One man’s cure for Carl’s drug war

Into the breach once more goes the mighty Mumpower. A gathering of vicious dope fiends at RatDog wreaked havoc [with the] souls of America’s incipient middle-aged. With the heroic help of APD’s finest, our vigilant citizen was instrumental in the arrest of 0.529 percent of the audience—not for charging the stage and assaulting the drummer or throwing their clothes off the balcony, but for drugs. By shear force of noblesse oblige, Carl intends to rescue untold numbers of nonvictims. Then they can become victims of the criminal justice system.

The solution to the drug problem is first to stop being the problem. The war on drugs has failed, resulting in an industry whose efficiency is predicated [upon] violence and corruption. One army in the war on drugs is the DEA [Drug Enforcement Agency]. The other disputes government’s claim to monopoly of violence. Behind them are the camp followers: petty criminals hangin’ with the heavies, controlled by addiction, doing anything for a hit.

No one at RatDog got bloodied. Nine people out of 1,700 were detained for not having listened to their elders, with 40 years experience, regarding the etiquette surrounding illicit drugs in public places. The guy who thought the urinal was his date committed no overt crime, and wouldn’t have until he tried to take his date to meet to his friends. No crimes against person or property. Nine people were arrested for offenses against bourgeois propriety. The crime rate at RatDog was about 0.005 per 100,000 population, which should frighten Money Magazine plenty.

I wax nostalgic for those days 40 years ago when such bands played for free in the park. We were peaceful. We shared with one another. There was always enough, even when we were living off the trash of the culture. We took care of each other, and there were no overdoses. I’m sorry you missed the ‘60s, Carl, but why rain on the picnic?

Sometime in the late ‘60s, my mother sought treatment for insomnia. The doctor asked her if there was anything in particular bothering her. She said had she caught her sons smoking marijuana. The doctor recommended that she burn a number before she retires and forget about it. She tried it, but couldn’t inhale. She slept anyway. Go to bed, Carl.

— Scott MacKay
Asheville