Harry Tuttle Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> because i hate fake tits and i hate fake women....


I can understand the principle of hating fake tits and fake women in particular, but just on a purely trashy, slutty, tacky, sexual level, isn't that hot? I'm not attracted to those kinds of girls either.....not in the same way as others, anyway. It's just like porno-hot, not real-girl hot. Still hot, I say. And the bigger and faker the milk-makers, the better, I say.

where's hamtaro?

where's bloddy blisters?

where's Alisa?

I think Alisa is mad at me

harryo, what's the matter? You seem....distant.

I'm all gooned on drugs!

harry, what's bothering you?

hamtaro, where r u

i'm all hopped up on z-drugs!

Ward Bond was a very good character actor
Attachments:

Harry Tuttle Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> because i hate fake tits and i hate fake women....


Translation: I'm into men.

Harryo! Defend yousefl! You're not a gaoy!

is harryo gone already?

was he just doing a walk-on?

,,,,



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 02/11/2012 10:15PM by Hatemotor.

well, looks like harryo did a cameo and then left. I knew it. He's onto bigger and butter things....

where's Aliaso?

looks like a slow night after all....

I'm here... I was just on the phone, catching up with people...

Signatures are for fags

I'm drinking the beers... still hopped up from BrBa...

Wondering what I'm doing with my life...

It's one of those nights...

I wish I was one of the "lucky ones"... I mean, I know I'm lucky... I don't mean to sound ungrateful for what I have...

But I want more... and I'm frustrated that I don't have what I want...

Signatures are for fags

Harry Tuttle Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> I'm here... I was just on the phone, catching up
> with people...


weeeeeeeeellllll, la-deee-daaaa......look at Mr. Popular over here!!! If I had a nickel for every time I got a personal call on my telephone, I would have zero nickels.

Alias, check your E-Mail.....yes, your E-MAIL......

this is not the best FU;AD I've ever eaten.......I'd like my money back, please....

if we're not gonna bring our A game, let's not bother showing up guise
Attachments:

,,,



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 02/11/2012 10:15PM by Hatemotor.

that's what she said

AAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CHECK YOUR EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE---------------MMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm so lonely I could die.

,,,



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 02/11/2012 10:15PM by Hatemotor.

I want a woman to be my wife and my mother....

,,,



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 02/11/2012 10:15PM by Hatemotor.

If only I could've seen what was happenin' to me, maybe I coulda' done somethin' about it.....




.....but that would make me a "mastermind"......




;;;;;oh my peter.....look at all the babies we just killed..............

do you think I offended harryo?

I offended Alisa last night and now she won't talk to me

,,,



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 02/11/2012 10:16PM by Hatemotor.

Al Green Love and Happiness right now on the Funko Hub

hoe many people have you called?

Signatures are for fags

it's ok guya

Signatures are for fags

Harry Tuttle Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> hoe many people have you called?


I never call anyone, socially, because I don't know anyone, socially. So, no one.

other than that, I've called the usual people you have to call to conduct business. I use a funny voice then.

I haven't got a friend in the world. Not one. Not a single one. Nobody. Nothing. No one I can call on the phone. Not one person. Zippy.

And that's a FACT.

that's why I want to kill myself.

....room gets quiet....

....yes, I am planning on killing myself. I just haven't figured out the method yet. I don't want to fuck it up and end up a vegetable. That would be worse than death.

I have to get my will taken care of first so I can leave behind that nice chunk of car crash cash to my family. Unless suicide somehow negates a will.......good question for ITRADE if he's still around.

anyway, once that's done, I'm Audi 5000.

do you think Cary will delete these posts?

boy, the room got reeeeeeeaaaaaaal quiet.......


....things got a little to real for you doo's, huh?......

No, Cary won't delete them...

I don't have any friends either...

I have, maybe, one friend... in the whole world (not counting family)...

Who cares about all that?

Signatures are for fags

No, you can't get too real for me... You, specifically, don't know how to get too real for me...

You can't make me uncomfortable, Mizo...

It doesn't work...

You want to get real? You just say the magic word... I'm hot, cranky, stressed, sleep deprived, horny, uncertain, generally unhappy with life and "loaded for bear"...

I'm full of piss and vinegar, y'all...

You wanna get real? We'll get real...

Signatures are for fags

Harry, this is a serious, no bullshit question----let's get real here-----would you be upset, like, 'real-life' upset if I killed myself? Would it actually affect you, like on a personal level? Give it to me straight.

Yeah, I would be upset... Suicide is stupid... and I know I can't convince you otherwise (or convince you of anything at all, because you are too stubborn)....

I would be angry.... You're a pretty frustrating dude, over all...

Signatures are for fags

...but you, kind of, insofar as the internet is able to allow, 'care' about me, don't you? I mean, as much as a person can care about someone they've never met? Wouldn't you be sad, too? You like me, right?

I like you... I feel like I understand you... I relate to you... you have, at the least, a symbolic significance in my life...

I would not be happy that you are not on this planet any more... but the fact that you killed yourself would prohibit me from feeling sad about your demise...

It would cause me to be angry... I have no sympathy for people who commit suicide..

I think it's spineless and cowardly...

It's a waste of very precious life...

Signatures are for fags

You are not just a bunch of text to me... You're a person... a real, live, person...

I care about you as a person...

That's why I offered to help you with [redacted]... and invited you to [redacted]....

Would I do that if you were meaningless?

Signatures are for fags

I can see where you're coming from, but at a certain point, when your whole, entire, life, has been unhappy, depressed, solitary, unable to feel any kind of connection to other human beings----when you just have this almost instinctual, innate feeling of being 'disconnected'----you kind of lose your appreciation for the preciousness of your particular life. I'm sure life, in general, is quite precious. But mine (AND...others like me....and there are many) are missing out on that preciousness; and whether it's our own faults or it's environmental, or genetic, or whatever.......it just 'ain't workin', and at some point, you just get soooo tired, and you know pretty damn well that real change is not in the cards.......you just wanna stop feeling bad. WHy feel bad when you can stop feeling bad? Not as good as feeling good, but at least it's an end to feeling bad, right?

and as for family.....I feel terrible about that. But I can't live my life to suffer for them, or anyone else. I guess I'm selfish. Fine. I'll accept that. But I do not believe I was born---put here on this earth----to suffer. I believe I have a choice that is all mine to make when it comes to that, for better or worse. I was not born to suffer.

Harry Tuttle Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> You are not just a bunch of text to me... You're a
> person... a real, live, person...
>
> I care about you as a person...
>
> That's why I offered to help you with ... and
> invited you to ....
>
> Would I do that if you were meaningless?


and by the way, I don't think I've adequately expressed my gratitude for your doing those things. It's AWFULLY decent of you, as a guy and a human being, dude. Honestly. But......maybe I should send you a PMS. I do feel bad about bailing on those things. It was so nice of you.

Well, suicide is completely selfish and completely cowardly...

That frustrates me about you, too...

You think you're so different...

You think there's this huge club that everyone is a member of except for you...

The "my life is great" club

It's imaginary... It's all in your head..

Don't you realize that everyone is suffering?

Why quit because it's too hard?

Edit: We're all on the same team... this world is bigger than any individual... life is bigger than any individual.. Why bail on your teammates?

I would lose all my respect for you if you killed yourself...

Signatures are for fags



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 07/18/2011 01:06AM by Harry Tuttle.

me and sarah lee kickit back in the day. during vietnam this road went all the way to the base. i have a few road signs from the bus stop, yeah i sort of collect them. i come by every holiday to just check on the place, make sure everything is running smoothly. a while back i saw a truck with no tires on a trailer. it reminded me of this place. one time i saw a truck drive into the building and a tidal wave crashed into the back wall. ok have a nice day.

Attachments:

do you believe clinical depression is a legitimate illness, Harry? Or is it 'just being really bummed out'?

do you believe a terminally ill person should have the right to end their suffering if they so choose?

yes, those are two different questions, but they are in a way related.

moot argument.

Attachments:

Mr. Misery Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> Harry Tuttle Wrote:
> --------------------------------------------------
> -----
> > I'm here... I was just on the phone, catching
> up
> > with people...
>
>
> weeeeeeeeellllll, la-deee-daaaa......look at Mr.
> Popular over here!!! If I had a nickel for every
> time I got a personal call on my telephone, I
> would have zero nickels.

it helps to have a cell phone.

Attachments:

ill stop fagging up the threads =(

Attachments:

Mr. Misery Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> do you believe clinical depression is a legitimate
> illness, Harry? Or is it 'just being really bummed
> out'?

I believe this question is a false dichotomy...

>
> do you believe a terminally ill person should have
> the right to end their suffering if they so
> choose?

I'm not going to answer your baited questions... Ask what you're really trying to ask... If you're asking anything at all...

Are you asking if I approve of someone "ending their misery?"...

Are you comparing clinical depression to a "terminal illness"?

>
> yes, those are two different questions, but they
> are in a way related.

Quit beating around the bush... Your objective is clearly not to find truth... it is to make a point and to win an argument...

Signatures are for fags



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 07/18/2011 01:20AM by Harry Tuttle.

I'm using the Socratic Method.

Well, what happened to being real?

Stop with your bullshit...

You want to talk? Let's talk...

Instead of asking me baited "questions" and attacking me with rhetoric, why not explain to me why suicide isn't selfish and spineless...?

Signatures are for fags

I wish harry and miz would off each other instead riding each other's dicks with their "life sucks" bullshit Every.Fucking .Night! :(

one more gay thing before i split. this dialogue was directly ripped from a conversation i had with a schizophrenic man.... i ended up calling the cops on him.

tis all


bloody blisters Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> me and sarah lee kickit back in the day. during
> vietnam this road went all the way to the base. i
> have a few road signs from the bus stop, yeah i
> sort of collect them. i come by every holiday to
> just check on the place, make sure everything is
> running smoothly. a while back i saw a truck with
> no tires on a trailer. it reminded me of this
> place. one time i saw a truck drive into the
> building and a tidal wave crashed into the back
> wall. ok have a nice day.

Attachments:

drama queens Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> I wish harry and miz would off each other instead
> riding each other's dicks with their "life sucks"
> bullshit Every.Fucking .Night! :(


so instead you wish to ride the "life is good" dicks?

read my signature

It's a dick!

Attachments:

karaoke steam train

Signatures are for fags

first, it depends on what circumstance we're talking about in regard to suicide. If it's in the case of a terminally ill person (inoperable pancreatic cancer, let's say), then I absolutely believe suicide is not only not selfish or spineless...I believe it's brave and responsible. That's why I asked those two questions, to get your take on each scenario.

Now, in the case of being depressed---a clinical, chemical imbalance in the brain depression----I do not necessarily see suicide as either selfish, spineless, or brave. I think in that case, many lines are blurred. Depression is a disease of the brain, of the way you think. We can never seem to agree in court cases on whether the 'insanity defense' is valid, for example----some are outraged by it, some (though seemingly fewer and fewer these days) see it as somewhat legitimate in certain circumstances. Diseases that cause irrational behavior are seen less as diseases and more as individual weakness, irresponsibility, vice, etc.

And when a mental disease causes a sufferer to act in a way that affects others negatively (whether in the extreme case of a paranoid schizophrenic shooting up a school, or in the case of a depressed person leaving his family behind to grieve after committing suicide) the typical societal consensus is that some amount of judgement must be passed on the afflicted person, and in extreme cases such as the former, I believe rightly so. However, I think it's just a little too one-sided to say that a depressed person killing themselves is 'spineless', 'selfish', and so-on. I understand the inclination to anger....that a loved one should never do something to hurt another loved one.....but I also believe that there is a legitimate chemical imbalance in the brain--a legitimite medical illness that the person suffering should not absorb 100 percent of the blame for when his actions (informed by this illness) adversely affect those around him.

Yes, there's only so much a person can take. I've known some very sick people, and the family behind them is always tired, frustrated, sometimes angry.......but in every case I've seen, they also still loved the person who, to put it crassly, is causing all the problems. He's sick. It's a difficult balance of emotions. I understand where you're coming from, but I can't write a person off just like that having experienced the same kind of suffering myself. Is it selfish to get in a car crash, break your hip and rack up hundreds of thousands of dollars in medical bills for your family? I would hope you would say no. So, why is it selfish to become clinically depressed? I won't go so far as to ask the next logical question in that series, because we both know we'll just fundamentally disagree. Is it selfish to kill yourself? The only way I can answer that is to say, "it's complicated."

Is that a good enough explanation?

Harry, man, I just wanted to say I love you. You're a decent type.

and Harry, feel free to PMS me occassionally (or use the batphone)........just tell me about what's goin' on with YOU........what's shakin'......what's new.......what's worrying you......that kind of thing. I'd like to hear from you every now and then, for real. Keep in touch, my friend. You can talk to me.

Mr. Misery Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> Harry, man, I just wanted to say I love you.
> You're a decent type.


I wish Harry would come to grips with his Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ. There's no other way for him to be redeemed and enter His kingdom in Heaven. God has a plan for Harry Tuttle, and it's not something insignificant like the time he thought he saw Fruit Pie the Magician standing outside his window. God's love is for real, and I wish he would soften Harry's heart, because He loves him so.

bloody blisters Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> drama queens Wrote:
> --------------------------------------------------
> -----
> > I wish harry and miz would off each other
> instead
> > riding each other's dicks with their "life
> sucks"
> > bullshit Every.Fucking .Night! :(
>
>
> so instead you wish to ride the "life is good"
> dicks?
>
> read my signature
>
> It's a dick!


You're the one who enjoys dicks!

Imagine me in a small, dark, hiding place, illuminated only by a failing flashlight shaking nervously in my trembling hand as I write these, possibly, my last words.

METHLAND

I was young. I was getting drunk in a dive in old Baja Oklahoma. It was so long ago the jukebox was wailing “Mendocino.” It was so long ago the dancers all wore tassels and thongs. A strobe light throbbed like the end of sex so even if you stared you could only see about half of what all was going on.

Big Betty danced on a tiny stage across from the bar. Big Betty’s best dance was when her feet stayed still. She leaned forward, put her hands on her knees and made her big, world famous breasts spin circles in opposite directions just like the rotors on a Chinook helicopter. Every strobe flash was a snapshot. Between flashes, the light behind the bar made her silver tassels blur. Big Betty would lean right over her audience and the audience would lean in so close that if they opened their mouths they could taste Big Betty’s sweat.

One romantic offered Big Betty a drink from his bottle of beer. She took the bottle from his hand. Then disdaining a drink, just as she straightened to step back and dance with her feet again, Big Betty broke that bottle right across that romantic’s head. The romantic staggered back heartbroken but he did not fall. Somebody caught him and pushed him toward the front door. He stumbled out blinded by his own blood. He left a trail to follow but no one bothered. Some other dance aficionado stole that romantic’s space near the edge of the stage. Throughout the night, boots and work shoes ground the pieces of that bottle back down to sand.

Her Name Was Lynn

A Kiowa named Lynn danced for me, just for me, that night on my table while I pretended not to give a damn. I had been subtly admiring Lynn the Kiowa for at least weeks. She was little, beautiful and brown. When she shook her head in the flashing light her hair would explode like a startled murder of crows. Then it would all magically fall back to exactly the way it had been. Even in her stripper shoes she couldn’t have been much more than five-foot-two. I don’t know, maybe she was eighteen. She leered at me while she danced. She was flexible as a gymnast. She bent all the way over from the waist and put her face a foot from mine. She looked right through my eyes down to the Faustian depths of my soul. She wore that wanton look a woman wears when she tells you, “You can do anything you want.”

And, she asked me, “Do you have any crystal meth?”

That was the very first time I ever heard it called that. Now, I have heard it called speed, ice, amp, glass, new school, crunch, whizz, fatch, rocket fuel and of course crank; because in the old days men used to smuggle it in motorcycle crankcases. I know at least a dozen more names. Bikers have names for methamphetamine like Eskimos have names for snow. There are different names when it is almost clear, pale yellow, tinged with violet or when it is brown and crunchy like peanut butter.

And, what I saw that night makes more sense when you understand that Big Betty and Lynn and some fraction of the rest of the people there that night were making the most of their lives through the magic of meth.

What Is Meth

Psychoactive drugs resemble chemicals for which evolution has already reserved a place, or receptor, in the human brain. Amphetamines resemble adrenaline. They were isolated in Japan and issued to Japanese soldiers during the Russo-Japanese War. Twenty-five years later a Philadelphia pharmaceutical firm named Smith, Kline and French (SKF) pirated the Japanese research, patented the chemicals and started marketing a Benzedrine inhaler “for quick relief of cold symptoms.” College students discovered what else amphetamines could do and in the late 30s SKF started marketing benzedrine as a treatment for fatigue, narcolepsy and obesity. During World War II SKF sold 180 million Benzedrine tablets to the U.S. Army and the tablets were also routinely fed to American troops in Korea and Vietnam.

Benzedrine is the most common brand name for the molecule 1-phenyl-2-aminopropane. A molecule with the same atomic components that assembles those atoms a little differently is brand named Dexedrine. If you methylate the final nitrogen atom in Dexedrine you make a molecule that was originally branded as Methedrine. The methylation makes methamphetamine harder to metabolize than Dexedrine, which means that meth has a longer half-life, which means it provides a longer, fuller, more satisfying high.

After SKF’s patents expired in 1949 there was an explosion of amphetamine production and use. A scholar named David Courtwright called post-war America an “amphetamine democracy” because truck drivers, factory workers, students, housewives, politicians and celebrities all took amphetamines to help them lead better and more productive lives.

Cool Kids Do It

A New York society doctor named Max Jacobson got rich selling Dexedrine and methamphetamine to celebrities. His clients included Johnny Mathis, Yul Brenner, Truman Capote, Cecil B. DeMille, Eddie Fisher, Otto Preminger, Anthony Quinn, Tennessee Williams and dozens of politicians including John F. Kennedy. Jacobson injected Jack Kennedy with either Methedrine or Dexedrine before at least two of Kennedy’s debates with Richard Nixon in 1960. So while the very straight Nixon was obviously nervous and tentative under the hot lights in front of the television cameras Kennedy was focused, collected and supremely confidant.

American mommies got so hooked on amphetamine diet pills that early in 1973 the Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs and the Food and Drug Administration began tighter regulation of the drugs. Coincidentally, around the same time, Smith Kline and French discovered a new disease among children. SKF found a surprisingly large number of American children suffered from a “complex and little-understood learning and behavior disorder called,” at first, “minimal brain dysfunction.”

The disease quickly became known as Attention Deficit Disorder. SKF scientists found that 69 percent of all hyperkinetic children who were fed “moderate doses” of Benzedrine and Dexedrine “improved.” A very important man named Dr. Leon Eisenberg, Chief of Psychiatric Services at Massachusetts General Hospital, was trotted out to testify to the press that there was “no indication of addiction or other drug induced emotional or psychological damage” found in hyperactive children treated with amphetamine.

Amphetamines were marketed as “the penicillin of children with learning disabilities.” An amphetamine named methylphenidate was branded as “Ritalin” and the healing began.

White Trash Drug

In the 70s cocaine, (a brand name coined by the Bayer Drug Company the same year Bayer coined the brand names Aspirin and Heroin) replaced amphetamines as a cure for celebrities’ insecurity and housewives’ chubbiness. But bennies, dex and meth remained firmly entrenched in the aspirations of the white working class. For decades in America, upward mobility and prosperity were connected, rightly or wrongly, with working longer and harder. Truck drivers, for example, were paid by the load. A trucker who drove 20 hours a day could make more money than one who only drove ten hours.

Piece work on a punch press machine is really only possible with the aid of some amphetamine. Grab a piece of metal from a box on your right, slip it into one of three dies, tap your right foot, flip the partially finished part into a second die, tap, slide it into a third die with your left hand, tap, toss the finished, or partially finished, piece into a box on your left and repeat 6,000 times. Don’t screw up. You might lose a hand. Concentrate. Concentrate. Go home. Live your real life. Try to sleep. Get up. Repeat.

Or take the truck batteries off the pallet one by one and set them on the roller line. Drag the empty pallet to the other end of the line and restack the finished batteries. And, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat. Don’t think.

Or, the pre-eminent blue collar job, the job you had to know somebody to get. Scamper in front of a slowly moving line of cars and bolt on 52, or 56, or 61 bumpers an hour depending on how fast somebody a thousand miles away has decided the line must move that day. Do it hour after hour, day after day. Ask for overtime.

That was the seventies and the eighties. Those were the good, old days. Those were the jobs you could get before America became a “knowledge worker economy” and all the good, blue collar were assigned to slaves in China who live in dormitories.

Methland

After the jobs went away only the crank remained. Only the feeling of self-confidence and power methamphetamine promotes remained. And that is where Nick Reding picks up the story in his book Methland: The Death and Life of an American Small Town.

After methamphetamine use was increasingly criminalized in the early 1970s, after the flow of amphetamine from Mexico was interrupted, after the introduction of Sudafed made it comparatively easy to cook crank at home, after cocaine made powders chic, after freebase and crack, crank became a part of post-industrial American life. Crank became a get rich quick scheme. Crank became a cheap high. The line between buyers and sellers blurred. Motorcycle clubs in California and New Jersey competed for market share. The lingering effects of that competition persist today. Within the last five years even the New York Times and Newsweek have heard of crank.

Reding’s book is full of defects and it is still the best thing yet written on the subject because Nick Reding may be the first insider writer to actually notice the connection between methamphetamine abuse and the shattering of the American dream. Reding started looking at Oelwein, Iowa (it is pronounced Ol’ Wine) in 2005. Oelwein has a population of about 6,000 and before its disillusionment it was a quintessential American town. Most of Reding’s book is a sympathetic portrait of the people he met there.

Reding, who knows nothing about motorcycle clubs, still tries to be kind to a Sons of Silence patch holder named “Major.” Major worries about what his crank abuse might do or have done to his toddler son.

Reding tries to meet the county prosecutor, a man named Nathan Lein, halfway. The leading physician in Oelwein is a chain-smoking alcoholic named Clay Hallberg. A man named Roland Jarvis is such a grotesquely depraved crank fiend that the government should pay him to appear in anti-drug public service announcements.

The local Police Chief is a nut case named Jeremy Logan who intends to save Oelwein by telling his cops to “Assume everyone is guilty, and put the screws to them.”

Lori Arnold

Reding’s best source is a 45-year-old federal prisoner named Lori Arnold. Lori was born in the nearby town of Ottumwa and she is the sister of the character actor and comedian Tom Arnold. Tom Arnold might be best known as one of Roseanne Barr’s ex-husbands.

Lori Arnold started selling pharmaceutical grade methamphetamine in the 1970s and she is the former wife of a man named Floyd Stockdall. Stockdall was a former President of the Grim Reapers Motorcycle Club, from whom the Sons of Anarchy have borrowed their patch.

And the Grim Reapers, according to Reding, had a connection to a fairly well known meth lab in Southern California back in the 80s. Lori tried crystal, liked it, and gave some away to her friends. Her friends liked crank, too and within a month Lori was buying four ounces of meth in Long Beach for $2,500 and selling it for $10,000 in Iowa. Her business grew from there and by 1987 Lori, who dropped out of school in the 10th grade, owned a bar, a car dealership, 14 houses, 52 racehorses and a 144 acre horse farm. That was the same year most of the other farms in that part of Iowa were foreclosed and most of the railroad and meatpacking jobs disappeared.

Lori Arnold was an inspiration to her neighbors. But she liked her own product too much to get out. The feds caught her in 1990 and she wound up doing nine years.

By the time Lori Arnold got out of prison in 1999 most of the straight jobs had disappeared, the average wage had dropped to five dollars an hour and 80 percent of the jobs still left were held by undocumented Mexican immigrants. She went to work for Cargill, slicing up hogs in a room so cold she had to pour hot water over her rubber boots to keep her feet from going numb. And, since she was bright and desperate, Lori Arnold couldn’t help but notice that there was a racial divide between the high quality crank the Mexican workers used and the kitchen crank the white locals used. So like all good workers in the new knowledge worker economy, Lori Arnold used her mind.

By 2001, two years after she was sprung, Lori was selling so much Mexican crank to poor Iowa whites that she had to open another nightclub to launder all the money. Her success did not last long. On October 25th of that year she sold four ounces of meth to a local Iowa cop and returned to the penitentiary.

Trickle Down Economy

Since Methland was published last summer the reviews have been very mixed. Most of the critical reviews have scolded Reding for trying to do what this review has tried to do, which is to try to hint at “a unified theory of ‘the meaning of meth.’”

Scott Martelle for example, a journalism instructor at Chapman University who wrote the review for the Los Angeles Times, cannot bring himself to believe that methamphetamine abuse might be in any way connected to the shattering of the American dream. Martelle writes: “At first, Reding argues, meth was viewed as a crutch by local workers looking for a little boost to get through long double shifts. It’s not a persuasive argument. Substance abuse – from alcohol to pot to coke and now meth – in rural America has a lot of contributing factors, but the drive to work harder doesn’t seem likely to rank high among them.”

I think Reding’s argument is persuasive and I think it is about time somebody who can actually get a book published said it. Nick Reding has gone and looked and tried to sympathize so he understands that crank abuse is not the disease. Crank abuse, like Gin abuse in Dickens’ London, is a symptom of a disease that most cops, lawyers, judges, politicians, authors and, apparently, journalism instructors refuse to see. Reding sees what I see and so I think Methland deserves to be read.

http://www.agingrebel.com/2501

Sorry, dood, I zonked out. I'll come back with the suicide talk later.. But I will allow that the issue is not as black and white as I initially implied. You are now talking about suicide in general, where I was talking about it in regard to your specific threats of suicide.

Signatures are for fags

Harryo, check your PMS!!!!!
Attachments:

It's exactly 12:00 in Nyrobi

MMisery ----

I will suggest that for tonight's FFXUAD' you ATTEMPT to really dig in and come up with, maybe, 10 things that are GOOD in your life and discuss those verse the usual suicidal topics. Just an idea - maybe it will result in a less dark night?

I will throw a few out there:

1. FFXU and the posters you like / how you can vent here and have no worries about the real world / Harry / Hatemotor etc...

2. Something as simple as food you like and how cool it is to be able to just go get it whenever...

3. You can draw / read / listen to music ANYTIME...

Never know - maybe a new twist on the usual pattern?

Peace

Harry's here...



Signatures are for fags

Harry's still here...



Signatures are for fags

.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 03/05/2012 06:31PM by Alias.

.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 03/05/2012 06:09PM by Alias.

Harry Tuttle Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> Harry's still here...
>
>


10 girls and not a single ass between them. they could have done without the two overall's girls. asians shouldnt be tall, it is unnatural. g-g-g-g-g-i-a diggn it

ikuyo.

Attachments:

bloody blisters Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------.
> g-g-g-g-g-i-a

funny how i butcher the only "english" part.... god im so gay sometimes

Attachments:

But what about the dance moves, blisters? The dance moves....

Signatures are for fags

Harry Tuttle Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> But what about the dance moves, blisters? The
> dance moves....


o fo sho, the moves were phresh, phunky phresh to be exact.

Attachments:

hello afterdark

either you decide to live or decide to die. I will not sleepwalk any longer.
Attachments:

no, I have not yet made my decision...

justsayin', your comments in my "the floor is hot lava" thread were deeply hurtful to me.

that's it.

bye, guys.

harry

what can I say?

hatemotor

Alias

I need love

and companionship

,,,



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 02/11/2012 10:17PM by Hatemotor.

they have forsaken me

,,,



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 02/11/2012 10:18PM by Hatemotor.