Genetic Cleansing May Play Role In Tobacco Bans

The Bard went out to peaceably assemble over the week-end. His brain cells felt as if they were going to explode after a week of intense and soul-wrenching research into the local high school Brown Shirts (or Black Shirts if one is Italian, Red Jackets if one is an American. It doesn't matter what color, century, or country they do jumping jacks in, they're righteous robots out for mass death in order to prevent "cancer").

After the enormous amount of knowledge the Bard had garnered he was ready for a night of examining the brilliant life around him from a new perspective, helped along with a drink or two, and a shot of Beam, which went down nice and warm. He went to a little old place that represents the sea of humanity and is proud of it. Every surface that is conducive to carving skills exhibits the art. And it's obvious these carvers are/were literate as most of it is in mysterious letters, and languages that only the carver and a chosen few others will ever know the meaning of.

Even the ceiling displays the wood table tops, registries of years gone by, records of people who once lived and laughed together, and perhaps, later loved each other. The sliding glass cooler doors are layered in bumper stickers with witticisms and bands that no longer exist. When the Bard was younger he found those bumper stickers offered a wonderful passtime. The bathroom facilities are also covered in literary facts, lore, gossip, and phone numbers, although there is another place on the wrong side of the tracks that surpasses all others for literary skills.

A few years ago, when the Bard was a young one, he spent a few mild summer nights standing outside the open back door near enough to hear the musician, but far enough away to talk and goof off with a small group of people. This arrangement was the solution, according to the Bard's friend, for saving money on drinks. The Bard's friend liked to hop across the way and get cheaper drinks and bring them tipping and sloshing across the space, not to mention the Bard's friend was buying drinks for a misfit girl just under drinking age. The Bard's friend seemed to attract quite a few interesting characters. One of them claimed he was one of 7 secret Wiccan priests in the area and that no one was supposed to know -- so, he told everyone.

The last he heard, the Bard's amicable friend had gone to teach at Berkeley, quit, circled the earth in a boat a couple times, and was landscaping. This friend had always wanted to be a pirate and knew every pirate joke in the book. Everyone loved him and it always took a good half hour to hour to leave any gathering because he had to say good-bye and hug everyone, and he knew everyone. He's been gone for years and people still know who he is and remember him. That's proof of how important one single person can be to so many others.

And so, the Bard went out into the night to see what he could see.

The Bard met a pharmacist, an electrician, a snow boarder, a commercial fisherman, a classical pianist, and several other musicians, a toothless type, as well as a former employee of Victoria's Secret and several other various colorful creations of the Almighty. All 16% of the tobacco users were out in full view, and right in front of the window where a group of pretty and dour false-rebels (Red Jackets, Black Shirts, Brown Shirts) were congregated in their usual anti-social imitation of socializing. You know what I mean. They travel in mobs and inspite of their numbers look absolutely bored, aloof, and disgusted by the riff-raff that even dares to look upon them.

They never ever grow up past high school, ever. Peter Pans. The Bard never had time for them unless he was really bored and needed someone to tease. They're not fun to tease though, because they aren't funny and don't understand metaphor, which humor is a version of. The only things they're good at are shopping, joining groups of others like them, suing, banning, yawning, imitating, and writing Christmas newsletters.

Anyway, instilled with the latest knowledge, the Bard was ready to ping-pong off his fellows, and to see them as family, as distant cousins separated by the diaspora of centuries and geography.

The Bard has a theory. Because of the strange hatred towards certain groups of people, because of the religiousness of it, because of the constant fear of cancer and ills caused by these people, because of the eerily similar reasons for legitimizing hatred of these people as was used in previous times; the Bard believes that there must be a genetic component involved.

And the "science" is trying to prove that there is a genetic reason to hate certain groups of people. If the new I.G. Farbens; the pharmaceutical, chemical, and elite within the medical and government establishment can prove that certain groups of people have "defective" chromosomes they can justify experimenting, incarcerating, banning, and annihilating them (it will, probably be called "health care," or "anti-terrorism"). And even the victims will believe there is something wrong with them, that they have done something wrong, and must be "treated."

In the Bard's study of tobacco, alcohol, and coffee addiction he found that Chromosome 15 is being focused upon. He also found that this chromosome is also where many cancers are being linked too, not to mention a few inherited traits particular to Ashkenazi Jews. He also found that the Ashkenazi Jews have the highest rate of cancer of any group in the world. Hmm. Are the do-gooders really fighting cancer?

The Bard also discovered that the abnormality on Chromosome 15 which is said to contribute to alcohol, tobacco, and coffee drinking in higher doses than is "normal" is highest in concentration in the population of the Middle East, gradually diminishing in the populations as the distance away from the Middle East increases. Where did the Ashkenazi Jews originate from once upon a time?

Also, there are other groups more inclined to addictive behaviors, especially those from impoverished backgrounds in which they were not provided the proper nutrients or were exposed to toxins. These groups include exactly the same groups that I.G. Farbenindustrie and the Nazis sought to exterminate, not to mention quite a few well-respected academics in the United States of America. Blacks, American Indians, those with slightly lower intelligence, or with mental imbalances such as schizophrenics. Perhaps, our traveling Mexicans could be said to be the modern Gypsies. Many of these people are more inclined to use tobacco in order to supplement the nicotinic acid which their brain lacks for various reasons.

The pharmaceutical industry doesn't want it widely known that the highly important nicotinic acid is supplied by tobacco. The nicotine in tobacco is "bound" unless it is oxidized by burning, which converts it to nicotinic acid, which no one can live without, unless they want to get Pellagra. Another way to free the nicotinic acid for absorption is through the use of lime. The Mexicans treat their corn with lime which frees the nicotinic acid. This also works for tobacco. Nicotinic acid is in countless foods that we consume on a daily basis. Without it we become sick.

The Bard wonders if the ban on smoking tobacco may actually be a ban on nicotinic acid. Last year, the government did do some tightening up on this vital nutrient. If the nicotinic acid is controlled, but tobacco is acceptable, people may notice that the smokers seem healthier and may actually begin smoking inspite of the cancer risk, as a way to survive mentally and physically. The Bard thinks that whether one smokes or not, perhaps it would be wise to buy a few tobacco seeds and a pipe in case they actually have no other alternative. Surely, it will be illegal to grow it soon, but a few plants here and there may survive. Tobacco can nearly grow itself and go wild.

And so, the Bard wonders if there is a genetic link to the strange hatred of those who smoke tobacco or have in their past. There really is no difference. For some reason, even when a tobacco user no longer has a need or desire for it, they are still of a different variety. Some old studies found that even when not allowed to smoke for very long periods of time tobacco users are generally of a kinder, generous, more sociable personality and less likely to strike out against their fellows. They are also more likely to take risks and do what others fear to do. These are generally admirable traits in people. We all love those who are brave enough to love and willing to risk what others won't. The biggest risk is loving others, loving those often derided by our society, even giving our life for them and for their freedom -- because their freedom from tyranny is also ours.

The Bard wonders what does science know that we don't? Is it possible that many of us are inheritors of an ancient family that once left Egypt via the King's Highway? Or perhaps, it originates back to Abraham, which may be more likely, as those of the Islamic faith in the Middle East are famous lovers of coffee and tobacco and also call Abraham their father.

Too many coincidences makes something not a coincidence, but a sign or two or three along the highway, telling us which way we are going. We cannot ignore this or think it far fetched, especially when evil is so unimaginative. Evil never invents new ways because it can't. It mimics what has happened before and attempts to rename and cover the package in new paper, but the contents are always the same.

History has shown that it is always the same groups of people singled out for destruction. And history has shown how ignorant and easily deceived we are. We may be ignorant even of our own genetic inheritance, but the science of the genome, of our far-flung family of long ago is catching up with us, showing us our roots. And we may find ourselves being the ones rooted out this time.

And as the Bard peaceably assembled amongst these very special people he saw the generations and the wonderful perfection of his fellows, possible cousins, family and friends in communion with each other. And he saw that those of talent and bright intelligence fit perfectly the description of a typical tobacco user. These people were the only ones able to love the other type of tobacco user, the ones from the "wrong" side of the tracks, including them in conversation and accepting them and joking with them in friendly banter.

Is it possible that there is something to that old Indian Peace Pipe? Did the tobacco somehow, create a calm, accepting, and lighter-hearted environment amongst strangers? It surely looked that way the other night.

And as the Bard headed home for the night, he and three very tall strangers looked upon the dark night sky and talked of strange lights and other occurrences. And as good strangers, they looked out for the Bard, and advised him on the safest way to go home that night.

The Bard asks do you know who you are and where you come from? Are you going to allow someone else to define you?

Once, not so many years ago, a census was collected, data gathered from various sources, including church memberships. This data was used by the giant community of businesses under the name I.G. Farbenindustrie AG which sought to create a "New Order" with the help of Germany and the Nazis. Those Nazi concentration camps were actually I.G. Farbenindustrie slave camps in which the pharmaceuticals were tested, and slave labor was procured. And now, I.G. Farbenindustrie under new names is going to bring the United States of America health care enforced by our government.

Do you know who you are? Don't wait too long to find out. You are precious, valuable, independent, a lover of life, and blessed. Let the destroyers pass law, let us quietly and steadfastly obey the law in our heart, which surpasses all other laws and does not need mob violence or parties. No, this law is bitter sweet and causes us a humble strength, a strength that runs through our veins, passed down from those worn souls who came before us.

"[B]lessing I will bless you, and multiplying I will multiply your descendants as the stars of the heaven and as the sand which is on the seashore; and your descendants shall possess the gate of their enemies" (Genesis 22:17).