John Oliver VS Capitalism and Addiction

Remember FOX NEWS said “BUSH HAS WON THE ELECTION” so all the other news outfits started doing it so as to not be behind, or miss the scoop. The thing is – BUSH DIDN’T WIN. He lost – but the other guy, hearing that he had lost, threw in his towel and conceded, at which point he was fucked. Don’t forget FOX news was run by one of the Bush family at the time…..

Anyway, slightly off the topic, but when have you ever criticised me for being on topic to start with..?..

We need more honest proper journalism and independent investigative journalists. Nowadays you can spot errors in about every single story on every page of every newspaper. Main TV news seems to be more and more like the internet news of old every day.

And therein lies the problem.

People want cute cats, death and mayhem.

The mass public will not sit through a thirty minute story showing both sides of an argument properly… 110km/h on highways kills people.. Boy racers are all druggies with bald tyres. Cute cat.

John Oliver Does Drugs

Sorry about taking some saturation out of your overly coloured American TV face John old Boy…

And then there is JOHN OLIVER. 

He did his usual fifteen minute of TRUMP BASHING, and to his credit he manages to keep this fresh and interesting each week – or maybe it is just due to the fact Trumpt comes up with so much shit each week he is simply too easy, and then progressed to do an opinion piece on the state of addiction in the good ol’ U S of A.

Not a bad effort… Other than he took great pains to ridicule the term “pseudo addict“.

A term I hadn’t heard of. A term which sounds, on the surface, to be total bullshit.

Good on you John, you are the man.

In the context of a drug company trying to show the world it’s drugs are not the cause of addicts problems, it possibly is bullshit. More than possibly even. Plausible denial anyone?

But wait — There’s more…

(yeah, yeah – you guessed it…. Unca Fiendipoo has a spanner. And a good throwing arm.)

Start scratching under the surface (or maybe just start scratching depending how much of an addict you really are) the theory is quite sound. It may come from the mouth of a pseudo scientist, but someone who exhibits addictive drug seeking behaviour may be no more of a problematic addict than you or I (queue Americans favourite laughing track – the auto chuckle)… 

Fiend says –
“Pseudo addict” may just have a place in this debate on how to deal with the problems of addiction in capitalist environments.

Let us just say… Just for debates sake… 

If I am in pain (me? never…) and need a few opiates to coach my kids football team, I go to the doctor. The doctors glasses slide down his nose and he looks at me sideways. No matter how much they know about my pain, my back, my lifestyle, my parenting or my need to participate in life on terms agreeable to me, the maker and the pharmaceutical companies – the doctor will always look at “addict” potential first and my quality of life second.

Purdue, we have a problem.

And, by the sounds of this John Oliver thing, so do hundreds of thousands of Americans.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I have not gone all soft in my old age. Americans can all go still fuck right off and suck Clintons dick / clit dry as far as I am concerned.

However, I feel for the pain and the difficulties the poor people who are controlled by the whim of the pen. On a good day the doctor will write. On a bad day, the doctor wont. The days are not so much swayed good or bad by his kid playing well at football — more the pressures put on him by media, drug companies capitalistic ways and the controlling bodies antiquated views of addiction.

This week John Oliver has told the world the drug companies are confusing the doctors. They obviously need to play with their own product some more.

John Oliver. Take time to read GLOBALIZATION OF ADDICTION.

Or, since no one has an attention span any longer than a thirty second sound byte (I know – I am ADHD super hero number 666) …

Dear John @iamjohnoliver

please look up Dr. Gabor Maté  on YOUTUBE.

Thank you, and goodnight.

John seems to have pitted himself against capitalism AND addiction. The first time anyone in history has managed this. A little like … hell … cannot quite work out what it’s like.

Maybe I am very much every inch totally drug fucked as the idiots at Wellington Addiction Services would tell you.

The note that cheered me up…

Received this note randomly in my inbox. Never chatted before, bit similarities abound.
THANKS.

Published with his support…

I know the feeling of not being able to open certain web pages out of sheer, squirming anxiety. This was appropriate when I was on home detention/probation for 12/6 months respectively for buyin’ the durgs off the ‘net, and I wasn’t allowed shit that could speak hypertext.

Don’t feel obligated to reply, I’m just writing in support. Channel your energies into whatever gets you through.  I started cooking really nice food spent well over 600 hours playing open-world games on Xbox.  I remember I made a stollen with a log of marzipan through the middle.  Holy fuck, it was good.

Got close to this state again looking after my girlfriend’s place out in the wops while they were in England.  I mean it was beautiful out there but I don’t have a driver’s license or a car.  What drove me nuts about it was being fucken spied on by the neighbours.  I had my mate around and I get a call from England saying that my brother (!) isn’t allowed at the house (he’s perceived as a dodgy cunt, long past the days of his legal high habit).  My mate going around the side of the house in the dark to look for his $1500 camera that had been stolen and fucken chewed up by one of the dogs was perceived as skullduggery at its finest.  So two nights in I’m made aware I’m being spied on and told that I’m not allowed any company.

This, of course, was reason for me to increase my intake of illicit clonazepam to deal with the craziness.  Every coffee, Irish.  Goes without saying that I smoked dak in/around the place from the start, then after about a month, I forget that thank-fuck-she’s-not-going-to-be-my-mother-in-law‘s separated, depressed lackey husband is coming over and the heartiest bong you ever saw made out of a gatorade bottle, a hose and a brass door peeper hole thing is sitting right there on the floor.

Later that night, my parents get a call from thank-fuck saying to get me the fuck out.  Cuuuuuuuuuuuuunt, I even offered the guy a sesh and dinner before he snitched on me.

After I left the place, the more responsible neighbours were given my duties and they proceeded to lose one of the cats and dehydrate one of the chickens to death.  I’d be lying if I said this doesn’t still make me grin with HA HA SERVES YOU RIGHT.  I really love animals but in this case they are true martyrs for our crusade against being stigmatised.  Rightly perceiving awkward future encounters between myself and her family, my girlfriend of four years broke up with me soon after she got back from England.  Ah well.

Off the clonazepam now anyways.  Back to study next semester chipping away at the old maths degree.  Taking a 3rd-year English paper entitled Literary Theory which I’m looking forward to.  English papers tend to have no prerequisites, although I did a 2nd-year one on Comedy which was a lot of fun.  When I was on home detention they ended up letting me go to university 5 days a week but I had to sign in/out with campus security every morning and night which actually built a nice relationship with them.  Took a while to suss this but it was a great hack.  I got to travel 26km away to Hamilton by bus every day.  Had to sort out exactly what buses I was taking and give them the bus tickets.

I realise sometimes, fuck, at least I’m not my mate who’s homeless from a marijuana (!!!) habit, combined with what the Powers That B should call ‘unipolar mania’ and everybody else calls ‘bipolar’.  The pigs are now after him now, because of klepto shit that’s a pretty natural consequence of his circumstances.  My other mate was telling me about last time he saw the guy, smoking a whole-tinny joint while publicly taking a piss in a stranger’s yard and hacking out phlegm all over his clothes.  The dude has nobody.  I would be there from him but that day, he racked CDs from my mate’s car, and these two have known each other for over 7 years now.  Then later on, he tried to cause bullshit drama between another of my friends and I.  Can’t be dealing with any more mindfuck at the moment.

Make sure you enjoy something in spite of these fucking control systems.

Peace, so-and-so…

It’s all football. This life stuff is good after all. Sans NZ Police.

You so do not need an
adrenaline junky life,
drugs or
stupid kinky BDSM sex
with old married ladies
when you get messages such as…

“HEY , our Son, ______ has been LOVING the football trainings”…

“Hi again, thank you so much for all your efforts,
______ is the happiest and most tired he has been the whole holidays” …..

“Our kid missed basketball as he wanted to be at your training instead,
even tho it was raining….”
“MY kid ______ can’t wait for another training.
Are you doing any more outside normal times?”

“You deserve so much credit for finding any energy at all,
especially with your back. We, as parents, owe you so much…”

 
FUCK ME.

All this and I have only been with the kids for a few hours.

One kid has AUTISM quite badly. Intelligent enough, but a real social handful. His mates have adhd, and I have managed to “control” the Autism New Zealand Wellington kid by getting the ADHD kids to help me help him.

I take no prisoners as a coach. But EVERYONE, eventually, can see shit starting to work already. The parents may hate me calling their kids “shit heads” or “lazy little fucks”… I don’t think that is in the coaches handbook.

 

But then, at the end of the day, the bloody kids end up happy and everyone see’s it all coming together. Just a few passes stick together, some kid does a header even and a kid scores, without it looking like plain dumb luck! Coach demands high fives (NOT HARD ENOUGH BOY. SLAP IT LIKE YOU HATE IT. THAT’S THE WAY). Coach picks up kids who get things right and runs around the field like a home coming from a World FIFA U-20 World Cup Winning team.

 
And me and my brain feel happy, content and fullfilled.
 
Until a few chemicals wear off and I go chasing stupid drugs, stupid sex or adrenaline junky speed behaviours.
 
This will happen first thing in the morning.

Luckily my script of Ritalin is due, the non married blonde who talks kinky as hell, but is actually a bit vanilla and my car are all available. 

 

 Even if having a lot of drugs before oral sex whilst driving miles too fast almost bores me.

Still, it’s better than nothing.

It’s just not as good as coaching a bunch of crazies.

————————————————————————————————–

AND – PS – EVEN MORE PEOPLE HAVE STUMBLED OVER THIS BLOG AND BRUCE K ALEXANDER.

http://www.truth-out.org/news/item/29118-portugal-cut-addiction-rates-in-half-by-connecting-drug-users-with-communities-instead-of-jailing-them#14288224048801&action=collapse_widget&id=0&data=

When unable to sleep at night…

Sleeping and rest were / are an issue for the recovering addict.

More so, it seems, in the social economic controlling influence of the environment some of ourselves find surrounding us.

Last night the natives (hoaries as I have started affectionately calling them – or is the effectionately?) had huge arguments, women screaming, threatening and abusing. Slaps fired. Handbags at dawn. All the usual crap that comes from these idiots drinking their benefit payments away whilst the kids sit screaming in another room.

So, not for the first time since living here …

Hell, not even the first time this week. I had my daughter on Tuesday night and had to go out and “break up” a fight in the stairs outside my apartment at 9.30. She had only gone to bed at 9pm, but pretended to be asleep when I went to check on her afterwards.

Not a skill, or strategy, I would like my 11 year old girl to have in her “coping mechanism” basket.

So, not for the first time since living here there was an instance of me having to wake and fail to return to void space that is usually dreamless sleep.

Since being awake, I thought it a good idea to put on a DVD. Unfortunately the DVD recommended to me by the old skin gang guy from a block by the zoo was SPUN.spun

Although entirely enjoyable, not 100% sure any half decent psych’ would recommend this course of action.

Admitting that drugs are good and without them I would be in jail, institution or death… Admitting I am useless and handing it all over to a higher power. Hell, forget the drug scenes. They got me going.

Where there is drugs, there is, surely, sex and rocknroll.

Finally dozed off after movie about 5am. Woke at 7. Feel like a hit. 

 

I am a real brother.

KATEAlthough currently listening to BROTHERHOOD OF MAN by MOTORHEAD quite loud at 8am in my block of flats, I feel this is somewhat tame.

Today is the deathday of my sister, Kate. Her birthday is later this year.

Dug up this graphic I did for the cover of the memorial service prints. Also did the inside, the back, the inserts. But, this graffix will suffice for these crappily written and ill thought pages.

You can see the house we grew up in behind the beach. You can see my car (most importantly, of course) too.

We had some good times on this beach.

I am a real brother.

Life was starting to take a new turn before Kate came back from the U.K weighing something like 35kg (she should have been 60 I would say). Kate ran, she biked, she walked, she sailed, she toured the world.

She is scattered in New Zealand.

Gabor Maté once corrected me when I suggested us ADhD types had “SHATTERED MINDS”. He was quick to point out the differences between SHATTERED and SCATTERED.

Kate is shattered.

I am attempting to spend the day SANS-SHATTERED myself.

Football training last night did my head in. Pulling my hair out. Twenty boisterous ten year olds to control. Is it wrong to diagnose ADHD, ANXIETY and other personality disorders whilst coaching your teams? I think not. WHY DO I HAVE TWENTY KIDS TO LOOK AFTER WHEN I HAVE TROUBLE WITH MY OWN ONE TEAM ANYWAY?!!! I got annoyed. I could not get them to listen for fourty five minutes. Finally they started getting it. One group of kids (my daughter was in this group)  started doing it properly almost straight away. The worst listeners… Well… The drill was to only kick the ball twice and PASS. The worst listeners were still dribbling the ball (one kid kicked 17 times!) AFTER TWENTY MINUTES. The worst listeners got their football taken off them… I then kicked the football as far as my back allows (about 60 metres) and they had to run and get it. If they did not run there and back, I would take it off them and kick it just as far the other direction. 

Something to be said for military style ADHD interventions.

Any Comments Gabor? Am sure my spiritual advisor would kick my arse. With a potentially penetrating appendage on her toes.

This took away my happy mojo. Went to a social gathering, did not see anyone I recognised immediately, so turned and left. Was only there thirty seconds. If that.

Guess I am a real brother.

Guess I do have some stress around my sisters death.

Guess I am okay.

Guess life and time changes.

Guess I am healing.

Guess I am recovering.

 

LORDE IS NOT ON DRUGS. But the guy who bet her at the teenage talent quest is…

LORDE IS NOT ON DRUGS.  But the guy who bet her at the teenage talent quest is…

But, then again – Isn’t everyone? FOURTY PERCENT of New Zealand houses test positive for crystal meth’ contamination. FOURTY PERCENT.

Maybe they should start testing the remaining SIXTY PERCENT for traces of needle use…..

Not an official image, just something I did when bored going through opiate withdrawal....

** USE NEEDLES **
** STOP CONTAMINATING YOUR HOUSES **
Dumbarses

Lorde is not on drugs.

She suffered a bit of normal human burnout and postponed her tour. She did not end up face down in the toilet after using some dodgy Australian smack. I promise.

But this guy, who won the teenage music talent competition ahead of Lorde, is…jesse

Yes folks, this guy – 17-year-old Jesse Murray – is on drugs. He admits it, he is trying to do something about it. And to get any proper help he has to race off to the media. This is sad. Most people don’t want to go to the media.

BRING BACK THE STIGMA.

If we did not have a huge recovery industry that makes people think “recovery is possible” then a lot of people would not have nice European sports cars and gold watches with diamonds in the middle. Recovery pays some people very well.

I know I have been harping on about this for some time, but we need more of a HARM REDUCTION and SOCIAL CHANGE policy.

RECOVERY has just been added to the U.N charter on drugs (which, rather than the Americans “WAR ON DRUGS” is brilliant, but still thirty years behind the original 1970’s NZ Government report on drug rehab policy!)

Sorry Jesse, your story is annoyingly similar, sad and sympathy inducing. It is annoyingly the same as tens of thousands of other New Zealanders. I hope Campbell Live, TV3 and the country watch as you fail to give up.

I hope we see all the sweating. All the jumping around out of your brain. The self harm. The stress.

I hope we see all this.

But we won’t.

For you have got something most of us don’t – Help from people with empathy. People whom may edit your withdrawal down to thirty second sound bytes. 

I really hope you fail and stay on the drugs.

If you get clean now, in front of a million followers, all you are doing is showing young people that is okay to get totally fucked up. They, too, can join the recovery industry.

I am just jealous. I have no gold watch.

While most looked forward to Easter and having time off, those addicted to synthetic cannabis were dreading it, and shops being shut bring on a whole new meaning of needing a legal high fix.

Footage emerged over the weekend of a queue outside a legal high store in Palmerston North – filmed just before midnight on Good Friday and posted to the Campbell Live Facebook page. The footage shows a large queue of people, desperate to buy legal highs.

Campbell Live reporter Sarah Stewart checked in on 17-year-old Jesse Murray, who has been battling his addiction to synthetic cannabis. He is home with his family after weeks sleeping rough, but still needs to smoke a joint before breakfast every day.

A drum kit is the only thing Jesse owns, as he’s sold everything he can get his hands on to fund his synthetic cannabis habit, and now he’s home, his four younger siblings are wary.

Jesse tried to quit after his mum found him, but after suffering severe withdrawal symptoms he went to A&E for the 14th time.

His mother Erika Perkinson says that after doing 30 hours without synthetics they were told he’d need to reuse before he went into detox so they can see how the chemicals alter the way his body functions.

The hospital can’t comment on Jesse’s case but says that would not be standard advice.

Associate Health Minister Peter Dunne spoke to John Campbell on why help is so hard to find for addicts like Jesse.

Read more: http://www.3news.co.nz/Update-on-Jesse—where-is-the-help-for-addicts/tabid/817/articleID/341079/Default.aspx#ixzz2zkMZFQVG

 

N.A. Mental Health Ward meeting….

As discussed previously, and I know you all read this blog with avid interest and forget nothing, I really like doing the Narcotics Anonymous meeting at the local “lock-down” inpatients mental health ward at Wellington Hospital. It is not for me. It is not for N.A.

It is for the people in the ward.

The patients benefit. Directly. 

They meet me, and others, and relate to our stories. I’ve become quite good at being able to judge certain bits of my story to suit the level of problems and understanding of the people sitting in the meeting. Usually I have fifteen minutes or more of chit chat. Even with my ADHD, the key points of what makes people tick are remembered in my somewhat confused short term memory. 

I guarantee them that ANONYMOUS is a true thing and that what is said in the room, stays in the room. This is easy for me. As I truly forget peoples names and faces so quickly that many think it rudeness personified when their happy greetings are not returned in the street a month later. “HEY NZFIEND” is shouted, said, waved. And me…? I say “Hello” like they are my best friend. But don’t honestly remember much. This is good in most instances. New Zealand is small. And meeting people in the meeting whom are fathers, lovers or otherwise associated with people whom live in the same block as me… Or ex gang patch members whom once had fights with me over pissing in the gang pads hallway after sitting in the presidents seat…. Well. It is good not to acknowledge nor give time to this side of my life when dealing with these people outside the meeting. Inside the meeting it is all me relating and sharing my own problems so they can see that N.A meetings are full of people that appear different at first, but are the same in the end… This gets rid of some blocks to their involvement in recovery processes and even brings some of them to meetings once back in the public domain.

But, NZFIEND. This post is boring. Even for you. WHERE IS THE DRAMA?

The drama is that, although the meetings do good for the people in the ward, and ultimately spread the message of N.A, some old timers of N.A say that the meetings are not following the N.A structured format and that the N.A message is not carried strongly enough.

I say that MsT and myself have put a lot of effort into making this format more suitable to the level of concentration and the particular needs of the inpatients. I say that we have done well. I say the meeting structure works better than a rigid N.A one. Most of the time anyway.

Peoples attention spans vary. You have to be fluid.

If half the room erupts with applause when you say “GOD” and the other half starts reciting passages from the bible with deadly accuracy (but somewhat confusing logic) that “prove” GOD is Satan, GOD is crap, or GOD wants to KILL US ALL…….. Well… I spent a long night or two re-writing some literature as to avoid “GOD” a little. Honestly, it has saved a lot of pointless and repetitive discussion about something that requires more than thirty seconds attention span. 

The meetings work. People there are genuinely happy to talk. But less happy once the “real” meeting starts. They wander off. Little do they realise they have the seeds planted in them before the meeting even started. They now know N.A is full of people, like me, whom are open and honest about our issues and problems. AND THAT THERE ARE MEETINGS EVERYWHERE WITH MORE PEOPLE LIKE US.

I am not going to ram N.A down their throats until their assholes bleed. If they come to a meeting or the staff contact me to talk further, then it is up to them to engage with the programme.

I see my role as putting a friendly, understanding face to the NARCOTICS ANONYMOUS BRAND. Most of the patients hate the idea of NARCOTICS. They use “P”, Crystal Meth, Pot, Cannabis, Alcohol and XTC. THEY DO NOT USE NARCOTICS!

This can be a big hurdle. The staff nurses are not really that motivated on this front. If I walk around the ward I talk to everyone and convince them it is about “DRUGS” including alcohol. They then come happily.

So, for NOT HAVING A MEETING STRUCTURE (that doesn’t work) and for NOT HAVING N.A LITERATURE RAMMED UP THEIR BUMS, the patients will lose this valuable resource.

N.A people want to can it.

Another reason given is “lack of support from other N.A people”. I say – WHO THE HELL CARES? I actually do better than them anyway. The guys with ten years clean time just bore these inpatients to tears with their long tales of recovery. I actually get CLAPS from people for making seven months! Ten years is possibly totally irrelevant to the newly medicated mental health client.

So. If it is canned, I may just start “DRUGS ANONYMOUS” and do the same thing. Without reading the (C)opyright twelve steps or their prop-up-o-gander of course. But I will encourage them to go to N.A meetings.

But then I will also be able to encourage harm reduction strategies and alternative treatments. Even I, as a N.A representative, know my place. Even I will not advocate other stuff at an N.A meeting.

Beat that. Maybe this shows that fourty years on this planet is not entirely wasted.

And it is my daughters tenth birthday tomorrow. I have her for the day following. 

The drug testing place put $800 in my account. Don’t know why so small, or so much. Must check email one day soon. 

But what I do know is that I am not spending $800 on getting wasted in any way, shape or form.

This is, itself, something to be proud of.

PS – 

Was a little confused as to why the head staff there were under the impression the meetings had been stopped. We alternate every Tuesday with A.A.

I was surprised when they told me A.A did not show up last week.

But then it all became clear later in the week when talking to spiritual advisor and other mental health workers in Wellington.

The RIGID and REGULATED and RESTRICTIVE meetings that A.A hold have had complaints about them. These complaints were not taken seriously at first, but they have gone up to senior hospital management via various means. I know what the complaints are, and how they effected the support workers and peer buddy systems in helping with their addicted clientèle. All that can be said here is that MsT and I are on the right path.

N.A may not be.

A.A definitely isn’t.