Weird dream/Absurdity of the drug war

I mainly wanted to post this because I think it’s hilarious and it’s a nice dream, but also because it highlights a lot of the absurdity of the drug war.


So, I had a dream last night that I was walking through a very surburbian-ish neighborhood, and there was a jogger coming towards me. Sweat-pants, head-band, walk-man: he was your stereotypical jogger. But the moment he came by me I grabbed his arm and forced him to look me in the face and said, “I’m dreaming!”

“Oh really? Prove it.”

“How?”

“Outlaw mayonnaise.”

At first I was thrown back. I wasn’t quite sure if I could ‘outlaw mayonnaise’, maybe I wasn’t dreaming after all. Either way, I closed my eyes and there was a good silence between us for about 5 minutes, until far off in the distance a police siren began to wail.

“There, outlawed mayonnaise.”

He gave me a quizzical look until this cop car came flying down the street Blues Brothers style, then proceeding to spin and burn-out on this guy lawn. Out the cop car a policeman who looked like a jail guard from Attica jumped out and rushed into the house. Me and the jogger looked at each other and starting laughing that we had actually ‘outlawed mayonnaise’.

However, the moment the cop entered the door, in typical dream-like fashion, he suddenly turned into the Aflac duck, with a swarm of cops in full riot-gear spreading out along the house arresting an obscene amount of people. The duck then proceeded to walk in a very methodical manner and to case the house for mayonnaise in a very CSI-like fashion.

He entered upon a hallway with a bit of mayo spilled on the floor, and then just like in CSI there was a blue-tinted flashback of someone dropping accidentally dropping mayo.

He walked into another hallway, noticed some loose wall-boards, and after pulling them open a few bags of mayo in Ziplock bags poured out.

The duck commented, “There must be at least 4 kilos here.”

The duck then proceeded to boss them around, “What’s this?! Don’t you have kids? What kind of example are you leaving your children!” And then he’d proceed to start kicking the already hand-cuffed father.

At the end of the dream, the duck ordered the fire department to get over there, who proceeded to burn down the house (Farenheight 451 reference) while the duck watched with Attica sunglasses on, lit up a cigarette, and commented, “Sick bastards.”

In my drug dreams the ducks do not infringe on trademarks.

Very good point.

Perhaps the problem of drug abuse should be treated the same way as the problem of mayonnaise-abuse or obesity… by treating instead of jailing people. Or dealing with prevention.

A war on drugs does not benefit anyone. As a person living in a country directly involved in that war, I can see first hand its utter failure and the enmities it produces among different groups of citizens and nationalities.

What a wierd dream. Sounds like the time I tripped out on shrooms.

On a more serious note, many people have yet to realise that the Drug War is just like every war; it diverts resources away from productive uses and into parasitical ones and acts as an excuse to erode civil liberties.

I’d choose ostracism personally.