I abhor drugs. Never really cared for them. I tried marijuana once in college, and failed to understand what the big deal was. I have never devoted one cent of my income to the purchase of illegal drugs; call me a cheap bastard, but shelling out hundreds of dollars per gram of a substance sounds like a raw deal to me. My avoidance of drugs has brought me much financial and academic success in life. I have an advanced degree in engineering. I’ve never been arrested or convicted of any crime beyond a traffic ticket. I hold a respectable, high-paying job, replete with benefits. I have never conceived a child while inebriated, and can enjoy all of my post-tax income free from child support. I am on-track to retire or semi-retire in 15 years. I can take a drug test any time I want, without fear of failing (other than the chance of a false-positive). Since I never did drugs, partied, or consumed much alcohol in college (other than the one-evening flirtation with marijuana mentioned above), I could always study and perform at the top of my game whenever an exam was coming. I would chalk up my avoidance of drugs and (except on rare occasion) alcohol as one of my most important and successful strategic moves in college.
My avoidance of drugs has been motivated by several experiences in life. While I had a strained relationship with my father, my dad did discuss with me several times how important it was for me to avoid drugs. He told me about all of the problems drugs caused in the Army during the Vietnam War. In fact, drugs were the primary reason my dad was not sent to Vietnam. He was scheduled to go, but at the last minute, was re-assigned to the Czech border for cryptography work. Cryptography work required a security clearance, and it was extremely difficult to find people with security clearances back in those days due to the ubiquity of drug use among the fighting men.
Furthermore, I repeatedly saw people I knew in school getting involved in drugs, and pretty much becoming worse losers than they already were to begin with. They failed academically. They acted up in class. They were nasty people to be around. They got in trouble with the police. They were pretty much going nowhere. I had no use for such people in the path I was taking in life.
Lastly, I have a natural aversion to altered states of mind. I do not see any value or appeal in losing control of my faculties or senses, especially when under the law I am still legally responsible for all of my behavior. The cost-benefit analysis of the (alleged) joy of being high compared to the consequences of poor grades, legal problems, and career damage ought to be enough to convince anyone with a brain that drugs a big loser.
As a teaching assistant, it was pretty obvious who was on drugs in class and who wasn’t. Beet-red eyes. Smelling like weed. Not remembering stuff. Sauntering in late like they own the place. Juvenile defiance coupled with idiocy. I even had a conversation with my boss about why some people choose to jerk off in engineering school, and others are so motivated. He said he partly blamed it on the prevalence of drugs in our society, and I can partly agree with him. The modern American university student is basically an adult child that wants to feel good all the time, have their work spoon-fed to them, do little to no work even when it is spoon-fed, and collect a huge paycheck at the end of the day for it. At the engineering college in my city, tuition is over $36,000 a year. These drug-addled idiots will take out massive student loans to pay for it, and then spend their time in college doing drugs, playing video games, chasing skirts, and doing everything they can to avoid actually taking stock of their own education and path in life.
Compare this state of affairs to the 1960’s, where most young men by the age of 20 were married, were living out on their own, had babies or children on the way, and were working a factory shift to support their wives and children. At the age of 20 you were a grown-ass man; now adulthood is pretty much postponed until well into the late 20’s. As I read in Charles Murray’s “Coming Apart“, marriage, family, and hard-work were taken as an assumption for the conduct of a young man’s life. If you were able-bodied, not working or in school, and didn’t have an exceedingly persuasive excuse, you were considered a bum, a social parasite, and your family would not talk about you openly.
Nowadays, there is no shame in sloth coupled with drug use. I was watching a twitch.tv stream a few days ago, and the host began talking openly about how he needed oxies for his “fibromyalgia”, a baloney disease used by addicts to get their hands on more pain pills. I pretty much quit listening to what he had to say after that. I have no respect for pill poppers. Such people have never experienced real pain or hardship in their lives, and are simply pathetic whiners.
Can you imagine a veteran of the Pelelieu, Kokoda Track, or China-Burma-India campaigns in World War II complaining about pain as these people do? Starving. Sick. Under the constant threat of ambush or capture by numerically-superior Japanese forces. Running low on ammunition. Insatiable thirst from the jungle heat. Relentless and fierce insects biting at your flesh. Afflicted by jungle foot and jungle ulcers. Sleeping in the mud under monsoon rains. But such men did not have time or the option to complain about such things. They had a mission and duty, and they did it fiercely.
How far we have fallen. All thanks to drugs.