Tuesday, February 22, 2005

Alaskan drug abuse is indicative of insanity, not criminality.

Top of the morning gents,

I had another epiphany.

Subsequent to our recent lectures regarding epidemic mental illness so horribly exemplified in this state, I believe I may have a theorem.

Sexual mutilation has manifold psychological ramifications, and the senseless and vicious skull busting handed to Statewide's narc reveals how truly serious Alaskans are about their massive drug addiction.

We also know that Alaska leads the nation in suicide, FAS, and child abuse. Now we claim first prize in another retard race; chronic drug abuse.

Last week on NPR, the Mrs. and I listened to a news broadcast proclaiming Alaska is rated the highest of all 50 states in drug abuse; for all drugs, and for all age groups.

"Chance favors the prepared mind", but a learned mind doesn't have to directly experience insanity's precipitate to fully understand its externalities (side effects) on the body, and on our culture.

Every one of you gunslingers possesses personal experience of what makes a 'party', and what makes a 'buzz kill.' What passes for partying here in Native Territory is better described as a buzz kill.

No shit. Since when was it cool to have beaten women, raped children, and drunken men of a browner skin hue at a frat party, beach party, or keggers in Suburbia, USA?

These few examples of racial discrimination are a good thing.

The practice of partying with my pals way south of 60 is far safer than the mindless mayhem I've had to mop up after in my street and in my house up here north of 70 lat.

You boys in blue are nodding your heads and muttering "no shit Sherlock."

Every single one of my former drinking and hunting pals is now tangled up in meth and it's pissing me off.

How fucking great; another drug for natives to kill and die over. A subculture ill equipped to handle ethanol alcohol discovering a new drug that don't make your breath smell like a sewery (sewer + brewery).

Meth is a funny drug, very different from the cocaine rich suburban kids enjoyed back in the 80's. Meth is cheaper'n shit and lasts all goddamn day.

"Good deal" can be heard all over Barrow.

The rapidly expanding customer base is stimulating new supply side channels resulting in an astronomic growth in the number of meth labs from the Mat-Su Valley all the way up to Fairbanks and North Pole.

The invisible hand of economics always prevails, and is ALWAYS demand driven.

Here's the problem in a nutcase. Simply removing drugs and alcohol from the subsistence diet of our native brethren will only exacerbate our indigenous maiming and killing.

All these addicts are what are now creatively termed "dual diagnosis", meaning the root of the rot is still present in the form of lunacy and madness. Most addicts feel they are self-medicating something wrong inside them.

Well, they are. And the largest contributor to insanity is fetal exposure to liquor and shitty reservation quality drugs. Do you uniformed felons detect a cyclicle pattern here?

We're approaching the month of March, better known throughout Scandinavia as the month of madness. And they call it the month of madness for a damn good reason. They too have spikes in violence of all types. Including self-inflicted violence via rope, gun, or drug overdose.

We need not accept this phenomena. Inherently sick people don't need any fucking encouragement and especially any understanding or forgiveness from their loved ones and victims.

On my late night stroll with the Mrs. last night, we were bedazzled by a wonderfully bright full moon.

Double fucked we is. Uneducated and uncivilized folks I fondly call "closer to monkeys" believe the full moon has dumb ass powers and is reasonable grounds to further abuse their loved ones.

Most of you uniformed felons might take heed and oil yer gun and pay closer attention to yer duties. Explosive violence of any descriptor occurs with little or no warning. Especially during this time of year.

So keep yer heads up soldiers. Until we rehabilitate 20% of our state's population, it's best these rural village whack jobs stay high, stoned, ripped and wasted.

The bullet that's gonna kill us hasn't even been manufactured yet. But the knife and axe wielding homicidal maniac already likely lives right next door to you.

I won't wait until your funeral to say a few kind words for you. That's too late.

I'll express kind and supportive words while all you bastards are fucking alive and kicking ass.

Amen?

I'll be here 5 days a week, God willing.

All these shit-ass cuss words are a man's way of expressing his fondness for you aging killers.

Stay tuned each day to this same bat time and same bat channel. It ain't likely I'll run out of abusive ways to cheer you up. So fuck ye.

Keep yer powder dry and yer dick hard, and the world will turn.

Karl.

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