the other group is ’different.’

When I was a little kid in Charleston, West Virginia, the police would routinely conduct these brutal sweeps to clear the streets of my neighborhood. All of the cops were White. All of those arrested were Black. I’d like to believe that this was done to keep homeless drunks from causing trouble, but that could just be wishful thinking. During this same period I was often the butt of jokes about how I would eventually try to pass myself off as White. As you can probably imagine, discovering that people thought that way about me was not only confusing, but damn scary as well.

In 1965, during a car trip back from spending Christmas in Florida with my father, I got locked inside a White owned restaurant in Georgia. Being a naive little boy, I had run ahead to be the first one inside. I was so busy spinning on one of the bar stools that I didn’t even notice that the doors had been locked after I came in, to keep my dad and his girlfriend out. Because of my appearance, no one inside realized that I was with them until I ran to the door my dad was pounding on. I’m not sure if I was more afraid of being locked inside or of what my father would do if they didn’t open the door. Those poor fools had no idea of the kind of man there were keeping from his son. Fortunately, an apologetic waitress let me out and my dad’s girlfriend was able to talk my dad into just leaving.

In 1966 the country apparently went nuts from all the racial tension. Because I still had a small shred of innocence left in me, my first knowledge of this came when my Black friends decided that we should leave our elementary school in protest. Unfortunately, the only White friend I had at the time had been assigned, as playground monitor, to prevent kids from wandering off. Because I was so desperate to be considered genuinely Black for a change, I allowed myself to be pressured into being the one to remove ’the White obstruction to our freedom.’ He was just a good kid trying to do what he was assigned to do, so he refused. It was then, out of embarrassment and frustration, that I committed one of the most shameful acts of my life by punching him in the stomach. I was so disgusted with myself that I couldn’t even leave with the others. I’m not sure why he didn’t report me, but I lost a good friend forever.

In 1968, while living in Los Angeles, I was jumped by two Black kids because according to them, and unbeknownst to me, their classroom was at war with my classroom. That got me started on the path from being the sixth grade salutatorian to being one of the world’s worst truants. When Dr. King was murdered a few months later, I was terrified at the prospect of looking so White while living in an all Black community. This was because there were rumors about Black gangs venting their wrath on Whites.

In 1969, while I was riding a bicycle a few blocks from home, some Black people sent their dog after me. When they discovered that they actually knew me, after I had fallen and broken my arm, they said that they’d only done it because they thought I was White. After that I went almost nowhere, let alone to school. With truancy being a such big issue with the government, and with my attitude turning more negative by the day, I became more ’trouble’ than my Sister wanted to deal with. So she shipped me back to my Mom in Ohio.

All of these things can be attributed to racism, and it’s clear to me that the stupidity operates in all directions. However, they can also be attributed to collectivist thinking motivating a desire to impress one group at the expense of others. That was certainly the case when I punched my friend in the stomach.

If you’ve read my Opening Rant article, then you’re familiar with my belief that each of us thinks and acts according to the personal philosophy we have chosen to guide us - whether we’re conscious of that choice or not. And Collectivism is the most dangerous kind of philosophy precisely because it’s so nebulous and unspoken - exactly what appeals to the masses who can’t be bothered to look beyond the moment. Simply stated, Collectivism allows that anything is okay so long as it can be justified as ’necessary’ by those powerful enough to impose their will. While it has been used historically to dominate Autocracies and Theocracies, it’s most commonly found in the form it takes in today’s so-called Democracies.

Now please don’t misunderstand me. I believe that democratic rule can be the ideal form of government. But we’ll never achieve that ideal so long as the majority simply bow to collectivist politics because they’re too stupid or too afraid to object. Let’s take a look at where this type of thinking as gotten us so far, shall we.

Apparently, just about everyone said the Hebrews were inferior. Voila! Hebrews were persecuted for many, many years!

The Roman and the Jews said the Christians were dangerous. Voila! Christians were persecuted for many, many years!

The Christians said the Holy Land must be purged. Voila! We got Crusaders!

The Muslims said the Holy Land must be purged. Voila! We got Jihad!

The Whites proclaimed Manifest Destiny. Voila! Ethnic cleansing of Native Americans!

The Whites said that Blacks were inferior. Voila! 400 years of Black enslavement!

The Nazis said the Jews should be exterminated. Voila! Fire up the ovens!

During WWII, the majority said we just can’t trust them slant eyes. Voila! Americans in concentration camps!

After WWII, the majority said that the Jews deserve their promised land. Voila! Israelis in, Palestinians out!

Muslim extremists decided to attack The Great Satan. Voila! We got 9/11!

The U.S. retaliated for 9/11. Duh? We go to war in Iraq? Doe!

And let us not forget those ’special’ cases where those imposing their will didn’t seem so dangerous. Voila! We got Rioters, Bombers, Snipers, Terrorists, and School Massacres!

Just in case you thought there was none, let’s now take a look at how this kind of thinking affects the economy.

The majority said the wealthy should pay more taxes. Voila! We got a progressive tax scale!

The wealthy hired lawyers to fight against excessive taxes. Voila! We got tax sheltering and tax evasion!

The majority said the poor should pay less taxes. Voila! The primary users of government services pay almost nothing for them!

The majority said we shouldn’t use ’illegal’ drugs. Voila! We got ourselves a drug war on all fronts and a prison system bursting at the seams - very expensive!

The majority said we should unleash the power of Wall Street so everyone can pay less taxes. Voila! We got economic disaster!

The majority screamed, "DO SOMETHING." Voila! It’ll take generations to pay off all this debt!

If you were to ask anyone in the majority if they were wrong when these decisions were being made, the response would almost certainly be a resounding "Hell no! Just ask anybody!" Those who suffer from these ’high minded’ decisions would of course be dismissed as ignorant scum who’s opinions don’t count anyway. And most of them were usually too ignorant or too afraid to speak out anyway. Remember the little boy who dared to ask why the Emperor was naked? The sad fact is, if you searched through all of history, you’d have a hard time finding a single man-made disaster that didn’t have some sort of collectivist rationale behind it.

As far as the treatment of Blacks in America is concerned, our great leaders - the Black leadership as well as the federal government - have merely tried to replace one collectivist nightmare with another. It must be remembered that every one of the state and local governments that looked so bad during the civil rights movement were financed by public funds. But instead of passing - and enforcing - laws that would have made it impossible for them to use tax money for racially biased policies, our leaders - with complete approval from the majority - have simply instituted a racially based ’quota system’ in it’s place.

Again, it must be remembered that the majority of Whites were actually behind the civil rights movement, even if many were afraid to show it. Laws that would have taken away the power of local government to enforce the ’peer pressure’ of a powerful minority on them was all that they needed to speak out. But instead of actually leveling the playing field by guaranteeing the individual’s right to decide who deserves his or her support, the federal government has wasted many billions of dollars on a collectivist bureaucracy founded on institutionalized racism.

The bottom line is that what we call racism is only one of the countless faces of collectivist politics. And if we want to have better relations between any of the various groups on Earth, we’re going to have to rid ourselves of the profound stupidity that stands in the way: Collectivism. If President Obama is as smart as he seems, he’ll focus the spotlight on the real issues and not allow it to be pointed at something so trivial as the color of his skin.

After all, everyone will be nicely tanned in the future. Deal with it!

A good metaphor for how we've dealt racism in this country can be found in The Trees by the group Rush.

I want ice water.

Tolerance... Not! Prostitution

Prostitution. It’s not called "the world’s oldest profession" for nothing. I think it’s safe to say that as long as there have been people desiring sex without entanglements there have been prostitutes to meet the demand. And it’s no doubt equally safe to say that prostitutes have always been reviled by those who think that sex without entanglements is wrong. Few societies have seen fit to allow the free practice of prostitution, and yet I can think of no society in which it did not flourish in one form or another. In fact, while there will always those who condemn the prostitute, there are also those who think that society couldn’t function without them.

Prostitution thrives in many forms in America today, from the illegal street hustlers and high-end call girls (and boys), to the legalized form practiced in Nevada. Services are advertised in every form of media from the classifieds in your local paper to the Internet. Prostitutes work as independent contractors and as associates in varying sized organizations. Indeed, they come in all flavors and promise to fulfill any desire. So where is the harm? Why hasn’t this profession been given the respect that other professions get? Just what is the public outcry all about? Man! That’s a tall order. Where do I begin?

First there are the religious objections. Sex outside of marriage has always been wrong to those who practice the most popular religions. So sex-for-pay, to them, is an outright outrage! Next there are the criminal and public nuisance objections. Those who take this stand argue about the added crime that comes with the sex-for-pay trade, such as robbery, drug abuse, and abuse from pimps and johns. They also argue about the nuisance caused by prostitutes plying their trade in areas that should be kept clear for ’decent’ purposes. And then there are the public health concerns. Those who argue from this position point out how prostitution spreads sexually transmitted diseases, some of which are potentially fatal.

So in light of all this evidence against prostitution, and considering that none of it has helped to eradicate the practice, what would a more reasoned approach entail? Perhaps an attempt to untangle some of the imagery and confusion associated with the issue would be a good place to start. I’ll try to do so by listing a few facts.

1. Sex outside marriage is a fact of life. Deal with it.

2. We will never eliminate prostitution. Deal with it.

3. There are legal arrangements that work.

4. Expanded legalization can also work because:

a. Licensed professionals earn a decent wage and don’t need to commit robbery.

b. Licensed professionals don’t need a pimp’s protection because they have recourse to the law.

c. Licensed professionals don’t need to walk the streets because they can advertise their services and/or join organized businesses.

d. Licensed professionals can be routinely tested for sexually transmitted diseases and drugs.

I think this shows that finding a rational way of dealing with the ’problem’ of prostitution isn’t so complicated after all.

I have known quite a few prostitutes during my life. Both from my childhood when my father was a pimp with his own brothel, and from my adult experiences living in the underground ’drug’ culture. I don’t think that anyone, other than the prostitutes themselves, can truly understand why they choose to be prostitutes knowing the contempt and abuse that comes with that lifestyle. But it’s a fact that their profession is not alone in having to deal with such questions.

Because of my ’vast experience’ with prostitutes, I have never been comfortable using their services because I feared being seen as just another aggressive, and potentially abusive, man they’d have to deal with. And the fact that both sides of that equation has been forced on us by the arrogant and irrational manner in which society has dealt with the issue thus far only serves to enhance my discomfort.

I’m not saying that society will become ’Heaven on Earth’ if we choose another way of dealing with prostitution, or that it will ever become a comfortable topic to discuss at social gatherings. But it is clear that the approach we have taken has not led to our society being lifted to a higher moral plane. If anything, the inhumanity of the current approach has pushed us all in the other direction.

Perhaps, if we are sincere when we proclaim our intent to rise above the example of Mankind’s history, all we really need is the courage to get real and the compassion to care more about actual people than we do about being politically correct.

And don’t we have enough real criminals to deal with?

I want ice water.

My International Incident

This article is about an incident I was involved in during the winter of ’75 and ’76, while I was still in the Air Force and stationed in the Panama Canal Zone. I had arrived there during the most significant ’break’ in my marriage and had spent the time since that break, both before and after moving to Panama, smoking as much marijuana as I could tolerate. And considering that, in Panama at that time, the stuff cost only $10 an ounce and $90 a pound, spending as much of my time as I could get away with stoned out of my mind was pretty easy.

You must understand that I joined the Air Force and got married when I was only seventeen years old. So while I was excited to visit what to me seemed a far off and exotic land, I was still little more than a child who felt trapped and isolated thousands of miles from anything that felt like home. As a matter of fact I had already gotten myself into trouble, only months after my arrival, by being caught in possession of marijuana in my barracks room with a couple of boys my age. Because one of the boys was only seventeen and both were civilian dependents of senior Air Force personnel, I was lucky that I was only fined, given a six month suspension of promotion, and forced to attend drug rehab classes. But despite this very clear warning, I still allowed my desire for companionship and my drug induced blindness to lead me even further down the path towards disaster.

At that time Panama was a virtual police state, which was plainly evident by the many national guardsmen in full military uniform and assault weapons positioned throughout the areas I visited. The people there were so poor and the slums were so heart breaking that the sights rivaled almost any shown in those commercials asking for help for the poor starving children of the world. It seemed that what little economic activity there was was focused almost entirely on catering to the U. S. personnel stationed in the canal zone. And when you consider the stereotypical wants of military men, it’s not surprising that much of that activity was frowned upon.

In addition to the abundance of marijuana and other plant-based drugs, Panama had a burgeoning population of prostitutes. While prostitution was strictly forbidden for Panamanian women it was, oddly enough, openly allowed for the thousands of women from other countries who had come there specifically for that reason. Apparently, these other countries where in such bad economic shape that it had become customary for some of their women to spend time as prostitutes in Panama while sending money back to their families at home. Of course, with the local women having such a hard time, the laws against prostitution did little to deter them from joining in the game.

Now every incoming soldier was warned of the potential danger of being caught up in trouble that might land them in a local jail. Because of the political problems between the U. S. and the government of Panama, American military personnel had been known to disappear into local incarceration with no one bothering to inform anyone of their situation. So it’s should come as no surprise that, despite the flagrant violation of military rules, GI’s preferred to do their ’partying’ on base where they felt a little more safe to enjoy themselves. I know for a fact that, in my barracks at least, hardly a night went by that somebody didn’t have one or more prostitutes in their room.

If you’ve read any of my other articles, you’ve probably already guessed at the kind of nightmare I was walking right into. But there’s no way you would be able to guess at the actual enormity of that nightmare. It all started so innocently, you see. Because I found trips into Panama City to be such sad and nerve wracking events, it was only rarely that I allowed someone to talk me into going with them. And it was on one of these ’adventures’ that an associate of mine approached two girls about getting together at some point to party. Being the extremely shy person that I was, I was just glad when he had finished telling them how to find us on base and we could move on. And I had completely forgotten about it when they actually came looking for us a few nights later.

By the time that night rolled around I had a room to myself, which I made my very own by placing the mattresses for two beds together in a big square on the floor and decorating the walls in a checkerboard pattern of photos and articles from Playboy and Penthouse magazines. I have no idea how I was able to get away with having a room in a military barracks look that way, considering the frowns of disapproval I got whenever inspections came around. But nevertheless it made the perfect spot for my friends to want to party in, so that’s where the four of us spent the evening.

I must make it very clear that this party was not planned by me in any way. In fact, I made it clear at the start that it had to end rather early because I was due to work a midnight to 8 am shift. Also, there was no sexual activity whatsoever, not because I didn’t want to, but because one of the girls was feeling sick and the other was concerned about her friend. So we spent the time we had talking and listening to music. Unfortunately, as the time for me to go to work came closer, the one girl became more and more sick. So sick in fact that by the time I had to go to work I simply didn’t have the heart to send her on the long bus ride back to wherever she lived. As idiotic as it may seem now, I decided to let her stay in my room overnight while I went to work.

What a bad decision that turned out to be! Again, you must understand that I left her in my room because I was trying to do the right thing. But I also acknowledge that I was fully aware of the risk that I was taking by doing so. I even chose leaving her in the room alone instead of seeking medical help for her because I wanted to avoid the trouble I would undoubtedly get into for having her there in the first place. All this I acknowledge without hesitation. Nevertheless, I was still shocked when, five minutes before my shift ended, I was contacted by the base’s chief of security.

I tried to pretend that I didn’t know what he was talking about at first, but my denials simply flew out the window when he told me what the housekeeping staff had found when they came in my barracks. Like imagery form some TV crime scene, the chief described how they had found a trail of blood leading from a very large pool on my bed to another very large pool originating from the girl’s vagina while she lay half-dead on the bathroom floor. As you might expect, I was in big trouble and my protestations of innocence fell on somewhat deaf ears.

Quite rapidly, this turned into an extremely embarrassing international incident with Panamanian officials accusing me of attempted murder and with the U. S government wanting to simply throw me to the wolves to make it all go away. The commander of the base had quite predictably, considering my record, filed the necessary paperwork to push for immediate court-martial proceedings. It seemed that everyone had turned their backs on me, including my ’friend’ that had been at the party that night. As for the other guys I lived and worked with, all I got from them were sick jokes about how large my penis had to be to cause so much damage.

Fortunately, military law requires that even naive fools like me get legal representation when stuck in such situations. And even more fortunately, I had a very good military lawyer assigned to my case. But even with all the phone calls he made and all the letters he sent out on my behalf, Captain Hood had a very steep hill to climb in order to save my hide. It helped some that it had been a pet peeve of his that enlisted men had these restrictions on who they could have in their barracks while officers could have pretty much any visitors they wanted, but the fact that the girl was in no condition to help with the remainder of the charges still left me with my butt very exposed.

I was all but court-martialed and on my way to prison when one of those amazing ’hallelujah’ things happened to save my ass. The girl came out of her coma and was decent enough to tell what actually happened that night - and what led up to it. As it turned out, she had had one of those back-alley type abortions only hours before she and her friend had come out to the base. I’m pretty sure that the Panamanian government wasn’t pleased at being denied the opportunity to stick it to the Americans more than they already had, and I know for a fact that my commanders were still quite pissed at my having made them look so bad, but in the end they were left with only the charge of having unauthorized personnel in my barracks to hold against me. And the fact that Capt. Hood had been campaigning against that rule as being discriminatory left them in a bad position even when it came down to that.

So to everyone’s great relief, they offered, and I accepted, an honorable discharge a full year before I would have been otherwise eligible. Provided, of course, that I was on a flight back home within a week. Naturally I was happy at the prospect of getting off so easy. I was also looking forward to going home to attempt the reunification of my marriage. But I was not happy that my Air Force career was coming to such a bad ending. You see, despite all of the trouble and my disillusionment with the military, I still had those naive and idealistic hopes that my service would end up being something I could be proud of. I really was quite ashamed that things ended up the way they did.

Well, to wrap up this sad and sordid tale, I spent the next week packing and shipping my stuff home, while at the same time taking all five of the G.E.D. tests in just two sessions with almost no preparation whatsoever. Amazingly, after arriving home from the tropics in the dead of winter, I later received the results from those tests along with a letter from Captain Hood praising me for having gotten above average scores under such difficult circumstances. I was very happy with the results, and with the praise he though that I deserved, but both things were also painful reminders of how little I had done with the potential I had.

This sense of failure stayed with me through all of the years I spent struggling to get a degree while still getting stoned to alleviate some of the pain. It bothered me so much that as soon as I got my Associates Degree, I headed out to try and re-enlist. That’s when I discovered that the Air Force hadn’t let me off so easily after all. While it didn’t matter much in my civilian life according to the recruiter, a re-enlistment rating of 5 was the worst that it got for a anyone hoping to return to the military. According to him, this rating was so bad that he had thought it was reserved only for traitors and such. You know, the ’Benedict Arnold’ types.

After I explained to the recruiter what had happened in Panama, he agreed that a rating of 5 was a bit extreme. He even explained the process through which the rating could be appealed. But he made it clear that such an appeal was long, costly and rarely successful. In the end he advised that, considering that those records were off limits to civilian employers and were automatically erased after a few years anyway, I should just move on with my life away from the military.

So much for working for a happy ending by trying to make things right.

I want ice water.

My Terrible Ordeal

In another of those weird synergisms where I manage to find profound connections between the seemingly trivial and the great complexities of my life, I have found tonight’s episode of NCIS to be analogous to my most recent trial by fire.

The show starts with the team investigating an obviously open and shut case of cheating sailor murdered by spurned lover, when out of nowhere a woman wearing a Muslim head covering and shouting in Arabic grabs the murder weapon and uses it to stab the medical examiner, Ducky, through the hand. It turns out, as the story unfolds, that the woman was trying to revenge the death of her brother, some thirty years earlier in Afghanistan, at the hands of none other than Ducky himself. Before they can catch up to her, she presents war crime charges against him at her embassy. And to the teams amazement, Ducky not only admits his guilt but turns himself in the Afghans.

Needless to say, the team was shocked and convinced it was all some terrible mistake that they must resolve to save their friend. Unfortunately Ducky refused to provide any information that will help them to help him. Eventually, through the use of all that techno-investigative-spy stuff I love so much, they discovered that the guy Ducky killed was being tortured repeatedly for military information at the hands of an agent of the so-called good guys. As a young doctor, Ducky had had to repair the damage done to the man over and over again, and decided at last to save him from more suffering in the only way he could - by giving him an overdose of painkillers.

But in Ducky’s mind he had committed murder, and he still felt so badly about it that he continued to refuse all his friend’s efforts to save him. As a last resort, they tracked down the guy who had done the actual torturing and brought them together as two war criminals locked in the same room. You know, the one with the two-way mirror. That was when the torturer finally admitted that Ducky had been the actual target of his efforts, because his compassion was preventing the prisoners from experiencing the level of fear required to get useful information out of them. It had been Ducky he was trying to break, and he succeeded! Of course, the charges were dropped against Ducky because the woman who stabbed him was on the other side of the mirror the whole time.

My sad tale starts at the beginning of November, when instead of my disability check, I got a letter stating that I had been cut off because of a felony warrant that had been issued for my arrest. Furthermore, it stated that I now owed the government for the five months I had received benefits while the warrant was in effect. Needless to say, I was a little disturbed by this. This trouble originated with something that happened at my old apartment almost a full year ago, the consequences of which I tried to ignore for nine months and have struggled to resolve for the past two.

Although I wasn’t surprised that the problem finally came home to roost, I was absolutely shocked at the charges filed against me and at what my avoiding them had cost me. You see, giving in to my addictions to drugs and my lust for companionship, I allowed some ’friends’ to come over to ’party’ a while with me. Eventually, the ’partying’ eventually got to be more than I wanted to deal with. In the end the police were called in - by someone other than me - to resolve the resulting chaos. And because I wasn’t expecting a visit from the police, I tried to hide the remaining evidence of what we had been doing to avoid having the problems escalate. Somehow that turned into me being left holding the bag. It was, after all, my apartment

Well I was so pissed off at my so-called friends, and so frustrated that I was the only one with any consequences to face, that I decided to dodge the issue by getting the hell out of Dodge. This, I thought, got me far away from both the consequences and the activities that led to them. I also thought that at worst I would have to deal with some minor offense at some later date. How wrong I was. It turns out that possession of the substance I had been trying to hide was a felony offense. And even though the citations issued at the time made no mention of my possession of it, I could nonetheless be charged for it at a later date if the authorities chose to do so. They chose to do so.

I of course, having left no way for anyone to reach me, was completely unaware of any of this. Until the beginning of November, that is. Well amazingly enough, I received little more than a slap on the wrist as punishment for my crimes in the end - from the courts that is. I still lost two months of disability benefits, which left me begging for help from my middle son to cover expenses. That leaves me owing him, Social Security, the fine and court costs, and whatever it’s going to cost to get my driver’s licence reinstated. But the greatest punishment by far, and the reason why this story parallels the NCIS episode so well, came from the deranged thoughts bouncing around in my head.

Regular readers of this blog will be familiar with my obsessive attempts to pre-plan every interaction I expect to have with other people. Well, being the mentally ill person that I am, I have spent the last two months working and re-working to build up the scenario I expected to play out at the end of this mess. I imagined myself in an epic courtroom battle to snatch back my freedom from the jaws of a justice system too blinded by outrage at my crimes to care about the circumstances in which they occurred. I expected to have to argue in my defense with verbal eloquence I had never before been able to achieve.

Well earlier today, like in some twisted flashback to Alice’s Restaurant, it turned out that neither the prosecutor or the judge believed my crimes where significant enough to warrant the persecution I anticipated, and I was too tongue-tied to have been of much help in my defense anyway. So, as usual, reality spoiled my nightmare once again.

Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, I can’t resist wondering about how different the outcome might have been if I didn’t look so White or if the judge had been more like Judge Judy or Judge Joe Brown. What can I say? I’m a pessimist.

And as always,

I want ice water.

Tolerance... Not! Drugs

All the news coverage of the various congressional hearings going on have reminded me of a funny scenario I once envisioned. The thought came about after a conversation I had with a couple of the local dope boys. I had overheard them complaining about being harassed by Five-O and I just couldn't resist pointing out how I thought that Five-O was what kept them in business. As you might expect, they were anxious for me to explain.

I was referring, of course, to the criminal justice system and it's anti-drug laws. I told them that, if it weren't for the fact that what they worked so hard to sell was illegal, people much better equipped to do the job would step in and put them out of business. I asked them if they honestly thought that they would be able to compete with the research, marketing and distribution capabilities of companies like Merck, Pfizer, Walgreen's and CVS. And, as you might again expect, I was told that I was crazy because The Man will never legalize drugs.

They're probably right, but that's where the funny scenario comes in. What would happen if drugs WERE legalized? I can still see it so clearly in my mind. The congressional elite arrayed in all their pompous grandeur to hear the pleas of those representing the now defunct illegal drug industry. The lead character on that side would have to be the angry, die-hard, anti-drug senator who arranged for these hearings in the desperate hope of restoring order to the land, along with the highly photogenic, caught-in-the-stall-naked, look on his face when he spies those about to testify filing in during his well-flowered opening speech. Whew!

And what a group of unlucky losers those giving testimony would be. Ranging all the way from the lowly dope boys up to the filthy-rich cartel magnates, all decked-out in their Hollywood cliche garb and bling-bling. Of course, the cartel magnates would have come in their Lear Jets and Hummers, the regional distributors in their Navigators and Escalades, leaving the dope boys to use mass transit because they were unwilling to sell their bling to pay for anything better.

The dope boys would, of course, complain about how they're losing out on all the free sex by now having to pay the crack, heroin and meth whores in real money that they don't have the skills to earn. They would complain about financial distress due to their not having the drugs to trade for all the (mostly stolen) video games, cell phones, television sets, and stereo equipment. They would even have with them representative re-sellers of the fore-mentioned ill-gotten goods to complain about their now shrunken markets.

They'd bemoan the loss of their industry standard rings, chains, teeth, clothing, and automobiles. And they wouldn't forget to mention how much they miss the free housing they got from those stupid enough to think that a few hits now and again made their presence worthwhile. "Foul!" they'd cry, for the loss of all the things they'd become accustomed to as 'fair market retailers' in the illegal drug economy.

Those higher on this now extinct food chain would, not surprisingly, have arguments more in line with their former lofty positions. Through their high-powered and highly paid mouth-pieces, they would point to possible anti-trust issues related to the 'denial' of their 'rightfully earned' share in the new legalized drug industry.

In spite of the fact that they're now free from prosecution for their past activities and could keep their ill-gotten wealth, they would argue that because of their huge 'investment' in developing the 'market' for drugs in the first place, as well as in 'procuring' the raw materials to meet that 'need,' it would be down right unfair to bar them from participating in the newly expanded legitimate market and for their production facilities around the world to be returned for legitimate use by the impoverished peoples from whom they were originally stolen.

I hope you think that's as insanely funny as I do. I would dearly love to see someone with the proper cojones for the job, like Dave Chappelle or Carlos Mencia, set such a scenario before the cameras. The question is though, is drug legalization really such an insane idea? The fact is that throughout history humans have used mood altering substances to achieve the illusion of relief from the burdens of life. It's also a fact that, despite the $10,000,000 per day cost (ABC 20/20) of the so-called 'war on drugs,' we now have an arguably worse 'drug abuse' situation than ever before.

The inescapable reality is that until we evolve to a mentality better able to deal with the hardships of life, people will continue seek relief where they can get it. I expect that, as past history shows, this will be especially true now that our prospects for 'the good life' have taken a serious nose dive. And I defy anyone to point out the 'enlightened' and 'evolved' aspects of the tactics used under our government's current approach to the problem.

Now I must make it perfectly clear that, in spite of living in a society where we're constantly bombarded with ads showing drugs as the cure for almost anything, and at the same time news that we can't trust the so-called experts, I Do Not Personally Advocate The Use Of Drugs To Fix Anything.

While I continue to take my psychiatric medications in an effort to limit those embarrassing crying jags and my somewhat morbid fascination with suicide, I can't honestly say that they work any better than anything that I haven't tried. They certainly don't fill my need for stimulation and, quite frankly, even the prodigious amounts of coffee I drink fall short of that. As far as the illegal drugs I have used, my life and current situation are perhaps the most clear testimony to the futility of going down that road.

But drug abuse is not the real problem and everyone knows it. If seeking chemical solace is really so terrible, then why don't we ban it in every form? The real problem is our need for such solace. And fear of punishment, no matter how terrible, will never exorcise a demon like that. And just as I wouldn't choose some unregulated quack to deal with my depression, diabetes and arthritis, those who simply need to feel good for a little while shouldn't be forced to scurry around in the darkest of places to deal with some street hustler. Not when his local Walgreen's could be fully stocked with well tested and well regulated pharmaceuticals designed just for that purpose.

It's time to get real people. Just as any good minister will tell you that it's the sinners who must be welcomed into the church, I say that a civilization that won't embrace it's troubled and broken citizens is not 'civilized' at all. And just as in the natural world the most weird and dangerous things grow where they're isolated, we have allowed a sub-culture every bit as alien and monstrous to fester and grow right over the shoulders we find so easy to turn away. Perhaps it's 'love' and not 'war' that's the answer after all.

Lastly I must make it clear that, although I do still suffer the occasional lapse, I Never post anything to this blog that I wrote while 'under the influence.' I hope my detractors will not be too terribly disappointed to hear that. You see, this blog is a kind of therapy for me. My hope is that by striving for clarity of expression I will improve my clarity of thought. And it is working better than I would have ever believed possible. So not only would posting something that I wrote while I was high be counter-productive, it would feel almost sacrilegious.

I want ice water.