Doping: It Happens More than You Think

In high school, I was on the track, bowling, cross country, wrestling, robotics, and biology team. I can say with certainty that no one in any of my teams, or another school's bowling team, was using performance enhancing drugs. As for the other teams, I can say for certainty that no 16-year-old could produce the results that I saw some of my friends at elite schools produce. 

I once asked a senior at Bronx Science with whom I'd grown up: "How the hell did you get so ripped!?"

"Steroids," he calmly responded. He would later offer me his connect, as he was surely to get a kickback from bringing new customers, but I politely declined.

I didn't decline because I was morally opposed to performance enhancing drugs, but rather because the vegan health nut in me recoiled at the dangers that these mystery substance represented to my diet.

Nonetheless, there it was, and the NYC Board of Education could probably never come up with the funds to regularly test athletes. I personally was only "tested" for wrestling, and it was only at the beginning of the wrestling season in Winter. We were told that we were only being tested for proper hydration and to make sure we weren't malnourished. All we had to do was produce a vial of pee from an unsupervised bathroom.

I know of several times when the urine was diluted or switched. It was really that easy. 

My school in the South Bronx was poor-performing and the students generally unmotivated. However, it was at high-performing, rich schools where my friends were under pressure to produce results and gain the upper hand in college admissions.

"This is your school on drugs." by Carlos Gomez

At Yale, I suspect athletes doping is rare, considering NCAA supervision. However, brain enhancing drugs are by-and-large unregulated. In fact, it was perfectly acceptable in many social circles to openly discuss Ritalin, Adderall, and the use of other hyperfocus/ADHD medication. The use of these drugs is rampant, especially before exams.

Besides the obvious medical risks that brain-enhancing drugs pose, they also provide an advantage to wealthier students who can afford these drugs. Lance Armstrong only did with his body what many of America's top-performing students do with their brains. These students, however, will be rewarded with good grades and better job prospects instead of scrutiny.

The end result? Many of America's cognitive elite are medicated, and prefer the easy route in life.

Doping: It Happens More than You Think

In high school, I was on the track, bowling, cross country, wrestling, robotics, and biology team. I can say with certainty that no one in any of my teams, or another school's bowling team, was using performance enhancing drugs. As for the other teams, I can say for certainty that no 16-year-old could produce the results that I saw some of my friends at elite schools produce. 

I once asked a senior at Bronx Science with whom I'd grown up: "How the hell did you get so ripped!?"

"Steroids," he calmly responded. He would later offer me his connect, as he was surely to get a kickback from bringing new customers, but I politely declined.

I didn't decline because I was morally opposed to performance enhancing drugs, but rather because the vegan health nut in me recoiled at the dangers that these mystery substance represented to my diet.

Nonetheless, there it was, and the NYC Board of Education could probably never come up with the funds to regularly test athletes. I personally was only "tested" for wrestling, and it was only at the beginning of the wrestling season in Winter. We were told that we were only being tested for proper hydration and to make sure we weren't malnourished. All we had to do was produce a vial of pee from an unsupervised bathroom.

I know of several times when the urine was diluted or switched. It was really that easy. 

My school in the South Bronx was poor-performing and the students generally unmotivated. However, it was at high-performing, rich schools where my friends were under pressure to produce results and gain the upper hand in college admissions.

"This is your school on drugs." by Carlos Gomez

At Yale, I suspect athletes doping is rare, considering NCAA supervision. However, brain enhancing drugs are by-and-large unregulated. In fact, it was perfectly acceptable in many social circles to openly discuss Ritalin, Adderall, and the use of other hyperfocus/ADHD medication. The use of these drugs is rampant, especially before exams.

Besides the obvious medical risks that brain-enhancing drugs pose, they also provide an advantage to wealthier students who can afford these drugs. Lance Armstrong only did with his body what many of America's top-performing students do with their brains. These students, however, will be rewarded with good grades and better job prospects instead of scrutiny.

The end result? Many of America's cognitive elite are medicated, and prefer the easy route in life.

The One-Eyed Jihadist, or Our New Perfect Enemy

Mokhtar Belmokhtar is perfect for the interests of the West! Not because he is a master terrorist, but rather because he enjoys attention, and is missing an eye; he looks like he was born for villainy. Though he seems to be more of an opportunist and profiteer than a devout Muslim -- his previous history of cigarette smuggling is evidence enough -- he is willing to portray himself as a self-less fighter for the Islamic cause.

Western powers will not bother to dispute Belmokhtar's desire simply to attract attention to himself, they will simply continue giving the public the general impression that he represents the Islamist rebels in the Azawad. The truth, however, is that we have no idea who he truly works for, or if he is simply a personal profiteer or self-aggrandizer.

I wouldn't be surprised if he becomes incredibly difficult to catch, and if every new terrorist attack is attributed to him. The new Bin Laden has been unveiled to us, and this one doesn't bother to hide the fact that he is blind to how the CIA will protect him, help him grow, make him powerful, and use him to scare the population into further submission.

The One-Eyed Jihadist, or Our New Perfect Enemy

Mokhtar Belmokhtar is perfect for the interests of the West! Not because he is a master terrorist, but rather because he enjoys attention, and is missing an eye; he looks like he was born for villainy. Though he seems to be more of an opportunist and profiteer than a devout Muslim -- his previous history of cigarette smuggling is evidence enough -- he is willing to portray himself as a self-less fighter for the Islamic cause.

Western powers will not bother to dispute Belmokhtar's desire simply to attract attention to himself, they will simply continue giving the public the general impression that he represents the Islamist rebels in the Azawad. The truth, however, is that we have no idea who he truly works for, or if he is simply a personal profiteer or self-aggrandizer.

I wouldn't be surprised if he becomes incredibly difficult to catch, and if every new terrorist attack is attributed to him. The new Bin Laden has been unveiled to us, and this one doesn't bother to hide the fact that he is blind to how the CIA will protect him, help him grow, make him powerful, and use him to scare the population into further submission.

The CIA Pin in my Closet

I went to Belgium last month. I can't be bothered to remember when exactly I wound up at that 24 hour bar in Antwerp with my girlfriend. The series of events in the bar mirror Korea, and at some point I had one too many beers and informed her that I was heading to the bathroom for a nap. 

"You are a great girlfriend, thanks for understanding and waiting," I said as I stumbled towards the darkly-lit bathcave hiding the reality of sunlight outside. 

I walked into a toilet stall, and sat on the toilet after putting the cover down. I knew I wouldn't be needing a hotel room that night; the stall would provide me with all the sleep I needed for the day, be it an hour or three. 

I closed my eyes, and began to dream. I was at my apartment in Diemen, just overlooking the A-10 ring, the highway surrounding Amsterdam. In this dream, I was with an ex of mine, and we were smoking on the balcony, the amazing view of cars moving in the night and the whole of East Amsterdam -- all the way over to Diemen train station, and the Ijburg bridge just over -- leaving her bombarded with images. 

"I feel like I'm in a Sim City simulation," she said. It was full panoramic experience, and I knew the spliff I'd gotten for her at Speakeasy was making her horny. We started kissing on the balcony, and I immediately started guiding her towards the bedroom. I like to keep it Korean style, so she knew she was going to be pounded on not much more than a blanket. I had been considerate enough to get a pillow for the night before, but, given the life of simplicity I have chosen to live, I couldn't yield on much more. 

We began making love, and even before I started penetrating her, we heard a noise, as if something had fallen and broken. I ran out of the bedroom and found my closet open. I looked to the left, at the kitchen door, and it too was also open. I ran out to the balcony and saw ropes dangling; they were the ropes from Hemubo, a window cleaning company that'd been doing work for a few days. 

I looked up at the roof and noticed movement. I figured that anyone that could rope themselves from a 10th to a 12th story floor would be impossible for me to catch even if I managed to get dressed and run to the roof like the Flash, so I instead decided to stay put. I looked inside my closet to see if my cellphones were still there. I shouted to my ex, "Help me look in the closet!"

After turning on more lights, I looked to the ornamental hooks a voodoo priest had given me, and noticed that the magnetism they created had attracted something. I looked in and found a CIA pin. I knew immediately my past career was catching up with me; all those missions out of Pyongyang, I thought. 

Suddenly, I heard a knocking that grew louder and louder. Someone wanted to use my stall. I stood up from my dream and returned to my girlfriend. I didn't mention my dream to her, but I definitely told her on the road back to Amsterdam to stop at my apartment before we proceeded to hers. I went straight for my closet, and I found exactly what I knew I would: a CIA pin. I ran out of the apartment, and vowed not to return.