Weed from my father
I was reading the Washington Post yesterday and I came across this story about how Barack Obama inadvertently snitched on himself in this book he wrote back in the early ’90s. In it, he describes how he struggled with his racial identity because his daddy was an African and he was raised by a buncha cracka-ass crackas in Hawaii and how he used to sniff blow, if not heroin, when he was a kid.
The gist of the story was whether or not such revelations might come back to haunt him should he decide to run for president in 2008. As recently as 20 or so years ago, Judge Douglas H. Ginsburg was forced to wave bye bye to his shot at being a Supreme Court justice because he smoked a little weed back in the day. More recently, both Bill Clinton and Dubya have been forced to lie about their own past drug use.
My hope is that this does become a big issue in 2008 – not because I don’t want Obama to win the election, but because it might help shed some light on the issue of this country’s so-called War on Drugs, which is of course really just an excuse to keep throwing jigs in jail as if it was an HBCU or some such. (I don’t think we need to go over the statistics here again, do we?) If the last few presidents did it and didn’t get in trouble, then why should anyone?
Bol’s take on the issue: Why should I give a fuck if someone wants to smoke a little crack? Or sell it for that matter. Granted it’s a health issue if these people keep having to go to the hospital, but so are people who eat too much McDonalds. Truth be told, the worst strain on society today, in terms of overall financial drain, are these people who are living to be 100 years old. Legalized crack smoking can only help thin out the herd.
Interestingly enough, there’s a story in the New York Times today about how the fastest growing group of illegal drug users in this country aren’t the 15 year-old tweakers out in Cape Giradeau, Missouri, but rather the middle-aged cracka-ass crackas out in the suburbs – your proverbial soccer moms and Nascar dads. What’s more, these elderly crackety-cracks aren’t just getting fucked up; they’re getting Jim Morrison fucked up!
The grim statistics:
Among Americans in their 40s and 50s, deaths from illicit-drug overdoses have risen by 800 percent since 1980, including 300 percent in the last decade. In 2004, American hospital emergency rooms treated 400,000 patients between the ages 35 and 64 for abusing heroin, cocaine, methamphetamine, marijuana, hallucinogens and “club drugs” like ecstasy.
50 year-old white women on ecstasy? Good Lord.
The thing is, a lot of these baby boomers grew up smoking weed and fucking outdoors and what have you, back during the Woodstock era. Now that they’re hitting retirement age, they’re realizing they don’t have shit else to do than watch Oprah. (Hell, I’d be shooting heroin, too!) This seems as opportune time as any to reevaluate our position with regard to the War on Drugs, if for no other reason than where are they gonna get their shit?