Drugs Ruin Lives Quotes

Think of cocaine. In its natural form, as coca leaves, it's appealing, but not to an extent that it usually becomes a problem. But refine it, purify it, and you get a compound that hits your pleasure receptors with an unnatural intensity. That's when it becomes addictive. Beauty has undergone a similar process, thanks to advertisers. Evolution gave us a circuit that responds to good looks - call it the pleasure receptor for our visual cortex - and in our natural environment, it was useful to have. But take a person with one-in-a-million skin and bone structure, add professional makeup and retouching, and you're no longer looking at beauty in its natural form. You've got pharmaceutical-grade beauty, the cocaine of good looks. Biologists call this "supernormal stimulus" [...] Our beauty receptors receive more stimulation than they were evolved to handle; we're seeing more beauty in one day than our ancestors did in a lifetime. And the result is that beauty is slowly ruining our lives. How? The way any drug becomes a problem: by interfering with our relationships with other people. We become dissatisfied with the way ordinary people look because they can't compare to supermodels.

In the City Market is the Meet Café. Followers of obsolete, unthinkable trades doodling in Etruscan, addicts of drugs not yet synthesized, pushers of souped-up harmine, junk reduced to pure habit offering precarious vegetable serenity, liquids to induce Latah, Tithonian longevity serums, black marketeers of World War III, excusers of telepathic sensitivity, osteopaths of the spirit, investigators of infractions denounced by bland paranoid chess players, servers of fragmentary warrants taken down in hebephrenic shorthand charging unspeakable mutilations of the spirit, bureaucrats of spectral departments, officials of unconstituted police states, a Lesbian dwarf who has perfected operation Bang-utot, the lung erection that strangles a sleeping enemy, sellers of orgone tanks and relaxing machines, brokers of exquisite dreams and memories tested on the sensitized cells of junk sickness and bartered for raw materials of the will, doctors skilled in the treatment of diseases dormant in the black dust of ruined cities, gathering virulence in the white blood of eyeless worms feeling slowly to the surface and the human host, maladies of the ocean floor and the stratosphere, maladies of the laboratory and atomic war... A place where the unknown past and the emergent future meet in a vibrating soundless hum... Larval entities waiting for a Live One...

Nora Ephron accidentally ruined a lot of lives.

Maybe it's ALWAYS the end of the world. Maybe you're alive for a while, and then you realize you're going to die, and that's such an insane thing to comprehend, you look around for answers and the only answer is that the world must die with you. Sure, the world seems crazy now. But wouldn't it seem just as crazy if you were alive when they sacrificed peasants, when people were born into slavery, when they killed first-born sons, crucified priests, fed people to lions, burned them on stakes, when they intentionally gave people smallpox or syphilis, when they gassed them, burned them, dropped atomic bombs on them, when entire races tried to wipe other races off the planet? Yes, we've ruined the planet and melted the ice caps and depleted the ozone, and we're always finding new ways to kill one another. Yeah, we're getting cancer at an alarming rate and suicides are at an all-time high, and, sure, we've got people so depressed they take a drug that could turn them into pasty-skinned animals who go around all night dancing and having sex and eating stray cats and small dogs and squirrels and mice and very, very rarely- the statistics say you're more likely to be killed by lightning- a person. But this is the Apocalypse? Fuck you! It's always the Apocalypse. The world hasn't gone to shit. The world is shit. All I'd asked was that it be better managed.

It started to become clear to Wes: the drug game was raw capitalism on overdrive with bullets, a pyramid scheme whose base was dead bodies and ruined lives.

I can think of no right more fundamental than the right to peacefully steward the contents of one’s own consciousness. The fact that we pointlessly ruin the lives of nonviolent drug users by incarcerating them, at enormous expense, constitutes one of the great moral failures of our time. (And the fact that we make room for them in our prisons by paroling murderers, rapists, and child molesters makes one wonder whether civilization isn’t simply doomed.)

These stories depressed me. Love ruined people's lives, the way our parents said drugs could.

If you genuinely care about someone, you won’t let them ruin themselves. It’s as simple as that. Don’t use your ‘supportive friend’ excuse to justify your ignorance. If someone in your life is living a self-destructive lifestyle, don’t encourage them. Don’t stand on the sidelines and watch. Do something. Tell them they’re worth more than that. That they’re bigger than what they’re facing. Tell them there are better ways to heal. Better ways to grow. Tell them they can be friends with better people.Tell them there’s no escape from reality but it only gets better if you face it. Tell them they’re killing themselves slowly by intaking drugs. Tell them you love them and don’t want them to get hurt. Tell them that you care. Do. Everything. You. Can. Because even if they may not listen, at least you’ll know you tried.

One might go to the bakery, perhaps," he said. "But did you know the baker has tuberculosis? All the people here run around in a highly infectious state. The baker's daughter has tuberculosis too, it seems to have something to do with the runoff from the cellulose factory, with the steam that the locomotives have spewed out for decades, with the bad diet that people eat. Almost all of them have cankered lung lobes, pneumothorax and pneumoperitoneum are endemic. They have tuberculosis of the lungs, the head, the arms and legs. All of them have tubercular abscesses somewhere on their bodies. The valley is notorious for tuberculosis. You will find every form of it here: skin tuberculosis, brain tuberculosis, intestinal tuberculosis. Many cases of meningitis, which is deadly within hours. The workmen have tuberculosis from the dirt they dig around in, the farmers have it from their dogs and the infected milk. The majority of the people have galloping consumption. Moreover," he said, "the effect of the new drugs, of streptomycin for example, is nil. Did you know the knacker has tuberculosis? That the landlady has tuberculosis? That the landlady has tuberculosis? That her daughters have been to sanatoria on three occasions? Tuberculosis is by no means on the way out. People claim it is curable. but that's what the pharmaceutical industry says. In fact, tuberculosis is as incurable as it always was. Even people who have been inoculated against it come down with it. Often those who have it the worst are the ones who look so healthy that you wouldn't suspect they were ill at all. Their rosy faces are utterly at variance with their ravaged lungs. You keep running into people who've had to endure a cautery or, at the very least, a transverse lesion. Most of them have had their lives ruined by failed reconstructive surgery." We didn't go to the bakery. Straight home instead.

Not a single family finds itself exempt from that one haunted casualty who suffered irreparable damage in the crucible they entered at birth. Where some children can emerge from conditions of soul-killing abuse and manage to make their lives into something of worth and value, others can’t limp away from the hurts and gleanings time decanted for them in flawed beakers of memory. They carry the family cross up the hill toward Calvary and don’t mind letting every other member of their aggrieved tribe in on the source of their suffering. There is one crazy that belongs to each of us: the brother who kills the spirit of any room he enters; the sister who’s a drug addict in her teens and marries a series of psychopaths, always making sure she bears their children, who carry their genes of madness to the grave. There’s the neurotic mother who’s so demanding that the sound of her voice over the phone can cause instant nausea in her daughters. The variations are endless and fascinating. I’ve never attended a family reunion where I was not warned of a Venus flytrap holding court among the older women, or a pitcher plant glistening with drops of sweet poison trying to sell his version of the family maelstrom to his young male cousins. When the stories begin rolling out, as they always do, one learns of feuds that seem unbrokerable, or sexual abuse that darkens each tale with its intimation of ruin. That uncle hates that aunt and that cousin hates your mother and your sister won’t talk to your brother because of something he said to a date she later married and then divorced. In every room I enter I can sniff out unhappiness and rancor like a snake smelling the nest of a wren with its tongue. Without even realizing it, I pick up associations of distemper and aggravation. As far as I can tell, every family produces its solitary misfit, its psychotic mirror image of all the ghosts summoned out of the small or large hells of childhood, the spiller of the apple cart, the jack of spades, the black-hearted knight, the shit stirrer, the sibling with the uncontrollable tongue, the father brutal by habit, the uncle who tried to feel up his nieces, the aunt too neurotic ever to leave home. Talk to me all you want about happy families, but let me loose at a wedding or a funeral and I’ll bring you back the family crazy. They’re that easy to find.

The porn kids come across on the internet, is misogynistic poison. We have to explain that to them so they don't think sex is about violence. Sex is a wonderful and exciting thing about being human. It is natural to be curious about sex and when we are curious about things, we turn to the internet for information. But here's the problem with using the internet to learn about sex: you cannot know who is doing the teaching. There are people who have taken sex and sucked all the life out of it to package it and sell it on the internet. What they’re selling is not real sex. It lacks connection, respect, and vulnerability, which is what makes sex sexy. This kind of porn is sold by people who are like drug dealers. They sell a product that fills people with a rush that feels like joy for a short while but then becomes a killer of real joy. Over time people prefer the rush of drugs to the real joy of life. Many who start watching porn very young will get hooked on the rush. Eventually, they will find it hard to enjoy real sex with real human beings. Trying to learn about sex from porn is like trying to learn about the mountains by sniffing one of those air fresheners they sell at the gas station. When you finally get to the real mountains and breathe in that pure, wild air—you might be confused. You might wish it smelled like that fake, manufactured air freshener version. We don’t want you to stay away from porn while you’re young because sex is bad. We want you to stay away from porn because real sex—with humanity and vulnerability and love—is indescribably good. We don’t want fake sex ruining real sex for you.

Government has coddled, accepted, and ignored white collar crime for too long. It is time the nation woke up and realized that it's not the armed robbers or drug dealers who cause the most economic harm, it's the white collar criminals living in the most expensive homes who have the most impressive resumes who harm us the most. They steal our pensions, bankrupt our companies, and destroy thousands of jobs, ruining countless lives.

What were you wearing? Why did you go to his empty house alone? Did you drink any alcohol or take any drugs before going to Samael's house? Do you have a boyfriend? If so, are you serious with him? Are you sexually active? What did you eat that day? Who cooked for you? Who dropped you off at Samael's house? I was mentally prodded, poked and attacked with quickfire questions that made no sense to me. My mind couldn't begin to fathom why they needed to know those things about me. I was astounded by how different it was this time. The worst question they asked me was: are you sure you didn't imagine it considering your past? Like it was my fault. Like I had imagined the sexual assault I had undergone. Like I had just assumed that he was that kind of guy because of what the monster did to me. I was on the verge of throwing up throughout the entire trial. My mum and dad both sat silently watching, looking like they were ready to burst. This was serious they kept on telling me. Sam was over eighteen. I could be ruining his life right now if I was wrong.

New Rule: Conservatives have to stop complaining about Hollywood values. It's Oscar time again, which means two things: (1) I've got to get waxed, and (2) talk-radio hosts and conservative columnists will trot out their annual complaints about Hollywood: We're too liberal; we're out of touch with the Heartland; our facial muscles have been deadened with chicken botulism; and we make them feel fat. To these people, I say: Shut up and eat your popcorn. And stop bitching about one of the few American products--movies---that people all over the world still want to buy. Last year, Hollywood set a new box-office record: $16 billion worldwide. Not bad for a bunch of socialists. You never see Hollywood begging Washington for a handout, like corn farmers, or the auto industry, or the entire state of Alaska. What makes it even more inappropriate for conservatives to slam Hollywood is that they more than anybody lose their shit over any D-lister who leans right to the point that they actually run them for office. Sony Bono? Fred Thompson? And let'snot forget that the modern conservative messiah is a guy who costarred with a chimp. That's right, Dick Cheney. I'm not trying to say that when celebrities are conservative they're almost always lame, but if Stephen Baldwin killed himself and Bo Derrick with a car bomb, the headline the next day would be "Two Die in Car Bombing." The truth is that the vast majority of Hollywood talent is liberal, because most stars adhere to an ideology that jibes with their core principles of taking drugs and getting laid. The liebral stars that the right is always demonizing--Sean Penn and Michael Moore, Barbra Streisand and Alec Baldwin and Tim Robbins, and all the other members of my biweekly cocaine orgy--they're just people with opinions. None of them hold elective office, and liberals aren't begging them to run. Because we live in the real world, where actors do acting, and politicians do...nothing. We progressives love our stars, but we know better than to elect them. We make the movies here, so we know a well-kept trade secret: The people on that screen are only pretending to be geniuses, astronauts, and cowboys. So please don't hat eon us. And please don't ruin the Oscars. Because honestly, we're just like you: We work hard all year long, and the Oscars are really just our prom night. The tuxedos are scratchy, the limousines are rented, and we go home with eighteen-year-old girls.

known psychotic who nevertheless was allowed to move freely, an assassinated leading Negro national politician, endless other assassination attempts, unsuccessful, partly successful, and successful; d) So many casual killings in public streets and public parks and public transports that most lawful citizens avoided going out after dark, especially the elderly; e) Public school teachers and state university professors who taught that patriotism was an obsolete concept, that marriage was an obsolete concept, that sin was an obsolete concept, that politeness was an obsolete concept—that the United States itself was an obsolete concept; f) School teachers who could not speak or write grammatically, could not spell, could not cipher; g) The nation’s leading farm state had as its biggest cash crop: an outlawed plant that was the source of the major outlaw drug; h) Cocaine and heroin called “recreational drugs,” felony theft called “joyriding,” vandalism by gangs called “trashing,” burglary called “ripping off,” felonious assault by gangs called “muggings,” and the reaction to all of these crimes was “boys will be boys,” so scold them and put them on probation but don’t ruin their lives by treating them as criminals; i) Millions of women who found it more rewarding to have babies out of wedlock than it would be to get married or to go to work.

In my generation we did a lot of pleasure chasing—we, the generation responsible for today’s twenty-year-olds and thirty-year-olds and forty-year-olds. Before they came into our lives, we were on a pleasure binge, and the need for immediate gratification passed through us to our children. When I got out of the Army in 1944, the guys who were being discharged with me were mostly between the ages of eighteen and thirty. We came home to a country that was in great shape in terms of industrial capacity. As the victors, we decided to spread the good fortune around, and we did all kinds of wonderful things—but it wasn’t out of selfless idealism, let me assure you. Take the Marshall Plan, which we implemented at that time. It rebuilt Europe, yes, but it also enabled those war ruined countries to buy from us. The incredible, explosive economic prosperity that resulted just went wild. It was during that period that the pleasure principle started feeding on itself. One generation later it was the sixties, and those twenty-eight-year-old guys from World War II were forty-eight. They had kids twenty years old, kids who had been so indulged for two decades that it caused a huge, first-time-in-history distortion in the curve of values. And, boy, did that curve bend and bend and bend. These postwar parents thought they were in nirvana if they had a color TV and two cars and could buy a Winnebago and a house on the lake. But the children they had raised on that pleasure principle of material goods were by then bored to death. They had overdosed on all that stuff. So that was the generation who decided, “Hey, guess where the real action is? Forget the Winnebago. Give me sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll.” Incredible mind-blowing experiences, head-banging, screw-your-brains-out experiences in service to immediate and transitory pleasures. But the one kind of gratification is simply an outgrowth of the other, a more extreme form of the same hedonism, the same need to indulge and consume. Some of those same sixties kids are now themselves forty-eight. Whatever genuine idealism they carried through those love-in days got swept up in the great yuppie gold rush of the eighties and the stock market nirvana of the nineties—and I’m afraid we are still miles away from the higher ground we seek.

And we pop the pills, Get to know eachother and atend the best parties. We kiss and dance and feel and feel and feel We feel the drugs working and though we were always warned about how drugs would ruin lives, they never mentioned how good it would make us feel too. So we danced some more, looked at the girls with the tiny skirts and fell in love to the core Went home all together and got even more. Who wants normal when you could be this high on your serotonin level? The idiots just take pills, the even bigger ones sniff a bit too This whole idiocy is a bigger party then the one before with the good music and the fun people. Now lets get lost in this utterly senseless afterparty, lost in it all.

And we pop the pills, Get to know eachother and atend the best parties. We kiss and dance and feel and feel and feel We feel the drugs working and though we were always warned about how drugs would ruin lives, they never mentioned how good it would make us feel too. So we danced some more, looked at the girls with the tiny skirts and fell in love to the core Went home all together and got even more. Who wants normal when you could be this high on your serotonin level? The idiots take pills, the even bigger ones sniff a bit too This whole idiocy is a bigger party then the one before with the good music and the fun people. The wildchild of nowadays doesn't care the slighest So lets get lost in this utterly senseless afterparty, lost in it all.

And we pop the pills, Get to know eachother and atend the best parties We kiss and dance and feel and feel and feel We feel the drugs working and though we were always warned about how drugs could ruin lives, they never mentioned how good it would make us feel too So we danced some more, looked at the girls with the tiny skirts and fell in love to the core Went home all together and got even more Who wants normal when you could be this high on your serotonin level The idiots just take pills, the even bigger ones sniff a bit too This whole idiocy is a bigger party then the one before with the good music and the fun people. Now lets get lost in this utterly senseless afterparty. Lost in it all.

And we pop the pills, Get to know eachother and atend the best parties. We kiss and dance and feel and feel and feel We feel the drugs working and though we were always warned about how drugs would ruin lives, they never mentioned how good it would make us feel too. So we danced some more, looked at the girls with the tiny skirts and fell in love to the core Went home all together and got even more. Who wants normal when you could be this high on your serotonin level? The idiots take pills, the even bigger ones sniff a bit too This whole idiocy is a bigger party then the one before with the good music and the fun people. Now lets get lost in this utterly senseless afterparty, lost in it all.

And we pop the pills, Get to know eachother and atend the best parties. We kiss and dance and feel and feel and feel We feel the drugs working and though we were always warned about how drugs would ruin lives, they never mentioned how good it would make us feel too. So we danced some more, looked at the girls with the tiny skirts and fell in love to the core Went home all together and got even more. Who wants normal when you could be this high on your serotonin level? The idiots take pills, the even bigger ones sniff a bit too. This whole idiocy is a bigger party then the one before with the good music and the fun people. The wildchild nowadays doesn't care the slighest, so lets get lost in this utterly senseless afterparty, lost in it all.

Accepting things. That’s what the talk was about. About how insane it is to try to pretend something isn’t a certain way, or that you can make it another way, just because you don’t like it. And how that seems to be the one thing that makes addicts use drugs, and pretty much ruins everybody’s lives. This thing about refusing to just accept the way things are when you can’t change them anyway.

Dr Winstock, it should be noted, claims he has never taken MDMA, LSD, or any other narcotic himself. He asserts he was drawn to the field after observing the behaviour of his friends when he was a university student. ‘I LOVE YOU MAN. NO, YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND. I LOVE YOU.’ The cognitive impacts proved too profound to ignore. ‘We need to communicate that the vast majority of people’s lives haven’t been ruined by drugs,’ he says. ‘It’s about when you take them, and what you take. There are 101 things that drugs do for different people at different times. We should be aware of which ones are the most harmful, or most desired. Frankly, most people won’t want crack or PCP if they can get other things. If you have LSD, MDMA, cocaine and cannabis, you don’t really need anything else.

The main perpetrators of violence against the homeless tend to be other homeless people, or drug dealers, according to people who have lived on the streets. “There wasn’t a day that went by without violence on the street,” said Tom about his time living homeless in the Tenderloin. “Someone getting in a fight. Beat up. Shot for drugs. One of the Hondurans [drug dealers] would whip out a machete and chop at a guy’s arm because he had used a counterfeit five-dollar bill. That doesn’t get brought up at the community meetings. The only people talking to the Board of Supervisors are Harm Reduction Coalition and homeless advocates who paint this very different picture of the homeless being victimized. They point at the politicians saying, ‘You’re all victimizing them!’ with the sweeps.

Jacqui Berlinn is a mother whose son, Corey, is homeless and addicted to fentanyl and living on the streets of the Bay Area. “My son tells me San Francisco is where he most readily gets what he needs. He calls it ‘Hell,’ and compared it to Pleasure Island in the Disney film Pinocchio. “On one side of the street are people giving you food and clean needles,” Corey told her. “On the other side of the street are all the drug dealers. It’s like getting all the candy and treats that you think you want. You think you’re having fun. But little by little it’s taking away your humanity and turning you into something you were never meant to be, like how the kids start turning into donkeys in Pinocchio, and then end up trapped and in cages.

not happening anymore, and that is disappointing. If you go back to the same place where you saw the butterfly, and it’s not there, it becomes a negative experience. Understand, you have just made life a lose-lose situation. If anything reminds you of what bothered you before, you lose. If you are not getting to reexperience what you liked before, you lose. This is in drastic contrast to what Zen calls beginner’s mind. If you are not expecting anything in particular from a situation, and then something special happens, it can touch you really deeply. It could be a beautiful sunset, the first unexpected kiss, or some other welcome surprise. If it touches you so deeply because you have no samskaras in your mind about the event—you have beginner’s mind. Otherwise, you will be expecting something based on prior experiences, and that will interfere with the spontaneity of the event. The end result is that these samskaras have ruined your life. You’ve made it so that unless something drastically different happens to pull you out of this preference system, you can’t feel anything fully. That’s why some people must go to the extremes to get a rush. It is also why some people try to keep everything exactly the same so life doesn’t disturb their samskaras. In either case, trying to keep the mind a decent place to live in can force people to look for escapes, such as drinking and drugs. You get to the point where you’re running around trying to appease your mind. Eventually, you will come to realize that it’s not the job, the spouse, or the car that gets old—it’s listening to the mess in your mind that gets old. While all of these patterns from the past are blocked in your mind, you in there can neither experience the miracle of life unfolding before you, nor can you experience the natural beauty within you. Your awareness is completely distracted by these stored mental patterns, and you must devote your days and nights to serving them. You can no longer experience reality—you are stuck experiencing yourself.

I read all morning". The simple words spoke of the purest and most rewarding kind of leisure. The Buddha had placed no value on prayer or belief in a deity, he had not spoken of creation, original sin or the last judgement. The quality of all human experience depends on the mind and so the Buddha had been concerned with analyzing and transforming the individual mind. India's intellectual backwardness, her inability to deal rationally with her past, which seemed no less damaging than her economic and political underdevelopment. With its literary and philosophical traditions, China was well equipped to absorb and disseminate Buddhism. The Chinese eagerness to distribute Buddhist texts was what gave birth to both paper and printing. There are places on which history has worked for too long and neither the future nor the past can be seen clearly in their ruins or emptiness. In the agrarian society of the past, the Brahminic inspired human hierarchy had proposed itself as a complete explanation not only for what human beings did but also what they were. So, for instance, a Brahmin was not just a priest because he performed rituals; he was innately blessed with virtue, learning and wisdom. A servant wasn't just someone who performed menial tasks, his very essence was poverty and weakness. Meditation was one of the methods used to gain control over one's emotions and passions. Sitting still in a secluded place, the yogi attempted to disengage his perennially distracted mind and force it to dwell upon itself. The discipline of meditation steadily equips the individual with a new sensibility. It shows him how the craving for things that are transient, essence-less and flawed leads to suffering. Regular meditation turns this new way of looking into a habit. it detaches the individual from the temptations of the world and fixes him in a state of profound calm. Mere faith in what the guru says isn't enough and you have to realize and verify it through your own experience. The mind determines the way we experience the world, the way in which we make it our world. The ego seeks to gratify and protect itself through desires. But the desires create friction when they collide with the ever-changing larger environment. They lead only to more desires and more dissatisfaction. How human beings desiring happiness and stability were undermined slowly, over the course of their lives, by the inconstancy of their hearts and the intermittence of their emotions. Buddhism in America could be seen to meet every local need. It had begun as a rational religion which found few takers in America before being transformed again, during the heady days of the 1960s, through the mysticism of Zen, into a popular substitute for, or accessory to, psychotherapy and drugs. It was probably true that greed, hatred and delusion, the source of all suffering, are also the source of life and its pleasures, however temporary and that to vanquish them may be to face a nothingness that is more terrifying than liberating. Nevertheless, the effort to control them seemed to me worth making.

Since I didn’t like the law or the consequences for breaking it, I lived in denial of it. But pretending as if it weren’t there did not make it disappear. So, I retaliated against those who represented it. If I couldn't divert the consequences, I diverted the blame. I blamed the police for my consequences. I blamed them for “ruining my life.” I blamed them for my arrests. I refused to accept that it was my fault for breaking the law in the first place. Blaming others allowed me to keep believing whatever I wanted and acting however I wanted.

In 2019, a massive lawsuit was filed against several pharmaceutical companies for their role in the opioid crisis, killing as many as four hundred thousand people over the past twenty years and ruining untold millions of American lives. One takeaway from this tragedy is that even pharmaceutical drugs that enjoy long-term and widespread use aren’t necessarily safe.

When He Needs Freedom from Destructive Behavior Be strong in the Lord and in the power of His might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. EPHESIANS 6:10-11 IT’S DIFFICULT FOR A WIFE to see her husband exhibit any kind of destructive behavior. In watching him doing something repeatedly that hurts his health or jeopardizes their family, she sees her future going over a cliff. There can be such terrible consequences for his behavior that it could ruin them financially, as well as destroy him physically or mentally. Whether it is drinking alcohol, taking drugs, gambling, smoking, reckless eating habits, or whatever else she observes her husband doing that could destroy him or endanger her or their children, it can be so heartbreaking to her that she cannot live with it. Every woman has to decide what she can and cannot tolerate. Life is hard enough without your husband finding ways to make it worse. And she must decide how much she can allow her children to witness before it seriously affects them too. You may not see behavior as seriously destructive as that in your husband, but perhaps he is taking unnecessary chances with his safety, such as driving too fast, or riding a motorcycle without a helmet, or being careless with dangerous machinery or equipment, or refusing to see a doctor when he should, or not following the doctor’s orders and thereby jeopardizing his health. There is only so much you can say or do to try to motivate your husband to stop destructive behavior if he is intent on doing it. But God can do miracles when you fervently pray to Him about it. He hears your prayers, and He wants your husband to be free as much as you do. Your prayers can help your husband open his eyes to see the truth. Your prayers can help him to understand how to put on the whole armor of God so he can stand against these plans of the enemy for his destruction. My Prayer to God LORD, I pray You would set my husband free from any destructive behavior he has acquired. Wake him up to the folly of his ways and show him when he is being foolish. Break the chains that bind him and open his blind eyes. Strengthen him where his weakness controls him. Enable him to see when the enemy has erected a stronghold in his life. Help him to understand how his behavior affects me and our children, as well as other family members, coworkers, and friends. Tell me what I can do to help make this situation better. I know I cannot change him, and I am unable to make anything happen. Only You can open his eyes, deliver him, and set him free from destructive behavior. I know foolish actions are not Your will for his life, and there is a big price to pay for everything that is not Your will. I pray that neither I nor my children will have to pay any price for his careless behavior. Whatever the reason he appears to have little regard for me, our children, or himself by continuing any reckless behavior, I pray You would deliver him from it completely. You are greater and more powerful than whatever draws him away from Your best. I trust You to set him free to be all You made him to be. In Jesus’ name I pray.

In another twenty to twenty- five years this plant will be legalized and taxed in the state of California—leaving countless ruined lives and bloody corpses in its wake. These will be labeled as past mistakes and it will be talked about with much head scratching. I can only hope that future generations will look at the war on drugs much like they do prohibition now—incompetent corruption at its most naked.

The default posture of Generation X has always been to trash the boomers. The boomers were yuppie sellouts, sanctimonious blowhards, fair-weather hippies who joined the establishment as soon as they realized the upsides to having health insurance and retirement accounts (see: backstories of Big Chill characters and Hope and Michael et al.). They did tons of drugs and had tons of sex and then left us to trudge through the AIDS and crack epidemics they left in their wake. If you were a young writer in the 1990s, as I was, you could find a steady stream of magazine work composing irony-laden rants about how much the boomers had screwed over the Xers—economically, culturally, sexually-transmitted-diseasedly, et cetera. In the span of a few years, I wrote no fewer than fifteen articles that were essentially some variation on “broken homes ruined our belief in marriage, MTV ruined our attention spans, and AIDS ruined our sex lives. Our world and the baby boomers’ world are many galaxies apart.

Typically only the incivility of the less powerful toward the more powerful can be widely understood as such, and thus be subject to such intense censure. Which is what made #metoo so fraught and revolutionary. It was a period during which some of the most powerful faced repercussion. The experience of having patriarchal control compromised felt, perhaps ironically, like a violation, a diminishment, a threat to professional standing—all the things that sexual harassment feels like to those who’ve experienced it. Frequently, in those months, I was asked about how to address men’s confusion and again, their discomfort: How were they supposed to flirt? What if their respectful and professional gestures of affiliation had been misunderstood? Mothers told me of sons worried about being misinterpreted, that expression of their affections might be heard as coercion, their words or intentions read incorrectly, that they would face unjust consequences that would damage their prospects. The amazing thing was the lack of acknowledgment that these anxieties are the normal state for just about everyone who is not a white man: that black mothers reasonably worry every day that a toy or a phone or a pack of Skittles might be seen as a gun, that their children’s very presence—sleeping in a dorm room, sitting at a Starbucks, barbecuing by a river, selling lemonade on the street—might be understood as a threat, and that the repercussions might extend far beyond a dismissal from a high-paying job or expulsion from a high-profile university, and instead might result in arrest, imprisonment, or execution at the hands of police or a concerned neighbor. Women enter young adulthood constantly aware that their inebriation might be taken for consent, or their consent for sluttiness, or that an understanding of them as having been either drunk or slutty might one day undercut any claim they might make about having been violently aggressed upon. Women enter the workforce understanding from the start the need to work around and accommodate the leering advances and bad jokes of their colleagues, aware that the wrong response might change the course of their professional lives. We had been told that our failures to extend sympathy to the white working class—their well-being diminished by unemployment and drug addictions—had cost us an election; now we were being told that a failure to feel for the men whose lives were being ruined by harassment charges would provoke an angry antifeminist backlash. But with these calls came no acknowledgment of sympathies that we have never before been asked to extend: to black men who have always lived with higher rates of unemployment and who have faced systemically higher prison sentences and social disapprobation for their drug use; to the women whose careers and lives had been ruined by ubiquitous and often violent harassment. Now the call was to consider the underlying pain of those facing repercussions. Rose McGowan, one of Weinstein’s earliest and most vociferous accusers, recalled being asked “in a soft NPR voice, ‘What if what you’re saying makes men uncomfortable?’ Good. I’ve been uncomfortable my whole life. Welcome to our world of discomfort.”34 Suddenly, men were living with the fear of consequences, and it turned out that it was not fun. And they very badly wanted it to stop. One of the lessons many men would take from #metoo was not about the threat they had posed to women, but about the threat that women pose to them.

Placing and implementing black magic is a suicide that results in hell.” --- The black magic that evil-minded people of all religions practice for their ugly and inhuman motives. The modern world ignores that and does not even believe in it. However, it exists, and it works sufficiently. For many years, I edited and published these stories as an assistant editor for an evening newspaper, and as a believer, I believe that. It’s important to note that it doesn’t have any impact on everyone; otherwise, every human would be under attack from it. No one can explain or define black magic or similar practices. Today’s scientists are not capable of recognizing, diagnosing, or even denying such a phenomenon; therefore, options are open for black magic to proceed with its practices without any obstacles. By searching online websites and YouTube, one can uncover the many victims of the evil practices of evil-minded individuals in different societies. Evil power, black magic, and magic do exist and are also effective. Evil power causes physical damage and appears as diseases and psychological issues since no one can realize, trace, or prove that horror practice; it is the secret and privilege of evil-minded people that the law fails to catch and punish them for such crimes. I briefly exemplify two events, one of which was very authentic, and I suffered from it, and another of which also happened to someone who also became a victim. The first time when I arrived in the Netherlands, I assumed I was in the most secure area; however, within a year, I faced an incident that was a tradition in my family, including the involvement of my brothers and my compatriots who lived in the Netherlands. The most suspected were the evil-minded people of the Ahmadiyya movement from Surinam and possibly my ex-wife and a Pakistani couple. I had seen the evidence of the black magic that my family took upon me, but I could not trace the reality of other suspected ones that ruined my career, future, health, and even life. The second person, a Pakistani who lived in Germany for several years as an active member of the Ahmadiyya Movement, told me his story briefly during a trip to London, attending a literary gathering. Besides receiving a gold medal for his poetry work, he also worked for the Ahmadiyya TV channel. However, when he became a real Muslim, Ahmadiyya warriors turned against him. They practiced the devil’s work to punish him when they couldn’t force him back into their false group. The symptoms of magic became apparent to me after he mentioned that since I had them on my body as well. Such a possibility and chance exist that can be created by using drugs and chemicals to defeat their opponents; it needs a comprehensive investigation to save humanity. Multiple other stories reveal that the Ahmadiyya Movement may use black magic to achieve its goals. From my observation, they were involved in eliminating Muslim imams and scholars, which caused the failure of that new religion and the appearance of a false prophet claiming to be Jesus. I have been a victim of these types of practices. Their activities revolve around social media and similar websites. In Pakistan, they are deceiving the uninformed by pretending to be genuine Muslims, just like they do in Europe and other parts of the world. I tried to contact the Dutch authorities about the incident that occurred to me in 1980, but they ignored my request for cooperation; however, I still hope and look forward to any miracle that someone from somewhere gives me the courage to verify all this I want.