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Getting Personal in the ECA

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History: US Prohibition (1920-33)


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Someday After the War Ends...

STOP! The War NOW!

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Think WOD Is A Smart Idea?

To Those Who Support a War

Tools in Parallel Development

USA Freedom Blackout

Use & Disorders in the ECA

We Teach What We Know

When Prevention is DUE

Why Drug War Won't End

WOD & DUE Applied to Meth

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Your Brain on the WOD

Zero Tolerance




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DUE Para 2

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Applied Harm Reduction


Why the US Government Puts Control on the Least Harmful Substances


The enigma of drug policy is couched in a difference of how "harm" is perceived.  Societal leaders today have established a very myopic way of defining harm.  The way it has been since the beginning of the Electro-Chemical Age is to invent a drug, throw it before the public in food, medicine or something consumable, record societal reaction, and then someone comes along, extracts it, copies it, decides it can be used to make people feel good, and once it's abused by children, government snatches it like a controlling parent, makes all kind of unnatural laws against anyone for merely thinking about it (almost), possessing it, selling it, distributing for sales, manufacturing or farming it, buying, possessing the chemicals that comprise it, having receipts or bank statements or other evidence that indicate the purchase of the chemicals or any piece of equipment used in manufacturing, transporting, or selling it, owning a communications device linking someone to a source...  Yet, it should make you wonder why on earth are there people still walking the streets.    That's precisely what the government wants you to wonder.    
Repainted years ago a shade of drab olive, the old schoolbus didn't seem like it was going to make it through the snow to the top of the hill.  It kept slipping backwards and it once nearly toppled over.  But when they had gone about as far as they could go, the driver, a Latino man they called Jersey, parked on an angle and the four remaining passengers -- two men and two women in their 30s -- trudged out into the snow all bundled up.  The guys hung back, following the women as they wandered through the winter wonderland.  At one point, one of the guys, dropped his gear and made a snowball and tossed it at one of the women.  The women scampered and screamed and after awhile at examining the trees, one of the women found one she liked.

"It's too big!" the one guy called back.

"But that's the one I want," the woman said. 

It was a beautiful tree and nearly two hours later, the five-member team had dragged the huge tree onto the bus and they were off. 

That night, the huge front room at the bottom of the long, winding staircase of the Prescious Paradise orphanage for kids whose parents had been sent to prison for drug-related offenses, had turned on the lights of a 14-foot high Christmas tree.   There were 16 volunteers from the area who had spent nearly 8 hours decorating the huge tree.  Now it was nearly 9pm and the busload of kids came in from the Christmas Party down the street.  There were "Ooooos" and "Ahhhs" and mummering.   The twinkling lights were reflected in the eyes of the excited chidren who carried their treasured gifts.  Then one beautiful African-American 10 year old girl took the box she had gotten as a gift and hurled it at the tree, knocking it onto its side.


After the girl ran up the stairs, some of the other children threw their gifts at the tree, smashing branches and ornaments.  Others walked away.  Some just stood there not knowing what to do.  Others cried.  

The exhausted adults quickly tried to bring the situation under control.  Bob, a social worker, just stood there like a little boy, his mind wandering.  This was his fourth year at Paradise.  The work was challenging.  The rewards, trivial. The outcome would be one of uncertainty.  Bob wondered. The parents of these children were not violent, angry, dangerous or a threat to society in any way.  These parents were loving, endearing, caring, parents who had been stopped in their tracks by laws that were brutal and senseless.  These children were lost because the lawmakers were self-serving and destructive.  It only Bob could reach out and yank them into Paradise where thy could see the results of their handiwork.  

 A few days later, the African-American girl who had started the fray had been found in a closet.  Her lifeless feet dangled next to a ladder that she used to climb to her death.  She had taped textbooks to her tiny waist to pull her body down as she tied and extension chord to a hook inside the closet.  It was obvious that the girl had struggled for some time before she succumbed to her death.  It seemed as though she might have changed her mind as the tape around her body appeared to have been pulled at, as though she were trying to free herself.  She had probably tried to climb back onto the ladder, but slipped as the chord pulled her away, she died, probably thrashing about after her neck broke and she was unable to get oxygen to her brain.  There would be no funeral for the girl.  Her body was taken away by the coroner. 

How do you tell incarcerated parents that their daughter in the hands of the state had committed suicide?

Every time our government sends someone to prison, they alter the course of history.  They weaken a family and the infrastructure of the US.  Tearing families apart is what our legislators do when they create laws that don't add any value.  They are selfish reminders that we are still barbaric animals with the emotional propensity of our ancestors who lived in caves.  A society that is ruled by fear will spin out violence.    To reduce harm, we must start by reducing the laws that cause it.  It's common sense:  In the Electro-Chemical Age, drugs cannot be stopped; but, drug laws can.  Use a period to end a sentence.