I got me 3 beers and a fistfull of downs, I'm gonna get ripped so fuck you clowns." (F. Zappa-Titties and Beer)
Top of the morning gents,
The weed battle in Alaska still simmers.
Under the Alaska Constitutional guarantee of the right
to privacy, the state is prohibited from snooping
needlessly within the confines of your domicile.
No shit, it's hard to get warrants to search a house.
The court requires dumb asses like me to appear in
person and testify under oath (testi-lying) what murky
commerce transpires at the house in question: how many
scales and grinders, lamps and ballasts are onsite,
and how much product and dineros changes hands.
Some District Attorneys are vigorous to bolster my
testimony by asking questions that blatantly implicate
myself. Since I'm not a defendant I'm not guaranteed
the right to stay silent on the grounds I may
implicate myself. I get to chatter on about all kinds
of amazing and groovey shit, the shittier the better.
Aside from your author on drugs, this is a bizarre
experience only you boys can appreciate.
"To error is human. To blame it on the other guy is
even more human."
Not me. Warrants and indictments are granted in a big
fucking hurry when a lad swears to the whole truth
that he did indeed smuggle a buttload of LSD into a
butthole village that smells like Kikiktagruk spit: on
numerous occassions.
Why elaborate or embellish when the truth is far more
realistic and shocking?
Swearing to tell nothing but the truth is pert near
impossible, but declaring aloud to a bunch of fucking
cops, lawyers, and the smoking judge that I did indeed
trade, barter, swap and sell a goddamn shitload of
explosively potent acid with the afformentioned 'bad
guys' and 'anglo-punks of interest' takes less energy
than fabricating fanciful malarkey. Besides, the truth
shall set me free: but not the 'bad guys.'
The reason I used the term 'anglo-punks' is due to my
selective racial target acquisitions. I view my Eskimo
neighbors as victims of drug crimes, and my white
nigger weed, coke, and meth dealer buddies and
bootleggers as the bad guys.
Make sense? As you climb the distribution chain,
you'll always find a white guy at the top. That's my
kind of food chain, and I know exactly how to
disassemble the motherfucker as easy as I can build
one.
A while back I enjoyed a lengthy long distance
philosophical phone chat with a man called Mason. He
first had to convince me to take the time and grant
Tim McDonald an interview for the Sounder: he
succeeded. We then chatted why a democratic nation
would allow law enforcement to hire crooks and
criminals to prosecute crooks and criminals.
Fertile material for many phone debates.
We chatted about wonderful places like Copenhagen,
Denmark and Amsterdam, Holland regarding the emerging
policy of separating hard drugs from soft drugs.
As you all know, it's perfectly legal to pop in to
your favorite pub or coffee shop for a bong hit and
brew. Even Helsinki, Finland has a few tobacco and
chemist shops where a lad can legally sit and hork
down some major plumes of pine-chron while awaiting
yer prescription or whilst shopping for Cubanos and
fags for his best mates back at KPD.
The prices for your choice of sativa are only slightly
cheaper than West Coast prices cuz them Dutch, Danish
and Scandinavians charge a king's ransom in taxes.
Decently cured bud may cost these shops a mere pence,
but after the government extracts their pound of
flesh, yer gonna shell out $60-$100 dollars for a
half-ounce tray of doobage.
In most of the EU (European Union) a lad can pocket a
tasty pouch of pine bud without incurring the wrath,
confinement and financial penalty of EU coppers. If I
carry any amphetamines, cocaine, heroin or opiates I'm
fucked major league.
Ramped up penalties for hard drugs, tax the living
shit out of the soft drugs. Ironic that cigs, alcohol,
and Willie Nelson Nebraska 2-High are classified as
'soft drugs', but who am I to argue?
I prefer America stick with its Puritanical
Evangelical Hebrew Inquisition methodology. Overseas,
I couldn't make a dime in the drug trade: on either
side of the law.
I don't believe Alaska can legally tax bootleg booze
and Barrow hard bud, but imagine the revenues a
muni-lad could capture if villages in bumfuck Egypt
Alaska could tax every single drop of liquor and chunk
of Gooner bud.
At a modest 10% sales tax on every trade, barter and
illicit sale I engaged in, every shithole and scumbag
native village would no longer need a single dime from
the state or feds. Simply tax their own voracious
appetite for booze, drugs, and baby butt pussy.
Oops, we can't legalize infant porn and kiddy biscuit
splitting, in the native cultures, it already is.
Shit, up until we wrapped up the Logan bust, I sold an
average of 500 bottles of booze every dividend season.
I'm still adding up how many marijuana harvests I
unloaded here in Barrow, but I believe in all honesty
and sincerity I put Jr. Barnes, Pete Lambert, and
Charlie Reich to shame.
Good thing I work for the 'good guys.'
Karl.
The weed battle in Alaska still simmers.
Under the Alaska Constitutional guarantee of the right
to privacy, the state is prohibited from snooping
needlessly within the confines of your domicile.
No shit, it's hard to get warrants to search a house.
The court requires dumb asses like me to appear in
person and testify under oath (testi-lying) what murky
commerce transpires at the house in question: how many
scales and grinders, lamps and ballasts are onsite,
and how much product and dineros changes hands.
Some District Attorneys are vigorous to bolster my
testimony by asking questions that blatantly implicate
myself. Since I'm not a defendant I'm not guaranteed
the right to stay silent on the grounds I may
implicate myself. I get to chatter on about all kinds
of amazing and groovey shit, the shittier the better.
Aside from your author on drugs, this is a bizarre
experience only you boys can appreciate.
"To error is human. To blame it on the other guy is
even more human."
Not me. Warrants and indictments are granted in a big
fucking hurry when a lad swears to the whole truth
that he did indeed smuggle a buttload of LSD into a
butthole village that smells like Kikiktagruk spit: on
numerous occassions.
Why elaborate or embellish when the truth is far more
realistic and shocking?
Swearing to tell nothing but the truth is pert near
impossible, but declaring aloud to a bunch of fucking
cops, lawyers, and the smoking judge that I did indeed
trade, barter, swap and sell a goddamn shitload of
explosively potent acid with the afformentioned 'bad
guys' and 'anglo-punks of interest' takes less energy
than fabricating fanciful malarkey. Besides, the truth
shall set me free: but not the 'bad guys.'
The reason I used the term 'anglo-punks' is due to my
selective racial target acquisitions. I view my Eskimo
neighbors as victims of drug crimes, and my white
nigger weed, coke, and meth dealer buddies and
bootleggers as the bad guys.
Make sense? As you climb the distribution chain,
you'll always find a white guy at the top. That's my
kind of food chain, and I know exactly how to
disassemble the motherfucker as easy as I can build
one.
A while back I enjoyed a lengthy long distance
philosophical phone chat with a man called Mason. He
first had to convince me to take the time and grant
Tim McDonald an interview for the Sounder: he
succeeded. We then chatted why a democratic nation
would allow law enforcement to hire crooks and
criminals to prosecute crooks and criminals.
Fertile material for many phone debates.
We chatted about wonderful places like Copenhagen,
Denmark and Amsterdam, Holland regarding the emerging
policy of separating hard drugs from soft drugs.
As you all know, it's perfectly legal to pop in to
your favorite pub or coffee shop for a bong hit and
brew. Even Helsinki, Finland has a few tobacco and
chemist shops where a lad can legally sit and hork
down some major plumes of pine-chron while awaiting
yer prescription or whilst shopping for Cubanos and
fags for his best mates back at KPD.
The prices for your choice of sativa are only slightly
cheaper than West Coast prices cuz them Dutch, Danish
and Scandinavians charge a king's ransom in taxes.
Decently cured bud may cost these shops a mere pence,
but after the government extracts their pound of
flesh, yer gonna shell out $60-$100 dollars for a
half-ounce tray of doobage.
In most of the EU (European Union) a lad can pocket a
tasty pouch of pine bud without incurring the wrath,
confinement and financial penalty of EU coppers. If I
carry any amphetamines, cocaine, heroin or opiates I'm
fucked major league.
Ramped up penalties for hard drugs, tax the living
shit out of the soft drugs. Ironic that cigs, alcohol,
and Willie Nelson Nebraska 2-High are classified as
'soft drugs', but who am I to argue?
I prefer America stick with its Puritanical
Evangelical Hebrew Inquisition methodology. Overseas,
I couldn't make a dime in the drug trade: on either
side of the law.
I don't believe Alaska can legally tax bootleg booze
and Barrow hard bud, but imagine the revenues a
muni-lad could capture if villages in bumfuck Egypt
Alaska could tax every single drop of liquor and chunk
of Gooner bud.
At a modest 10% sales tax on every trade, barter and
illicit sale I engaged in, every shithole and scumbag
native village would no longer need a single dime from
the state or feds. Simply tax their own voracious
appetite for booze, drugs, and baby butt pussy.
Oops, we can't legalize infant porn and kiddy biscuit
splitting, in the native cultures, it already is.
Shit, up until we wrapped up the Logan bust, I sold an
average of 500 bottles of booze every dividend season.
I'm still adding up how many marijuana harvests I
unloaded here in Barrow, but I believe in all honesty
and sincerity I put Jr. Barnes, Pete Lambert, and
Charlie Reich to shame.
Good thing I work for the 'good guys.'
Karl.
posted by Alaska: Local And State News. at 1:55 PM
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