Today, the crack addict got smacked. "Just one more hit," he pleaded. "Just 700 grams or so. Then I'll quit. I'll learn to control myself."
"What about that hit you got earlier this year? What happened to that."
"Times are tough. I need more!", he cried.
"No." repsonded the dealer.
"I'll become violent! I'll be worse than I am now. As long as I know I have a hit coming I stay in control. You don't want to deny me my hit."
"I'm sorry. I am done giving you crack. You can't stop and I have no more to give."
The addict kicked and screamed and cried and called his Senator. It got pretty ugly.
Eventually, the crack addict had to learn to live without his baby. It hurt. He became deathly ill, had waking nightmares. He was hospitalized for a while, then went to a 4 week program. In time, years later, he was clean. Scarred, yes, but clean.
The crack, ladies and gentlemen, is easy credit. The dealer is our financial institutions.
The addict is America.