The Assembly is alarmed by the dramatic increase in recent years in the
traffic in women and forced prostitution in Council of Europe member states. It is worried by the increasing involvement of organised criminal groups in these lucrative crimes, which these groups use as a basis for financing and expanding their other activities, such as
drugs and
arms trafficking and
money laundering. The Assembly is also concerned about the deterioration of the treatment of trafficked women, bordering on slavery, which has resulted from this development. (
Council of Europe 1997)
Second : The times they are changin'... since the seventies : they laced near everything ... they control YOU also ... Weed is almost transgenic from seeds and plants are pushed with a lot of acid chemicals ... and shit (
funny name ) is no more
(pure ?) shit ! Laced weed/drug doesn't mean that it has to be done with other drugs... they use anything ... starting with
rat poison and draino... or anything else ... they don't care about their "consumers" ... they sell
POISON !
Third : Drugs are everywhere... Young people are starting younger also ... As a good starting point you can check the
European Monitoring Centre for Drugs and Drug Addiction
btw : Alcohol is a hard drug ...
QUOTE said:
Formaldehyde can also be released by:
* burning wood
* burning kerosene
* burning natural gas
* burning cigarettes
* automobile emissions
* natural processes
And so on ...
So finally welcome in reality ... Ever heard of
Substance Death Or Death or simply D... like Drug ?
As P.K. Dick points out in his poignant afterword in Scanner Darkly (which, condensed and edited, is also reproduced at the end of the movie ):
"This has been a novel about some people who were punished entirely too much for what they did." often reduce to the idea that junkies just want to have fun - they rarely set out to destroy themselves or hurt others. They deserve our compassion, not our contempt.
QUOTE
AUTHOR'S NOTE
This has been a novel about some people who were punished entirely too much for what they did. They wanted to have a good time, but they were like children playing in the street; they could see one after another of them being killed--run over, maimed, destroyed--but they continued to play anyhow. We really all were very happy for a while, sitting around not toiling but just bullshitting and playing, but it was for such a terrible brief time, and then the punishment was beyond belief: even when we could see it, we could not believe it. For example, while I was writing this I learned that the person on whom the character Jerry Fabin is based killed himself. My friend on whom I based the character Ernie Luckman died before I began the novel. For a while I myself was one of these children playing in the street; I was, like the rest of them, trying to play instead of being grown up, and I was punished. I am on the list below, which is a list of those to whom this novel is dedicated, and what became of each.
Drug misuse is not a disease, it is a decision, like the decision to step out in front of a moving car. You would call that not a disease but an error in judgment. When a bunch of people begin to do it, it is a social error, a life-style. In this particular life-style the motto is "Be happy now because tomorrow you are dying," but the dying begins almost at once, and the happiness is a memory. It is, then, only a speeding up, an intensifying, of the ordinary human existence. It is not different from your life-style, it is only faster. It all takes place in days or weeks or months instead of years. "Take the cash and let the credit go," as Villon said in 1460. But that is a mistake if the cash is a penny and the credit a whole lifetime.
There is no moral in this novel; it is not bourgeois; it does not say they were wrong to play when they should have toiled; it just tells what the consequences were. In Greek drama they were beginning, as a society, to discover science, which means causal law. Here in this novel there is Nemesis: not fate, because any one of us could have chosen to stop playing in the street, but, as I narrate from the deepest part of my life and heart, a dreadful Nemesis for those who kept on playing. I myself, I am not a character in this novel; I am the novel. So, though, was our entire nation at this time. This novel is about more people than I knew personally. Some we all read about in the newspapers. It was, this sitting around with our buddies and bullshitting while making tape recordings, the bad decision of the decade, the sixties, both in and out of the establishment. And nature cracked down on us. We were forced to stop by things dreadful.
If there was any "sin," it was that these people wanted to keep on having a good time forever, and were punished for that, but, as I say, I feel that, if so, the punishment was far too great, and I prefer to think of it only in a Greek or morally neutral way, as mere science, as deterministic impartial cause-and-effect. I loved them all. Here is the list, to whom I dedicate my love:
To Gaylene
deceased
To Ray
deceased
To Francy
permanent psychosis
To Kathy
permanent brain damage
To Jim
deceased
To Val
massive permanent brain damage
To Nancy
permanent psychosis
To Joanne
permanent brain damage
To Maren
deceased
To Nick
deceased
To Terry
deceased
To Dennis
deceased
To Phil
permanent pancreatic damage
To Sue
permanent vascular damage
To Jerri
permanent psychosis and vascular damage
. . . and so forth.
In Memoriam. These were comrades whom I had; there are no better. They remain in my mind, and the enemy will never be forgiven.
The "enemy" was their mistake in playing. Let them all play again, in some other way, and let them be happy.
