A young Australian women stood shocked, today, as the new Prohibition robbed her of the best years of her life. It wasn't a drug addled junkie that brutalized this woman. It wasn't a "drug kingpin" who cost her everything. It was a judge. Her crime? I don't know. It is alleged that there were drugs the bag she checked, unlocked, hours before. She denies owning them, and suggests that perhaps a baggage handler used her as an unwitting mule. I'm well aware that everyone in prison is innocent if you ask them. But I'm a man, and whether hormonal or rational, my inclination is to believe her.
It could be true. Thanks to Prohibition II, a few of pounds of pot -- which would cost maybe $20 to cultivate -- is worth hundreds or thousands of dollars on the black market. I don't know exactly how much, I've been out of the loop lately. Perhaps you could ask your teenager?
Given the incredible profits, how hard would it be to get a job as a baggage handler in an airport, slip some pot into a tourist's bag, and have an accomplice at the destination airport retrieve it and send it on it's way? It's a risk, sure, but the Kennedy's didn't get all that money selling ginger ale. And how shocking is it, that sooner or later, the guy on the other end might drop the ball?
We do know that 15 Australians have been recently arrested for moving drugs into Sydney, where Schapelle Corby's plane stopped en-route from Brisbane to Bali. These arrests, according to the Australian Prime Minister, involved some Australian baggage handlers, though the reports I have read did not specify the details of the handlers' involvement. The Prime Minister seems to think it relevant, though, as he informed the Bali judge of it by letter. I can't draw any conclusions from here -- except that guilty or innocent, they can also be added to the collateral body count for the War to End All Freedom.
Just for a moment, let us put ourselves in Schapelle Corby's place. Imagine standing there, finally free of the plane, looking forward to your vacation. Imagine watching serenely as the customs agent starts to open your bag. Imagine your serenity turning to confusion as you see the plastic bags, with the green leaves inside, and think "Why the hell did I pack the spices? My hotel doesn't have a kitchen!". Imagine your confusion turning to horror as you realize what's happened ... And that what you thought would be a pleasant holiday is going to be the day that irrevocably changed your life. And your horror turning to rage and grief as you are robbed of your most precious gift: your freedom. I don't know if that's what happened to Schapelle Corby. But I do know it can happen to us. And I know that whether or not the weed was hers, she's more innocent than the politicians who have done this to her.
Of course if you're a politician, you don't have much to worry about. You can happily pass more and more draconian laws, knowing that you and your children are protected by your insiders' immunity, and that if you or they develop a drug problem, you'll at least have a chance to find a medical solution for a medical problem, and escape your own prescription for those who fail to live their lives as you dictate: degradation, dehumanization and despair. If you're a politician, just enjoy the bravery of being out of range.
But if your just an ordinary person, and the Just-Us system doesn't offer you professional courtesy, I've got some advice for you: Keep a low profile. Don't annoy the powers that be. And stay the hell out of Bali. Maybe here, we can cower behind the few remaining shreds of the Constitution, and be safe. Maybe.