The Marijuana Policy Project promotes their drug as a substitute for opiate pain pills. Like the worst offenders in the opiate industry, the cannabis lobby follows an addiction-for-profit business model. Their master plan needs 80% of the demand to be met by 20% of the users. Science shows no evidence for using medical marijuana as a substitute for pain pills.
Part 3, of a series about two friends who used cannabis in the ’70s. (Read part 1, Why I hate cannabis and part 2, another direction) Now I’m looking back at when I decided to quit, more than 40 years ago. Note that I retired at age 60, well in advance of my original plan and also before reaching social security age. I retired comfortably, with zero debt, having no mortgage, no car payment, and no credit card debt. Amazing what a clear mind can do for a fella.
As for Don, he’s still alive. I’m glad but surprised he’s still around. Those afflicted with schizophrenia lose 10-25 years off their lives. Continue reading →
(Read part 1) This is how two friends changed forever. I was 19, with spotty employment, working low level part-time jobs. Sometimes I was “involuntarily terminated” from jobs because of poor attendance or petty theft. I did not understand at the time the awful effects that near daily use of marijuana was exerting on me. I had become a different person.
At age 19, I was diagnosed with clinical depression by a psychiatrist. Looking back from the much wiser perspective of mature man, I am absolutely certain that Continue reading →
My name is Tom. I was born in 1957 and am 60 years old, living in Ohio. I am living happily, having recently retired from a prominent local manufacturer and retailer. Here is why I hate cannabis.
One of my closest friends during my junior high and high school years was a buddy named “Don.” He was two years older and two grades ahead of me in school. Don was also a brilliant math student who tutored many neighborhood kids, helping them get through high school math. Everybody who came in contact with him really liked him. He was a member of the wrestling team. We lived on the same street, so when he got a car, a cool “hot rod,” I was impressed. He paid for with the wages he’d earned from his part-time jobs in high school. He knew his way around the engine of a car, and did all his own repairs. Continue reading →