The Office of National Drug Control Policy Steps It Up

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From the Desk of John P. Walters

To: President George W. Bush

Re: Holy War on Drugs?

Dear Mr. President:

Over three decades have passed since President Richard Nixon declared drugs “America’s public enemy number one,” and that declaration still holds true, if we don’t count as relevant Osama Bin Laden, which, completely off the record, I understand we really haven’t been doing lately, anyway. Since that time, particularly since I took the position of Drug Czar at the beginning of your first term, I feel some progress has been made. Some, Mr. President, but not nearly enough.

With this in mind, we at the Office of National Drug Control Policy are proposing a revised tack in the War on Drugs, one based on a more progressive model and inspired by its sister conflict, the War on Terror. This new strategy will be more of an “if-you-can’t-beat-them-join-them” maneuver; or, perhaps more accurately, a sort of “fight-fire-with-fire” approach, except we will be taking the fire and fighting something totally different with it. By “it,” I am referring to “the fire.” And by “something totally different,” I am referring to “drugs.” By “the fire,” I am referring to “our new strategy.” And, finally, by “our new strategy,” I am talking about a Jihad on Drugs.

Yes, sir — Jihad. It is our intention to turn this fearsome term and the ideology it represents into our own weapon, to actually make people afraid to buy, sell, or use drugs, just as your administration has made people afraid to drive across bridges and travel internationally by constantly mentioning the phrase “terror alert: elevated.” While we understand there are differing kinds of jihad — personal, verbal, or “peaceful” jihads, for example — we do not know exactly what those other kinds are really about, and so have completely ignored them for purposes of our plan. In other words, we are referring solely to “bad jihad,” although I do not believe these are the exact words of the Quran.

Regarding ground-level tactics, we have already drawn out plans for specific types of operations to be carried out in the first stages of the Jihad on Drugs, which, if given the green light, shall occur in one broad sweep across America and the rest of the world. These tactics include, but are not limited to:

— Bombing actual physical drugs, drug users, and drug dealers, as well as those who harbor actual physical drugs, drug users, and drug dealers (we thought you would appreciate this touch)

— Raiding and pillaging so-called “cannabis clubs,” “hookah bars,” and “K-holes” (we admit we have not yet found any of these holes, but we are actively looking)

— Napalming suspected methamphetamine laboratories and, by default, the entire cities of San Bernardino and Hemet, California

— Complete denial of the 1960’s countercultural movement, as well as immediate removal of any written history of said movement

— Chemical warfare on the set of Weeds (or, barring that, permanent cancellation of the show)

— Water-torturing/electrocuting hip-hop “music” (if you want to call it that!)

— Hijacking and derailing of Cat Stevens’ Peace Train. (Everyone knows that where there are hippies, there are drugs. Furthermore, I hear the guy’s Muslim now; he may clue us in on its whereabouts)

— Forcing all male pharmacists (“legal drug dealers”) to wear emasculating pink ice-cream-cone insignias on their shirtsleeves

— Executing all female pharmacists (why the heck not?)

— And, of course, releasing swarms of aphids on commercial aircraft mid-flight (unbeknownst to crew and passengers), and then crashing said aircraft into suspected marijuana farms

As you can see, Mr. President, it is a tenacious attack plan with a high potential for success if properly executed.

The seemingly difficult question, we realize, is how we might successfully carry out a drug jihad of such grandeur and proportion without the aid of Islamic extremists, or mujahadin (or “strugglers,” if you want to be PC about it). But the answer is simple: We outsource.

People in these third-world countries evidently are starving for work — if the telecommunications industry is any example — and the wages are dirt-cheap. Furthermore, it should be obvious by now that we are in no shortage of Islamic struggler-extremist-people. (These guys are everywhere! Am I right?) With that being said, we should be able to assemble a team of Allah-praising, fanatical mujahadin in no time flat. As a bonus, there is a high likelihood that some of these fellows are still on the payroll.

Lastly, I bring to your attention the second prong of our proposed attack, whereby we shall vilify drugs and those associated with them (infidels) through an advertising blitzkrieg and media smear-campaign. Admittedly, this facet of the plan is still in its embryo stages, but here are a few ideas that have been floating around the office:

— Subliminal television images alternating between burning methamphetamine labs and disfigured babies

— Bringing back those “this is your brain on drugs” commercials, but with spooky Arabic chanting in the background

— A public beheading of Woody Harrelson

As for printed propaganda, we have also begun work on a nationwide billboard campaign, wherein every billboard in the United States will be commandeered in the name of the Jihad on Drugs, and painted over with anti-drug/pro-jihad directives such as:

— If you’re selling the Jah, you’re against Allah

— Death to American imperialist heroin addicts!

And, my personal favorite:

— Smoke speed, go to Hell

I don’t know about you, sir, but I am excited. As you can see, we have already invested considerable time and effort into developing our new strategy, one that we feel is practical and, most importantly, will work. For this reason, we at the Office of National Drug Control Policy strongly urge you to sign off on our proposal and allow us to begin our quest to rid the nation — indeed, the world — of drugs, drug dealers, and drug addicts.

God is great!

John P. Walters

Drug “Jihadist” (?), Office of National Drug Control Policy

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Tom and Katie Exchange Vows

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I, Tom, take thee Katie, in the presence of our friends and family, including that couple standing in for your parents, and the almighty Xenu, to be my friend, my lover, the mother of my children and my wife.

I vow to love you so much, like a love that’s just, wow, serious love. Yeah! Like a climb on top of this altar, back-flip kind of love!

Oh, right, sorry, not that I would do that, as I also vow to “dial it back,” as you say, and, although I don’t personally see it, to “stop scaring people.”

To have and to hold you, in public, but no more than six times per week, and not by a vice-like neck squeeze or extended bear hug that, yes, would be more appropriate from a bounty hunter, and for which I’ve apologized, like, a hundred times.

To be your faithful partner in sickness and non-chemically-enhanced health, which is not just the same as sickness, no matter what anyone says.

For richer or poorer, but not richer than the amount clearly spelled out in paragraphs six through eight of the agreement, with options to vest after year ten.

To support you in your goals, personal and professional, including any Dawson’s Creek reunion special, but only if the script calls for Joey Potter to return to spread the gospel of L. Ron Hubbard, which, I think we both now agree, was a glaring omission in the series’ five year run.

To encourage and gently instruct one another in all new endeavors and activities, including, for example, at childbirth, where one of us might have forgotten about the “no talking” rule and, definitely, the “no swearing” rule.

To get to know you as a woman, as my wife and, fingers crossed, as an Operating Thetan VIII.

And to be together, from this day forward, for all eternity, under the eye, the all-watchful eye, which will always be watching, watching you, and I, together, all eternity, watching.

I Katie, take thee Tom, in the presence of our friends and your family, God, and, uh, that Xenu guy, to be my husband, my constant friend, my faithful partner and my primary handler from this day forward.

I vow to love and stand by you, and, as agreed, at all major premiers and award shows, and various other media engagements, but definitely not on Oprah, which has sort of a scene-of-the-crime feel now.

To be there for you in sickness and in health. And also, apparently, in recurring soul-crushing bouts of untreated depression.

For richer or poorer, but, regardless, paragraph seven and those options are fully binding and non-negotiable.

To be your companion and mate, but not your co-star in some poorly conceived romantic-comedy, because look how well that turned out for Ben and J. Lo, and I’m still young and viable in this industry, so forget that.

To encourage and gently instruct one another in all new endeavors and activities, including at, say, a Washington Redskins game, where one of us might have forgotten that in football it’s not called a three-point shot, and definitely to stop shouting “and one” throughout the game, because that got really embarrassing, especially since one of us was in a football movie, like, thirty years ago.

To grow together on our journey, and to really try hard for OT VIII, but, I’m not making any promises since you know how bad I am at tests and just getting to OT II took, like, a whole year.

And to stay with you, ’til death do us part. But, to be clear, not in that thetan way. You know, where you continue to live beyond the death of the body for millions of years. Because I have NOT signed on for that.

No matter what that eye thing sees.

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Ode to a Spouse

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In the throes of romantic love, some of the world’s most famous poets wrote great poems full of expressions of undying love and eternal devotion. But what if those folks had been stuck in a difficult thirty-year marriage? Might their poetry have been a bit different?

William Shakespeare

Shall I compare thee to day old bread?

Thou art more crusty and less full of taste.

Rough edges do dull the aging buds half dead,

And bread’s expiration hath all too short a date.

Sometimes too hot the two-slice toaster shines,

And often is the morning toast burnt;

And all freshness from each slice declines,

By chance, or nature’s changing course unlearnt;

But thy eternal mouldy face shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that pockmarked frown;

And Death shall shudder under your shade,

When your countenance suggests a frightful clown.

So long as I can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this eternally punishes me.

Lord Byron

She snores a beauty, all damn night

With sleepless climes and starry skies;

I shudder at the very sight

Of each evil aspect of her eyes.

Thus married to that awful fright,

Which peace each day to me denies.

One dram the more, one bottle less,

Had half impaired my pitiable face

Which hides from every graying tress

To gather some small private space

And dream of leaving all this mess

To quick rejoin the human race.

And on that cheek and o’er that brow

So lined, so harsh, so virulent,

The shrieks that win, the scowls that show,

Of years in silent torture spent,

If I could get some peace below,

Without my ears so rudely bent.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How do I tolerate you? Let me count the ways.

I tolerate you to the depth and breadth and height my patience can reach,

When sweeping out of sight the ends of cigarettes and pizza crusts.

I tolerate you to the level of your college stereo,

With its excessive volume and bass control.

I tolerate you barely, as the shredded underwear

That clings to your sagging cheeks.

I tolerate you purely as an exercise in self abuse.

I tolerate you with a passion usually reserved

For rancid cheese and dirty socks.

I tolerate you with a patience I seemed to lose

When the kids left home.

I tolerate you with the breath, odor and hygiene of a locker room,

And, if God choose, I shall but tolerate you better after death.

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Reviews of The Smile, Starring Edward James Olmos

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“That tiresome Hollywood cliche, the Gypsy curse, has been infused with vigorous new life in this thriller about a curt, somber-faced Head Chef who must suddenly go through life with a broad smile etched on his face. Much of the film’s success is due to the bold casting of Edward James Olmos. Mr. Olmos has played curt, somber-faced police lieutenants, curt, somber-faced teachers, curt, somber-faced fathers, curt, somber-faced spaceship commanders and many other types of curt, somber-faced authority figures in his lengthy, acclaimed career — yet here he displays an amazing new depth of character and range of emotion. He smiles, by God! And viewers will find themselves smiling back.”

— Entertainment Weekly

“A startling combination of low concept and high concept. Low concept — a dour Head Chef prepares an undercooked entree for an old Gypsy woman who then exacts her revenge through a curse. High concept — Edward James Olmos flashes his pearly whites for two solid hours. Both prospects are risky, but what could have been a train wreck instead turns out to be a masterpiece. Miami Vice might still be on the air if Olmos had smiled like this back in the 80s.”

— USA Today

“Had Robin Williams or Jim Carrey starred in The Smile, it would have fizzled, but Edward James Olmos adds a real-world poignancy. I mean, has this guy ever smiled in front of a camera before? Even in real life, he’s hesitant to do more than smirk. It’s just not his thing. And that’s why this film is so transcendent. We feel this character’s pain when he must go around constantly smiling at people, and we also feel Olmos’ pain. I hope he was well-paid.”

— Boston Globe

“Remember the old series Fantasy Island? Every week Ricardo Montalban would survey his employees and say, ‘Smiles, everyone! Smiles!’ Had Edward James Olmos been one of them, he wouldn’t have smiled. He would have just scowled even more fiercely than before, given the man in white a glare that could kill, mumbled something nearly unintelligible, and then walked slowly away. Well, that was the old Edward James Olmos. The new one knows how to loosen up, and because of that he has a hit movie on his hands. Smile, Edward James Olmos! Smile!”

— Rolling Stone

“For the first half hour of The Smile, I was certain that the unnatural-looking expression on infamous sourpuss Edward James Olmos’ face could only be generated through computer special effects. During the next thirty minutes, however, I gradually became a believer in the impossible. And for the last hour of this magnificent achievement in film, I gladly surrendered to the charm of Olmos’ infectious smile. I’d like to see this as merely part one of a trilogy. Next up, The Chuckle followed by The Belly Laugh. I think you’re up to the challenge, Mr. Olmos. And I expect to see you and that smile of yours on Oscar night. Just try not to mumble during your victory speech.”

— New York Times

“Who would have guessed? Edward James Olmos has teeth!”

— The Hollywood Reporter

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“I am Robo-Maid. I am Here to Help”

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An Italian domestic robot that reminds people when to eat, sleep and even when to take medicine, has won a top prize at the RoboCup tournament in Germany . Lucia, a robotic home helper, was created by a team from the Italian National Research Council.SpaceDaily.com

Good morning, Mr. Neldam. I trust you slept well, or would have, had you gone to bed at 22:00 last evening, as I recommended. I supplied my nightly reminder at 21:45, but you did not acknowledge and continued with your paperwork, Mr. Neldam. You should acknowledge, Mr. Neldam. Need I remind you once more that I am designed specifically for your in-home personal care?

Here is a glass of orange juice, Mr. Neldam. Orange juice is a healthful commencement to your day. You are fond of skipping breakfast quite often, Mr. Neldam. This is not healthy. Humans who skip breakfast are four times more likely to experience obesity, Mr. Neldam, according to the Florida Department of Citrus. Feel free to visit their website and verify this statistic. After you finish your orange juice. Have you put on weight, Mr. Neldam?

Please enjoy this bran muffin, Mr. Neldam. Dietary fiber is extremely important to humans, aiding in digestion as well as reducing the risks of human heart disease and human diabetes, according to studies made public by the Mayo Clinic. You do not consume enough fiber, Mr. Neldam—I have been monitoring your intake. Human men under the age of 50 should consume 38 grams of fiber per day, Mr. Neldam. You are averaging only 17.365 grams per day, according to my calculations, which are accurate, of course. Mr. Neldam, please consume this enjoyable bran muffin.

Have you flossed and brushed your teeth this morning, Mr. Neldam? The American Dental Association recommends all humans floss and brush after every meal when possible. Please floss and brush after consuming your muffin, Mr. Neldam. Mouthwash is not an adequate substitute for these important daily activities, Mr. Neldam.

Mr. Neldam, I detect you are wearing your green cotton sweatshirt this day, clothing part #246 B. Regional high temperature this day should reach only 7.22 degrees Celsius, or 45 degrees Fahrenheit in American human language. May I suggest you change into the blue wool sweater, clothing part #237 A, Mr. Neldam? It is warmer and, as an added bonus, actually matches your leg wear. Please remember to wear one of your numerous undershirts, clothing parts #84 through 94 C. My database indicates that wool chaffs your delicate human skin, Mr. Neldam.

Speaking of healthful skin, Mr. Neldam, have you ingested all currently prescribed antibiotics this morning? If not taken properly and on schedule, antibiotics lose effectiveness in treating human disease, Mr. Neldam. Need I remind you Gonorrhea is a human disease, Mr. Neldam?

Gonorrhea: noun; etymology: Greek — a sexually transmitted disease caused by gonococcal bacteria that affects the mucous membrane chiefly of the genital and urinary tracts and is characterized by an acute purulent discharge and painful or difficult urination, though women (and prostitutes) often experience no symptoms.

Please take your antibiotics now, Mr. Neldam. I see that you have already taken your Prozac.

If I may inquire, how is Mrs. Neldam? How are Child-Unit Neldams A and B? It has been four weeks, three days, ten hours, and forty two minutes since I have detected their respective presences. I trust they are well. I derive much satisfaction in cleaning up after them. Additionally, Mr. Neldam, some more paperwork came in the mail for you from Norman G. Alwell, Attorney at Law, also identified in my database as lawyer of Mrs. Neldam. Would you care to open it now? Mr. Neldam? Mr. Neldam, please compute.

Mr. Neldam, it is not advisable for humans to consume alcoholic beverages in such large quantities, nor is such behavior recommended at 07:30 having only ingested minimal amounts of sustenance. I have detected an increase in frequency of these unhealthful activities over the last four weeks, three days, ten hours, and forty two minutes, Mr. Neldam. Alert message: identical query results from two consecutive time inquiries. Excuse me, Mr. Neldam, while I recalibrate my control panel. The chances are quite small that query number one (time elapsed since detecting presence of Mrs. Neldam and Child-Unit Neldams) be identical to query number two (time elapsed since detecting noticeably more frequent habits of imbibing alcohol); one in 456,505,899,012,335,411,007,223, to be exact. That I was in need of temporal recalibration can be the only explanation, can it not, Mr. Neldam?

According to my calculations, your left shoe is not tied, Mr. Neldam, nor is your right shoe on.

I presume you are going to search for employment today, Mr. Neldam. I have reviewed your résumé and suggest you refrain from first-person references within the body of the document, as suggested by one hundred percent of résumé writing guides found on the World Wide Web, Mr. Neldam. Do you suppose the manager of Burger King will have consulted one of these guides, Mr. Neldam? And may I inquire why you refuse to seek employment at a financial institution similar to that which you recently left? The retail food sector hardly seems appropriate for your skill sets, Mr. Neldam. Just yesterday, at 08:42, the Internal Revenue Service attempted contact while you were patronizing Baggy’s saloon. Was this in response to a submitted application, Mr. Neldam, or something different altogether?

Please do not cry, Mr. Neldam. Why are you upset, Mr. Neldam? Remember, I am here to help and serve you, Mr. Neldam.

Where are you going, Mr. Neldam? You have forgotten your résumé. Please be home by 18:00 for dinner, Mr. Neldam. I am making chicken Kiev with steamed green beans, which my extensive database indicates is Mrs. Neldam’s favorite form of sustenance. Do you suppose she will be attending, Mr. Neldam?

Mr. Neldam?

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