“All I Need Is a Real Job”

"Everyone Only Wants Temps" | Mother Jones.

The future of all workers in the United States is exceedingly dim. Either you become a contractor or a temp, no matter what the job might be.

This is something most immigrants realize soon after getting here, no matter where they’re from. For them, the American Dream turns from being one of gaining full citizenship, to one of getting enough money to buy oneself a business back in the country of origin.

In the race to undo the gains earned by the union movements of the past two centuries, this country certainly tries to be Number 1.

Better someplace without smokers than one full of suicidal smokers

I watch and read quite the scandal about the anti-tobacco law project intended to stop the consumption of cigarettes inside of closed businesses. Noesh told me about a comment (left here, it’s the one by Ruy Feben) about applying the same principles to alcohol drinkers and people with AIDS.

The law is going to pass anyway, so why argue.

Where I made the connection is when I saw this article on The New York Magazine titled “This Is My Brain on Chantix”. In short, it’s the experience someone had when trying to use the drug known as Chantix(Varenicline) to stop smoking and caused him psychological issues. In addition to the ones someone else had who after taking the drug proceeded to attack his fiancee to the point she had to get a neighbor’s help and the neighbor, panicking, shot him with a firearm through the front door. If you didn’t read the article you can guess what the result was.

So now the law is not only protecting non-smokers from second hand smoke. It protects smokers from having to use a drug which might result being worse than the original condition. Let’s leave out the fact the drug underwent human testing with people of white race withouth a history of psychiatric patologies.

The most unsettling thing about sleeping on Chantix is that I never felt like I was truly asleep. Some part of me remained on guard. It was more like lucid dreaming, what I thought it might feel like to be hypnotized. And it didn’t entirely go away come morning. As I showered, shaved, and scrambled into clothes, I tried to shake a weird, paranoid sense that I’d just been psychically raped by a household appliance.

Just imagine… feel being raped by an clothes iron or a hairdryer. Or worse yet, a gangbang between the washer, the dryer and the dishwasher.

I joked to my friends that Chantix was the ultimate quit-smoking drug, because when you kill yourself, there’s no chance of relapse.

The words of Elizabeth McCullough, who also tried going through the treatment.

I see no problem in the law passing. I believe it a good thing I could get a pair of beers at a bar and leave without smelling like someone else’s smoke. Specially the benefit to the smoker of not having to use a drug with which the could be really Bad Times. A Cronenberg movie is to be watched, not to be lived. Or would you rather wake dream that microbus is after your ass?