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| All kids love candy, even fight to eat it |
The United States war on drugs is like trying to close a candy store in a town where, as far as
you can see, there are kids with sweet tooths (or sweet-teeth) and money to
spend.
It starts out slow, maybe a trickle of kids, then a steady flow, and before anyone knows it, there are lines of kids waiting outside the candy store. To keep up with the demand, the candy store owner has candy manufacturers sending in truckloads of candy. Kids from
outside the area start coming in to buy candy, so the candy store owner opens another candy store, then another. When the trucks aren't enough, he hires pilots to fly in gobs of the sweet stuff, hard
candy, soft candy, all sorts of candy, and not everyone is happy about it
Parents start complaining about stains on the furniture and gooey fingerprints on the bedframes and walls. The there are the cavities
and high dentist bills; though, the local dentists are delighted and so is the
local bank holding all the profits coming in from the candy store, at a pretty good interest rate, even knowing it comes at the expense of kids' health.
The kids break out in pimples. Their
teeth begin to show signs of rotting. Some teeth need to be pulled to prevent decay. The kids can’t stop eating sumptuous candy. One dentist says, “Don’t worry about it. It’s
just their baby teeth,” so they keep eating it, as do the older
kids, and even a few adults, especially the sweeter, more expensive dark chocolate almond
clusters.
Eating candy turns into an epidemic. The kids hide the candy in their desks at school and under their beds at home. They can’t stop eating the delicious treats. Bad skin and tooth decay spread. There is a run of bridges to hold together the molars.
Diabetes increases, but nobody will listen to the doctors’ warnings about heart,
kidney, and liver damage, neuropathy, gangrene, and premature loss of arms and legs.
In a show of solidarity with the disgruntled parents, the mayor and
town council decide to close the main candy store, the one that started it all,
but it’s too late. The store has started to branch out, and many local businesses depend on its
revenue. Financially, it's a windfall, but the mayor doesn't see it that way. He and those who oppose the sweet scourge, recognize it as a public nuisance. The town council drafts a bill to stop the madness. Kids leave wrappers all on the streets and sidewalks, gumming up the curbs and drains. The police start clamping down on kids who've put up tents outside the candy stores, wanting to be the first ones in each morning. The cops call in reinforcements. The kids come from everywhere.
By this time,
though, the candy store owner has opened so many stores in other towns and
hired scores of employees, not even the mayor and council can keep up. “They (the kids)
just keep coming,” says the store owner to a friend. To avoid paying taxes, the
wily entrepreneur starts selling candy from, what people call, “Sweet Houses,” illegal locations where kids can go without even telling their parents. A few cents can get them a hit of a big lollipop. Chefs and housewives good
at cooking begin googling “Candy Making,” and start bootlegging their own
special brands of candy, even sweeter, and cheaper, than those in the stores. They hire kids hooked on candy to finds dark street corners when they can sell the stuff, heavily discounted.
The candy store
owner knows he’s lost control of the candy business, and “Sweet Houses” begin to pop up everywhere, in
different neighborhoods, among wealthy and poor kids, and out in the countryside, as more and more kids gobble up the candy. The candy manufacturers, the store owner, the banks, and local
businesses don’t complain, as business booms, pulling in kids hungry for candy from other towns
and counties.
Everyone just ignores laws banning candy, but to show they're tough, the council passes more laws. In response, the manufacturers,
candy store owners, and many businesses, fearing a loss of revenue, buy campaign
adds accusing the politicians of all sorts of white-collar crimes, and the citizens vote in a new mayor and
council, more accommodating to the candy business. Of course, all of this is
done under the table, so nobody sees the money pass from hand to hand.
Sick of the entire scam, as well as the cavities and increase in diabetes, activist and parents speak out in the media. Angry with the coverage, hundreds of kids surround the offices and homes of those complaining and begin pelting them with eggs and toilet-papering their
houses.
The police step
in and start chasing the kids away. To keep order, the cops decide to close a few candy stores, but no
matter how many stores they close, more open. Then, the police realize they can
never close them all, so they begin to work strategically, closing the smaller
candy stores, at least to make it look like they’re attacking the problem, but, suspiciously,
they allow the larger stores to continue selling candy to the kids. Some stores accuse other stores of stealing their customers. Fights break out. Stores form conglomerates and claim ownership over certain territories. Someone burns one store to the ground. The kids don't care, as long as they have a supply of candy.
Somehow, the kids
get the money, not only to keep buying candy, but to buy endless supplies of
eggs, toilet paper, and brown paper bags to harass anybody who is anti-candy. They
begin assaulting the police officer’s homes, egging their cars, toilet-papering
their yards and houses, lighting fire to poop-filled brown paper bags they
leave on the porches. They, ring doorbells, at all hours, then run away,
all after dark when no one can see and the cameras can’t catch them. It’s the
police against mobs of angry kids, their “sweet teeth” out of control, and even
the parents realize they’ve lost their own kids. It’s a candy bonanza, and the need for candy spreads far and wide.
Parents and concerned citizens
are calling the governor’s office to complain. To make a long story short, the
governor calls meetings, does studies, and decides to pour money into the
coffers of the local governments and police precincts to fight the candy curse. Suddenly, a new,
state-of-the-art police headquarters pops up over the old one, a new fleet of
police cars in the parking lot, military-like uniforms and equipment. The chief and his officers receive a hefty pay
raise, not counting the thick envelopes left in their mailboxes after dark, but the candy
keeps flowing.
One cop makes a
suggestion to the chief telling him that since the kids are making the demands,
the police should make friends with the more outrageous youngsters, the leaders,
to get them, if nothing else, to stop all the chaos, the toilet-papering, dog-poop bags on porches, and whatnot.
So, they invite the
kids to their own kids’ birthday parties, bar mitzvas, confirmations, and the
like. They strike some kind of deal. The kids promise no chaos if the stores remain open. The police, clearly outmanned and outgunned,
turn a blind eye but act like their fighting the candy wars. A few cops are seen driving around in new Subaru SUVs, and one
in a BMW. The mayor builds himself a new house and sends his kids to elite private schools, where no one seems to mind that kids eat candy openly.
For the officers
who refuse to accept the envelopes, the harassment continues, even to the point
of endangering their families. One flaming brown paper poop-filled bag ignites a plant near the porch, and if not for quick acting by the cop, might have lost his house. The officer can take it no longer. He tells
his friends he’s going to “blow the whistle,” and “name names,” not unlike a New York cop named Frank Serpico, a few years back, who had to move to Denmark or Sweden, or one of those places, to escape threats on his life.
That night the officer receives a visit from large group, kids of all sizes and ages, dressed in black, hoodies covering
their eyes. Nobody knows what was said. It was clear, though, soon after, the officer and his family vacated their home and never returned, as the candy business thrives, as do
all the businesses in town, the bowling alleys filled every weekend, and more and more kids, younger and younger, start in
on the candy frenzy.
The local towns
receive new courthouses and municipal buildings, some get new aquatic centers and
new Little League complexes, complete with fresh grass infields, announcers’
booths, and digital scoreboards. When it all reaches the state government, again, the governor sends in the state police, who swoop in and start attacking and closing illegal candy makers and stores, arresting the owners and filling the jails. Someone in the governor's office suggests sending in drones to blow up the candy trucks making round the clock deliveries, but someone else argues that might be unconstitutional, besides attracting too much publicity.
Finally, the governor sends in the lieutenant governor who arrives, backed by parents and a few cops, to question one influential candy store owner, the head of a candy conglomerate, with a
threat to close him and his associates down, with violence if necessary. The owner responds, "All I can say is, you can close
me down, close us all down, even lock us up, lock up our truck drivers and pilots, but as long as your kids keep consuming candy, whether I'm here or not, some else is going to supply them with candy, so," and here he took the lieutenant governor to one side, "either you play ball or it may be your house next,” and he handed the politician a manila envelope, even heavier than all the others. "This one's for you and the governor, and there's plenty more where that came from."
