Comfortably Dumb

Also could be titled, "Why I Don't Give Two Shits About Amy Winehouse."

When I saw the headline this past weekend about Winehouse being found dead in her home, my first reaction was What the hell? Seriously?

Not out of surprise - she was a multi-car train wreck. It was more from a place of, Seriously, with all the money and resources at your disposal, you still can't get your shit together? People still do this?

But on the other hand - that voice... What a waste. What colossal disrespect for one's body and talent. What a dumbshit.

A friend on Facebook - sorry, Facecrap - posted a sympathetic notice about all the fallen stars who've died (from drug abuse) at the tender age of 27 - so sad. More like, so lame. They made their choice. That's what you get for making one of the worst decisions you can make. I just can't cry about it.

Another rich celebrity/movie star/rock star ending up dead. Someone who has all the resources to get help, either being enabled by a toxic entourage or simply believing she's immune to the same pitfalls that harm everyone else or who the fuck knows why, not getting the help she needs to be a productive human.

There's no excuse. She chose drugs. It doesn't matter why. If addiction really is a disease, like cancer, diabetes, or stupidity, then the only choice should be to get treatment (if you want to live). Someone with lung cancer doesn't keep smoking unless they want to die. I don't sympathize with that, but I can respect that, even though it's incredibly stupid.

Inspiring Strength

NPR on Saturday is always full of interesting things, from the great tidbits I learn on Car Talk to compelling stories on This American Life and Soundprint.

On TAL this week they had stories about "being left alone." The story I really loved was about a woman and her two young kids back in the early 80s, who had been left alone by her husband who'd been dealing cocaine. He'd taken off and she had no idea where he was.

He'd been gone about a week when a thug from Florida came knocking on her door asking for him. He'd absconded with a kilo of the boss's coke and the boss was going to get his merchandise or his money.

The thug showed her his gun and said he'd come in and wait for her husband to come home. As the kids played in the yard, she let him in and later told the kids a friend of dad's would be staying with them for a little while. The kids thought it was exciting and fun to have dad's friend stay over.

She never showed any sign of fear or anxiety in front of the thug or the kids. She cried once in the bathroom the night the thug showed up, but never lost it again.

That first night after she put the kids to bed, they watched TV and the Godfather came on. She casually mentioned that her uncle was in the mafia. She noticed the thug seemed nervous after she mentioned her uncle. He called his boss in Florida to tell him they may not want to get involved with this woman and her husband because she was "connected." The boss convinced him to stay.

The next day, Miami Vice came on the TV and she mentioned that her cousin was a New York City detective. This made the thug even more nervous and he called his boss again to express concern about being involved in what seemed to be turning into a high-risk assignment.

Throughout the thug's stay, the boss would call every hour or so to berate and threaten the woman, thinking that might help smoke out her husband. Fed up with the boss's harassment, she told him if he had to have her and her children killed, so be it, that was out of her control, so he should go ahead and do whatever he had to do.

For days this thug stayed with her and the kids and she went about business as usual, never showing any signs of distress. One day, she convinced him to let her go next door for milk, and while there, called her good friend and explained what was happening and asked him to stop by the house, to show this thug that they were not alone.

The friend stopped by and the thug thought it must be her NYC detective cousin - he just happened to be wearing a dark navy t-shirt and pants. He excused himself to again phone his boss, now very upset about the position he was in. Somehow the boss convinced him to stay, but it was clear that the only person who was afraid in this situation was the man with the gun.

A day or so later the husband finally showed up with the money and a really good explanation that allowed the thug to call it settled and be on his way. Before he left, he apologized profusely to the woman for having put her through this, then took her hand and kissed it.

And yes, she left her husband after that.

Just Say Duuude... What?

MJ restaurant sign from uGoto.com

I saw a show today about drugs in the 70s - when pot from Columbia was first brought into the U.S., but it had to be brought in by the cargo plane-full to be profitable on a large scale - and how the savvy dealers realized they'd do better with cocaine - smaller shipments, way more revenue.

According to the show, High Times Magazine was started to help move all the pot brought in because at that time, few people knew about "Columbia Gold" and other varieties, so they started a magazine to spread the word.

Then there's cocaine. What a frightening concoction that is. On the show an actress was talking about how back in the late 70s/early 80s the hairdressers (on set) always had the coke, and it was "such a nice afternoon pick-me-up."

The idea sounds appealing - just a quick snort and you're fresh and peppy until late into the night - until you learn about all the damage it does to the central nervous system, not to mention the mucous membranes. Good times.

Also interesting was the timing of the 70s drug scene (as described in the show) - how we were coming out of a fearful state, with the Draft and the Vietnam war, and all the "kids" were rebelling, basically running wild all Carnivale-style.

If that was the impetus behind the 70s drug scene, what are we going to see in the next five or ten years? Is our current administration the reason behind the huge meth problem?