The War on Drugs Is Like Kids in a Candy Store

 

                                                                                    

                                                                                    

All kids love candy

     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 waiting outside. 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.

     Parents start complaining about cavities and high dentist bills; though, the local dentists are delighted and so is the local bank holding all the profits, 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 decay, some teeth even fall out or need to be pulled, but they can’t stop eating tasty 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 dark chocolate almond clusters. 

     It's an epidemic. They can’t stop eating the delicious treats, and everyone starts having tooth decay and other dental problems. There is a run of bridges to hold together the molars. Diabetes is on the rise, but nobody will listen to the doctors’ warnings about heart, kidney, and liver damage, neuropathy and loss of limbs.

     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 branched out, and many local businesses depend on its revenue. It's a windfall, but the mayor doesn't see it that way. He, and those who oppose it, calls it a public nuisance. The town council drafts laws to help stop the madness. Kids leave wrappers all on the streets and sidewalks. The police start harassing kids who've put up tents outside the candy stores, wanting to be the first ones in each morning. The cops call in reinforcements.

     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’t 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. 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.

     The candy store owner knows he’s lost control, and “Sweet Houses” begin to pop up everywhere, in different neighborhoods and out in the countryside, as more and more kids begin eating candy. The candy manufacturers, the store owner, the banks, and local businesses don’t complain, as business booms, pulling in kids from other towns and counties.   

     Everyone just ignores laws against the influx of candy, so the council passes more laws. In response, the manufacturers, candy store owners, and many businesses, fearing a loss of revenue, buy campaign adds during the next elections and get the citizens to vote in a new mayor and council, more accommodating to the candy business. Of course, all of this is done under the table, nobody seeing the money pass from hand to hand. For those courageous enough to speak up, hundreds of angry kids surround their offices and homes and begin pelting them with eggs and toilet-papering their houses.

     The police step in and start chasing the kids away. To keep order, they 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 “on the job,” but, suspiciously, they allow the larger stores to continue selling to the kids.

     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 attacking the police officer’s homes, egging their cars, toilet papering their yards and houses, lighting fire to brown paper bags filled with dog poop they leave on the porches, ringing their doorbells, at all hours, then running 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 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 police 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, and 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 to stop all the chaos, the toilet-papering 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. Without the chaos, as more kids crave candy, more candy store open, and the police, clearly outmanned and outgunned, turn a blind eye. A few cops are seen driving around in new Subaru SUVs, and one in a BMW.

     For the officers who refuse to accept the envelopes, the harassment continues, even to the point of endangering their families. When one officer can take it no longer, he tells his friends he’s going to “blow the whistle,” and “name names.”

     That night he receives a visit from large group of kids, dressed all in black, hoodies covering their eyes. The next night, the officer’s house has been eerily abandoned, he and his family never heard from again, but the candy business thrives, as do all the businesses in town, 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, state police swoop in and start attacking and closing illegal candy makers and stores, arresting the owners and filling the jails. 

     Finally, the lieutenant governor arrives to question one candy store owner, with a threat to close him down, the owner's response, "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 the kids keep buying and eating candy, somebody’s going to provide it, so either you play ball or it may be your house next,” and he hands the politician a manila envelope, even heavier than all the others. "This one's for you and the governor."