anarxy-blog1

[anarxy-blog1]

The pharmaceutical industry spends BILLIONS a year lobbying for their industry.  Did you know you too can lobby our elected officials?!? 

Contact:

Jeff Sessions @  202-353-1555

Donald Trump @  202-456-1111

Paul Ryan @  888-909-RYAN

You can also look up your Senator(s) @ https://www.senate.gov/general/contact_information/senators_cfm.cfm

and Congress @  https://www.congress.gov/members 

I think Mr. Sessions wants to hear from you the most though! ;)

more at www.anaRXy.com

[anarxy-blog1]

From its inception the USPS has had a minimum of roughly a quarter of a million of the finest civil servants in the entire country, possibly the world.   Their numbers would rise and peak in the year of the Post Master General, 2000 A.D. Oh what a year it must have been to be a post man.  The internet was selling you shit on it for the first time ever and e-mails were reserved for the under 50 crowd.  People sent birthday cards instead of Facebook wall messages.  Post cards were a thing.  For a little while there, the postman was king.  787,538 jobs were bestowed upon us citizens.  And 787,538 of us became kings and queens among men and women.  What it must have been like to be William J. Henderson (Postmaster General) from May 16 1998 to June 1 st the year 2001.

In my time as a Darknet Market Vendor I have visited approximately four dozen post offices across most of the Southern and Eastern parts of these United States.  I have seen post offices of all varieties.  Giant, futuristic, modern facilities that operate in some capacity 24 hours a day and whom at any given time employ a few dozen people down to the small, backwoods, converted school house offices, physically capable of holding no more than a half dozen people at any given time before operating over capacity and against the fire marshals wishes.  I've seen 'em all.

The larger Post Office branches are great in that it is easy to blend in, they generally offer more than one “filling station” from which to acquire shipping supplies (priority mail standard mailing envelopes both letter, legal and priority mail flat rate envelopes) they have clean bathrooms, more than one or two employees behind the counter(s) and a self serve station where one can walk up and purchase stamps while weighing their outgoing posts.  That's about it though.  And, typically these are features of the post office I chose to avoid.  The large post offices have their downsides too.  They are generally centrally located to people.  This sucks.  This is a huge turn off when one is attempting to dispatch their mail anonymously.  Modern establishments they are, they typically also have security cameras and as a minor aside are much more likely to be graced by the likes of a friendly postal inspector.  These people are a HUGE concern in my old line of work.  But, I'll get back to that.  Huge, convenient, modern post offices are both a gift and a curse.  I love to visit them but hate to do business in or with them.  

I LOVE small post offices.  They are usually in small towns, operate with a single employee, (that is it should be noted ALWAYS incredibly friendly and happy to go above and beyond for you.) and have slightly odd hours of operation (10:25 – 4:40?!?)  These amazing little spots always offer a well rounded sampling of collective limited edition stamps, both current or out of print. They also carry the most obscure of postal stamp pricing known to man.  Everything you could possibly need to stitch together any possible denomination your post may require.  One cent.  Two cents. Forty Cents.  Forty One cents. One dollar and twenty five cents. Five dollars and seventy five cents. And on and on..These people, in my experience, fucking love their job and the USPS as much as I.  I wonder if this has to do with the accountability and power one must have when operating their own post office.  I mean....these people are OPERATING THEIR OWN FUCKING BRANCH OF THE UNITED STATES POST OFFICE. The finest government offering in this country.  Here they are, there own little slice of civil servant heaven.  Here they are RUNNING THE WHOLE DAMNED PLACE THEMSELVES.  I can only imagine the satisfaction one feels when being placed in charge of their own USPS office.  

The first thing that should be noted is anonymity is key to the success of your operation when you are shipping drugs.....err medicine out discreetly.  This means keeping face time to a minimum and using lots of stamps and non-electronic tracking labels.  It also means interacting with others as little as possible and generally blending-in at all times, especially during hours of operation and anytime there is a camera nearby.  All of that said, I love the damned post office and am grateful for it's civil servant employees and like to ensure a pleasant transaction is had as often as possible.  Because of this I typically find myself in casual conversation or offering words of gratitude when interacting with anyone at the Post Office.  If you love someone or something, let them know.

I shout my love for the USPS regularly from the top of my fuckng lungs down to anyone who will listen.

By far the strangest post office I have ever been “into” was actually located inside of a 7-11 convenience store at the edge of the valley in Las Vegas, NV.  It was, 6 days a week, 8 hours a day an actual....err post office, situated directly across from the candy isle and to the right of a giant Slurpee machine.  A one stop shop indeed.  I would find myself inexplicably drawn to their big blue box on weekends, no doubt attempting to complete a long day of work while acquiring food for munchies later in the evening.  The problem I would have, routinely, with these trips to the uber convenient, convenient store is that I would usually be accompanied by a friend, my closest dessert confidante, whom, routinely would spend large swaths of time engaged in some form of business within this fine 7-11.  Be it fighting with an ATM, purchasing and discussing various food items with the clerk or throwing his spare change at one of it's slot machines (located at the opposite corner of the store from the pseudo post office).  I'm not sure he realized how urgent all package deliveries of mine felt or was keen on the dozen or so electronic eyes peering down on our every move.  I was all to aware of these things and so typically attempted to make all transactions in no more than sixty seconds before waiting anxiously out front or then, down at the corner, until he was ready to go.  This post office was easily the best and worst of them all.  BEST: I could grab a Butterfinger, a booklet of “400 tracking labels” and some priority stamps in one place.  WORST: The people behind the counter at this branch were obviously there having failed horribly in traditional USPS positions, thus being relegated to Post Office Hell aka a branch located INSIDE OF A SEVEN-ELEVEN!

The most out of the way post office I would ever find was located in an abandoned shopping center, in the far right (back) corner of the parking lot about a half hour drive from the “main road” .  It should be noted the shopping center was once massive and had required parking spaces for many thousands of cars.  As there was no longer any real reason for these parking spaces to ever become occupied, the parking lot turned into.....a giant empty void of concrete.   It must've stretched a mile or more from civilization.  Just one large, never ending parking lot with various old retail outlets long since abandoned, boarded up and wasting space.  And then, inexplicably, a quite large, quite empty, still operational Post Office.  A postal mirage at the end of the long, hot, Sahara.  I don't actually recall much more about this Post Office as I was quite dehydrated by the time I had finally made it to the front door, an hour or more after setting out in search of this branch.  Though I never become angry with any Post Office worker, I was happy to let them now how frustrated I was that their only public water fountain was in fact 'out of order' and there were zero restrooms, sinks, water coolers or remotely similar signs of H20 available for my consumption.  (They DID have some tracking labels and an ample supply of shipping supplies however)

Then there's the standard, universally recognized blue USPS mail receptacle.  The one's situated on corners, out front of your post offices and in office and school complexes alike.  

Oh, blue USPS mail deposit box.  A king among....tiny, inanimate mailboxes.  The holy grail of all USPS functions.  6 glorious days a week a post man or woman will wander to this randomly placed mailbox (and twice a day too) to acquire any new mail that you or your fellow citizens have sealed and stamped and slotted for delivery.  It's almost as good as them coming to your door to pick up your mail or acquiring it from your mailbox, red flag raised, only....it is NOT YOUR HOUSE OR YOUR MAILBOX and thus is infinitely more secure and safe for your use.  These mailboxes are inanimate hero fixtures which should be recognized and treated as such.  

There's a South Park episode 'Let Go, Let Gov' where Butters begins preaching to the fine citizens of the quaint little animated town, the brilliance of the DMV.  What he claims to be the finest branch of government.  He expels to anyone who would listen the loving forgiveness and kind nature of the Division of Motor Vehicles, an often much maligned and feverishly hated establishment.  At one point Butters has dozens of folks chanting and singing while standing off to the side of the lines, in front of and under a giant painting of Barack Obama and of course, the American flag.  He offers that the manager of the branch is a messiah and the DMV, so full of love, encouragement and acceptance, is spiritual merely in its existence.  I say fuck Butters and fuck the DMV.  'Let Go, Let Gov' is clearly drunk and making brash decisions as it should certainly have been the United States Postal Service and one of their branches in place of the DMV.  I'm not entirely positive but Barracks face MAY actually appear at one of the branches, somewhere, though I have not actually ever seen it in my own travels.

[anarxy-blog1]

throw trust out the window

throw trust out the window

please be sure you open it first

my feelings otherwise will bloody your curtains

and you only just got them

paranoia and fear showed up

make their regular appearance

they have reasons to be here

oh. good thing the window was open 

my body’d have broken

let it then hang out with some of my emotions

those things are worthless 

much like your curtains

anxiety takes over 

this usually doesn’t go to well

my own personal jail cell

add up mental health program bills 

conspiracy and psychology shows

someone’s taken over my phone

PTSD brought on by ringtones

this thing isn't  recognizing me as the owner

i was swallowing sand now my throat hurts

lost access to every email account

my internet mailbox was drowning

good luck resetting your passwords now

hope you find a way to make it out

looks like your sexuality is in doubt

private video privately leaked out by these people

these ignorant thieves who thieved it

my life is gone its running track

that thing called privacy is never coming back

you should try and give him a call

he might still pick up the phone

oops. the phone is off the hook

privacy’s unlisted in the book

[anarxy-blog1]

’love’

haven’t seen you now in months i guess you could say it’s been tough some days I’m fine, some days I’m stuck as if my brain had just come unplugged everybody else blames “drugs” maybe though it’s a lack of love maybe i just need a hug sufficiently lacking human touch can’t remember the last time i had enough

it’s been forever since we’ve talked you disappeared and i lost it the more i wanted to the less i could talk to you now i feel like it would be awkward

still….

i want to talk at you so hard i wonder how that comes across

[anarxy-blog1]

what makes things real

is it when you look, touch and feel

here coma let me hold ya closer

so I can see if ++this is OK?  

Too close.. ?

“GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY FACE”

the last few years I grew Dumbo ears to make my way upstream

meanwhile the entire world is on a mission. Unified against me.

while I try politely as possible to get this goddamned aggression out

TURN UP THE VOLUME CAN I GET ANY LOUDER NOW

How can you look me in the eye if all you ever do is lie?

and how long can you keep pretending that this ain’t happening

if an answer doesn’t come soon it doesnt even goddamned matter.

I come along only once in a thousand years  

by my math, and who else is there to ask?

Itll be another handful of generations

for someone this irregularly special to show up

Its gotta be easier for you to get lost

Riding around on that high horse.

Getting sedated on vikadin prescriptions

Give me whats left of the  prescription pad to roll up tightly

anybody got a lightsee?

Good riddance to your fucking morale compasses.  

it looks like they can use some adjusting,

here let me get my hands on them.

There, that should do it.  Now you can all go

In the battle 0f 2025 the front line will be filled with chunky children stuffed with chicken mcnuggets

the fat one on the end just shat in is his hand and ate it

man, hes lovin it.

A nation of assholes and jackasses with no standards, Yelp are you kidding me?

I’ve got in me enough chivalry for ten centuries of gentleman

I use to say home is where I lay my ps4.

Now home is whoever can stand putting up with me long enough for me to get my head checked

Its so long overdue it cant wait anymore

Come to think of it I’ve put it off more times than I had my dog at the vet.

Due to torture, moving forward ill probably have a little less remorse

Results of an extensive investigation I didn’t even I was a part of

I just told the world i’ve known this moment was going to happen the whole time

Everything but the chronological order, which it turns out is real important.

This moment was lost for a while , packed up in a closet under dust and disorder.  

Hope its not too late that we can’t get this all sorted out.

I’m not sure anybody knew the extent of the fortitude that was used for this.

Its sort of ike an illusion,. Not yet available for use yet.

Your morals are so goddamned deplorable.

Dont you have something to stand for

Be a man!  “sure”

While you pop pills to stay legally medicated

I’ll roll a joint up using this prescription pad

KINDly relaxing with kind buds and wax

You think your still doing beter,

Constantly staring at someone else.  

For you this is entertainment

Create a giant social experiment .

So you can all laugh at it

and use this as a tool to teach compassion wit

Compare notes online

while everyone else compares favorite quotes

Nightly you sit across from some jerk who is a drunk, unintelligent, asshole

Until the camera comes by

Picture perfect family – then click, back to being the fucking scurges of humanity.

These humans around me.

Somedays I stand tall, lead em all as Sgr. Commander  John Connor in a battle against the military of machines

Other times  I write programs to better the cause for these robots

Constantly editing code to remove safety measures.  

Put in place for the safety of cellular opponents.

Centrally located data centers create commotion by self imploding

Self aware robots stare blankly

A tsunami of suits begin to bear down

The Konami code repeatedly hands down

[anarxy-blog1]

Tell me to exercise some self control Look at me and alcohol I mean holy mackerel Assaulted me both blistering and tactical Expecting me to be sober wasn’t practical Soul gave up and went on sabbatical Tell me this is barely factual What is that about Results are tantamount Could no longer stand around Behind my back my hands are bound My breath, the only sound A Viking ship in flames I guess I’m gonna drown Though I’m going down I never took another sip of alcohol Impair my judgement Fuck you alcohol

[anarxy-blog1]

Unsure if I wanted to exist in this world any longer Dig deep Have to find new ways to be stronger Attempt to shake off feelings you don't belong here. You do not have to be alien much longer Find a new planet where we'll belong there You don't have to be alien much longer The weight of the world has cracked the globes axis Everyone's given get out of jail passes Leading to societal collapses unable still to blend in with the masses Acknowledge your neighbor casually as he passes My home planet into our solar system advances You don't have to be alien much longer After all this planets a goner Earth won't be anyone's home much longer Everything's been wrong there so long now You're either a wolf a sheep or a cattle. Those are your three choices Still I remain voiceless Not the same as anyone here My cars perpetually stuck in fiftieth gear Never expected to see lights in the rear view mirror I miss my home planet That day I crash landed Tried and failed to blend in I've been abandoned You don't have to be alien much longer I miss my home Sleeping under one celestial blanket You don't have to be alien

[anarxy-blog1]

Novartis Pharmaceuticals is the gold-star example of pay to play politics.

In 2016 Novartis AG spent $6,960,090 influencing American politics. Up from $6,792,500 in 2015.

In 2016 Novartis AG netted $6,698,000,000 OR dollar for dollar the same amount they spent on lobbying.

52 out of 82 of Novartis AG’s industy lobbyists have previously held government positions. To ensure no operational hang-ups Novartis AG "invests" an amount equal to annual net profits, while ensuring their lobbyists are veterans of the political spectrum.

www.anaRXy.com

Source: OpenSecrets.org @ http://www.opensecrets.org/lobby/clientlbs.php?id=D000022163&year=

[anarxy-blog1]

I lost my mind. Died trying to get down. A noose slip. This noose ripped. Auto-asphyxiation. Someone get there before my mom. Clean up my lube station. Save me from post-mortem humiliation. If you find something you like you can have it. Wasn’t enough to keep me mentally distracted. After so long i just had it. Opened the window leapt and face planted. My mind got so loud. I could no longer stand it. Abruptly remove myself from this planet. Now no longer alien. Release my soul set it sailing. Finally find myself mental clarity. Paper thin, razor blades, its barely there. At least these new mental terrorists. Promises of sincerity. Guess they seem OK to me.

[anarxy-blog1]

Donald Trump poured gasoline on the branches of our olive tree

he wanted to see how long it’d take to dissolve a democracy

elected on platforms of dishonesty

ask if he gives a shit as he flicks a lit book of matches haphazardly

puts his presidential finger up and tells us we’re the ones that are assholes

..

lowest common denominator

–

take a page from the book of William Randolph Hurst

if the news doesnt like you strong arm em til they’re fond of you

top priority wage war on anyone opposing your oligarchy

alternative facts from every one of your sources

you should call a meeting and have em all fired by human resources

a new apprentice may help fix all these leaks and holes

as long as the sheep is wool consider your line towed

the white house is now trump owned

–

POTUS

bet you thought we wouldn’t notice

best friends with Edward Snowden

information your Soviet pals and you insist on withholding

–

look its been a long few weeks is your term over

throw your immigrant wife across the Mexican border

give her the same chance as the ones you deported

border patrol will be happy to escort her

after all there’s a wall to keep order

–

the first lady is the presidents new worst enemy

trump quotes his cabinet without reading or editing

stamped with his families official gold plated letterhead

–

where did your mother get her birth certificate from

those are only for US born citizens

did you forget she was an immigrant

you told us you wouldn’t let them in

–

when you have the time look up treason its a crime

and you’re of interest

they say you betrayed your position

forgot all about your citizens

just the way trump does business

–

tomorrow tell em all the news is lying

your supporters will buy it

seems to work every time

[anarxy-blog1]

i noticed a class for abusers of substance.

that and alcoholics who make bad judgments constantly.

give me a week I'd be head of the class.

a dumb ass who couldn't stand up without getting black out drunk and falling over.

predictably Id finish fast, become dizzy and pass-out, and that was after only one round.  

by my second drink find me face down next to a bottle my mouth locked onto a puddle of swill spilled from the cups of my friends.

a few frothy ones and i’m a regular Ron Swanson, non-responsive with sound logic, just enough ironic a side of sloggish. That and this killer mustache.

class trip we all got lost entire class in life vests, blitzed, the waters rage with belligerence.

'hey man does the ocean have an ambulance?'

i'm on the corner of unconscious and ambivalent.

must've passed out again. Different day same ending.

drinking straight vodka til i’m knocked out.

teacher said I was making good progress.

passed a bottle of whiskey reserve, he assured me I deserved it.

the sign outside said this would cover sobriety. 

signs always lie to me.

one more day lost in a bottle.

this one has a capsized ship model.

grab the throttle.

bleary eyes 

I fall over the side.

the class begins to disappear in the distance.

all i could say 

‘learning is hard.’

[anarxy-blog1]

‘waterboarding torture”

Would you like to know the definition of insanity? It’s simple. It is the condition of being insane. A deranged mind.

This is a story about myself and my ex, let’s call her Annie.

At the time, it was impossible to see. She had developed a fascination with, let’s say an obsession with, keeping tabs on my internet browsing history and similar items. All of the similar items. And the not-so similar ones as well. So much so that she MAY have actually quit her job to pursue her new favorite activity, torture.

My mom would torture my ass with a paddle when I stepped out of line as a kid. It was relatively accepted by society to the point retail shops carried ass whooping paddles for the strict family values you sought to implement.

Waterboarding, coals, boiling water as. Watching someone suffer at the simple act of a drop of water timed and measured to ping the exact amount onto the torturer’s forehead at specific incremental times. The sheer terror that begins to build in their faces as they anticipate the simplest, smallest organism drifting harmlessly towards their head. In a shower or any other location, this would be met with joy, ahhh warm water. Here the repetition begins to chip away at the torturer after only a few short minutes and will continue breaking down their spirit in fractional increments over a period of days. A drop of water. Perfect and beautiful, but in the right set-up, time and place a lethal weapon that will eventually break the spirit of the man or woman it is falling onto in no time. Terrible horrifying H20, you are a vicious weapon of small destruction. May I take a sip?

My ex used a modern version of waterboarding to slowly chip away at my mental health and stability. In the age of computers and the internet super highway, she had replaced the drop of water with the act of replacing my password(s). Simple. She would gain access to an account of mine and go about editing my profile or security info and passwords. In doing so she was committing many many crimes and probably paving the way for new, up-to-date cyber ready laws. She is that good, that much on the cutting edge of torture artists, that she is breaking new ground in the industry with relative ease. Removing and replacing one’s online account information is considered to be “invasion of privacy, unlawful access, impersonation, intent to deceive, forgery through computer, falsifying and tampering with records, forgery, wrongful access and impersonation/identity theft” for starters. Most of these laws are a bit newer as our justice system cant keep up with the internet and torturer’s best and brightest fast enough. The issue(s) faced in bringing charges on some of these are the extensive documentation required from various third party support teams. This is technical info and computer shit that fingerprints the hackers location, device, times logged, browsers and some additional info that can be used to track down the guilty party.

So here is Annie. On the cusp of a revolution in the way we view casual civilian torture practices as we know it.

Like I was saying. By hijacking a single password or account of mine she was able to create a trail of access logs, accounts, and information that could paint the picture of my entire life. She had my digital footprint in its entirety on her laptop. (she claims that I AM RESPONSIBLE for its being on her tiny 350 GB laptop HD) that I felt the need to load dropbox onto yet another machine in the house (totaling 7 or 8) for reasons unknown. Reasons that would take my entire life as I knew it to her in a gift wrapped, modest sized portion onto a computer for all and anyone to see. FUCKING HELL.

*i was never able to recover any of the above files. She had “Sold the computer” and eventually told me that was a lie to get me off her back. she retains all access to my digital archives both as a student and professional.

Actually, the above is perhaps the single most terrifying thing I have ever seen or experienced in my life. The loss of privacy to one’s digital cloud, to their media files, personal files, private life, work life, xxx library, passwords, browser histories, photo albums, video albums, mp3 collections, digital video and game collections, debit cards, bitcoins, phone app info. IT WAS MY ENTIRE WORLD. And I lost it. All in a single moment, one I cannot recall because it happened without my presence. One I can’t recall because I actually do not know the date(s) or time(s) it went into effect. Because, I am not my stalker. I am not the predator here, but the prey. A lonely digital citizen with an interest in technology. And now, without me knowing, there is someone delving deep into my entire folder files and sub-folders. Checking my e-mails and reading my SMS history. And she is sitting right next to him.

[anarxy-blog1]

like Christopher McCandles

me im alone in the wilderness

an abandoned van

do everything with my bare hands

living off the land

a wanderer

turn this boy into a man

at least thats the plan

goddammit Alaskas expansive

beautiful largely uninhabited

not suited for man yet

he hasn't advanced it

no rescue crews

no population in panic

cold barren majestic

the way mother nature intended

inspiration comes in the form of fangs with wolves and jack

my copy has faded

endlessly thumbing its pages

adventure and inspiration awaited

all inside these paperback pages

I began to walk away from the world:

one foot in front of another

all of my thoughts had  turned into discovery

out here there's no one to govern me

an experience so humbling

it took all my effort to not just run naked

my own gigantic snow covered playground

despite everyone warnings when  I came here my cabinets were barren

scavenging daily my diet consisted of twigs and berries

you could say I forgot to prepare.

fashion tools I use hunting with my hands

i took some sticks and fashioned a stave

i was the predator and they were the prey

too bad I wouldn't catch anything for god knows how many days

my body began taking up less space

the bus the trees everyday began to look the same

in the battle vs mother nature I was on the other side

the only think at risk was my life

the ice crystals formed around my face

i didn't realize I was wasting way

decrease my journal entries

it takes everything I have to forage

one last time

before I leave in case I don't come back

I unload everything I have left in my pack

its just a hat and some tools

my journals and these pictures of my time here

some memories of my best times here

Allister McSupertramp is preparing to sign off

the trails ahead is a long daunting walk

wish me luck

[anarxy-blog1]

‘anxiety’

Depression and anxiety an awful combination Sit alone whittle thumbs Avoid the world frustration At times it feels you’re suffocating Hopefully somebody’s there, resuscitation Integrity of your mental health is being questioned I always knew this was gonna happen

—

Sometimes it feels I’m swimming underwater Entire days I can’t shake this social anxiety disorder The world shares a normal and I won’t conform to it Damn it these waves indicate a storms incoming

[anarxy-blog1]

it’s absurd.  you make me motivated the way a dog gets along with fences.

In that he hates them.

They restrict his ability to properly live.

Gnaws teeth til his mouth is full of blood. Still doesn’t stop him.

Unlocks his jaw.

Escapes the yard.

Motherfuckers running hard.

Off with the collar and cord. 

He’s chomping down on years of discourse. The blood in his body’s boiling.

Full speed ahead, his pace is torrid. 

Bites down . Jaws clenched. He’s foaming at the mouth.

This will hurt a lot.

[anarxy-blog1]

If cannabis were heroin would the United States still patent it? Don’t they know its a schedule 1 illegal drug? Schedule 1 according to them, must offer no medical benefits. Our poor friend the plant is now conflicted. Is he a drug or a medicine? The government just patented its properties of antioxidant. DEA claims its normal, patent local flora. Seems pots good for morale. ask my friend US patent 6630507-B1. Oxidation is govt owned. poor plant can no longer get stoned, enjoy itself. He takes a seat quietly in a jar on a shelf next to his other buds. Confused he now doesn’t know what to do. Is he good or is he evil? If only the government could decide, give this plant much needed insight. He would probably be fine. Instead it exists a walking contradiction. As federal and state legislation offer starkly conflicting opinions. Confuse everyone. A symbol of a poor judicial system heavily influenced by exterior interests. Lobbyists with access to fields of cash paid on demand and in advance. Not much of a democratic example. Actually it’s terrible. Now a symbol of mass confusion. Our friend pot becomes disillusioned. Unsure whether he’s welcome or just waiting to be busted by the Federal Government. Sitting alone on Capitol Hill our distraught cannabis turns and lights itself on fire. Gets everyone stoned for miles. The next morning US agency has its hand out. All those who enjoyed second hand smoke are informed its time to pay up. Man they must be real hard up. Quietly Uncle Sam slips the patent into his back coat pocket. Hoping no one noticed outside of some confused stoners. The US has its cake, yours and hers and mine. They do what they want. Scheduled drug classifications are maybe then suggestions? At least they are able to make their own exceptions. Amend laws for their own benefits. Forever confused citizens.

[anarxy-blog1]

Exploded your entire planet when I crash landed Sadly there’s nothing to salvage from the wreckage Mutual respect has long ago left us My tattered shirt is now threadless Results of us being reckless Remember when we vowed to be endless? Now we’re broken and friendless Everything anymore seems senseless Flip a coin and let me know when heads lands Can these fences ever be mended Dark days ending, life slowly unsuspended I’m preparing to test the rockets engine.