A month or so ago, I went to five different stores before finding the type of cat food our cats liked. My wife searches the grocery store for canned soup that I enjoy. A colleague I know who loves ball games and hot wings complains bitterly about the lack of chicken wings in our local markets.
TV says the supply chain is down.
Meanwhile, heroin (and its bustling cousin fentanyl) is still available throughout the urban neighborhood. I never thought there would come a time when buying cocaine would be easier than buying tuna and cheese cat food.
I must admit that Assassins are much more cooperative than cats. If it was white and powdery, then addicts would at least try to shoot their veins. On the other hand, cats will not eat something just because it is cat food.
However, you have to admire the illegal drug trade.
Almost everything I eat or drink tastes worse or becomes more expensive than it did in 1980. On the other hand, illegal drugs are much more effective and less expensive than they were in 1980.
Off the Port of Los Angeles, container ships full of microchips, Christmas decorations, auto parts, and other things we need rock gently at anchor while, on the shore, an anthill stumbles from inactivity and stumbles trying to get things ashore and into trucks.
Fentanyl made in China and heroin made from Afghan poppy are not stacked anywhere. It flows into the country like water through a fast mountain stream. No jams. No increase in price. There is no limit to the number of bags you can buy. Which pandemic? Business as usual!
The entire illegal drug industry is a tribute to how well business is doing without any regulation at all, a fact that should make my liberal friends happy because it proves that business is done better without interference.
Of course, the illegal drug trade often produces products that are actually toxic, but their customers keep buying anyway because they are addicted. There are no regulations, and customers who can’t stop buying is the dream of every industry in the world.
So it’s a modest but very crazy proposition.
America has prisons full of people who know how to move the product. Let a few of them out and make them responsible for serving cat food to customers. And chicken wings. And canned soup.
Don’t let them make things because it will poison you and your cats, just put them in charge of shipping and distribution.
“Okay, my friend,” the government says to imprisoned drug traffickers. “If you could figure out how to bring thousands of cat food to Walmarts in Nebraska, we’d forget about life in prison.”
The convict replies: “I will kill some people.”
The government answers: “No problem.” “We kill people all the time. Ask the Iraqis.”
Nebraska will be buried in canned soup, chicken wings and cat food in two weeks.
Former drug kingpins would love to live as legitimate CEOs of huge distribution companies. The pay is almost the same as drug smuggling. You can still drive a Mercedes, you’ll never get killed, you don’t go to jail and you still don’t pay taxes. There is also a full pension and medical benefits, which is a rarity in the heroin import world.
All they really have to do is make more conservative wardrobe choices, cover up tattoos and improve their grammar. In a couple of months, they will integrate into any political fundraiser in America. Some of them are already familiar with political donations, and there isn’t much difference between giving a candidate a check and handing a paper bag full of cash.
Remember that it is not criminal behavior unless it is against the law.
To learn more about Marc Munroe Dion, and read features made by other writers and cartoonists from the Creators Guild, visit www.creators.com. Dion’s latest book, a compilation of his best columns, is titled “Devil’s Elbow: Dancing in America’s Ashes.” It is available in paperback from Amazon.com and for Nook, Kindle, and iBooks devices.