I used to drive an ice cream truck as I noted in a previous jokes. I sold dope, cannabis, out of my truck to supplement my income. Remember the jokes and memes about ice cream truck drivers selling dope out of their trucks? Weren’t there Dragnet episodes about that? Well, it’s not an urban legend.
A lot of the other drivers sold it too. Buy pot, roll joints out of it, and sell joints for $1 apiece, mostly at parks and particularly on weekends. At the end of the day, standing in line waiting to get paid (that’s how it worked), the other drivers and I would talk about how the drug dealing went that day.
Some days the pot-sellers would bring in $100/day selling jays. This was good money back in 1978, equivalent to $350/day today. I made $1,000/month, equivalent to $3,500 month or $42,000 year now, which ain’t bad for such a dumb job.
I sold hash in addition to ice cream. Very quietly, mind you, but I did sell it at $10 a gram. I was selling some really good red Afghan hash out of that truck at one point. I was also selling this crappy, tar-like homemade hash that sort of sucked.
I think I bought a 1/4 pound of the Afghan hash and sold ounces, 1/4 ounces, and grams. It came into the port of Long Beach in the hulls of oil tankers. We knew a guy who bought the cannabis right off the ships and that’s how we got it. In all the years we bought from this guy, the ships never got caught.
I even sold that Afghan hash at university in my classes right under the eyes of professors. We had a trick way of doing it. I sold LSD right in the middle of class too via the same method. Lots of giggles all around as we did that.
All the other students knew we were obviously selling drugs in class, but no one cared as this was 1979-1980, and literally no one cared about “soft drugs” (pot and psychedelics). The hard stuff? A different story.
We were onto cocaine as a dirty, nasty, ugly drug real quick and I never actually dealt it because it was too sleazy. We were already onto that stuff all the way back in 1979 before everyone else does. Coke is ultimately a shitty drug. I used the stuff for 13 years. Don’t take it, it’s junk, and it’s really bad for you.
I lived as a criminal for 14 years as a (mostly) soft drug dealer of pot, hash, LSD, psilocybin mushrooms, and even mescaline and peyote once in a while. I know about the life of The Street and The Petty or Victimless Crime Underground. Suffice it to say that the Criminal Underworld is very moral in a sense and you don’t burn other criminals. That results in something called “paybacks.” And as the saying goes, “Paybacks are a bitch.” Dylan was right when he sang:
In order to live outside the law, you must be honest.
– Bob Dylan
Before pot legalization, I used to see these Mexicans in my town standing in the parking lots of their apartment complexes selling pot. Geniuses!
Actually I used to buy from them, so I’m sort of an idiot too, right?
Blacks stand right out on the street selling dope too. Brilliant!
Then the SJW’s scream that Blacks and Hispanics take just as many drugs as Whites but they get busted way more. Unfair! Discrimination against non-White criminals! Not fair to crooks! Racist, discriminatory law enforcement! Evil racist cops oh noes!
I laugh every time I read this because I know that Blacks are Hispanics get busted for dope way more than Whites do because non-Whites are so stupid about how they sell and use drugs.
POC Genius 1: “Hey I got a plan to be drug dealers and never got caught!”
POC Rhodes Scholar 2: “Yeah, what is it?”
POC Genius 1: “Let’s stand right out in the open in public selling and using drugs! Cops think most people hide indoors to do that stuff, so this way we’ll never get caught!”
POC Rhodes Scholar 2: Good plan! Why didn’t I think of that?!”
It’s practically a Polack or blond joke.
My dealer friends and I were very, very smart about dealing.
We had all sorts of tricks. I can’t list them all here. I personally maybe 5-10 completely different outfits posing as different members of society to sell quantities of drugs. There was suit and tie businessman dude with the dope in a nice suitcase (natch) doing deals in the office worker part of town, gym dude with gym clothes and a gym bag doing deals in health club parking lot. There were others
I never got caught and neither did my friends. Why? Because we weren’t morons who stand out in public and sell dope in full view of the cops and everyone else and expect to not get caught, that’s why! I mean how smart do you have to be to literally do this stuff out of site
“Long Long Time,” by Linda Ronstadt from Silk Purse, 1970
From her very early solo days. Her first solo album. Still very much an LA hippie girl.
I’ve been hearing this song forever but I never knew it was her! Never knew the name of it either, and I’ve barely heard of Silk Purse.
Since 2012, people have believed that Ronstadt has had Parkinson’s disease. However, last year she was re-diagnosed with progressive supranuclear palsy (PSP). A lot of people think Donald Trump has this same condition. However, Trump is also thought to have fronto-temporal dementia (FTD). Making things more confusing, there is a progressive supranuclear palsy subtype of FTD. Some people think that FTD and PSP are the same illness. In both cases, your brain cells are slowly dying off.
Ronstadt was definitely a cokehead for a while there, living in that house of hers in the Hollywood Hills.
The 1 AM party people come over, and then at 3 they leave, and the 3 AM party people come over. At 5 they leave and the 5 AM party people come over…
In response to Jason’s post here about drug use frying your brain, I have written this response. In general, the notion that the use of illegal drugs will fry your brain or make you permafried even after you quit is nonsense. In general, once you quit you go back to the intelligence and sanity level you were at before you started. Few people get permanently lowered intelligence or permanent mental illness from former drug use.
Most illegal drugs do not cause any permanent damage to your brain that would affect you permanently after you quit.
In all of my years using drugs, I have met 10,000’s of drug users and I never met one person who had used so much drugs that they were “fried” in the sense that they were permanently stupid or crazy after they quit using.
There may be some consequences far down the road – say, with Parkinson’s.
Jason’s article discusses an increased risk of Parkinson’s in former cocaine users. But it’s not really due to brain damages so much as changes in a certain receptor that make someone more vulnerable to a toxin. That’s not the same thing as having a fried brain.
I knew a heavy cocaine user who appeared to have neurological problems from the drug. But I am not sure if it persisted after he quit, if he ever did quit. But he’s the only person I’ve ever met like that, and even he wasn’t fried at all. He was still very intelligent and completely sane. However, he did appear to have some sort of brain damage. Whether it was permanent or not is not known.
I have known people who took LSD up to 700 times, and I know a number who took LSD 300 times. LSD doesn’t damage your brain anyway. It can cause some changes in the visual system due to permanent changes in serotonin receptors, but that just causes some perceptual problems, and this is mostly in people who have taken it 50+ times. It doesn’t change effect you in any way that changes the way you think or feel, in other words, it doesn’t make you stupid or nuts.
There are some very heavy former LSD users who seem to have permanent hallucinations, but those people took a lot of acid over a short period of time – like way, way too much acid. It’s not known what’s going on with them, but I suppose they are permafried in a sense.
LSD is a dangerous drug.
I know many people who have been smoking pot for 10, 20, or even 30 years, and there’s nothing wrong with any of them. You wouldn’t think there was anything wrong with them if you met them. They’re not damaged at all.
The pot lowering IQ discussed in Jason’s piece is only for use before you are 18. If you start using at age 18 or after, there’s no effect on IQ. People under 18 need to be very careful about pot because it can indeed lower their IQ’s a bit.
Pot doesn’t give you schizophrenia, period. The most it can do is trigger it if you are already vulnerable, but even then, most of those people would have gotten it anyway. But it can definitely bring it on sooner than it would have otherwise.
The rate of schizophrenia has been flat for 60 years, all through the 1960’s, 70’s, 80’s, 90’s, 2000’s and 2010’s, and all sorts of drug use rates for different drugs skyrocketed at various times in that period. In other words, neither cannabis nor any other drug is going to give you schizophrenia with one exception discussed below.
MDMA is a very dangerous drug and it can definitely cause physical damage to your brain. It permanently lowers scores on a few aspects of intelligence tests such as vocabulary, but you mostly can’t notice any changes and there do not appear to be any changes in mental stability. In general, it doesn’t make you stupid or nuts.
However, there are some people called e-tards out there who took a lot of MDMA very frequently over relatively short of periods of time, and these people appear to be permafried. Mostly they seem a bit stupid.
However, I have heard that even these effects of MDMA go away after ~7-8 years if you stay away from the drug.
Speed is another matter but even that tends to clear up after you quit. There are some very heavy methamphetamine users, especially people who shot the drug, who have developed an illness that looks a lot like or possibly is paranoid schizophrenia.
There are some recorded cases out of Japan, and a friend told me about another case here in California. This is not a common outcome and even with all the heavy meth abuse that is going on nowadays, you don’t hear much about people being permafried in the sense that they become permanently mentally ill with paranoid schizophrenia.
Heavy Polydrug and Alcohol Abuse for Decades (30 years)
I have heard of one person who used huge amounts of drugs and drank very heavily over many years, starting as an adolescent. They are now off of everything, and they have a rather poor short-term memory and forget stuff a lot, but other than that, they are still extremely intelligent.
They are also a bit suspicious and paranoid, but not at the level of a paranoid psychosis. I suppose this man is permafried in a sense, but if you met him, you would not appear stupid or crazy.
Bottom line is a lot of that stuff can mess you up pretty bad while you are on it so you seem stupid, crazy, or even brain damaged. But most if not all of that tends to clear up when you quit. Permafried people who are permanently stupid or nuts from heavy drug use must be awfully rare because I haven’t met one in my entire life. The fried brains and permafried nonsense is mostly mythology.
The jazz underground has always been associated with Black people and drugs even from its early days in the 1920’s.
The drug back then was mostly marijuana which was widely demonized back then because it was mostly used by Blacks and Hispanics. Whites who used it were more or less White niggers or wiggers so to speak.
The Pot Makes You Violent Bullshit
My Mom has believed this garbage her whole life. She keeps bringing it up. She got infected with this propaganda way back as a girl. This shows how strong propaganda is and how it has the potential to override all reason.
This is where the myth the crazed psychotic violent pot crazed murdering maniac comes from – the fact that most pot users were either city Blacks or low-skilled Mexican workers. These people were considered to be violent types – and they are more violent than Whites. They also used pot, so it was assumed that the pot and violence went together except that it didn’t and if anything it probably calmed them down.
There were also a few notorious cases in which unstable pot smokers went wild and committed some savage murders. The relationship of pot with these cases is unknown but back then, few people smoked pot, but one thing was for sure – almost all criminals, even White criminals, smoked pot. In fact it was seen as a drug of criminals which is why a lot of people didn’t want to use it.
The completely serious movie (now a so bad it’s great movie) Reefer Madness is emblematic of the anti-pot propaganda of the time.
A man named Henry J. Anslinger headed the Drug Enforcement Agency back then, and he had some sort of a hard-on for pot for some crazy reason. He led the anti-pot campaign in the US for many years starting in the 1930’s. He was more of a brainwashed (and racist) fool than anything else, but he damaged the lives of a lot of innocent pot smokers.
Of course anyone who has smoked pot knows that it calms you down. I knew Jack Herrer, a famous post activist.
He told me that when he was in jail and prison, prisoners who smoked pot always calmed down a lot and became less aggressive and violent. He said some of the wardens even turned a blind eye to pot use for his reason. In fact, the passivity that this drug causes is one of its biggest problems, as people get lost in their bong hits and become apathetic as the world passes them by.
This amotivational syndrome is mostly an issue for teenagers and young adults and it is quite common among young potheads. However, I have hardly ever met an adult past age 23 who had amotivational syndrome, as most even very heavy pot-smokers develop the work ethic needed to survive in our society by that age.
Teenagers and young adults are notoriously apathetic and poorly motivated as it is, since they have not yet been beaten over the head with the Reality Stick of Life. Encapsulate such a young person in a perennial cloud of pot smoke, and it just makes the laziness and lack of guidance, direction, and purpose typical of this age group all the worse.
Anyway, the jazz scene lingered in mostly Black and rather sleazy nightclubs in ghettos where nevertheless a lot of lowlife White types who lived my sort of lifestyle liked to go to slum it up on weekends. White men have been slumming it up forever. There is a cool element to it as long as you do not get too taken in by it.
Ghetto Drugs and Non-Ghetto Drugs
Cocaine and heroin were also pretty widely widely used in this scene – cocaine all the way back to the 1920’s, when we were already getting warnings about the insidious nature of this drug. Heroin was always around too, as it’s always been in the ghettos. It got more popular in the 1950’s and many great Black jazz musicians become junkies.
Psychedelics were never popular, as not only were they not around then, but also people in the ghettos and barrios of big cities have never been big psychedelic fans.
Psychedelics actually do expand your awareness and exaggerate whatever environment you are in. This is great for self-exploration if you have a fairly cozy life, but if your life blows for any reason, you might just have a bad trip.
I kept a hit of strong LSD in my refrigerator for two years until I finally felt that my head was perfectly clear and sane enough to take the stuff. The importance of what is called set and setting is extremely important for drugs like this. Psychedelics are not escapist drugs – they are the opposite.
As Blacks and Hispanics in city ghettos and barrios are usually living anywhere from a hardscrabble to nightmarish existence, the last they want to is to take a drug that makes that very existence about 10 times as powerful as it is.
On the other hand, PCP was popular in the Black and Hispanic communities, but it is not a psychedelic per se, as it is more of an anesthetic – it was originally an animal tranquilizer, and people used to refer to it as “elephant tranquilizer,” which was exactly what it was used for.
Yes, that stuff was actually used to literally knock out massive elephants. Now think about a drug that is strong enough to put an elephant on its ass and try to imagine what it will do to a comparatively puny human.
The PCP experience can be profoundly weird, but I suppose it is also a form of escapism, as when you use PCP you are basically traveling to another planet right here on Earth. Going all the way to another planet while never leaving your own is about as powerful as escapism gets, I would say.
SHI: Dude can use his girlfriend/wife as a money minting machine. I wouldn’t mind a stripper for LTR. I am as depraved as they come.
What if she doesn’t hand me over her money? I’ll just be a good pimp and beat her ass till she’s bleeding all over. I’ll fucking kill her if my ATM plans to dump me.
I wish though I were this bad though. Unfortunately I can only talk.
Those are the type of guys stripper types usually end up with, frankly. Their boyfriends are usually glorified pimps (“managers”), criminals, and often hard drug users, often dope shooters who use needles. The women’s relationships with these men are quite tumultuous, and I think they are often accused of taking the women’s money.
I very briefly dated a woman who wanted me to get her into porn and I guess be her manager. She was Black and was also a former call girl and strippogram girl.
I actually picked her up right off the street in Century City amidst the skyscrapers. Not as a whore, more as a secretary on lunch break, which is exactly what she was. She smiled and waved to me, so I pulled over. She said she was just going to get some lunch, and would I like to get some? I said sure and she jumped in. I asked why she waved me down, and she said, “Because you’re cute! I was looking for a cute guy to go to lunch with,” flashing a grin as wide as an LA freeway.
I said ok, and we had lunch on Sunset Boulevard in some place across from the Whiskey A-Go-Go. The waitress was staring at me like a robot the way they always do when you’re with a hot chick. Women are like money. It takes one to get one, and it takes some to get some. Either way you start at zero and you stay at zero. Then we made a date for later that night.
I met her at some barber shop in South Central where she was getting her hair cut later that afternoon.
There were some old school Black men there. One had an antique Coke machine, and I engaged him about it. He told me all about it and showed me another one. He was acting pretty strange the whole time but not unfriendly at all. Maybe wary and like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. I later asked her about it and she told me that he didn’t like White men. He was nice enough to me but he did seem uncomfortable. I guess he couldn’t understand why I was so nice.
I talked to some other Black guy there about his dialect and suggested it sounded like Gulla. He told me that indeed he had come from South Carolina. Both of those Black men were pretty damn nice considering that White people never went there.
We went to her place where she lived with her Mom, but no one was home. She very suspiciously asked me for a contact number, which freaked me out just a bit, but I guess it makes sense, and I’m well enough used to it anyway.
We men are always being suspected of being raping murderers. I gave her my Mom’s number because she wanted a contact number, I guess in case I murdered her and left her for dead in a ditch somewhere. Now why she cared what happened afterwards if I murdered her and left her in a ditch I have no idea, but perhaps she believed in postmortem justice.
So we took off for her friends’ apartment in the Wilshire District, an extremely mixed Black-White neighborhood at that time. She’s was talking about “rock cocaine” with this weird gleam in her eyes, and wasn’t not quite sure why that was.
We went inside and it quickly unfolded that this was a mixed group of young Blacks and Whites, apparently single and in their 20’s. They said they worked for the phone company. They were all smoking crack. This was very interesting as I’d never tried the stuff before and was curious.
This was 1986 and the first time I had ever tried crack. The drug had just come out and the press was full of all these over the top horror stories.
Well, back then I was a drug dealer myself, and most of the outlaw dregs and lowlifes I ran with didn’t believe any “drug war propaganda,” which we considered to be laughable scare stories. Sadly sometimes these scare stories are true.
This is where the War on Drug squares screwed up. They turned everything into a scare story, so we quit listening to everything they said. It was a Boy Who Cries Wolf scenario, and how did that story end? The wolf ate the lambs, and the dope ate some of us.
They were using glass pipes. One Black guy was on the carpet on his hands and knees, and he was pressing his forehead against the carpet like he was trying to be an ostrich, but he mistook a hardwood floor for a patch of sand. I’ve seen a lot of weird drug stuff, but that was disturbing. I was thinking, “What the Hell kind of drug is this, anyway?” I bought her a rock ($25) and we smoke it.
She sucked on the pipe like a deranged friend who was suffocating and grasping the last desperate breaths out of the pipe. I mean she was sucking on that pipe for dear life. That was downright disturbing right there. I mean if she wanted to suck my dick like that, she’d be a hero, but this was a Goddamned drug pipe!
I mean I had seen people jonesing and fiending before but mostly on pot, which was nothing like this. I had been a cocaine sniffer sporadically for nine years, especially in the last few years when I was running around LA with artists high on coke and weed, but they never jonesed or fiended like that, and I’d seen some fiends. Like out and out addicts.
We finished the rock and it was definitely an excellent high. Got me out of stupid neurotic self for about 15 minutes and then it was over. I was in the bathroom pissing in a toilet and I saw her watching me in the doorway with lit-up eyes. I was thinking, “That’s weird,” but that was when I first realized that females actually like to watch guys take a piss. I suppose to cock-watch. I can’t think of any other reason that’s not seriously twisted.
After 15 nice minutes, the drug wore off and I felt like crap. And more than anything else, I really wanted another damn rock to make the bad feeling go away. Which of course is the whole problem here, right? I caught onto the drug’s scam, and decided to just say no.
She was badgering me for another rock, but I was getting suspicious of this game already. She was acting like, “One more rock and then we can fuck,” but I was thinking this game could go on like this all night, and I was later told that it often does just that. And you never get a thing in the end no matter how many rocks you buy the bitch. It’s a heist.
As you might suspect she was the typical Thieving Whore type with a background as a Real Whore (Real Whores often double as Thieving Whores when they are feeling lazy or just more evil than usual), and I caught onto the “Buy me one more 20,” scam and ditched her. I went out to my car and sat there. She was supposed to join me but she never showed up, so I sat there like an idiot for 45 minutes holding my dick in my hand, feeling stupid, and getting increasingly angry.
These other Black people who were at the party showed up and told me that she was up there talking shit about me. I was thinking, “Ok, screw this bitch. She’s not getting a ride home. She can walk if she wants! It’s only ten miles away in the dark LA night! I’m sure she can make it without any problems at all!”
One of the group was a Black woman about 35 years old who looked pretty good. I went out and talked to them. She grabbed me and put her arm around me. “You come with me, baby,” so I went off with her. At one point we were in someone’s car she was shoving her tongue in my ear whispering dirty stuff while this other Black woman with her acted all grossed out.
We went up to their place, and it was another crack party. I bought her one too. The rock went around fast as the speed of light with everyone hitting it like it was their last breath on Earth. It was creepy, weird, and actually pretty damn scary. By this time I was wise to the drug, and turned it down while I watched these maniacs suck it down like oxygen.
I looked around at the people in the room. The people in there looked like zombies from a Night of the Living Dead movie, especially one Black man in his 40’s with black holes where his eyes were supposed to be. He has his head back on the couch with a thousand yard stare, looking like someone had suctioned his brains out, which is pretty much what had happened, except a drug did not and not a vacuum tube.
I was sitting there thinking, “This shit is literally the worst drug on Earth.” And this was my very first acquaintance with the drug called crack. As you can see, I’m not only not an idiot but I’m also a quick study.
Well, this other Black chick was all over me telling me it was her birthday and how we were going to get a hotel room and all this dirty stuff she was going to do to me. Then it turned into, “Buy me one more 20, and I get the room.” I had already heard that song before, earlier than night as a matter of fact. I kept shaking my head no.
At some point I was being escorted out of the apartment. The last I saw was a look of utter contempt on this Thieving Whore’s face. I was out $50 and all I got were a couple of makeout sessions. Lessons don’t come cheap in life.
Well, my Mom called me later the next day all freaked out, “Bob! What did you do to that girl!?” I had no idea what in God’s name she was talking about. I was like, “What?!” The woman’s Mom had called my Mom because that bitch never came home that night. Why?
Because I was her ride and I abandoned her halfway through a date and left her ass at an apartment in the Wilshire District when she lived in South Central. So I took her out on a date and stranded her halfway through the date with no ride home. I told you I’m a charmer. I told my Mom what happened, and I guess she called the woman’s Mom back.
I was pretty angry at my Mom for even suspecting that I would rape and murder some woman and leave her in a ditch somewhere. Not that this one particular woman didn’t deserve just that of course, but I don’t have it in me to do that, and of all people, my Mom ought to know for God’s sake. I’ll save that for my next life when I come back as a Serial Killer. Hopefully I can break Bundy’s record. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.
So this is an example of a Thieving Whore. Thieving Whores are the worst women on Earth by far. I think most of them are psychopaths. Whores are pretty much psychopathic women anyway, and 45% of prostitutes are actual diagnosed psychopaths. The personality of The Whore (Histrionic Personality Disorder) is often considered to be nothing less than the female version of male psychopathy itself.
Thieving Whores dangle the sex or implied sex in a dating context, ask for money for something or other in the context of the date, get the money, buy the stuff, promise the sex some more, and then vanish out the door without fulfilling their end of the bargain.
You’re left holding the bag on one hand and your dick in the other. You are $20-80 poorer and you got little if any sex out of it, or at least not what you were promised – you may have gotten a tit feel or a makeout session, but you were promised real sex, which is why you forked the money in the first place. These are far worse than actual whores who generally at least are not out and out thieves and at least give you something for your money.
These types are ubiquitous and they tend to be deep into ghetto culture. This is pretty much the only type of female who comes out of that culture. Obviously the Whore and Thieving Whore types are present in all races of women, but the Whore types are vastly more common among Black women, and the Thieving Whore types are drastically more common among Black women, with Hispanic women bringing up the rear of the gutter.
Yes, I have recently met a young White woman like this, but she didn’t get any money. As far as Whore types go, obviously there are White women like this, but there are a lot more Hispanic women, at least around here, which I found shocking.
Playing The Whore and the Thieving Whore is a young woman’s game. Young, attractive women play this role simply because they can. Older women do not play this role not because they don’t want to – they’d love to if they could get away with it – but mostly because they can’t. Now I love older women, but who’s going to pay big money for some 47 year old woman’s used up ass? Basically no one.
Not that a few don’t try, but they don’t charge much either. I am talking about the “Transactional Sex” Whores, not the Actual Prostitute Whores, which are another matter altogether.
I am not fond of Transactional Sex Whores because they pretend to be dating you when really they are nothing more than glorified Whores. They are all over dating sites looking to “date men,” but they are really just part-time prostitutes who engage in actual whoring and more commonly transactional dating out of their apartments.
Of the three – Thieving Whores, Transactional Sex Whores and Actual Whores – I actually much prefer the latter, as at least they believe in truth in advertising and give you something for your money. They are generally pretty straight up and honest, too. It’s a rare whore who steals from you.
The former two are thieves by nature, especially the first type. Not only that but these are female criminals who have devoted their entire lives to stealing from us men. To say they are the enemies of all of us men is an understatement. The fact that not only do these wenches exist at all, but more appallingly are everywhere you look makes the lie of the feminist idiocy that says we live in a patriarchy. I assure you that no true patriarchy would tolerate this silly crap for one second.
Interesting article on meth-induced voices in the head deriving from long-term use of methamphetamine.
Eventually, and note that this happened with everyday use of crystal meth for a couple of years, there didn’t have to be any white noise to trigger the voices. Eventually I heard voices all the time, and they took on a different nature. They would sound just like real voices, coming from different directions and distance, so the sensation was enough to trick my brain into believing that I really heard the voices with my ears. They became voices that mocked me, voices that ridiculed me, voices of imaginary observers to a mind that became increasingly paranoid and deluded. So it became much like a persecution complex, or paranoid schizophrenia. At one stage I heard people talking about me at work, saying terrible things about me. I heard them through the walls. I heard them even when I was alone.
That sounds almost exactly like paranoid schizophrenia. I have heard that long-term meth use can lead to a permanent paranoid schizophrenia-type illness. Most of this data has come out of Japan where people have been injecting shabu or meth for many years. The cases involved subjects who had been injecting shabu every day for 10+ years. The illness was incurable.
Meth-induced voices in your head take you to a bad place, a real living hell on Earth. And many who go there don’t return. They end up permanently psychotic… …I find this very interesting, in that it could mean that hearing voices is simply an expected side-effect of prolonged drug use. Further, I noticed many meth addicts who tended to believe in black magic and possession. Even when I was in rehab years ago, some residents there became convinced that a schizophrenic resident (who talked to himself and spoke in gibberish that they thought were “demonic tongues”) was possessed. No amount of attempting to reason with them would convince them otherwise. So beware, voices in the head and apophenia leading to an irrational belief in the paranormal (as well as possibly in God in recovery) may well just be a side-effect of the high levels of dopamine as a result of frequent prolonged drug use. And it may be permanent.
This is interesting, implying that in some cases, the delusions never really go away. It’s interesting how the voices start up faster the longer they have been going on. For instance, if they have been going on a long time and you quit for a while, they will start up again full-blown after only a few days of meth use. This is a kindling effect and it is well known in cocaine use and bipolar disorder, especially manic episodes. A heavy cocaine user will quit and then smoke cocaine one time. After only using it once, they are running around shutting all the drapes and talking about how the police outside can hear everyone so people need to quiet down. In Bipolar Disorder, the more episodes you experience, the worse the illness until you get to the point where you are a somewhat manic all the time. Episodes come more often and healthy periods between episodes shorten. The episodes themselves become worse and last longer.
I’ve never written about this topic on this blog, although it was a frequent subject on my old blog. Maybe it’s time…
This subject is fascinating to me now, though it wasn’t always that way. In active addiction it was scary. It was something that I lived with for a few years, but what I find most interesting is how it started.
Firstly, you need to know what pareidoloia is. It’s defined as seeing patterns where none exist, and while that explains it technically, it doesn’t really make it clear what the psychological phenomenon actually is. Visual pareidolia is when we think we see shapes like faces in inanimate objects, like Jesus on a piece of toast, or a face on Mars.
But pareidolia is also when we think we hear voices or recognizable sounds through white noise. An example of the less well known auditory pareidolia is when you’re taking a shower or hear really loud rain falling on your roof, and you think you hear voices or your phone ringing through the noise. That was how my meth voices started. At first it was just ordinary pareidolia, where there was loud rain or wind and I thought I heard voices, but would realize immediately that it was my imagination.
But then something seemed to go wrong in my brain. Fragments of sound that sounded like voices evolved into much more. As months went by, it would happen more frequently, and any background noise, even noises that were not noticeable to most people, would trigger it. So what started out sounding vaguely like voices, after a few months became voices of people that I knew speaking unintelligible words. So it was like hearing a conversation from another room, one just out of earshot and not heard clearly. Then as time went by, it became actual words and sentences that I could make out.
Eventually, and note that this happened with everyday use of crystal meth for a couple of years, there didn’t have to be any white noise to trigger the voices. Eventually I heard voices all the time, and they took on a different nature. They would sound just like real voices, coming from different directions and distance, so the sensation was enough to trick my brain into believing that I really heard the voices with my ears.
They became voices that mocked me, voices that ridiculed me, voices of imaginary observers to a mind that became increasingly paranoid and deluded. So it became much like a persecution complex, or paranoid schizophrenia.
At one stage I heard people talking about me at work, saying terrible things about me. I heard them through the walls. I heard them even when I was alone. Eventually I isolated myself from the outside world and everything in my life was affected as I retreated into my own delusional world of suffering and pain.
Meth-induced voices in your head take you to a bad place, a real living hell on Earth. And many who go there don’t return. They end up permanently psychotic. I’ll probably revisit this topic and write about how it felt to live with those voices and the inevitable delusion, but today’s post is mostly about how they start.
I find it interesting to know that those voices do start with auditory pareidolia, which is something we all experience. Of course, if you’re a meth addict and you start to experience voices, it’s probably a great time to stop using. But you won’t, I know. Yet you need to recognize that when this happens, you can no longer try to convince yourself that you aren’t an addict.
When it reaches this point, you’re a long way past crossing a line from user to addict. You need to recognize that you have a serious problem, one that is affecting not only your life but those of all involved in it. Once the voices progress to the point where you hear them all the time, they don’t stop as long as you continue using. Even if you are clean for a long time and then relapse, the voices return in a few days, and then stick around as long as you use. At least that’s how it was for me.
Update: This article about apophenia (the spontaneous perception of connections and meaningfulness of unrelated phenomena), which is of course closely related to pareidolia, lists high levels of dopamine as a possible cause. Of course drugs like meth, and to a lesser extent cocaine and crack cocaine, cause tremendously high levels of dopamine, considerably higher than the levels that occur naturally. And all of those drugs cause voices in the heads of long-term users. Apparently high levels of dopamine might also cause belief in the paranormal, and EVP, among other things. (I’d considered mentioning EVP here anyway.)
I find this very interesting, in that it could mean that hearing voices is simply an expected side-effect of prolonged drug use. Further, I noticed many meth addicts who tended to believe in black magic and possession. Even when I was in rehab years ago, some residents there became convinced that a schizophrenic resident (who talked to himself and spoke in gibberish that they thought were “demonic tongues”) was possessed. No amount of attempting to reason with them would convince them otherwise.
So beware, voices in the head and apophenia leading to an irrational belief in the paranormal (as well as possibly in God in recovery) may well just be a side-effect of the high levels of dopamine as a result of frequent prolonged drug use. And it may be permanent.
Some of my most annoying Facebook “friends” are people I became acquainted with in rehab, who share Christian nonsense followed by “type Amen” all the time. I can’t bring myself to unfriend them somehow. The most annoying proponent of the sharing Jesus movement is a girl I remember from rehab who believed that she needed to eat sand. There was even a patch of sand set aside especially for her in the garden. (My greatest challenge in rehab was to refrain from pissing in her sand patch.) So ironically, some who hang on so desperately to Jesus in recovery may in my opinion do so simply because their brains are fried from all the drugs. Fortunately I’m not one of them. I guess I’m just lucky.
That is, I get loaded or drunk on dope or booze with women and then I fuck them. Of course the women and girls are willing participants, but feminuts say it’s rape anyway. Anyway, intoxicated sex is a blast, and I recommend it to all discerning degenerates. I have gotten high on a lot of drugs with women and then had sex with them, mostly marijuana and cocaine, and pills. The only pills were tranks like Xanax. They are ok for sex as they relax you.
I’ve never done psychedelics, Ecstasy or PCP and had sex. It sounds a bit frightening. I don’t do speed. I’ve never done narcotics and had sex, but that sounds like a bad idea anyway, and the only narcotics I ever took were pills, and I hardly ever used them. Narcotics kill sex anyway.
Don’t dose women. That’s as sleazy as it gets, and it’s quite illegal these days.
Do I feed women drinks to get them drunk? I dunno? As I usually drink along with them, I guess not. Don’t feed women drinks to get them drunk.If you want to get her drunk, I understand, but you may as well drink along with her. It’s only fair.
If a woman gets drunk and has sex, it’s rape and she’s not responsible, say feminuts. That can only be possible if women are children. So are women children? I guess women are children.
I would like to point out that a lot of females have sexual inhibitions, and they deliberately drink themselves to get themselves loosened up enough for sex. I have been a party to such self-dosing on many an occasion. Taking the feminut theory logically, I guess these women are raping themselves by getting themselves drunk, but even when women rape themselves, I guess men are still guilty.
After all, feminists insist that women are eternal children, objects who have no agency. I agree that women are objects, but I do not agree that they have no agency.
Actually it is some kind of designer drug being sold over the counter as a bath salts or plant food. Apparently you can use them for those purposes and they work just fine and don’t get you high. You sniff it inject it or smoke it. The drugs in question are mephedrone and methylenedioxypyrovalerone, also known as MDPV.
Apparently these are stimulants something like methamphetamine, but I don’t know much about them. Looks like a pretty crappy and evil drug, I would say. It’s mostly in Louisiana right now for some reason, and the state has banned the sale of the drugs. But the Feds have not banned them yet since they are not marketed for human consumption. Banning them will take some time. Most users are apparently meth users looking for a new high.
I increasingly agree with the Neurosoup girl on Youtube. She hates meth, cocaine, PCP and heroin. She comes right out and says that they are crappy and evil drugs.She doesn’t like alcohol either. She’s up on marijuana and what she calls entheogens, which is something like hallucinogens.
If a lot of the people using coke, meth, alcohol and heroin started using pot and entheogens instead, our society would look a lot different. I would say that the damage from drugs would go way down. The hallucinogens are somewhat self-limiting in use. They are so strong, and people are so afraid and paranoid of them that people tend to only use them for a short period of time. People want a drug they can get high on regularly.
My generation promoted the use of coke and to some extent speed. I would say we screwed up bad on that one. Those drugs are just crap.
One thing I always hated about drugs were the anti-drug morons. They’re still everywhere; in fact, they’re the majority. Instead of being sensible like the Neurosoup Girl and dividing recreational drugs into different classes, the anti-drug morons just lump them all into one great big mess. They’re all the same. They’re all dope, and they’re all evil. Weed is meth is heroin is coke is LSD is mushrooms. It’s nuts.
I had to deal with this all the time while growing up as a pothead. As a pothead, I was said to be “into drugs” and was lumped in with PCP users, cokeheads, meth freaks and heroin addicts. It was all the same.
To some extent, this was true of drug users too. They weren’t so stupid as to think all drugs are the same – no user is that stupid – but since pot was illegal, and you had to deal with illegal drug users to get it, a lot of pot users were also using and promoting the use of other stuff, often along the lines that the other drug was as easy and safe as pot. Pure pot users were quite rare.
Legalizing pot would put it in the class as alcohol. How many people have you met who drink, often a lot, but won’t touch any “drugs” (LOL)? Lots. Making weed legal would increase the number of pure pot users who don’t mess with other stuff.
One thing I noticed that is people, often the older generation, will talk about someone who ruined their life on drugs, often the son or daughter of a friend. Often I will ask, “What kind of drugs?” A legitimate question, right? After all, I’m an old drug fiend, so I’m very interested in details like that! I always get this frustrated response, “I don’t know!” as if it doesn’t matter. Ok, so they got into weed, is that right? Is that how they ruined their lives? This is more of the, “All drugs are the same,” BS. Very frustrating dealing with this moronitude.
This article is pretty damn funny.
A lot of rockers are or were seriously nuts!
I’m having a hard time figuring out dx’s for a lot of these people. It seems to be something towards the more extroverted end. I suspect a lot of them are acting this way on purpose, sort of like a lot of artists act “deliberately insane.”
I only see a few who were obviously psychotic: Syd Barrett, Peter Green, Roky Erikson, Brian Wilson, Jim Gordon and Skip Spence for starters. I’m familiar with all these cases. They all had schizophrenia or schizoaffective disorder. It’s commonly said that they are all drug burnouts, but I doubt it.
For one thing, LSD does not appear to cause permanent psychosis. I’ve known too many completely normal folks who have taken it 100-300 times. It’s not even proven to damage your brain. The worst that can be said about it is that very heavy users sometimes do go psychotic and have to be hospitalized. Typically, they get better, but they often go back to heavy LSD use and become mentally ill again. No one has any idea how LSD even makes you temporarily insane.
All of these people simply developed schizophrenia. LSD can trigger schizophrenia, but no one knows how that works either. LSD-induced schizophrenia looks just like the rest of schizophrenia and it responds to the same drugs too. Since acid doesn’t damage your brain, I can’t see how it could cause schizophrenia. There are good reasons not to do acid, but fear of being permanently mentally ill is not one of them.
For the rest of them, dx’s are difficult. Some seem to have issues with narcissism and borderline personality disorder. Some were just seriously whacked out on booze and dope, often cocaine and/or heroin.
Ike Turner used cocaine for some 45 years until it killed him at age 76.
Sly Stone spent years on cocaine, even living on the streets smoking a crack pipe. No one quite knows what is up with Sly these days. He shows up at occasional performance, acts very strange, walks off stage in mid-show, gets on his motorcycle and rides away.
Rick James spent a good 15 years on a crack pipe.
Whitney Houston is ruined and is heavy into cocaine.
David Bowie went nuts on coke in the 1970’s, became full-blown psychotic and embraced Nazism.
Ol’ Dirty Bastard is on crack.
John Frusciante almost killed himself on heroin and coke.
Ozzy Osborne, Jerry Lee Lewis and Liza Minnelli were alcoholics.
Keith Moon was a drunk and a pillhead who liked to blow up toilets with dynamite for fun.
Elvis was a hardcore pillhead who apparently went insane from all the tablets.
Arthur Lee of Love spent 20 years abusing drugs heavily, became homeless, set buildings on fire and shot up his neighbor’s house.
Carlos Santana used acid heavily, then 20 years ago met up with an angel named Metatron who looks like Santa Claus who has been guiding his life ever since. He communicates with Miles Davis, a dead person, on a regular basis.
Miles Davis (while he was alive and not talking to Santana) spent years shooting heroin, beating his wife and just acting weird.
Little Richard spent years binging on cocaine, having sex orgies and sucking cocks in men’s restrooms.
James Taylor was a depressive and a heroin addict.
Some were suicidal.
Wendy O Williams sawed instruments in half with a chainsaw, then retired and blew her brains out.
Ian Curtis recorded some of the most depressing music ever made, then hung himself on the night of his US tour.
Adam Ant is a depressive.
Mariah Carey assaulted staff and reporters and slit her wrists.
Some like Courtney Love and Britney Spears simply cannot seem to function as adults.
Sinéad O’Connor is just a kook.
Lou Reed’s main problem is that he’s a terminal asshole.
R. Keely is just a weirdo with a taste for underage girls.
Sid Vicious assaulted fans, carved up his chest onstage, murdered his girlfriend, then OD’d on heroin as a grand finale.
Jaz Coleman, George Clinton, Captain Beefheart and Julian Cope are unclassifiable.
No one knows what’s up with Sun Ra.
GG Allin was just nuts, dx’d as narcissistic, Borderline PD and masochistic.
Michael Jackson was one of the weirdest of all. No one seems to know what was wrong with him. He seems to have been a homosexual pedophile. I’m familiar with most of his weird antics, but I never knew that he said he had fathered 2 “Aryan” babes named Prince 1 and Prince 2. Weird!
Just because you aren’t psychotic (and most of these folks are not) doesn’t mean you’re not nuts. You can be plenty nuts without being psychotic, plenty.
Reduces your performance in every way, is incapable of enhancing performance, and other lies.
This is one of the biggest lies of all about dope, and it needs to be challenged head on.
Most, if not all, non-users believe that all drugs make the user obviously intoxicated and reduce performance in all areas. I’ve tried to explain to them that drugs like cocaine and methamphetamine are stimulants, and hence don’t make you “fucked up.”
Instead, in the short term, they improve mental and physical performance. If you take a test on meth or coke, you will probably do better. The jury is still out on physical performance, but for at least some things, you will do better on coke or speed.
In the Valley here, farm workers are using meth to help them do their jobs. They’re able to work harder, pick more crops faster and work longer before they get tired on meth.
I’ve never driven a car on meth, but I have driven a car on amphetamine tablets. Works great. You can drive just fine on cocaine too. I don’t see why it’s illegal to drive under the influence of these drugs. Might as well make it illegal to drive under the influence of coffee.
Non-users only experience with drugs is with alcohol. Alcohol makes you obviously intoxicated as a general rule. But the other drugs don’t necessarily. Non-users find this clear fact almost impossible to comprehend.
I decided to ask Doperman about this:
Hi Bob, Doperman here. Thanks for letting me post here. Every time I took psychedelics (LSD, LSA, psilocybin, peyote), I assure you I knew completely what was going on.
I even drove a car once for 15 hours on a nice straight highway on a head full of acid. Another time I drove to Mexico with my brother, went to Tecate, cruised around a bit, and went back to the US and stayed at Cuyamaca State Park.
On the 15-hour trip, I don’t think I was normal, because I drove by the Owens River, and there were all these guys fly-fishing there, and they all looked up at me driving by like “What the fuck is with you man???!!!”
I went into stores a few times and bought stuff, and at the end of the voyage, and stopped and got a motel room near the Nevada border at 1 AM. All flying on a head full of LSD.
I can act totally normal on any of those drugs.
Problem is you get these huge saucer eyeballs and it’s verging on a bust right there to be walking around in public. But people on acid don’t necessarily act all that different. You can’t even really tell that they’re on a drug if you see them. They’re not obviously intoxicated.
I once threw a party and at least 200 people showed up. At least among those who showed up at the beginning, a lot of them were on LSD. At the start, there was a house full of people high on acid. It wasn’t really obvious, and no one acted really weird or did anything crazy or stupid. Only a relative few LSD users act stupid or crazy or have to be hauled off by the cops. Most of them make it through the trip acting fairly normally.
Coke is the same way. The coke user is not obviously intoxicated either. You can’t even usually tell if someone is high on coke, because people don’t act all that much different when they are on it.
I don’t think people act all that different on speed either. I’ve seen a lot of people on that stuff and they typically don’t appear intoxicated.
It’s often the case that you cannot tell when someone is high on marijuana.
In my mid-20’s, I was living at home and getting my college degree. I was stoned out of my mind every night. I lived in the basement and had a separate entrance and a separate phone. My living at home included unwritten contracts stating that I could smoke pot and drink all I wanted to, and have visitors over until all hours of the night.
The folks were sleeping two floors up, so we had to turn down the music late at night. I didn’t have the right to fuck women at home, but I fought hard for that one. My Mom wouldn’t budge on that one. I used to violate it anyway. I had a separate entrance, and could sneak women in no problem.
My Mom even heard about the women I sneaked in and fucked, and if they were knock-dead gorgeous (some of them were) she was quite proud of her son in a perverse way. I’ll never be able to match Sexmaniacman (Who can?) but I did my best.
But my Mom could always tell when I was stoned, and she hated it. So if you’re around it a lot, maybe you can tell.
I’m an experienced pot smoker for 35 years off and on, and I typically don’t have the faintest idea if someone is stoned or not. How can you tell anyway?
Dope fries your brain, and all ex-dopers are “permafried,” or damaged by drugs. This condition is both immediately obvious and permanent.
This is one of the staples of the anti-drug line, and it appears that the vast majority of Americans have bought into it, including most drug users and former users.
I think it’s utter nonsense, so I’m going to take it on head-on here in this post.
Simply put, I don’t really think that “drug burnouts” exist anymore than “alcohol burnouts” do. The notion comes from the idea that illegal drug use damages the brain. Hence, after years of use of this, that, or various substances, the brain is permanently damaged, and the person is odd, strange, weird, bizarre, permanently spacey, “permafried,” crazy, nuts or mentally ill in some way or another.
The theory is very appealing in that unfortunately, it is starting to look like most of these drugs, at least in heavy use, are capable of damaging the brain. The jury is still somewhat out on cannabis, but even that does not look really encouraging for heavy long-term users.
The theory is typically used to abuse users of hallucinogens and psychedelics, probably because these are the most feared drugs of them all. There is a serious problem with the “fried brains acidheads” line: the hallucinogens are one of the very few drugs that look pretty clean as far as brain damage goes.
When you come out and say that LSD does not cause general damage to the brain, as I am doing now, people tend to get really upset. After all, if anything damages your brain, it must be LSD! After all, if acid, the ultimate evil drug, doesn’t mess with your brain, then surely nothing does.
The truth is much more strange. It’s now clear that the most popular drugs of all, like cocaine and methamphetamine. can damage the brain, often pretty quickly.
Cocaine begins to cause demonstrable brain damage after as few as 12 uses (constriction of the arteries of the brain). After a few grams a month for a few years, clear brain damage shows up on the P300 test (a general slowing of the EEG). There is now evidence for serious changes in white and gray matter with heavy cocaine use.
Meth is much harder to pin down, but heavy current users often appear scattered and damaged. After 1.5 grams a week for 1-2 years, clear signs of damage start showing up. I believe that damage is also starting to show up on white and gray matter tests.
I can’t emphasize strongly enough what bad news these white and gray matter tests are – they indicate destruction of the neurons themselves and the connections between them.
The damage from meth seems to be to dopamine neurons and their connections and is observable with brain diagnostic imaging tools. Whether or not damage occurs at lower doses over shorter periods of time is not known, but meth is starting to look like nasty stuff for your brain.
I still say you can take meth at least a dozen times or so (and possibly much more!) without any permanent damage. At some point though, you are going to start damaging your brain, and we don’t really know what that point is. Want to try to find out when the damage begins? Don’t bother!
Ecstasy or MDMA, formerly up in the air as far as brain damage goes, is looking worse all the time. The best we can say now is that one dose probably does not cause damage. More than one dose almost surely does, and the damage is cumulative. The drug damages serotonin neurons in certain parts of the brain by killing the connections (axons) between the neurons. The neurons themselves are not killed.
It is a common falsehood about drug abuse and the brain that “drugs kill brain cells.” In truth, actual neuronal death is hard to pin down for a lot of these drugs. Instead of killing brain cells outright, drugs often just damage them so they don’t work quite so well. With MDMA, the serotonin axons grow back, but they do not grow back correctly.
I never did MDMA – it was after my time.
Even heavy cannabis use is looking suspect.
Drinking more than two drinks a day over a period of time causes shrinkage of the brain. The shrinkage increases as the drinks per day does up. Periodic heavy drinking depresses brain cells for up to two years, and chronic heavy drinking actually kills neurons.
Now on to the psychedelics. The hard facts are that we do not have good evidence that LSD, peyote, psilocybin and similar drugs damage the brain in any way that would that reduce your intellect, make you odd, strange, weird, bizarre or crazy, or effect your ability to think and feel rationally.
It is true that LSD, psilocybin and MDMA are capable of causing HPPD. That is hallucinogen persisting perception disorder. The result is visual aberrations persisting into the period when one is not using the drug. LSD seems to be the worst offender, but some cases are caused by psilocybin. Until a cure or prevention is found, HPPD is an excellent reason to avoid using psychedelics, LSD in particular.
There is a board on the Net for HPPD sufferers, and if you go there and tell them that you are still using acid, they are going to give you a piece of their mind. They aren’t anti-drug ignoramuses or holier than thou moralistic types. They’ve just been there and done that and don’t want to see you in the same boat as they are.
No one has any idea what is causing HPPD, but a Dr. Abraham in Massachusetts has the notion that it is related to damage to the visual system. All LSD users show damage to the visual system. It’s not apparent to most of them, but it shows up on tests. It has to do with how fast you can adjust to from a totally light environment to a totally dark environment. LSD users do poorly on that.
It’s interesting to note that although all of the tests for LSD and brain damage in animals were negative with the exception of very high doses that would be about the equivalent of 1,000 50 mcg. hits at once, LSD was shown to be hypotoxic to the optic nerve in the bird.
These negative findings for brain damage and LSD go back to the 1950’s. We now have over 50 years of negative tests for LSD and brain damage in animals as well as humans.
LSD does some pretty bizarre things to animals. If you give it to a cat and put the cat in an enclosed area with a rat, the cat will cower in terror of the rat, which it normally would try to kill. Strange.
All tests of intellectual function damage for LSD users have come up negative. Some suggested temporary damage on visual function tests (the Trail-Making B Test), but as the HPPD data above suggests, LSD may indeed damage the visual system. Even this finding cleared up one year post-drug
Damage to the visual system would logically cause HPPD. Would it make a person weird, strange, odd, bizarre, insane and stupid? Why would it? The visual system effects vision. It doesn’t effect psychological stability or the ability to think or feel in a normal way.
That said, there is anecdotal evidence that very heavy LSD is somehow bad for your brain. It seems to go away if you quit, but it’s there nevertheless. There are reports on the net of users who used LSD very heavily – several hits, several times a week, for a year or so. Afterward, they had symptoms of brain damage.
They could no longer do the intellectual work that they could formerly do, and they had a hard time reading. After a year or so off the drug, their intellect seemed to return. The users were not mentally ill at any time.
The notion of mental illness from the use of LSD is very controversial. It seems almost impossible to understand how a drug that has no permanent brain effects outside the visual system could make a person weird, strange, odd, bizarre, crazy, nuts, insane, or mentally disturbed in any way at all. Surely, if it did so, the etiology could not be from actual brain damage but must be in purely psychological terms: psychogenic.
Nevertheless, we continue to get reports of mental illness after LSD use.
The most frightening to me are reports of mental illness after very heavy use. We have reports of individuals who used LSD very heavily (several times a week at high dose) for a year or two. After that, they became mentally ill and had to be admitted to a hospital. They got better and were released and seemed OK on the outside. But then they got into heavy LSD use again and had to be readmitted.
There are other reports of folks in their 40’s and 50’s who used LSD maybe 2,000-3,000 times. They are reported to be mentally ill to some degree or another.
We don’t yet have any good theory to explain cognitive problems or mental illness in extremely heavy LSD users, but nevertheless, based on anecdotal evidence, one ought to avoid this sort of high-risk behavior.
Timothy Leary probably used LSD between 1,000-2,000 times. I have to admit he looked pretty fried the last few times I saw him on TV. He also used all sorts of other drugs.
As a good general rule though, I haven’t met one person yet who is “permafried” from any kind of drugs. My perception has been that if you quit using, after a while you become normal again. Most of the so-called permafried types are still using drugs heavily. It seems to me that no matter how damaged people seemed, if they quit and sobered up, they seemed to be quite OK once they were clean.
I’ve met some folks who seemed damaged from very heavy dope use, but in the one case I can think of, he wasn’t really strange or weird. He could be socially inappropriate, and his basic problem was he didn’t give a damn about anything. You will find this personality syndrome in a lot of very heavy users that otherwise function pretty well – they seem like they don’t care about much of anything.
He couldn’t hold down a job because he was so damaged that he couldn’t even make change. Yet I was at a party with him once and he picked up this gorgeous young blond ten years his junior and fucked her brains out that night. How nuts can you be if you can pull off something like that?
I met another fellow like that on the streets of San Francisco 15 years ago. Smart guy, Masters Degree from a good university, lived off a trust fund, traveled the world, partied his brains out, in his 40’s.
He had that “I don’t give a fuck” attitude, but I don’t consider that mental illness. Hell, I don’t consider most stuff mental illness! He wasn’t ready for corporate America, but he didn’t want to be either, and I didn’t consider him mentally ill in any way, shape or form.
But then I think the whole notion of “crazy” is horribly abused against people who aren’t even nuts at all.
I’ve known many individuals who used drugs heavily for years who are now more or less sober, although some continue to use cannabis. For the life of me, I can’t see how even one of them has been permanently damaged by their drug use. I haven’t met a permafried person yet, but I guess there’s always a first.
I keep meeting people who used cocaine very heavily for 5-10 years, or so heavily as to have to go into drug treatment, or took LSD up to 300 times or so, or have been smoking pot for 20-30 years and still are, now heavily, in their 40’s. For the life of me, I can’t see anything wrong with them now. Some of them have very good jobs and make $100,000/yr or so.
Despite a lot of theoretical support for the “permafried” notion (in that many of these drugs are now being found to actually damage your brain), I haven’t seen much of it in my life. If anyone knows any “permafried” individuals who are now clean and have been clean for a while, let me know in the comments.
Until then, I think the whole notion is ridiculous.
At the time I was into getting high, roughly 1973-1988, there wasn’t a lot of good information that most of that stuff was bad for you, or certainly that it was bad for your brain. There was a lot of information that said that drugs could be used recreationally in moderation without problems. That was the spirit of the age. It’s dead and gone now, maybe forever.
I keep thinking that if I knew then what I know now, I would not have gotten into drugs as much as I did. The drugs all seem so much worse now because our information is greater. My use was really a product of an era as opposed to just some general degenerate tendency of mine.
Towards the end of the period, cocaine had turned from the Yuppie Party Drug into the Evillest Drug of Them All. A lot of us were still using it, because we couldn’t seem to make sense of how this drug had gone from White Status Symbol to Black Slum Drug. I guess we just didn’t believe it. We still thought we could use the drug recreationally.
Over a 13 year period, I probably did about 16 grams of cocaine by myself. Most non-dopers are horrified when I tell them that; they assume that anyone who used for 13 years is automatically an “addict”. But if you know anything about coke, you know a little over a gram a year is nothing more than dabbling, and it’s not really serious cocaine use at all. Further, of course you can do coke for 13 years without getting addicted. I did so myself.
But just about everyone I knew who got into coke at least to the extent that I did turned into an addict. Sooner or later, sniffers move on to smoking or shooting, because it’s simply a more economical way to take the drug.
I’m convinced that cocaine is a great big drag. For instance, I’m such a dabbler that I would actually save up coke. I’d get some out for the evening, lay out of a few lines for everyone in attendance, then sit back and drink Heinekens with everyone else. Coke is such a stupid drug that you can’t just give people a little bit of it and then put it away. If you do, you’re risking a riot.
After an hour or two, they start bothering you for more. You tell them that you’re saving it for later. Now they start getting belligerent.
I’ve had people swear right to my face that they were going to come back when I wasn’t home and steal my coke. The very idea of “saving coke” from one night to the next was considered to be the ultimate in stupidity, and they were going to punish me for being a moron.
So, really, coke sucks. It’s no fun. Even if you can somehow stay a dabbler like me, everyone else turns into an addict, and when they do, they’re actually dangerous to be around.
The addict idiots would come over, excuse themselves to go to the bathroom, and then shoot up in there for the next thirty minutes. We’d be out in the room steaming away. When the guy came out, we’d confront him and tell him to quit shooting up in the damned bathroom, but they never would quit. Addicts don’t take no for an answer.
Other coke addicts stole from me, then had the nerve to blame it on the coke, then told me flat out the money was never coming back. No problem, as long as you stay the Hell away. But they wouldn’t. They rip you off, then they keep knocking on your door and coming around.
I kept banning the worst ones, but they would come back, like males who batter their wives, bearing gifts and apologies. Soon they were back into their abusive manipulative addict game again.
One of the reasons I moved to Central California was to get away from some of these morons. I’d banned them over and over, but they kept coming back. I’d known them for many years, and they were still friends with all of our friends. Sometimes to cut yourself off from these idiots, you might just have to pack up and move away from them.
The addict has a personality. The personality is that of a callous, manipulative prick. There are some decent or classy addicts out there, but those are mostly dealers who deal to afford the habit. If they’re not doing that, they’re hungry for cash and all sorts of other stuff all the time, and probably mooching off or using others. The addict is a user. He doesn’t care about you or anyone else. The only thing he cares about is dope.
Speed has got to suck even worse than coke. I did meth around three times in my whole life. When I tell this to non-users, they get a snarl of contempt on their face. But I’m comfortable with it. Three times is basically nothing; it’s experimental use. Why should I feel guilty about it because some annoying Puritan shit wants me to be?
The reason I only took it three times is because that’s how long it took me to realize it’s one of the most awful drugs on Earth. The high is excellent. You’re smart, in control, sane, happy and confident. You feel warm and friendly and talk all night with your wonderful friends. You don’t act wild or crazy or insane or anything like that. Your mind is sharp as a pencil, and your emotions are controlled. It lasts a good 18 hours.
The next day you feel like you got hit by a freight train. First it feels like your IQ just dropped 10 points. The stupid feeling gradually goes away after about a week. Your body feels like a sack of bones. It feels like someone took a vacuum cleaner and sucked all the energy out of you. That lasts a few days too.
So 18 hours of high is followed by up to one week of crash. Who needs this?
PCP is a really strange drug, and I took it about a dozen times, mostly unwittingly. When I tell that to non-users, they get this wild, horrified look in their eyes, but it’s no big deal. A dozen trips is experimental use, and I don’t regret a thing.
Back in the 70’s, scumbag PCP users were common. They were evangelizing, and the way they did it was to pass PCP joints around masquerading as pot joints and not tell you.
You could always figure it out real quick due to the bizarre minty metallic taste, but you were still mad at the dusters for being so dishonest. The first time was out of this world; the rest of the trips were unremarkable. I’ve certainly heard of people doing strange things on the drug, but I’ve never seen it much myself.
I remember once I was at a party in downtown Huntington Beach in 1976. There was a band playing, then people started passing joints. At some point, the dusters sneaked theirs in too. By the time I realized it, I was flying, so I just kept taking hits off the PCP jays.
This was a party of around 20-30 young folks, most around age 18, and everyone was high on PCP. Not one person was acting weird in the slightest. Non-users don’t get it. Even crazy drugs like PCP typically don’t make most folks act nuts.
LSD and psychedelics.
Acid and all the other psychedelics suck because just about everybody on Earth despises them and the people who take them. We were never in the stage of psychedelic acceptance when I was using them from 1974-1988, and I’m not sure if we ever will be.
Nothing strikes terror, rage and disgust into the heart of the non-user like the word LSD.
In truth, psychedelics are probably my favorite drugs of all. I took them about 40 times and never really had a bad trip.
Once on mushrooms on got on a bit of a bad trip – sort of an anxiety – awkwardness – nerd trip where I suddenly felt like the biggest geek on Earth. I was with a tripping partner and he wasn’t cool about me being transformed into Ultra Nerd.
So I turned the trip around. There were bad nerd vibes with strange deep blue colors and energy fields running through my body like waves of electricity. Those were the shitty nerd vibes. The rest of you might refer to them as an emotion. The fascinating thing about psychedelics is the way your feelings actually become extremely electric and even colorful. Joy has one color, sadness another, on and on.
Well, I decided I was going to turn this trip around. It took me about 45 minutes, but I was able to do it. I took the bad nerd electricity, changed it from blue to red and changed its direction. It was going from my skull down all through my body and out my feet in a big fat blue-purple electric drag feeling.
I changed it by reversing it. A new red electricity feeling would start at the toes and go up, fighting the perennial 18 year old vibe in a sort of battle of the feelings. It took me a good 45 minutes to get the good feelings going in an excellent flow that didn’t hang up on the bad stuff on the way up. Then the trip was turned around and a really crappy trip was turned into a fantastic trip.
You know that, you bad trippers? A lot of you can do that. You can change your trips, turn them around, make them go this way and that way. It’s just a drug. You’re still generally steering the ship you call your mind.
I often would buy a hit of LSD and just keep it in my drawer for months or even years until I felt that I was ready to take it. I would wait until a period in my life when I was feeling happier, more together and more mentally healthy and centered than I had in a while. Sometimes I might have to wait a while until I felt my head was ready for it.
That’s really the only way to take LSD. Never take it when you’re out of sorts in any way at all, in a bad mood, or in a bad, down or stressed out phase in your life. That’s how bad trips happen.
I haven’t taken a psychedelic in 20 years. I probably won’t take one ever again.
You really don’t get any credit for being a casual, recreational or responsible doper. It’s hard to do with most drugs anyway, but you can do it with pot and possibly psychedelics.
But you don’t get any credit. If you take a hit off a joint once a year, you’re the same as some guy slamming a gram of coke a day. The non-users hate all dope and all dopers, and that’s one of the sad rules of the game.
With booze, people are pretty sane. If you drink lightly, say no more than 1-2 drinks a day, most non-drinkers are sane enough to recognize that that’s not a problem.
Not so with dope. If you don’t use, you hate it, and you hate people who use it. I’m not sure if I’ve ever met a non-user who was tolerant towards any kind of kind of drug use. Ex-users are pretty much the same way. I’m not sure if I’ve ever met an ex-user of even marijuana who was willing to tolerate it in anyone else. Once they put on that ex-doper crown, they get up on that high horse and never get off.
It’s for all of these reasons that I think dope sucks.
Drinking is fun in part because it’s socially acceptable. Things that aren’t socially acceptable are a drag. You’re always paranoid about who to reveal your drug use too, and you’re always running into morons who think that heroin and weed are one and the same.
Not because dope is bad for you or you’re evil or immoral if you use it, but more that the whole scene around it, and the ridiculous non-users, is a great big gigantic drag. If even pot ever gets to the point where non-users can accept it the way they accept social drinking, maybe it might get fun again.
I’m not sure I had ever heard of this case before, but it’s really bizarre! Robert Pickton and his equally bizarre brother owned a pig farm in British Colombia. They had a building built next to it for “charity events” hosted by the “Piggy Palace Good Times Society.” These events were actually wild booze-fueled bacchanals with up to 1,800 partiers and “entertainment” by plenty of prostitutes from Vancouver’s raunchy and drug-ridden Downtown Eastside district.
The Downtown Eastside has one of the West’s most concentrated populations of drug addicts, mostly using crack and heroin, but increasingly also meth. Most of the female addicts there support their habits by prostituting themselves. There are an estimated 5-10,000 drug addicts living there at any given time. Despite a vigorous needle exchange program that hands out 2-4 million of free needles a year, the population has one of the West’s highest HIV rates: 1/3 of the population and 80% of the prostitutes are HIV-positive.
Around 1983, three years before the Olympics, prostitutes started disappearing from the area. They continued to disappear until Pickton’s arrest in 2002. In 2007, Pickton was tried and convicted of six homicides, all Downtown Eastside prostitutes. He was charged with 21 more homicides of more Downtown Eastside prostitutes, but he may never be tried for those deaths.
He is also implicated in another five homicides of young British Colombian women. He claims 49 murders. He really wanted to hit 50, but he says he got careless and got caught. He really regrets not hitting the big 5-0.
Some of the testimony coming out of the case is outrageous:
The star witness in the trial of accused Canadian serial killer Robert Pickton testified on Monday that she walked into the barn at his suburban pig farm to find him covered in blood and a woman’s body hanging from a chain.
“There was blood everywhere,” Lynn Ellingsen told the court.
“He told me if I was to say anything, I would be right beside her.”
Good Lord! Ellingsen, a prostitute and crack addict, lived on Pickton’s property for a month. Earlier on the same night when she saw the horrible sight, she and Pickton had gone to Eastside Downtown to pick up crack and a prostitute. They went back to Pickton’s place and smoked crack.
Ellingsen had fallen asleep when she heard a noise. She went into the barn and saw Pickton, covered in blood, with a woman hanging from the same chains he used to hang up his pigs when he slaughtered them. The woman on the chain was the prostitute they had picked up earlier than night. Pickton was skinning the woman when she walked in.
The arrest was not his first brush with the law. Five years earlier, in 1997, a young woman had barely escaped with her life. A drug-addicted prostitute named Wendy Eistetter was handcuffed and stabbed by Pickton. In a wild melee, she somehow got out of her cuffs, disarmed him and stabbed him before escaping. A motorist found her by the side of the road at 1:30 AM, wearing only a coat, with multiple stab wounds and took her to the hospital. Charges were mysteriously dropped.
While the investigation into the charges was going on, an acquaintance came forward and fingered Pickton as a suspect. His description of Pickton was riveting. Pickton spent most of his time downtown picking up whores. His farm was a bizarre and creepy place, patrolled by vicious dogs who roamed the property with a 700 pound boar. The dogs and the boar would all attack you if you came onto the property. Good God. Then there was Pickton’s trailer. What were all those women’s pursues and ID cards doing in there anyway?
Pickton’s brother, David, was also a strange guy. In 1992, he was arrested on sexual assault charges. He had attacked a woman in his trailer at the pig farm, but she managed to escape. He was given a slap on the wrist. He looks menacing in his photo.
Police found all sorts of horrible things in their investigation. Women’s heads were found in the freezer, sawed in half vertically. Female hands and feet had been stuffed inside the severed heads. The body parts were sharing freezer space with unsold pork.
Female remains were found in a wood chipper. Women had apparently been chopped in the machine and the meat was fed to the pigs on the farm! In 2004, it was revealed that some of the women were ground up and their flesh was mixed with pig meat from the farm. Thankfully, it was not distributed commercially.
A .22 pistol with a dildo on the end was found, apparently a murder a weapon. The dildo was used as a makeshift silencer. Blood-stained clothing was found in the trailer where Pickton lived. A woman’s remains were found in a trash bag at the bottom of a trash can on the property. A woman’s jawbone and teeth were found near the slaughterhouse on the property, where more than pigs were slaughtered. Another jawbone was found in the mud of one of the pigpens.
Night-vision goggles, Spanish fly, fur gloves, .357 ammo, and a syringe with blue windshield wiper fluid inside were also found. Pickton had injected some of the women with windshield washer fluid to kill them. Pickton had told a friend that women were stripped, handcuffed, gagged and taken to a bed where he had sex with them doggy-style. Afterward, he strangled them on bed using a looped wire. Then they were bled and gutted with the main body parts being fed to the pigs and the rest mixed up with pork offal and taken to a rendering plant to be disposed of.
Prostitutes and other guests were invited to the farm. There Pickton cooked for his guests, offered them drugs and hosted wild, neverending parties. It now appears that some of the food he was cooking for them involved pork mixed with ground up female victims.
He had taken the remains of some of the women, mixed them with pork offal, and taken them in barrels to a rendering plant, where the rendering machines like this one were used to grind up his victims’ remains.
After a huge investigation involving 54 anthropologists and huge earthmoving machines, the DNA of 30 different women (some say the figure is now up to 80), was found at the site. 27 were identified, all prostitutes.
It now appears that Pickton, aged 52 when arrested, had been killing women for at least 11 years before he was caught. His first known victim disappeared in 1991, when he was 41 years old. However, as early as 1988 and 1989, he was already regarded as dangerous to women. In 1988, women were warning other women to watch themselves around him. In 1989, people were warning women not to go home with him, admonishing them with terrifying tales.
He had apparently grown to hate prostitutes, whom he had been using for years, after as he put it, they infected him with Hepatitis C, attacked him with a knife, stole from him and used him. His rage at prostitutes did not develop until relatively late in life, which is why he did not start killing until age 41, which is quite late to begin a serial killer career.
There are other unconfirmed aspects of the case, with Ellingsen accusing Pickton of having sex with a dead woman’s corpse. Ellingsen and other drug addict-prostitute, Dinah Taylor, lived with Pickton for a while and helped him to pick up prostitutes and bring them to the farm. There is also a possibility that Taylor may have been involved in some of the killings, but she has never been charged. Pickton told his brother David that Taylor had killed some of the girls.
Look at how great he looks at age 40 here. I saw him in 1981, or yesterday, at the Palladium in Los Angeles. I’d been drinking, smoking dope and sniffing coke, and I was high as a fucking kite. There were beautiful women and young chicks everywhere, real friendly too.
The concert opened rather suddenly. I was with a friend of mine, or my worst enemy, or someone…
I was working as an editor of a magazine at the time. I told some of the girls in the office that I was going to see Iggy Pop, and one girl wanted to go with me. She asked if she could go with me.
Then she took it back, “No way. My boyfriend will kill me.” He was a redneck macho fucker with a great big truck. The office girl was hot, 24, big tits, nice looking. Her best friend was screwing the magazine artist, F. They would go out for two-hour lunches every day and come back with big smiles on their faces.
My boss was a faggot who kept trying to fuck me. He kept buying me lunches all the time. I got my paycheck and tried to pay him back, and he flipped out and started screaming and yelling. “I didn’t buy you those lunches so you could pay me back!” I guess he wanted me to pay him back on my knees or something. The perverted asshole eventually fired me because I wouldn’t suck his dick or whatever he wanted me to do to.
He was sure I was queer for some stupid reason. It was sort of my fault for doing the Mick Jagger (No wait! Iggy Pop-androgynous) thing I guess. If he had eyes, he could have figured out I wasn’t.
Fags don’t look at women. This is the dead giveaway for queers everywhere. There were all these beautiful women in the office hanging coming around my cubicle all the time for this and that. The queer acted like they were part of the walls or the floor or the furniture. They may as well have not even been there. Furthermore, the fag looked at me like I was a Filet Mignon medium rare.
There was another guy in the office, from Europe, macho but sort of faggy in some weird way. He acted like he would screw anything if he was loaded enough. He was dating some Black chick. Sometimes he was my best friend, sometimes he was tearing me up and insulting me to my face. In other words, a typical hyper-competitive super-aggressive young male weenie. He used to trash-talk me for being a pothead. Then he would come buy pot off me. What an ass.
One time in the lunchroom he took me aside and told me the best high of all was speed, injected directly into your arm, preferably after 9 or 10 drinks. This guy wore a jacket and tie to work in an office every time. I tell ya, dopers are everywhere. This guy shoots fucking speed after drinking himself under the table, but I’m a loser for smoking dope.
As you can see, young males are sort of hopeless, so, assuming chicks like you, just shine on the Y chromosomes and hang with the ladies.
After a while, I quit eating with the fag and the other idiot males in the office and just ate lunch with the office girls every day. Back in those days, I was said to be very good looking (male model type). Now I’m old and ugly, but it was fun at the time.
If you’re a guy and you look that good, and if you’re very pretty, most people just assume you’re a fag anyway. You can try to screw your way out of your public image, but even after scores of hot chicks, it’s kind of useless. Usually you get this wonderful consolation prize called, “Wow! Now we know you’re bisexual and we really love you for that!” Damn. I will return that prize, thank you.
Back in those days, a lot of guys always seemed like they either wanted to have sex with me or kick my ass, or a lot of times, oddly enough, both at the same time. I’m telling you, we’re Cavemen. Strip off the Calvin Kleins, give us a bearskin and a club, and we’re the same.
If you’re like that, you may as well learn to love women (They’re not that bad after all) and just hang around chicks all the time. Young men are idiots anyway. All they want to do is fight and fuck, and they often aren’t getting enough. Just hang around chicks all the time, and pretty soon, the less idiotic of the guys will try to make friends with you just so they can join you hanging with the chicks.
What could go wrong hanging around with chicks all the time? Nothing really.
Only a couple of things you need to know. One, make the ground rules clear. No woman, not one, is ever safe with you, not even for one minute. You’re a million times better than her faggot friends who she loves for their harmlessness. In order to differentiate yourself from them, you must be dangerous. Sexually dangerous. At all times. And don’t ever let em forget it.
In addition, I would be mysterious. If you’re out of luck, don’t ever let them know you aren’t getting any. Just be Mr. Mystery With a History. As soon as they find out you aren’t getting any, none of them will want you. If they ask, say, “None of your Goddamned business,” and laugh at them. Say, “Well, I’m not a virgin,” “There’s usually a woman or two in my life. Sometimes one, sometimes more than one, sometimes none. Life is interesting.”
If they ask why you don’t talk about your dates, say, “I’m a secretive guy. I don’t talk about that stuff.” Then when you start dating someone, don’t tell them. Just act the same as ever. If you have a good history of good game, talk about it in the past tense, as if you are talking about drinking water or something, very calm and non-bragging, as if you are embarrassed.
You just need to learn how to act around chicks. You can even talk dirty to them, touch them, grab them. But you need to learn to read body language. Know when the lights are red, yellow, green and changing, and act accordingly.
…It was November 1981, or long ago in another world, and I was wasted at the Palladium. There were all these hot, barely legal rock and roll chickies in Spandex and not wearing a lot of anything. It wasn’t exactly a punk crowd. It was more of a Runaways crowd.
Suddenly there was movement on the stage. Spiderman! Spiderman was running around the stage with a mike, singing something. Who the fuck was that? No one knew.
“That’s him!” I shouted to my friend, who was way more wasted than I was, and was also just starting to recover from the throes of a violent manic-depressive psychosis…
…A few months earlier, he had burned holes in his arm with a cigarette.
“Don’t do that!” I had screamed.
“I can’t feel pain. I feel no pain,.” he had shrugged, shaking the shaggy, puppy-dog hair out of his eyes.
I had accompanied my buddy to a meeting with his psychiatrist. He wanted some moral support.
“I live off hate,” I said. It was the punk era, and that was a cool thing to say. “I love hate. It gives me energy. It makes me live. Makes me get up in the morning. Gets me right out of bed. Gimme some of that hate! It’s life juice!” I almost leaped up in the shrink’s office. The shrink was looking at me like I was seriously disturbed.
My friend jumped up. “See? Even my friends are sick! Look at how sick they are! And they call me sick!” He pointed to me: “He worships the Devil!” Then he jumped out off the couch and ran out of the mental health center and across six lanes of heavy traffic at 3 PM, dodging cars all the way.
The shink looked at me with these eyes, like wells, with thousands of years of sadness in them. Neither of us knew what to say.
I told the shrink I had a Kabbalah Tree of Life on my wall and black candles on the shelves. Weirdest thing about that Tree of Life. Everyone who walked into the room stopped in their tracks and stared at it.
I got my buddies together and chanted evil curses against my enemies and carried magic talismans, like amulets, ankhs and crosses, in my pocket. I rubbed them all the time, took them out and flashed them in chicks’ eyes to freak them out and spellbind them, to spread the magick around, brainwash chicks and try to get laid.
“I’m not nuts. I’m just into magick. Is that ok?” The shrink nodded his head solemnly.
The diagnosis of my friend was “manic depression with schizophrenic overtones.” This was the era of “Family Systems Therapy,” and the family was making my friend nuts. Really the guy’s brain was having some sort of a brownout or hard drive crash. Either that or there was spaghetti code in his brain that needed a serious rewrite.
A month earlier my buddy had smashed a bathroom window at his parent’s house and climbed in the window. He was bleeding and wrote Helter Skelter on the mirror as a joke to freak out his folks.
His folks called me, alarmed. I told them it was a joke. They didn’t believe me. Cops were getting called all the time. There were wild fights in the living room. Hell, it must have been a barrel of laughs at that place!…
…”No way! That’s Spiderman!”
“That’s him! That’s Iggy Pop! Iggy Pop is Spiderman!” I was laughing so hard I almost fell over.
Indeed, the maniac was running around the stage, dressed in a Goddamned Spiderman suit. It was Iggy Pop! This was the Party tour, and Iggy was 34 years old. I don’t remember much else about it, but the show was great.
Back then, Iggy Pop was still extremely underground. No one had really heard of him all that much. He was pretty subversive, underground, druggy and forbidden.
Metallic K.O. is insane; it’s a total mess. You can hear beer bottles flying and all sorts of insane stuff. It’s pretty cool though in a bizarre way. The Stooges were extremely underground, even in the early 1980’s. They were always one of those love em or hate em bands. Most people had just never heard of em.
At 60, Pop has several injuries in his body. He dislocated his shoulder and has lost a lot of cartilage in his hip. Both knees are near shot. He was cramped on economy air flights all the time, and then he took a fall dancing on a fucking amplifier. Now his spine is twisted.
The drug days are in the past. When the Stooges were being formed, around 1969, the 22 year old Pop and the rest of the band was frying on acid all the time. It was the era, you know. Later, in the mid-Seventies, Pop was on heroin, as was the rest of the band. So he spent much of his 20’s on heroin, from 1970-1975 at least.
The drug days mostly ended 20 years ago, around age 40. By age 51, in 1998, he had snorted his last line of coke and smoked his last jay. The heroin was over by age 36, in 1983.
He has an exotic light-skinned Black model babe for girlfriend like his old friend David Bowie. She’s half his age of course. He lives in Miami Beach where he tools around in a Rolls Royce. He’s got life dicked, as my surfer-stoner friends used to say, growing up on the beach.
In an interview at age 56, his model-babe girlfriend was 31, and he was fucking her 10 times a week. Hell with this “dirty old man” shit! Down with Viagra jokes. You tell em, Iggy!
Iggy met his girlfriend 12 years ago in Miami Beach, in 1998. He was tooling along, and he saw her with a friend, both knockouts. The went into a pizza joint and Iggy went into the joint next door to look at them. Iggy admits he has no game when it comes to picking up chicks. He can only get them once they figure out who he is, then they all line and take numbers up to fuck the big hot shot rock star.
Iggy was in his car and they came out of the pizza joint, and he asked them if they wanted a ride. They’ve been together ever since.
He was 48 and she was 23. You see, if an ordinary 48 year old guy makes a play for a 23 year old woman, United Cunts of America, millions of cunts strong, stands up and screams that he’s a pervert, a creep, a weirdo and a dirty old man.
But if Iggy Pop does it, it’s suddenly ok because he’s a millionaire. In which case, I guess a lot of the legions of United Cunts of America seamlessly morphs into United Whores of America and lines up to screw the Ig.
Iggy has a great big huge dick, not that I’m interested. It was legendary. He wore pants that showed off the boa constrictor as part of his image. He used to whip it out on stage for various reasons and non-reasons. Once he laid it on top of an amplifier and let the amp vibrate it. Another time a fan leaped up on stage during a show and gave him a blowjob. The stories never end.
Back in the day, Iggy needed a stick to fight them off. After a typical show, Iggy would have five girls with him heading back to his place. He would call women up, give them a time to come over. They would show up, he would have sex with them, and he would tell them to leave. They would leave, smiling. Some guys have it tough.
The Pedophile Mass Hysteria Losers may be interested to know that of course Iggy is a Pedo too, like many fine upstanding citizens. At age 21, he married a 14 year old girl. Then he knocked her up and had a kid with her. Nowadays, that qualifies for Pedophile.
A bit before that, maybe around age 18-19, he had a 13 year old girlfriend, and yes it was consummated. Now he’s a fucking Pedo for sure! Iggy gets the Roman Polanski Seal of Approval for that starring role.
Despite what you think of rock stars, Iggy was frequently Impotent during much of the 1980’s and 1990’s. He doesn’t give a reason. Interesting that even famous guys often Can’t get it up.
Pop has published an article in a journal of classical scholarship, Classics Ireland (1995). I always knew he was a brain. Just like Mick Jagger and David Bowie, you just know those guys have high IQ’s.
One more thing! Anti-Semites, this means you! Iggy Pop is not Jewish. Old legend, due to his name, James Osterberg. He’s actually Norwegian.
A fascinating new study shows that cannabis offers some neuroprotection to young people who engaged in binge drinking episodes. The binge drinkers were young – aged 16-19. This is an age at which the effects of drugs on the brain may be particularly bad, since the brain is continuing to develop.
What was shocking was that binge drinking in adolescents caused the type and degree of damage that it did. Binge drinking caused actual losses of white matter in the brain, similar to the damage seen with drugs like cocaine and methamphetamine.
Briefly, white matter is the axons that connect brain cells to each other. Grey matter consists of the connections and also the cells themselves. So heavy drinking in adolescence causes actual damage to the connections between brain cells. That’s pretty serious stuff. It’s not known if the damage repairs later, or at all. However, connections between cells can grow back.
If the damage does not repair, then a Hell of a lot of adults are walking around with significant brain damage from binge drinking in adolescence. If this is the case, then clearly the brain can handle this sort of damage, since most such folks, assuming they are damaged in this way, are able to function well both cognitively and psychologically.
The study was fascinating because if the adolescents used cannabis in addition to binge drinking, the damage was notably less than if they binge drank alone. Therefore, cannabis use was somewhat neuroprotective to the brain in terms of the damage caused by binge drinking.
This does not mean that cannabis use is good for your brain, or that it does not damage the brain. But no study of cannabis use has ever found anything as dramatic as extensive white matter losses in the brain (that’s a pretty serious type of damage). So, if anything, binge drinking in adolescence (which many adolescents do) is remarkably worse for your brain than using cannabis in adolescence, which is an amazing thing to say right there.
But that’s not exactly what the anti-drug moralfags and fuckwits tell us, is it? In their view, binge drinking is a necessary evil, while cannabis use, especially in adolescence, is a moral and public health catastrophe. God, what a load of shit that is.
The original post in its native form was far too long, so I broke it up into seven different posts, in addition to this post. The separate sections are listed below.
The original post, what is left of it, is here.
For an examination of the evidence of whether or not cannabis causes actual structural damage to brain cells, axons or dendrites, see here.
For an analysis of neuropsychological batteries of cannabis users to determine whether or not they suffer brain damage, see here.
For an analysis of EEG testing of cannabis users to discover evidence of brain damage, see here.
For an analysis of studies looking at cerebral blood flow in cannabis users, see here.
For an admittedly impressionistic analysis of whether or not cannabis causes schizotypal symptoms in users, see here.
For a summary of the findings of cannabis and brain damage, see here.
LSD and psilocybin, while not causing permanent brain damage (that we know of so far), can cause HPPD (Hallucinogen Persisting Perception Disorder), a long-term perceptual disturbance of unknown etiology.
I have HPPD myself from using hallucinogens about 40 times, but “suffering” from HPPD once again is an interesting concept, at least in my case.
All I get are brighter colors, mostly in neon signs and store displays, and only at certain times. Maybe lots of people would love to have this effect, as the world looks so much better this way. I called up an ophthalmologist about it and he laughed me off the phone, saying he doesn’t treat people whose colors improve. It is only my continuing neurosis that causes me to view these changes as frightening instead of integrating them.
LSD does have a deleterious effect on the visual system of the brain – it is hypotoxic to that area in lab animals, for instance, birds – but it doesn’t cause any generalized brain damage at all that we know of, and we have been studying LSD’s effects on the brain for about 50 years or so now.
LSD does cause reductions in 5-HT2 receptors on serotonin neurons. But this is a case of these receptors retreating back into the cell due to LSD’s assault on those receptors. After about a week, the receptors to poke back out of the cell again.
The most recent evidence also indicates that psilocybin (mushrooms) and mescaline (peyote) also do not cause any generalized brain damage, although psilocybin can cause HPPD. Due to the risks of HPPD, this blog unfortunately does not recommend that anyone use LSD or psilocybin even one time, unless maybe if you are dying.
Ecstasy (MDMA) produces comparatively dramatic harm to the brain after only a handful of doses (2-10 doses), with the effects increasing with continued use. The drug causes degeneration of serotonergic axonal terminals, which afterwards do not grow back correctly, if at all.
There are suggestions that there may be hippocampal damage. On intelligence tests there are deficits in working memory, declining vocabulary, impairments in verbal learning, associative learning and attention and increased distraction. There also seem to be some mood changes. Perfusion deficits and increased delta waves on EEG have also been found, but the same study did not find these in cannabis users. Impairments were also found in the ability to drive a car in Ecstasy users, even after they were abstinent.
However, a recent study found no persistent effects from one dose of Ecstasy.
Therefore, it appears that using Ecstasy one time is possibly safe. However, taking Ecstasy as few as an average of 3.2 times causes noticeable damage in verbal memory. Ecstasy should be taken no more than once in a lifetime, if at all.
Evidence strongly suggests that the heavy use of PCP, ketamine and DXM may cause permanent brain damage and can often cause schizophrenia-like symptoms which may be related to that damage. The theorized damage involves the vacuolization of neurons (basically a hollowing out and death of the neuron) in various parts of the brain.
The evidence comes from rat studies and the dosages have been criticized, but humans are far more sensitive to the effects of dissociatives than rats are, so the differential doses are probably about right.
The rat evidence has now been challenged by monkey studies, so the matter is far from settled. But until it is, extreme caution, if not outright avoidance, seems to be the best policy for these drugs.
PCP can probably be used up to a dozen or so times in life with no permanent damage. Beyond that, things get a lot touchier. Heavy users show an extremely high rate of schizophrenic and psychotic symptoms, along with symptoms of brain damage. There seems to be some recovery with abstinence, but full recovery is by no means assured.
Evidence indicates that ketamine can be used at least once with no permanent consequences at all to the brain. Beyond that, it is up in the air. Ketamine can surely be used at least a dozen times with no risks to the brain. Beyond that, things get hazier.
Heavy DXM users have reported a very high rate of psychosis and schizophrenia-like symptoms, along with symptoms of organic brain damage. Users should approach DXM use with caution, and heavy use should be ruled out.
Heavy methamphetamine use has been proven to cause permanent damage to dopaminergic systems, especially in the striatum, caudate and putamen (at ½ gram a day, 5 days a week, and 2 years of use). Studies have also shown degeneration of axons on serotonergic neurons and loss (cell death) of up to 15% of the neurons of the hippocampus with heavy use.
In the study above, there was some recovery of the dopaminergic system with abstinence, but it was only partial. Meth can probably be used a dozen or so times without any permanent damage. Beyond that, no guarantees. There is some suggestive evidence of chronic psychosis, depression and anxiety directly related to heavy methamphetamine use (over 10 years of heavy use).
Impairments in learning, processing speed, and working memory, along with delayed recall, are found in meth users. Brain dysfunction is often readily apparent in heavy meth users. This is one category of drug user, in contrast to most other drug users, that does sometimes appear “fried.” Much of this “fried” appearance seems to clear up with abstinence.
Methamphetamine can probably be used up to a dozen times or so in moderation without any permanent consequences to the brain. Nevertheless, some users have reported permanent effects from only 2-3 weeks of very heavy use. Meth is nasty stuff, and it’s best to keep away from it.
Heavy drinking can depress neurons for up to two years. With continued heavy drinking, at some point, there is organic damage, which in many cases is permanent, although there is often significant recovery with abstinence. The case of the “wethead” and “dry drunk,” the former alcoholic who is still damaged, psychologically or cognitively, is well known.
Heavy use of barbiturates over many years causes a damage syndrome that looks like chronic alcoholism and that does not completely recover with abstinence.
Even chronic Valium use causes long-term EEG changes of unknown significance.
Sniffing glue has been proven to be possibly the worst thing you can do to your brain short of putting a bullet in it, and the effects do not recover completely with abstinence.
Cocaine, unfortunately, seems to be capable of causing brain damage with as few as 11 doses (constriction of vessels in the brain). At three years of using several times a week, there is slowing on the P300 event related potentials test, that may not recover fully with abstinence.
Recent studies have also shown that chronic heavy cocaine use causes reductions in gray matter in various parts of the brain. This means that heavy cocaine use causes an actual loss of brain cells in parts of the brain. It may also cause white matter reductions, which means a loss of connections in the brain.
There are also impairments in attention, learning, memory, reaction time and cognitive flexibility in cocaine users. It is not known whether these clear up with abstinence.
This blog recommends that lifetime use of cocaine be limited to 10 times or less. Even there, there is a slight risk of sudden death due to perturbations in the heart’s electrical rhythms. These perturbations can cause a sudden heart attack or even possibly a stroke. Vasoconstriction is probably involved.
In many of the above cases, there is some recovery with abstinence, but often not to the previous level.
Experimental use of PCP, ketamine, cocaine and methamphetamine (use up to a dozen or so times for each one) probably does not cause significant permanent damage. Beyond that, you play with matches.
Compared to other drugs of abuse, such as Ecstasy, PCP, Ketamine, DXM, cocaine, methamphetamine and alcohol, the effects of cannabis on the brain are dramatically less deleterious.
In terms of its effects on the brain for heavy users, cannabis is surely by far least damaging intoxicant of them all, for what that is worth.
Repost from the old site. Mentally healthy, physically healthy and happy.
Once you get around my age, God doesn’t give you many more breaks about this stuff.
If you can’t be all three by middle age (mentally healthy – relatively speaking, physically healthy – no excuses, and happy – who needs misery?) at least give it a good shot! When you’re young you can blow off one or more of these things things and get away with it for a while, but as you get older, omissions like that really start to bite! Mentally healthy?
Seems you can get away with being kind of nuts when you’re young, but I wouldn’t want to try it at my age. In males anyway, suicide becomes much more of a risk as we age.
If I’m going to get depressed, I need to think about that. As a young man, I regularly felt horribly sad, but now I’ll hardly touch it. Depression in middle-aged males is often deadly. How odd. You would think it would be the young guy to buy it with his own hand, but it’s not. It’s the older, wiser, more mature guy.
Anxiety? Young men are expected to be anxious. In an older guy, you just seem like an idiot. You’re already an old fart anyway who practically needs to buy friends, and you just gave people one less reason to talk to you.
Psychosis? Never tried that one, but some of my friends did. Once again, that’s probably easier as a young man. Most people think young guys are insane anyway, so young psychotic males are generally not behaving dramatically different. With an older guy, it’s like, “Whoa!! Nam vet! He’s gooot a guuuun!”
They just know you’re going to go postal. They have a point. It’s usually a middle aged guy going postal, and he’s usually not even nuts.
He’s just depressed, plus he just got fired from his job, plus it was a shitty job in the first place, plus he needs Viagra now and he can’t afford it, plus his woman left him, plus he looks around at the women his age, half of whom looked like they swallowed Right Whales, and he thinks, “I’m getting tired of being a mammal.”
Add it all up and the guy wants to just write “I’M A LOSER” in block letters on his shirt and walk around town for a few weeks. Pride prevents this of course, so the only logical alternative is to shoot up the former workplace or mall or wherever.
Honestly! After every one of these shootings, we get all these people on TV and the press running around saying, “Why? Why? Why?” Oprah holds one her “Oprah Asks Why Shows”. Why, why, why, everyone is running around saying. They’re nearly at the end of the alphabet, they’re running out of letters, and they’re genuinely puzzled.
They’re not asking the right question!
The right question is not why do people go postal in the US and go shoot up random humans, the question is, Why the Hell does this shit not happen every day, or more than once a day? That’s the damn miracle.
Like when teenagers get shot up at a school. People act like that’s the most horrible thing of them all. It’s totally incomprehensible. Huh? Why is that? Teenagers are the most uniformly unpleasant members of our bedeviled species. We shouldn’t be shocked if their perfectly reasonable fellow humans reacted to teenagers’ general assholitude by blowing away multiple numbers of them at once on a regular basis.
What’s incomprehensible is how controlled and repressed we are, but that’s the reason for all the postal dudes anyway, right?
You’re supposed to nod your head.
If you can’t be mentally healthy, at least be as mentally healthy as you can possibly be. It’s important, dammit! Physically healthy?
I blew off brushing my teeth for a while recently (I still flossed daily or more than daily) and at the last check-up, I had eight cavities. I’ve got two metal crowns in my mouth now from root canals, and if I don’t watch it, I’ll have a mouth full of metal or even worse, teeth I can pull out and show folks for a gag.
In middle age, your sex drive goes from a continuous annoyance that gives you a great big embarrassing hardon (Often with no where to put it either!) every time the wind blows, to a closely guarded treasure capable of being snatched away forever at any time. Use it or lose it! You crave the beautiful young women you couldn’t stop screwing as a young man, and now they look at you like you’re a creepy old pervert.
You look in the mirror and you seem to be actually aging, physically and observably, with about every new day. You want sex, but then you look at your wife or girlfriend or the women you’re dating. If she weigh 300 pounds or so like so many, she’ll probably almost kill you every time you do it with her.
If she’s not 300 pounds and she’s around your age, you look at her and think, “Well, at least it’s female.” What are your alternatives? You could be in prison, getting fucked in the ass by other guys against your will. Ok, that’s a kind of sex. You could be having sex with your hand, but that gets old. I swear to God for every year men age, women age two. Correct me if I’m wrong!
Like to eat lousy food? No problem, but by middle age, you’re going to start paying. If you’re not a fat pig yet, you soon will be. Fat tastes good, sugar tastes good, salt tastes good, so we Americans eat crap and commit suicide by fork. Hey, it’s the red, white and blue, man. Life, liberty and the pursuit of fattiness. Comes with a price.
I had high blood pressure and high cholesterol by age 35 and was on health food the next year. I’m still on it, and I’m still on the statins and BP pills too. That’s if you’re lucky. If you’re not lucky, you’ve got diabetes. That’s one shitty disease.
You can smoke cigarettes until about mid to late 40’s. Then they are going to start fucking you hard. You’ll only get a really crappy sounding hoarse voice that sounds like you got shot in the vocal cords if you’re lucky. If not, lung cancer or throat cancer and a weirdo voice box. All by 50. I’m not kidding; I’ve seen this.
Like to drink? Have fun! Sure you can drink as a young man. That’s what being a young man is all about! Think you can keep it up til 45 or 50? Think again.
Assuming you can even stay alive and do this, you will start to look like serious shit. Your face will look like it got run over by a tractor. Your teeth will all fall out. You will look 20 years older than you are, and you’re already old to start with. Your eyes will contain bottomless wells of sadness.
And you will become bitter, angry and nasty. You’re old anyway, you look like crap, and now you have the personality of a wolverine. And why should anyone so much as give you the time of day now?
By 45 or 50, you and your cohorts will start dropping dead. No one will be surprised, and saddest of all, hardly anyone will give a fuck. The autopsy will be unremarkable. “Natural causes” is not uncommon for this sort of thing.
You want to take drugs for 30 years? Who are you fooling? You can’t do it. If you’re male, you will look like Keith Richards. Keith looks like a cadaver with a motor inside that gets injected with motor oil every day to keep the rusty parts moving.
I honestly think Keith is a zombie. I think he died a while back, climbed out of the grave and back to life, and here he is with us again for a bit somehow. Ron Woods has that same “I got shot and lived” look about him. Many of the Stones do. You think that’s attractive? To look like human petrified wood? Get real.
If you’re female, you end up like Marianne Faithful. People will look at you and think, “Wow, why doesn’t someone just shoot her and get it over with?”
So, drugs for 30-35 years? Forget it. You can maybe smoke some pot, but that’s not really drugs.
Hate exercising? Great. I hope you like canes, walkers or wheelchairs, because you will be using them soon enough. Seriously, get moving or get dead. In middle age, it’s not just a saying.
Like your cock and how it works? Better get off that couch. The longer you sit on that couch, the sooner that thing goes into permanent suspended animation. Happy?
Goes along with the mentally healthy part, but also the physically healthy part. Why do people engage in this unhealthy stuff above? In part because they are miserable.
Why do emo morons cut themselves, burn themselves and sit around talking gleefully of suicide? Simple reason. Because these shitheads are not happy. How do we know this? Because happy people simply do not do these stupid things.
You think happiness is something you can just blow off and be a callous cynic, a stoic hardhead or a cold fish, but look what happens when you do. Happiness is not something to be trifled with – lack of it has some hardcore consequences.
If you can’t be really happy, then at least be kind of happy. If you can’t be happy at all, then lie and fake it and pretend to be happy. Laugh and tell jokes and act like you don’t care. I’m convinced even pretending is better than misery. Middle age. It’s no time to fuck around!
And screw you if you don’t like it. Baby Boomers Still Getting High, Agency Says.
I’m not sure when I last smoked pot.
I think it was less than a year ago though for sure. I started smoking it again, and it was one of the best things I’ve done lately. I have an anxiety disorder called Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD).
I don’t talk about it much on here because no one wants to hear about it, and this isn’t a “Crazy Blog.” Stigma is still an insanely (Joke!) huge issue, and I have enough problems as it is. Crazy Blogs are the ballooning number of sites where folks with mental dx’s (usually way worse than mine, like Manic-Depression, Major Depression, Borderline Personality Disorder, Asperger’s, Schizophrenia, etc.) mostly write about their mental stuff.
I take meds for OCD – an SSRI called Lexapro. I’ve gone off many times, but I relapse slowly but surely every time. Thing is, I started smoking pot again a few years back on a whim, and it worked great for OCD!
Unfortunately, folks like us have to deal with fools called “psychiatrists” and “psychologists” sometimes. Psychiatrists sometimes to get the meds. Psychologists for therapy, which I’ve had years of anyway and don’t really need anymore, as it doesn’t do that much for OCD, and I’ve already learned enough about myself and my life as I need to know.
This whole field, including all of the psychiatrists and psychologists, is insanely (Joke!) dead set against this thing called “drugs,” despite the fact that they shovel them out all the time as a way of getting their fat paychecks. Plus the dope that the psychs dish out is way worse in terms of side effects than any kind of cannabis.
One particularly annoying thing that these idiots do is the minute you meet some new psych-fool, and they learn you have both a dx and a drug history (even if deep in the past), they immediately make the extremely helpful suggestion that your dx was caused by getting high! Wow, thanks a lot! A dx that developed like 27 years ago, and I’m supposed to feel guilty for the rest of my life about causing it! I feel so much better now! I see why they call it the “helping professions!”
Even though in my case there seems to be zero evidence that this is the case. As an obsessive, I’ve thought this issue to death 50,000 times in multi-hour mental vicious circle sessions.
And drugs never really made it worse or better anyway in the past. Though sometimes coke would make OCD better, usually with plenty of booze too (I also did great creative writing on coke and lots of booze – great combo!) and one time when I was on LSD, I had 1-2 hours free of a particularly horrific obsessive thought that had locked into my brain 24-7, 365 for about a year or so. That was the only couple hours of peace I had had in that whole year. That’s why acid is evil, you know. Because it helps mental illnesses sometimes.
Anyway, if you admit to drinking at all (I drink two glasses of red wine a night) or taking any drugs other than the evil junk the p-docs write scripts for, you get shoveled out of all the programs immediately towards some bull called “Drug Treatment.” Yeah, that’s right, if you admit you take one hit off a jay once a year, you go to local equivalent of Betty Ford. Lame or what?
This is because recently the mental health idiots (not the people with the illnesses, they’re the smart ones), meaning the morons who “treat” us, decided to split “mental health” and “drug treatment.” Nowadays most of the former are dopers too, so this doesn’t make sense, but the whole motto nowadays is never the twain shall meet! So if you have any dx at all, even fulminant schizophrenia I guess, you get shunted to the Synanon clowns, and the mental guys won’t even talk to you until you get “drug treatmented.” Only then you go into mental health, but only if you get “clean.” What if you never go clean and keep using? I guess mental health says go away until you come clean. This is based on the somewhat lame idea that you can’t treat anyone with a psych dx as long as they are “using.” There’s no evidence that this is true as a general statement, and in a lot of cases, it’s just stupid.
The local medical treatment folks are much the same. I use a public facility, so this may be the problem, but I bet privates are just as insane (Joke!). If you tell them you are smoking weed, even for good reason (like it’s medicine, duh) they freak out and remand you to “therapy.” Then you go to the Therapist Lady who knows little about dope and less about medicine, and she tries to force you to quit smoking dope.
Mind you, this is in California, where cannabis is legal to use medically as long as you have a card! I can imagine what things are like in South Carolina.
Unfortunately, this anti-drug societal meme, which is profound even here in the middle of a California barrio, has taken a hold of me lately, and I even haven’t been stoned in a while.
I take exception to the standard crap line about drugs. I’m extremely happy that we Boomers are continuing to get high. The typical line is that drugs are evil life destroyers, and everyone who takes them is an evil scum to be avoided and shunned.
In terms of my life experience, my position is that drugs are fun. Drugs are a blast. Drugs are oodles and oodles of kicks and endless good times. That’s been my experience. I never got addicted or totally messed up on dope like it seems every other user did. I’ve been using off and on for 35 years now, and I’m not any the worse for it.
That’s because I was always just a recreational user. Everyone I tell this to is like, “No way! What’s that? No such thing as a recreational user!” This is because, you see, all users are either very casual experimenters or addicts and screwups with a life-wrecking problem.
But really. The only drug I ever used regularly was pot, and even if you use it daily, it usually doesn’t screw you up that much.
I used coke for 13 years and never got addicted. I did probably less than an ounce of coke in 13 years, maybe a gram or so a year. I’d just tickle my nose now and then.
I only did speed 3 times, and I never got into heroin, although I admit to very much a liking for codeine these days, which is killer good for OCD too for some weird reason.
I did hallucinogens for 14 years (40 times overall). These drugs actually act against addiction in that they are so overwhelming that it’s almost impossible to take them regularly. I took psychedelics maybe 3-4 times a year, never had a serious bad trip, and I don’t think I have any serious consequences from it other than really bright lit up colors sometimes, which I think is HPPD.
I’ve known many folks who took LSD anywhere from 1-700 times, and I can’t say I’ve ever met one person who was messed up from taking the stuff. I’ve known folks who have been using pot daily for 20-30 years, and they are psychologically normal in every way, shape and form. Those that were not, I saw them quit pot, and in general, they didn’t get any healthier psychologically. Sometimes they even started back up again, and still not much changed. I concluded that pot in general doesn’t seem to have much to do with psychological issues one way or the other.
The notion of the permafried pothead or former acid user is largely a myth as far as I can tell, or at least it’s uncommon. Most of the really psychologically messed up folks I’ve met weren’t using anything. I always thought maybe they could have used some weed to mellow them out a bit.
Oh yeah, one more really evil thing pot does to me. Sometimes it makes me laugh. For hours and hours, off and on. And, even after the high wears off, it still makes me laugh, even for days afterwards, even out in public (where I do try to suppress my giggles). I don’t care if people think I’m nuts for laughing in public. The sane people will just figure I’m thinking of something funny, which is exactly why I’m laughing.
So you see, that’s one more reason cannabis is so evil. It makes people laugh, sometimes on and off for hours and days on end. We can’t have any of that now, can we?