Crystal Meth

Crystal meth: (Slang) methamphetamine in powder or crystalline form.

Everything that’s not a vitamin, mineral or nutrient seems to take the same journey of acceptance or rejection in our social structure.

You would think that over the years we would learn to change the format, but for some reason, it works as follows:

  1. Drug is discovered
  2. Drug is experimented with by individuals
  3. Drug is abused
  4. Drug creates addiction
  5. Rehabilitation is necessary
  6. Drug is banned or severely restricted
  7. Drug is considered for medical purposes

Now, does anyone else see a flaw in this process? Because whether you’re a deist or an atheist, you can still accept the fact that the Earth has a certain guarantee of being self-contained. In other words, the problems that abide normally have solutions on this planet if we will research and find the conclusions.

There is no mysterious cure for cancer waiting for us on the Planet Mars.

It’s here—we just haven’t found it yet. But one of the reasons we haven’t found it is that we continue to accept the word “recreational” and the word “drug” to be linked.

We are so obsessed with our own pleasure that we don’t take care of our pain.

Aside from being ridiculous, it ends up being dangerous.

Crystal meth is one of those procedures—a chemical reaction which has been revealed, and may, in the future, prove to be a healing agent, but in the interim, like morphine drugs, is being used to hurt people instead of heal them.

What would happen if we took everything the Earth has to offer and investigated how it could improve our health instead of wondering whether two hits of it will make us sufficiently loopy?

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C



https://jonathanrichardcring.substack.com/

Celebrity

Celebrity: (n) a famous person.

I remember the first time it happened.

I was sharing at a book conference about my latest release, and the announcer, in an attempt to beef up my credentials, told the splatter of
humans attending that I was “a celebrity.”

His exact wording was, “We are so pleased to have our next guest, who has achieved celebrity status.”

The oddness of his phrasing was further punctuated by a pitiful smattering of applause.

The introduction bothered me.

Since we live in a social structure which insists on honoring a social structure, ranging from famous people all the way down to “nobodies,” it seems difficult to breathe in a sense of self-esteem unless we are constantly touting our self-worth.

After all, we don’t want fifteen minutes of fame because we desire to be famous. Rather, we want to make sure we don’t end up being the guy or gal who never got it.

So at the end of my little lecture that morning, I opened the floor to questions, and a young boy about nine years of age raised his hand. I have learned over the years that allowing such a lad to offer a question can open the door to, “Does anybody really like your book?” or “How’d you get so fat?”

But I took the risk, acknowledged the kid, let him take the microphone and offer his inquiry. He was a pretty nice little guy. The only thing he wanted to know was, “Are you really famous? Because if you are, I want your autograph.”

There was a giggle in the room. I don’t know if they were giggling because he was so cute, or wondering why in the hell somebody would want my autograph.

So I asked my young friend, “Have you ever heard of me before?”

He frowned and shook his head.

I laughed and said, “Well, then I guess I’m not famous. I guess, like everybody else, I’m just a celebrity in my own mind.”

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