2013: The End of the Nixon Era

Richard Nixon did two things: he opened up China and he started the war on drugs. We are now seeing the end of the war on drugs with the legalization and decriminalization of cannabis in many parts of the United States, as well as more interest in a clinical as opposed to a police approach to drug problems. The battle is far from over for many victims of the war on drugs, but for the first time in decades, there is light at the end of the tunnel.

 

The end of the Nixon tunnel also seems to coincide with the end of the Chinese-American buddy road trip. The Obama administration has so far remained largely mum about Chinese cyberattacks, but it would be foolish to presume that the US has not initiated any cyberattacks against China. All the evidence seems to indicate that the two nations are already in a Cyber Cold War.

 

Like two supernations already in tension, there must be a threat of physical confrontation in a proxy state. And indeed, Japan and China are in an increasingly escalating game of brinkmanship over the Senkaku islands. Uninhabited rocks have the two historical Asian rivals at each other's throats, with the US supplying a knife and an arm.

 

The Chinese have recently moved missiles, and the Japanese have started quoting Thatcher on the Falklands. Meanwhile, American generals are calling for further vengeance over China's unit 61398's intrusions into America's institutions. All three countries, with bloated economies and dissatisfied populations, somehow know that the people need a great external foe to rally them together and distract them from the harsh economic reality.

 

Face it, America is full of debt and its infrastructure is crumbling under the weight of a corpulent, decadent middle-class. The only thing that can prevent an implosion is a great awakening. Bush tried to give it to us with 9/11 and Al-Qaeda, but he failed for reasons too numerous to detail. Sure, an economic extrication will be devastating at first, but it is best when the people can blame an outside agent for economic tribulations. There is no fixing the current economy: you can't reglue shattered glass.

 

Don't think that out leaders have not foreseen this or prepared; to do so would be extremely foolish. All indications make it clear that the Chinese have been stockpiling resources and that the Americans have been stockpiling bullets, seemingly preparing for total economic collapse and mass dissent.  Only a great new foe will be enough to distract the masses and quash dissent. American needs a new evil empire to justify its own existence, but we shouldn't underestimate a 5,000-year-old culture that produced the Art of War.

Advice to a Friend on Choosing a Mistress

So, Benjamin Franklin was even more of a genius and hound dog than most of us would like to accept from one of America's founding fathers. During the 19th century, the below letter was never published and kept almost a state secret. Franklin was a cougar hunter, and he outlined his reasons for believing that older women were better. And his observations are indeed very accurate, but perhaps the importance of marriage as an institution has changed. People today are a lot more independent and self-focused.

Franklin wrote this letter to a friend who asked him for advice on how to control his sexual urges. Were Franklin alive today, he probably would have suggested a little Porntube too. Franklin says there is no hazard of children with older women, but technology has made it a hazard; so, this reason probably hasn't fully withstood the test of time.
 

My dear Friend:

I know of no medicine fit to diminish the violent natural inclinations you mention; and if I did, I think I should not communicate it to you. Marriage is the proper remedy. It is the most natural state of man, and therefore the state in which you are most likely to find solid happiness. Your reasons against entering into it at present appear to me not well founded. The circumstantial advantages you have in view by postponing it are not only uncertain, but they are small in comparison with that of the thing itself, that being married and settled. It is the man and woman united that make the complete human being. Separate, she wants his force of body and strength of reason; he, her softness, sensibility, and acute discernment. Together they are more likely to succeed in the world. A single man has not nearly the value he would have in the state of union. He is an incomplete animal. He resembles the odd half of a pair of scissors. If you get a prudent, healthy wife, your industry in your profession, with her good economy, will be a fortune sufficient.

But if you will not take the counsel and persist in thinking of a commerce with the sex inevitable, then I repeat my former advice, that in all your amours you should prefer old women to young ones. You call this a paradox and demand my reasons. They are these:

1. Because They have more knowledge of the world, and their minds are better stored with observations, their conversation is more improving and more lastingly agreeable.
2. Because when women cease to be handsome they study to be good. To maintain their influence over men, they supply the diminution of beauty by an augmentation of utility. They learn to do a thousand services small and great, and are the most tender and useful of friends when you are sick. Thus they continue amiable And hence there is hardly such a thing to be found as an old woman who is not a good woman.

3. Because there is no hazard of children, which irregularly produced may be attended with much inconvenience.

4. Because through more experience they are more prudent and discreet in conducting an intrigue to prevent suspicion. The commerce with them is therefore safer with regard to your reputation. And with regard to theirs, if the affair should happen to be known, considerate people might be rather inclined to excuse an old woman, who would kindly take care of a young man, form his manners by her good counsels, and prevent his ruining his health and fortune among mercenary prostitutes.

5. Because in every animal that walks upright the deficiency of the fluids that fill the muscles appears first in the highest part. The face first grows lank and wrinkled; then the neck; then the breast and arms; the lower parts continuing to the last as plump as ever: so that covering all above with a basket, and regarding only what is below the girdle, it is impossible of two women to tell an old one from a young one. And as in the dark all cats are gray, the pleasure of corporal enjoyment with an old woman is at least equal, and frequently superior; every knack being, by practice, capable of improvement.

6. Because the sin is less. The debauching a virgin may be her ruin, and make her for life unhappy.

7. Because the compunction is less. The having mad a young girl miserable may give you frequent bitter reflection; none of which an attend the making an old woman happy.

8th and lastly. they are so grateful!!

Thus much for my paradox. But still I advise you to marry directly; being sincerely

Your affectionate friend,

Benjamin Franklin

 

Driving Through a Parisian Suburb

I went to Paris with little idea of how life was on its outskirts. I grew up in the Bronx and simply expected that what Parisians call the suburbs, would be somehow equivalent to an American inner-city. There's a difference between crippling third-world poverty and the kind of poverty that you'd expect to see in a developed country.

 

As soon as we crossed a tunnel informing us that we were in Paris, my girlfriend looked to her left and spotted a family living in an underpass. I hadn't seen people living in such a visibly public place in any other city in Europe. The individuals were Sub-Saharan African, and I felt a squeeze in my heart, not sure if it was something that I was going to be seeing during my entire trip to Paris. But it wasn't just black people like me, the homelessness was systemic.

 

We drove a bit past the underpass, and came upon slow traffic near the red light that would finally release us into the city's inner roads. But as our car stood in that row of traffic, we noticed a group of teenage North African window washers. I precognitively saw them deciding to wash the car with foreign plates and a blonde driver at the wheel, and indeed I was right. Even as we waved and said no, they still grabbed the wiper. I tapped the window, but they didn't relent and simply became aggressive.

 

I grew frustrated as they rubbed something in the driver's side, and I punched the inside of the windshield, before putting on my wild Bronx face. I stepped out of the car, looking angry, and hoping that they would back away. Fortunately they did, the light changed, and I sat back in as we drove away. Putting on my seat belt, I realized that my very first few minutes in Paris had involved seeing a family living in an underpass and confronting a group of young, aggressive businessmen.

 

I couldn't admit it to myself, but Paris reminded me more of Rio, with its favelas overlooking beauty and wealth, than a city like London or Berlin. Later that night, walking around the Bastille, we stumbled past a mother and her two children sleeping inside of a phone booth. Throughout the day, I had seen a disproportionately high number of posters for the marine corps asking: "are you already a marine without knowing it?"

 

I thought back to the French foreign legion, and how France now had inside of its own border a massively poor population of unassimilated individuals, much like the US. Like the US, France has enough people to use in its 21st century post-colonial entanglements abroad, much like the current one in Mali. Like the US, France seems to have its priorities in wrong order; no country should be waging foreign wars in distant lands when there are mothers sleeping with their children in phone booths.

 

Maybe Depardieu was right to leave and become a Russian citizen. Because, why would someone want to pay 75% taxes in a country so polarized?

America 2015: A Dystopic Nightmare

Today, Department of Homeland Security Police were involved in a deadly shootout with associated forces in a suburb of Austin, Texas. After receiving an anonymous tip, drones identified 6 enemy combatants inside the layered suburban compound. Drones did not fire on the compound, as police saw it better to extract evidence from the combatant's computers. A raid of the compound resulted in the death of 5 insurgents and the escape of 1.

 

Police have kept secret the identities -- as demanded by national security -- of the 5 enemy combatants legally killed in self-defense. "Since last year's domestic terrorist attack, we have worked diligently to prevent insurgents from plotting against innocent Americans," stressed DHS police chief for Texas John Snader.

 

Though the individuals terminated in today's earlier raids have not been identified, police revealed that three of the 5 were felons, having been convicted under HR 347 for trespassing in federal restricted buildings. The government also disclosed the age of the insurgents: 18, 18, 16, 44, 42. Had the government attempted the raid last week, it would have been faced with legal difficulties concerning the 16-year-old, who only became a military-aged insurgent in recent days. "We always take great care, great care, in ensuring that only military-aged insurgents are neutralized in any operation," stressed chief Snader.

 

Neighbors reported being shocked that the individuals inside of the home were involved in associated forces activities. "It's always who you least suspect," said neighbor Juan Diaz. The government has warned residents of increased terrorist activity in the area surrounding the suburb. The police have asked residents to report any suspicious individuals to their nearest Department of Homeland Security office. DHS has dispatched more VIPR teams to keep residents safe. They are conducting extra roadblocks and increasing drone surveillance of the surrounding areas.

 

"We so far have identified the individual who escaped as a disgrunted ex-soldier involved in far right circles. He has in the past e-mailed several individuals flagged in extremist activity, and should be considered armed and dangerous," said Chief Snader. The police have not made specific what charges the fugitee will face, but most likely charges will be unnecessary considering his ties to terrorism.

 

 

Interview with a Swedish Mailman

I found myself bored at home and hopped on the tram to Central Station. I immediately headed to one of my favorite places in Amsterdam: Cannabis College. It's different from a coffee shop because it's a more academic environment, and also there's a garden in the basement. A lot of people come in asking questions and the volunteers there are very knowledgeable, so you get a lot of intelligent people coming in who like to ask and answer questions.

 

I was feeling inspired yesterday, so I stayed around chatting with a random Swede who I first thought was Argentinean from his looks and accent. When he told me he was a mailman, I realized how different his life must be from mine, so I asked him if I could interview him.

 

"So, I deliver to about 1,000 doors a day. In Sweden, you put the mail through the door," began the mailman.

I interjected: "so, people know when you deliver the mail."

"Yea, some people wait anxiously for the mail to fall into their apartments. I mostly do apartment complexes which all look pretty much the same, only the number on the door is different. You work 5 apartment complexes, and you just don't know where you are because you have done the same over and over, so you lose perspective of time and place. I'm a new generation mailman, so we don't have a regular district [zip code] that we work. I go to a different district every day. The post office doesn't hire any new employees, so I just have a temporary contract. The old timers (40-50) know their districts and are three times faster because they know their doors. They work 1 hour and lounge around for another 2. I don't know what they do for those 2 hours, but they know people in their districts, so it's possible that they hang out with some of the people they work with.  When I show up to a new door, people come out and I have to say, 'oh, hi, I'm new.'"

 

I thought his work sounded a bit distant in how detached it could be, so I asked him how people saw their mailman.

"People generally enjoy the mailman. It's a daily occurrence. Mondays and Tuesdays is commercials [ads] and sometimes when the commercials don't arrive, it's pretty clear that people just want a reason to come to their doors and talk. It's encumbering."

 

I asked, "have there been times when people definitely didn't want you to come by?"

"Yes, there was this time I had ten envelopes from bill collectors going to one single address. The old man came to me before I even entered the building and told me not to bother attempting to deliver the letters, to just throw them away. Funny stuff like that happens -- there was also the time that I delivered the wrong mail to a sister in one building, and had to deal with the other sister in the building next door. The first sister called the second one and the second one went on a rant, I just had to stand there and apologize for 10 minutes before she finally calmed down."

 

I can't imagine having to confront people on their own turf, and I imagine Sweden to be cold. "How do you get around?" I asked.

"I generally travel 5 km by scooter. The cold can be pretty bad, but it's rewarding work in summer."

 

"And why did you decide to become a mailman?" I asked.

 

"Well, I first thought about what cause I wanted to support. Could I work at McDonald's? I don't think so because it's a not a cause that I support or that I think benefits society. I work as a mailman part time and teach the rest of the time. To study in Sweden is for free and I get 1,000 euros from the government every month. So, I naturally wanted to do something that contributed to the system that is contributing to me. I saw delivering mail as a cause that I did not oppose. Delivering mail: it's something that feels good. To me it was the most rational decision."

 

Interesting, I liked his approach to causes and rational decisions. I tell him I am a vegan and he tells me that he is one too. "So, how long have you been vegan?" I asked.

"Well, I have been vegan a few months, but I was vegetarian before that. I see meat as an addiction that has to be removed. Not eating meat to me is the most rational decision. I asked myself, 'is this benefiting me?' I thought that you'd be a madman to choose otherwise."

 

The mailman used the word 'madman' several times. Eventually the conversation turned to whether he supported locally made goods and whether he had traveled abroad more than to just Holland. He had been to North America, but had eschewed entering the US because he saw it as undemocratic. I went on a rant about drones, the incarceration rate, indefinite detention, enhanced interrogation, rendition, and frankly think that I scared him from even going close to the US border. I am not generally impressed with people's professions, and at first I was impressed because I had never interacted with a mailman in a social setting, but it turns out that his outlook on the world was not that different from mine.

The Defense Clandestine Service: Our Glorious New Military Spy Agency

Before Kennedy came to power, military intelligence was carried out by individual branches of the military. Though the US still managed to win World War II, the fear of the Soviet Union's centralized spy apparatus likewise led the US to centralize military intelligence efforts under one single entity: The Defense Intelligence Agency. The DIA has since the Kennedy years provided intelligence to everyone from a 3-star general to a private on the ground. Last May, however, the US government created a new spy agency -- the Defense Clandestine Service -- to be under the umbrella of not only the Defense Intelligence Agency [Pentagon] but also the Central Intelligence Agency [civilian].

 

The creation of a new hybrid intelligence agency represents another direct blow to America's tradition of separating military and civilian affairs. Though the Defense Clandestine Service will be officially a subsidiary of the Pentagon (Defense Intelligence Agency), their personnel will report and work closely with CIA station chiefs. Yes, the military's new spy agency will be working closely with our former civilian spy agency -- as the CIA is now arguably a paramilitary force.

 

The National Clandestine Service will allow the CIA to concentrate more on drones, cyberspying, and counter-narcotics. Since the Defense Clandestine Service was not given the budget and personnel that it wanted in the latest National Defense Authorization Act, it may be a few years until we see just how bloated and powerful it becomes. However, the legal framework for more collusion between military and civilian elements in our government has been established.

 

Leon Panneta, then director of the CIA, was in charge of the Bin Laden raid, though it was carried out by military forces (JSOC.) It seems that beyond getting the military's 25,000 special forces under its command, the CIA also wants the Pentagon to spy on its behalf. In the same way that 9/11 brought us the centralization of power that is the Department of Homeland Security, so will the next major crisis lead to a further consolidation of power between military and civilian agencies.

 

Though the Constitution requires that Congress be the one to declare war, Obama went ahead and bombed Lybia. He overrode Congress by using money from the counterterrorism black budget that cannot be closely scrutinized by Congress. In using the military to bomb a foreign country without authorization from Congress, Obama gave himself further counterterrorism powers.

 

Since 9/11 the President has gained the power to: bomb foreign countries without consent from Congress, indefinitely detain US citizens, bomb US citizens suspected of having ties to terrorism, and to keep the reasons and evidence secret. Tomorrow we could have president Biden or president Shinseki, and they would inherit all these powers. A future Republican administration will likewise inherit all these powers and agencies. America is one major terrorist attack away from becoming a full-blown police state.

 

 

 

 

 

 

How One Little Bikini Almost Caused an International Incident

I wish I could say it was laundry day, but the reality is I had simply stopped caring. Yes, I wore my girlfriend's bikini during my first outing in Paris (France, not Texas.) The weather was freezing, but the bikini promised to keep me warm. My gf's bikini is not your typical piece of sexy wear: she produced it herself while working for a large multinational that we will cryptically refer to as "Nosotros."

 

When I first started going through her collection, the bikini stood out for the raw, manly energy it radiated. I had previously noted an H&M leopard blazer in her closet and knew that I had found my New Year's look. Though the bikini is in actuality snake print, it matches well with the leopard print. The minute I put the two together, my energy level increased exponentially to such an extent that I had no other choice but to go for a polar dive in one of Amsterdam's canals. Copious amounts of fornication also ensued.

 

Hell, maybe I shouldn't even pretend that I wished it was laundry day: I wanted my raw tiguere power to take Paris by storm. I first began to remove the layers which separated the world from my snake power when we got to the Eiffel tower. It was -2c, but my bikini and a light jacket was all I needed. So, I stood atop the barrier separating the Seine from the sidewalk and began attracting the tourist hordes. I guess people started confusing me for some sort of hybrid Arctic-tropical street performer, and accordingly a tour bus of Japanese tourists started dropping cash into my pants next to the barrier. French people simply kept walking by, almost as if completely unfazed.

 

I stood on the barrier for 20 minutes, and made a good 7 euros and 23 cents; easiest money I've ever made. Like the good Dominican that I can be, I saw a business opportunity reveal itself to me: I had to be a street performer for a day. First, however, I had to warm up by spending my newfound wealth on cheap beer. We walked along the Seine, away from the Eiffel tower, until we got to the Louvre. Behind the Louvre I found a supermarket and refilled the good ole' beer tank. The details are sketchy after that, but we wound up in a place with a lot of sidewalk chalk art, a Banksy-like mural of Salvador Dali, and a very grumpy clown.

 

Dismayed at my monetary inefficiencies due to alcoholism, I decided to get back on the street art circuit right then. However, I found myself on a mean clown's turf. I don't know where my girlfriend went, or why I decided to set up shop next to the clown, but he didn't like it one bit when I started taking away his clientele. He was standing still as a statue for 5 minutes before he finally decided to turn his head to me. I had made 50 cents and he was starting to notice.

 

I couldn't read his face behind the paint, but I think he wanted to cry in French, "Pourquois, pourquois are you taking away my business, Dominican Dynamite?" A few more people threw money at me, and when I got close to 3 euros, the clown finally snapped at me. He came down from his stool and confronted me. I didn't hear any of the stereotypical "sacrebleus" that television had trained me to expect. Instead, he delivered solid "merde" after "merde." I think he was slightly drunk too, and a crowd gathered around us as we almost got into a shoving match.

 

A couple of traffic cops had already started to grow concerned by that point, and I could tell they were radioing for backup. I began to put on my pants so I could split, but, given the number of people with camera phones trained at us, and reading how angry the clown was, I knew I was about to cause an international incident the likes of which I hadn't caused in many months. I walked away from the clown when the cops asked me what was going on. "It's just for the cameras," I said without stopping.

 

I miraculously noticed my girlfriend around a corner, and, as we turned, I sent a final F U to the clown. As I walked down into the subway, I could only imagine the headlines: "Yale grad in bikini takes down French clown" or "Clown walks away with American man's bikini." Either way, it promised to be Onion-worthy.

 

Later in the subway, my gf would reveal that the snake bikini wasn't a best seller for "Nosotros," but considering that it is now my superhero outfit, I think its runaway success is only guaranteed to come sooner or later.

Israeli Blood Oil

In 1967, Israel was able to successfully defeat its Arab neighbors over the course of a 6-day war of preemptive aggression. War, of course, is merely a chess game for the rich and politically-connected; the common man is but a pawn. The common man tends to support many wars because he believes himself to be on a winning team. And, if your team wins something, it is to be shared by all. But, the spoils of the six-day war won't be shared by the common Israeli man.

 

Israel's success during the six-day war allowed it to significantly expand its territory and bring under its umbrella large numbers of foreign citizens. Much in the same manner that Europeans "relocated" or made life impossible for Native Americans, so too have the European-descended Israelis dealt with their brown neighbors. The Golan Heights -- part of Syria -- has been effectively colonized by Israeli forces. The likelihood of it being returned grows more unlikely as Israel takes advantage of the bloodshed in Syria to expand its financial interests.

 

Oil was found in the Golan Heights, and the Israelis -- considering themselves masters of the fate of Syrian soil -- have decided to lease the oil fields to an American company. Allowing an American company to build on occupied land will allow Israel to more strongly solidify its hold of Syrian soil; Israel's generosity is essentially a payment to the US military-industrial complex for its support in Israel's shipping in of colonists (also called settlers.)

 

These colonists, most of whom are religious fanatics, consider themselves to be on a winning team. Their religion has blinded them to the fact that Genie Energy is advised by none other than Dick Cheney -- the man who drilled blood into Iraqi soil -- and that one of the shareholders is Rupert Murdoch -- the media mogul who aided the Iraq-war-lie. Israel's objective in leasing the drilling rights is all about gaining the support of America's extreme conservative elements, which Cheney and Murdoch represent.

 

Though the Golan Heights is Syrian territory, it will soon be a "freedom oil field," with countless American military lives sworn to defend it. Though annexation of the Golan Heights is not internationally recognized and relocation of civilian populations is considered a war crime, it is only a minor concern considering that the US will veto any resolution against Israel in the UN security council. It turns out that the bloodshed in Syria is a good thing for Israel.

Obama's Biggest Fear

For the first time in US history, the Senate has delayed a secretary of defense nominee despite 59 votes in the chamber. This is even more unprecedented because we are currently at war. It's pretty clear that politics in the United States is no longer about the welfare of the majority, but rather political basis points. In the same way that the 9/11 commissioners complained that they were "set up to fail," I so believe that Obama was set up to fail.

 

Obama's future -- and the future of the United States -- is currently being decided. At the moment, Obama's future is being decided not by a recalcitrant Senate, but rather by the federal courts. With the passing of the National Defense Authorization Act for 2012, Obama gained the power to lock up Americans without hope of ever seeing a judge or jury. Though Obama pretended that he didn't need those powers, the urgency with which he fought to preserve them indicates otherwise. When an Obama-appointed judge sided against her boss and declared section 1021 of the NDAA act unconstitutional, the Obama administration filed an emergency injunction to maintain the law while they filed an appeal.

 

A court of appeals granted the Obama administration's injunction, and he still retains the power to lock you or me up forever if he suspects that we are in some way involved with Al-Qaeda or some other "associated force." The case is currently on appeal, and is expected to reach the supreme court. The lawyer challenging the government's assertion that section 1021 is constitutional, fears that the Obama administration is already indefinitely detaining American citizens somewhere, possibly Aghrams air force base.

 

I agree with the lawyer's assessment: all the evidence seems to indicate that the Obama administration believes it can detain Americans in secret and forever just like North Korea or China. The question then becomes: did Obama inherit said US citizen[s] from W Bush, or were they/he/she captured under his watch? At the very least, Obama is guilty of failing to faithfully execute the laws of the United States. He would clearly be guilty, legally speaking, if the courts rule section 1021 of the NDAA illegal.

 

If the supreme court rules that section 1021 of the NDAA act is constitutional, the United States officially becomes a police state. If, however, the courts find the act unconstitutional, Obama would then be in contempt of court. If/when Obama is found in contempt of court, the United States will be faced with a constitutional crisis and the prospect of a civil war. America currently finds itself in what could potentially be its darkest hour.

I Cried for the Terminator, but not Cantinflas

I can't possibly have been older than 5 years old when my aunt took me to enjoy Terminator 2 at the cinema in our town in the Dominican. Should a 5-year-old be allowed to enjoy such a violent movie? The truth is that I'm still not fully certain. The only reason I even remember being in the theater is because half-way through the movie I broke down in tears and it left a mark on me.

 

My aunt turned to me and asked me: "What's wrong?""

I wept, "I can't believe that man is letting himself get shot for money." I couldn't even tell the difference between reality and fiction.

 

Yep, I don't know that many Dominicans who pay close attention to movie ratings or anything of the sort. I remember turning on broadcast television back in the mid-90s and stumbling across softcore porn. At around that same time, the famed Mexican comedian Cantinflas died. As a result, his movies were being broadcast in marathon on the country's television networks.

 

 My good friend Tolo and I were enjoying a movie at his house when he said to me, "If he's dead, how can they still be playing his movies?"

I told Tolo: "Don't be stupid, Tolo, they [the actors] put on masks." Tolo's 75-year-old father simply observed our interaction quietly. I presumed that somehow Cantinflas was still alive. We watched anything on TV and imitated a lot of what we saw. I only had a black-and-white television with a few channels of reception back in the Dominican. It wasn't until I arrived in the Bronx at age 9 that I first had unfettered access to my own color TV with a pirated cable box.

 

Instead of imitating the Power Rangers dubbed in Spanish or a Mexican soap opera, I could now enjoy everything that unlimited cable had to offer. Somehow I enjoyed the attention my teachers gave me for being smart and it encouraged me to watch the History channel, the Learning Channel, and the Discovery channel. This was before the History channel descended into aliens and ice truckers. I'm not quite sure what has become of the Discovery channel, but I heard that the Learning Channel had also descended into post-Bush buffoonery. The channels were alright in the 90s.

 

My parents weren't really around for me for a lot of years and oftentimes television was the only thing outside of school raising me. From my perspective, excessive television watching has all come down to what I selected. All of my friends who watched Star Trek made it to college or another post-secondary school. On the other hand, my confidantes who watched BET and MTV are largely still in the Bronx.

 

Should we address the culture of violence that the National Rifle Association complains about? To a certain extent. From my experience, it's all about balance, making sure that kids are exposed to adult opinions and not just adult entertainment. The reality is that schools have not fully adapted to the reality of the 21st century.

 

If schools are supposed to be parental surrogates, shouldn't there be a class teaching kids proper television and Internet etiquette? After all, schools teach students safe sex, driver safety, tool safety, writing, public speaking, as well as physical and intellectual cooperation. Schools, however, don't teach kids to properly handle the media and technology that dominates our century.

 

 

Why I Fear Returning to the United States

I always think "it" may happen to me. When I saw Rodney Kind getting smashed to a bloody pulp, I thought it could happen to me. My fear, however, goes beyond such notorious incidents. In fact, the very thought of returning to the United States makes me almost succumb to paranoia.

 

It wasn't always like that. As a kid, I truly believed in the divine greatness of America. One of my favorite songs for several years was: "Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue." Hell, for a long time I contemplated joining the army so I could spread freedom. People forget that after 9/11, many Americans revered W Bush. His approval rating was massively high, and it was not until the blunder that was Iraq that many Americans started losing faith in the greatness of our country. I felt deceived about the weapons of mass destruction that never materialized, outrage at torture in Abu Ghraib and in CIA black sites, and dismayed at the general incompetence of the government.

 

Unlike most of my liberal friends, however, my concerns for the future of the United States were not allayed by Barack Obama. My mistrust of America went deeper than just one man in the executive branch. I had lost faith in America's fourth estate.

 

I remember watching documentary after documentary in the 1990s and early 00s detailing the Saddam menace in Iraq. It's only in retrospect that I've learned that what the US media presented as a solid, clear-cut case was in fact anything but in the eyes of most of the world. And though the CEO of the executive branch has changed skin colors, the media remains as whitewashed as ever; the Murdochs of the world are still pulling the same strings.

 

It was with that lack of faith that I decided not to vote for Obama. That Obama was even being allowed airtime by corporate media outlets was enough to signal to me that he would continue many of his predecessor's policies. I knew there would be -- and there has rightfully been -- much needed change on the domestic front, but limited gay rights and a sub-par health insurance are not enough to blind me to Obama's foreign policy of drone executions, torture forgiveness, bailout of bankers, and general usurpation of the Constitution. None of Obama's CIA and Wall Street-subservient policies have surprised me. I knew when he was running for office that he had the "reformed" face the establishment needed. I knew before he got elected that the capacity of blacks for tyranny and subservience to corporate masters was just as well-developed as that of whites.

 

So, I lost faith in the fourth estate for supporting a corrupt executive and sanitizing his bloodthirst in the Middle East. Further, my faith in the police and the judicial system was eroded the more I read about private prisons. Correction Corp --- the very same corporation that just recently signed a deal with the same religious fundamentalists who brought us the W Bush caliphate -- circulated a memo requesting states keep their prisons at a certain capacity. State agreements with private interests in the freedom of men encourages draconian legislation that unfairly targets poor minorities. The United States has 5% of the world's population, but 25% of the world's prisoners. America's prison population surpasses that of China by 1 million, and there are 5 million Americans also on probation and parole. America incarcerates more people than any other country on earth.

 

In the US, I'd be more afraid of a cop planting drugs in the trunk of my car, than I'd be of walking around the South Bronx at 3am. I have lived in the South Bronx, and can relate to this issue personally. It was a fellow Dominican cop from the Bronx who quit the force, outraged at the fact that he was expected to maintain quotas instead of "serve and protect." Simply put, I feel safer around American criminals than American cops.

 

Finally, and most controversially, I feel that the government has not been fully forthwith concerning the events of September the 11th, 2001. The government spent more money investigating Monica Lewinsky than it did the murder of 3,000 of our fellow citizens. On top of spending less money on the 9/11 commission, the commissioners have complained of getting stonewalled. The commissioners themselves wrote a book detailing how they were, "set up to fail." The fact that more than a decade after the attacks, I still don't know the truth hits me with more symbolism than memories of the Berlin wall. The culture of guns and conspiracy itself is enough to scare me. I truly fear that some new truth or widely-circulated rumor could set about a catastrophic chain of events.

 

As catastrophic as the government's response to Hurricane Katrina, which highlighted how the poor are neglected and outcast.  But of course, better disaster response means entrusting the executive branch with near-dictatorial powers. Congress gave Bush the power to declare martial law; this years after his follies in Iraq. Though he lost those power the following year, his executive orders and future legislation basically guarantees that a future president, if not this current one, will gain control of the Nation Guard, and the power to deploy the military in the streets; hopefully not as bloody as when Lincoln did. The imperial presidency has never been so more encoded into law.

 

When a federal judge declared Obama's power to kill Americans without trial legal, she said she found herself in a veritable catch-22. And indeed, the American catch-22 extends beyond government. It sinks into the psyche of every American that wakes up and still believes himself to live in a free and dignified Homeland.

Whore-haggling in Manila

I arrived in Manila almost instantaneously. I was drunk off my ass when my Quebecois buddy Pierre dragged me from some forsaken balcony in Itaewon, and put us on the train to Incheon airport. I blacked out as soon as we got on the plane to Manila, waking up in a different world. Consistent with my inability to plan, I had no idea what awaited me. Pierre joked that he was glad to finally be in South America, and the reality is that our knowledge of where we were was limited. 

I had read the Wikipedia page on the Philippines some years before flying into Manila, and had a Filipina friend in college. I wasn't fully ignorant -- I simply enjoy chaos and spontaneity -- but I knew nothing about the city. Pierre, however, had been told one word: Malate.

We hopped on a cab and told the driver to drop us off in Malate. Malate wasn't that different from the crippling third world poverty I had grown up seeing in The Dominican Republic. If anything, drinking a cold San Miguel in the first terrace we entered felt like I was back in the Caribbean. I could feel the tropical poverty being drowned out of my eyes by the cold beer and the excitement of adventure in a new city. 

However, I am not sure whether I was blind or a fool, but it quickly became obvious that Pierre and I were unusually popular with the ladies. Of course, we're both good looking guys who exude confidence, but that was overshadowed by the fact that we were North American. The very first two girls who approached us were tricking, they told us that straight up. 

We fled to the next bar and walked into a sea of women. There were maybe 60 girls and 6 guys standing around listening to the music. Pierre and I approached a couple of American dudes, clearly Marines, who simply told us they worked in the US embassy. "They'll ask your for cab fare once you have sex with them," the Marine in black told me. The dude was trying to show us the ropes, how to get the most bang for our buck, when an old white guy came in and stole the show. 

He was balding, nearly blind, and stumbling with a cane as 4 hot young brown girls trailed behind him. He sat down, one of the girls lifted his shirt and started rubbing his massive beer gut, as another started scratching his shiny bald head. The old guy gleamed contentedly behind his magnifying specs; he was nearly blind. 

Disgusted, Pierre and I walked out. Along the way to finding a hotel, we were approached by about 10 or 12 kids begging for money. It was late night and they were no more than six or seven years of age. Perhaps they were older; frail bodies sometimes betray the truth of age. They were mobbing us for money, and Pierre and I angrily shook them off: "get the fuck away!"  I screamed after I noticed my book bag was suddenly open. We knew we quickly needed a hotel to stash our bags, or we were gonna get jacked. 

We continued walking, stumbling past families sleeping on the sidewalk. Many of the kids sleeping with their mothers were wearing nothing more than a raggedy t-shirt. Pierre and I got the very clear impression that the cardboard box they were lying on was the only thing on earth they owned. We eventually walked over a family blocking the sidewalk, and were approached by a man trying to promote his "club."

His club was patronized by 10 times more women than men, and the promoter was very eager for us to drink with some of the girls. We tried to shake off the promoter, and walked out into a mob of more promoters, each trying to outbid the other in interest for us. We kept walking and they tailed behind while promising drinks and "many regular girls," but we entered the first brightly lit hotel lobby we found and ditched them. We needed to change, prepare for the night, and stash our belongings. 

We each booked a 60 euro a night room, and I took the elevator up to the 51st floor. I dropped off my bag, showered, and changed into something clean for the night. Before Pierre and I met in the lobby again, I decided to look down from my window. Down below, I saw the same families we'd walked around, and some of the same homeless kids. I knew that I was as powerless to help them from up above, as I would be a few hours later while drinking down below.

The Day I Almost Got Arrested by The US Military Police

I don't know how it got to the point that we were walking around Itaewon in nothing but boxers and bras, but it surely involved a lot of drinking. My British buddy "Pedro" invited me to this party inside of US army Yongsan garrison, where those 6 dollar bottles of military gin and military vodka were sure to be flowing out of the coolers like it was river water. I can't even begin to try and recall how we left the Dragon hotel or how many we had, but considering that Pedro vomited as soon as we exited base and started heading towards Itaewon, it was surely enough to take down Charlie Sheen reincarnated as a horse. In all my years of alcoholism in Korea, I'd never seen Pedro throw up. Him puking may have had something to do with how we lost our pants, but such minute details have been lost to history and the passage of time.

Now, Pedro and I were civilians, but we had short hair and reeked of military gin. There's a reason why the military rations out the stuff at 6 bucks a pop: to weed out the drunks. They don't need to put a chip in the shit to know who's been chugging it the night before Physical Training; they can just smell it on you from from the other side of the barracks.  And that is exactly why, by the time we made it from Yongsan gate 3 to Itaewon station exit 3, we had already aroused concern from a  couple of MPs who'd no doubt radioed us in.

Now, the military police only have authority over US soldiers, and once Pedro and I for some reason showed the capacity to recognize military ranks, the MPs outside of the police station by Itaewon station exit 3 took serious notice. As we passed a couple of MPs, one of them motioned my way and asked me: "What happened to your clothes?"

I replied, "Listen lieutenant, tell Private Gomez over there that his head is too big for his uniform!"

I'd simply read the private's name tag, but at that point they were sure Pedro and I were two renegade soldiers out to destroy what little reputation the US army still had. Private Gomez shouted, "Hey, come back here!" and Pedro and I made a run for Polly's at the top of Hooker Hill. The MPs didn't give chase, and once we were halfway up the hill, we felt secure enough to try and enter whatever Hooker's window we felt like.

Normally, the sex workers are very inviting, but upon seeing us in our underwear, wearing bras, and reeking of military gin vomit, they locked the doors to their windows in panic. I guess they must have some kind of alert system 'cause before we even made it to the next window, it was already locked and the women inside panicked.

I guess attempted kick-in of a sex worker's window was all the military police needed to start giving chase in order to "ask questions." I screamed at Pedro, "shit, let's run to Polly's bar" but Pedro couldn't keep up. I made it up the hill and ran inside of Polly's. As I walked in, I saw that Pedro had tripped and gotten surrounded by a bunch of dudes in digicam fatigues.  I entered the bathroom at Polly's terrified for my life; I was sure I was gonna end up in a maximum security stockade, only to escape to the Itaewon underworld as a soldier of fortune, relying on nothing but my background as a mechanic and the authority my mohawk commanded.

However, as I threw some water on my face inside of the bathroom, I remembered that I was a civilian and that the US army had no authority over civilians in Korea. Pedro, on the other hand, got demoted a rank. We both had forgotten that he was in the army. I always thought he was a teacher until that day. You think you know people, but some basic things about them escape you. 

Domestic Enemy

What is the best way to rally a population behind a war? Fear and anger. If the population is afraid and angry, the government could justifiably pass draconian legislation or invade foreign countries almost at will.

 

Indeed, no one understands fear and anger better than America's Top Brass and secret intelligence chiefs. They spend days sitting around while doing nothing but thinking of how to take someone down. In 1962, America's Top Brass sat around and thought of way that they could "justifiably" invade Cuba. "Justifiably" means nothing more than popular support, even if that popular support is gained through manufactured means, through deceit. Operation Northwoods was such a manufactured means.

 

Exactly four months and 11 days before the attacks of 9/11, ABC revealed: "The plans had the written approval of all the Joint Chiefs of Staff and were presented to Kennedy's defense secretary." So, what exactly did Operation Northwoods entail? ABC writes: "plans included the possible assassination of Cuban émigrés, sinking boats, hijacking planes, blowing up a US ship, and even orchestrating violent terrorism in US cities." 

 

America's top military leaders coldly calculated that a war with Cuba was so needed, that they were willing to carry out attacks in America themselves. The plans to carry out these attacks were rejected by a very displeased Kennedy, and it took nearly 40 years for the plans to be declassified, but it makes me wonder: what else has the Chiefs of Staff been cooking up all this time? And, is there a possibility that one of these dastardly plans could have been approved by a less than moral administration?

 

Only time will tell, but considering that many records of the War on Terror have been "lost" or misplaced, there is a very real possibility that the general public may never find out the truth. There is one thing to learn about this, and that is the ability to recognize the capacity of powerful men to concoct heinous plans, to hide behind secrecy and weapons of war.

 

It is interesting to note that the Joint Chiefs of Staff has not had operational control of the military since 1986. The Goldwater-Nichols act essentially gave the president more direct power over the military. The president now gives an order, the secretary of defense contacts a Unified Combatant Commander, and a part of the world lights up. But of course, we are not an empire.

 

We are a republic of constitutional laws; laws such as the National Defense Authorization Act for 2012, the same one that gives the president the power to indefinitely detain US citizens. NDAA 2012 also added the National Guard to the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

 

Though the Posse Comitatus act of 1878 prevents the president from sending the military into the streets, the National Guard has been under heavy pressure to fall into the hands of the president for quite some time (currently it is under the command of state governors.) The addition of the National Guard was opposed by all the members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, but that didn't stop congress. “There is no compelling military need for this change,” Army Gen. Martin Dempsey, chairman of the Joint Chiefs, said during a hearing before NDAA 2012 was passed.

 

No compelling need was also true when in 2007, congress passed the John Warner Defense Authorization Act, giving the president the power to deploy the National Guard on American streets. The provision in the John Warner act which overturned the Posse Comitatus act was repealed in part some time later; there was simply too much opposition from a public afraid of giving Bush more powers.

 

There seems to be less opposition to giving Obama more powers, even if those powers are essentially the same. Obama himself has called for the creation of a National Defense Civilian Force. There is one thing American jurisprudence has taught me: if your president is forbidden from utilizing the country's reserve military force at will, then he should simply change the name of the reserve military force. There will be nothing civilian about the National Defense Civilian Force; it will be the National Guard renamed, restructured, or merged.

How to Seduce Any Woman

5) Send her a sexy picture. You can use this one as a guide:

4) Write her a love poem. This is an excerpt from a poem I wrote some time ago:
When I saw the soap suds going down your asscrack,
I knew there in the communal shower that you were in trouble
When you allowed me to lube you up,
We both still knew that you would bleed from the heavy friction,
But you loved me so that you still took it

3) Prepare her a special meal:

2) Send her a romantic song:

1) But before you even get to sending her awesome stuff, you need to come up with an opening line that immediately captivates her and lets her know that you're serious and that she's in for a treat:

 

The Cheapest Beer Challenge: Amsterdam

I like beer. The simplicity of that previous statement can't be easily quantified. I like it because, as John Lennon said, "reality is for people who can't handle drugs." Personally, I believe that drugs are for people who can't handle beer.

 

Now, some people can't seem to stomach cheap beer, but I believe that as long as it can be legally sold in a container, it's good enough for me. There are already plenty of wine reviewers out there, but not enough beer reviewers. Well, I wouldn't call myself a beer connoisseur. I'm just a guy who's monetarily-challenged and whose life goal is to find a beer so cheap, that drinking it saves me money.

 

For Science
 

Of course, what country you're in is going to affect beer availability, so I can only vouch for one location at a time. Since I'm currently in Amsterdam, I'll vouch for the beers available here. Part of the selection process involves a very scientific process I have developed myself and which is called, "buy 5 euros of a single brand and drink it all." My review of that beer won't go into detail concerning the palette or the aroma or any of that fancy crap. Instead, I'm going to write about a beer only if I think it delivers enough bang for 5 euros.

 

I've already "tested" nearly every brand of beer in the Albert Heijn, the Vomar, and the Dirk van den Broek supermarket chains. Two beers stood out in the José Abreu Cheap Beer Challenge -- which has been on-going without rest for quite a prolonged period of time now -- and those two beers are: Gulpener Gladiator, and Holtland.

 

Gulpener Gladiator has an alcohol content of 10% and is about 2 euros a liter. It has a sugary kick and slightly bitter aftertaste. Don't expect any more details, it simply taste like something that a man should be able to handle. For 5 euros, I started the New Year's puking over a balcony. Gulpener Gladiator is what I call a "mid-range down-on-his-luck-alcoholic beer," given the sometimes prohibitive price of 2 euros a liter. I began the new year with Gladiator, and I'm inclined to say that so far it has been rewarding in that I began writing again after a half-year hiatus, but also painful in many ways, and not just for my stomach. Gulpener Gladiator giveth pleasure, it also bringeth pain.

 

Gulpener: creative fuel for my third novel

Holtland is "recycable"

Holtland, on the other hand, is what I describe as a "down-on-his-luck rock-bottom-alcoholic beer." It's 76 eurocents a liter, but only 4.2% alcohol. However, given that it's a third as cheap as Gulpener Gladiator, Holtland is hands-down the best way to get some much needed calories. And, given its watery taste, Holtland goes well with almost any food or item deemed safe for human mastication.

 

Moreover, Holtland comes in a "recycable" [sic] steel can, so you could probably get some of those 76 cents back. Also, since it's steel, the beer itself is likely to have a high iron content -- something much needed for an alcoholic.

 

I don't always purchase beer, but when I do, I prefer a very cheap brand. On most days, I'll have a Holtland, but on days when I'm going to a fancy bar and need to smuggle in some beer, I prefer Gulpener Gladiator.

In Dominican Popular Music, Fear of Witchcraft Persists

One of my favorite Dominican artists is Amarfis, who calls his band: "the attack band." Though Amarfis sings about everyday themes, and is far from a religious singer, he is unique because he embraces Afro-spiritualism in his fast-beat merengue. Amarfis' lyrics are more suited to a voodoo ritual than a salsa floor, but somehow he has managed to successfully incorporate Afro-religious lyrics into a modern, danceable rhythm. One Amarfis song that truly embodies the Dominican Republic's Afro-spiritual, musical heritage is the song Yemayá. Yemayá is a Loa, an intermediary for God, in voodoo.

 

Yemayá: quítame lo malo y tíralo en el mar (coro)

Fui donde una bruja

Y me dijo, "Amarfis, tú estás saladito."

La bruja me dijo, "te quieren hacer daño."

"Hay muchos envidiosos que te quieren abajo."

"Te daré una cosa que te cuidará."

"Para el que te tire, no te haga mal."

Aléjalo de mi (coro)

A los envidiosos. A los falsos.

Y a todos esos Judas.

Y para el merenguero que me quiera hacer daño,

Dios se la pagará!

Cuidate!

 

Yemaja: take the evil from me and cast it to the sea (chorus)

I went to a witch

And she told me, "Amarfis, you're under a spell."

"There are many jealous individuals who want to see you down."

"I will give you something that will protect you."

"So that whoever may speak ill of you shall do you no evil."

Cast them away from me (chorus)

To all the jealous ones. All the fakes.

And all the Judas.

And for the merengueros that wants to hurt me,

God shall repay you!

Take care!

 

Another Amarfis song that I personally enjoy is Papá Bocó, or Papá Candelo, another Loa in voodoo. Candelo always says, "Bonswa a la societé."

 

Con un retrato pa'bajo

Y la candela en la boca

Con una vela en la mano

Y rabo de gato en la otra

Y un pañuelo colora'o

Yo tengo un Loa que me ilumina

Y me protege de la gente

Con cuatro velas de a centavo

Y un poquito de aguardiente

La bruja hace su trabajo,

Con un tabaco en la boca

Se dan cuatro zapatazos

Para conseguir la muchacha

Y un pañuelo colora'o

Se cruzan dos alfileres

Pa' conseguir las mujeres

Se mete cebo en los sobres

Ai, bruja, brujita, consigueme esa muchacha!

 

With a portrait upside-down

And fire in the mouth

With a candle in the hand

And a cat's tail in the other

And a red handkerchief

I have a Loa that illuminates me

And protects me from people

With four one-cent candles

And a little bit of aguardiente

The witch does her work,

With a tobacco in her mouth

Smacks the shoe four times

To get the girl

And a red handkerchief

You cross two pins

To get the women

Put wax in the envelope

Oh, witch, little witch, get me that girl!

Why I Skipped My High School Graduation

I was my high school class' valedictorian. I was supposed to give a speech to the 150 or so students in the graduating class and their family members. For my graduation, however, I was in another country.

 

To say that I had an extreme fear of public speaking would be an understatement. I was petrified of having to write something and recite it in front of a crowd, so I simply decided early on during my senior year that I wouldn't bother going to graduation. There was the excuse of money, and more conveniently that I was to meet the Dominican vice-president in recognition of my academic achievements at around the same time I was to graduate.

 

However, the most important aspect of my excuse -- at least to myself -- was that most of the students in my graduating class were virtual strangers to me; at least 50 were heldovers from previous classes. My freshman year, there were over 600 students in my class. I saw with my very own eyes how that number dwindled to less than 100 over a period of 4 years. One Dominican friend, Nairobi, broke his neck in a motorcycle accident. A couple of friends simply disappeared. Another forgot his box cutter from work inside of his bookbag and was expelled under the school's zero tolerance policy, despite our school being vocational and his good record of handling tools inside of the school far more dangerous than a box cutter. I lost faith in the education system's inflexible tyranny that day.

 

Other friends were arrested -- by the armed police officers always present in the hallways -- and transferred to special schools, but most simply failed out. I've seen almost none of those friends who didn't make it past senior year, highlighting the reality that 5/6th of the class was not there by the end of our 4th year. Beyond classmates I saw personally fail, the mathematical reality of the complete failure that schools in the Bronx represented was something that always made me want to run away.

 

When the final days to register for graduation started approaching, and I had to finally decide if I was to truly skip my graduation, I gave myself two choices: I could either speak angrily about the anger I felt, or simply never return. In the end, I never even bothered to pick up my high school diploma, and often have nightmares where I learn that I failed and never found out about it. Besides that, I feel that it was probably better for me to allow many years to past before I reflected on the reality of my educational experience in the Bronx.

 

There were a lot of good teachers, but they were often overworked and distracted by students who simply didn't want to learn. It's not easy to resist constant social pressure, so I can understand that after a long time many teachers would eventually also lose the will to teach. The reality is that I picked up most of what I know outside of school. I guess that when you spend all of your free time behind a computer and on certain websites, you pick up a lot of what you need in life, especially the sarcasm.

 

But I guess in life I needed to be motivated, and that was something that didn't go around much in the Bronx. There was a general feeling of doom, that we would end up in prison. To say that we were treated like criminals would be an understatement. My school had many armed guards before Sandy Hook -- ten years ago -- and it didn't feel safe. It felt like an oppressive police state. Every morning we were subjected to x-ray machines, metal detectors, pat-downs if the metal detector went off, ID swipes, and possible punishment if we did not wear our identification at all times. To cut cost, the machines were turned off at ten and students were prevented entry after that, meaning that since my classes started at ten, arriving even one minute late would force me to be absent the entire day.

 

During my junior year, a student brought in a drano bomb, causing it to explode loudly in one of the classrooms. Though no one was hurt, a SWAT team swarmed the school in full force and the entire student body was subsequently prohibited from bringing in any type of bottle or food item. It was at around the same time that Bloomberg decided to monopolize the vending machines in school with a single company's high-sugar products, but it's not like I had any money to buy food inside of the school anyway, so it doesn't matter. What really irked me was the food ban. As a vegan, I couldn't eat any of the food in the cafeteria. Hell, I probably wouldn't feed the food they gave me to a dog anyway, much less a person.

 

So, I was bitter, and I was afraid of talking in front of a crowd. In the end, those two elements coalesced to keep me from going to my high school graduation.  All I wanted to do was scream at the injustice that I felt at being treated like a criminal and starved on a daily basis. They told me some time ago that they were shutting down my school, but from the way it looks over here, there are many more like it springing up all over the country. Zero tolerance, barred windows, armed guards, and police state equipment won't make American schools as successful as the ones in Northern Europe. On the contrary, they will perpetuate the cycle of violence and victimization that has characterized America's history of racial and gender inequality.

Pyeongyang: The Amsterdam of East Asia?

When I was in South Korea, I was acquainted with a Dutch individual who worked as a teacher at the Dutch embassy. This individual had an interesting operation in his Itaewon apartment: he had some 40 plants growing and ready to supply his people. Eventually he was caught, and the South Korean government was not at all too pleased, to say the least.

 

The South, fortunately, has a mild punitive system compared to the North's brutal gulags, but it is not easy to predict exactly how the North would react if they found a plantation in a foreigner's house. We can't predict simply because there are too few foreigners living in North Korea, but it seems like they don't do much to the locals.

 

High cannabis use seems to be one of the North's best kept secrets. North Koreans are very well aware of the negative perception that East Asians and many around the world harbor against the plant, and are always very careful to suppress outside knowledge of the country's rampant love for the crop.

 

Cannabis is generally seen as a cheaper substitute to the already massively cheap North Korean cigarettes. Citizens reportedly use copies of the Rodong Sinmun, the state newspaper, to roll joints. I had long suspected that cannabis use was a very high possibility in the North, considering the high use of meth and the harsh penalties handed out for its use. I believed that the government would also likewise oppress all cannabis users, but travelers to the North have reported entire roads lined with cannabis plants.

 

However, don't start packing your lighter and President Kim Il-Sung pin just yet. The North won't let anyone travel without a guide and a minder, so you won't likely get to see what life is really like for the average North Korean. Though repressed in almost every way, the people in The Democratic People's Republic of Korea have one freedom that their South Korean counterparts don't have: the freedom light up a spliff after a very relaxing 16 hours at the Socialist Utopia Reeducation Center.

 

The two countries do seem to have one thing in common, however: most pharmacist will just give you whatever you want if you ask for it in English. A friend who traveled to Pyeongyang reported that he was able to get a very nice dose of morphine just by asking for it at the pharmacy. A perplexed woman at the counter simply bowed her head and handed over whatever he politely asked for while saying, "doctor in Canada give."