“President Dave” joins News’ staff
Men seek the truth, Fascists deal in words.
This becomes evident early in our lives if we care to see it for what it is.
Remember the teacher that would ask for apologies in front of the class (and hovering principal)? Remember the parents who would politely beseech our repentant words in front of important guests at the dinner table? They didn’t give a damn whether we meant what we said, they just wanted to hear it.
The few of us that had any balls back then would brave the indignities of the cloak-room or our hungry bedrooms to preserve our sense of integrity, but most of us knuckled under to these aural-compulsives because they were holding the cards.
The penalty for offending the power structure as an adult is infinitely worse. The ubiquitous cloakroom gives way to the jail-cell. Principles must be weighed against the sky-high cost of their maintenance.
In a society based upon control, we are led from the womb to the grave by the carrot and stick.
Apparently, David Valler is a man who realizes this.
Valler has been sentenced from 7 to 10 years in Jackson Prison on dope charges. Currently serving his sentence as inmate Number 123110, he has embarked on a series of articles for the Detroit News entitled “Inside Dope’s Distorted World.” The Sunday Magazine of August 31 carries his first installment.
Any attempt on this writer’s part to refute the content of Valler’s article would be a waste of time. Anyone capable of being swayed by Valler’s maudlin scribblings isn’t ready to relate to the truth, but nonetheless, we should all view Valler and his writing for what it is.
Valler has simply run down the whole News’ anti-youth, anti-drug trip. The News undoubtedly thinks that the fact that Valler was (as he puts it) “a college dropout, longhaired hippie dope taker” will give their tabloid oinkings the legitimacy they so obviously lack.
Again, perhaps it might be wise to attack Valler’s article point by point. It would be easy enough to do, but the continued existence of the News is a clear indication of the fact that legions of mother-country flunkies have swallowed enough shit to learn to like it.
Be that as it may, the next time a “hippie” starts sounding like a hog, look behind his back to see who’s twisting his arm.