Drugs

Drugs seem to be the sub root of many of the world's problems. I say sub root because there is a reason why so many people turn to something that clouds reality. It could be fear, depression, a good time. I really do not know. The reason people sell drugs is obvious: money. The sellers want to live above their means and are willing to destroy who ever it takes to reach their desired lifestyle. They will destroy an individual, a family or a nation. We are all witnesses to this truth in our lifetime.

Many factors have made the world field a playground for illegal drug sellers. It is not just one generation either. The sellers of the 60's have either died out or gone into politics. Yet, there seems to be a never ending supply of people who are willing to take up arms against others including individuals, neighborhoods and nations. I am not bragging on them. They will get theirs.

One thing that has happened to our country is an individuals right and a parent's right to adequately defend themselves and others. While drug sellers shoot and run and the police find them illusive and seemingly uncatchable, the regular citizen who defends his children and property goes home and the police know exactly where to find him. He is not a coward, running and hiding. He is at home. Supposedly, we still have the right to defend. All you got to do is prove that that was what you were doing in court. 'Course, who can afford a lawyer. So, I think, many good people are taking up space in prison that should be filled by drug sellers.

Drug sellers know the system is all backwards. I'm not knocking the police. They try, most of them. Some are bought and paid for by the drug sellers. No. I don't know which ones. But drug sellers are counting on citizens just staying out of the way and letting them do their thing.

I am not pushing any kind of uprising, or street warfare. I do think the system is lopsided toward the drug sellers. An army of police cannot clean up the streets. It takes average citizens who will not let the drug sellers have their way on the streets and in the neighborhoods. It takes reporting crimes. It takes people sucking-it-up and quitting drugs so there will be no market. Using drugs is being party to all the killing. Yep! It is a conspiracy. Drug sellers shoot and kill and intimidate their way to the drug user so they can escape reality for a few minutes or days.

Mexico got me on this bandwagon. There is a war going on just south of our border. A country that was pulling itself into the 21st century is being pulled back into the dark ages by people who are killing to get drugs to the United States. We ought to be ashamed. The people who are dying are often men who have families that they wish to protect. We ought to be ashamed for being the number one market for drugs.

'Daddy can I have a new pair of shoes?' 'No. I got to buy dope.'

Eatin' with a Family of Nine

I ain't saying we was poor growing up. We had each other and plenty of work to do. Didn't get paid for most of the work but a new pair of work shoes in the fall was pretty good compensation. I didn't know milk came from a store until I was on up in years, I always gave the cows I milked credit for that. I knew where sausage came from, it came out of that grinder bolted to the eatin' table when it was cold enough for hog killing. That was when us kids tried to store up enough fat to get us through the winter. I was a good eater but my bigger siblings were more crafty at it. I remember sitting in the middle on the little bench along one side of our long table. I never thought about it then but you know they always saved the chicken neck for me. It was my special piece of meat and they would not dare touch it. They had to settle for the breast, drumstick or something like that. I never could bite off a piece like they did, I had to sort of just munch on it until I got tired. Nothing like a chicken dinner. Our chickens were afraid to celebrate when they laid eggs. The roosters, if they crowed at all, would walk off away from the house to do it. I don't want to make you sick but my siblings always saved the squirrel brains for me too. I've read that they can cause brain damage so, there ye go. 'splains why my mind works like it does. I'll tell you, even when I laid out in the woods with the rifle for hours waiting for that squirrel and learned to peal off the fur without getting it on the meat, still they saved the...you know...for me. I think once I got the back but it was a challenge to get any meat off the back. Squirrels just don't store much there. I didn't much care, so long as the squirrel didn't look at me. Mama made sure that didn't happen. In some places, they mix them with scrambled eggs but looks to me like that would ruin the taste. For years, I liked to climb trees but it has worn off and I am scared of heights now. I won't describe in this post how the eatin' is done but I can tell you it is much like eatin' a raw egg out of a shell. Well, enough politicks for now. It is sort of nauseating, come to think of it. Did anybody ever hit your elbow when you had a spoon full of something on it? Now you know why I don't mind telling on my brothers and sisters. They are alright but I'd be careful eatin' with 'em.