"In Spray Paint Veritas"

It’s been said we’re all allowed three vices, what was never made clear, however, is what happens if we exceed that allotment, abuse one particular vice to great excess, or pick a vice so fucking weird people don’t want to be seen with you in public, like dwarf-tossing or audiobooks. When people speak of “vices,” however, they are usually referring to intoxicating, addictive or commonly abused substances that really aren’t good for you. I would list among my vices single-malt scotch, deep dark chocolate and the occasional incendiary tobacco product. My pal Luke would probably list coffee, cigarettes and an almost fanatical interest in ice cream (but not with nuts, on the ice cream, I mean).

Meet Patrick Tibetts. Patrick was arrested a few days a go on charges of “abusing harmful intoxicants.” Can you guess what old Pat was huffing?



You guessed correctly, my good friend, Patrick was inhaling gold spray paint. The man was collared at the Bellaire’s Dollar General Store in Bellaire, Ohio as he attempted to purchase several more cans of the glittery stuff, slurring his speech and coated with a thick layer of paint on his hands and face.

When I’d read that Tibetts was arrested for his actions, but that he had not been driving or even really bothering anyone, I became a bit irritated. While I was greatly amused by the sight of this dipshit glittered like he’d been chewing on Liberace, I believe that any adult has the right to put any substance into his or her body for whatever purpose they might deem worthy. All intoxicating substances, including even the “hardest” of drugs should immediately be legalized, or at least decriminalized, and barring anyone endangering the lives of others while under the influence, users of these substances should be left to their own devices and not have their own governments telling them what they can and cannot do in their free time. The more I thought about it, the more I became incensed at the idea of this pathetic, lowlife pile of human excrement not being able to BUY gold spray paint and squirt it up his nose, if that’s what he wanted to do! Upon further research, however, I stumbled upon the fatal flaw in that idealistic utopia of mine, a flaw my wife, an employee of the local district attorney, routinely brings to my attention: Tibetts is a violent man.

Pat Tibetts has been arrested numerous times by the Bellaire Sherriff’s Department, and spent many nights in that jail cell. He’s been taken in on assault, domestic violence, drunk and disorderly and numerous other charges, all while under the influence of some kind of inhalant. What I routinely forget, in my endless rants about the flawed criminal justice system and the amount of municipal, state and federal money spent on jailing people for possession of controlled substances, is that virtually every one of those criminals in custody has a rap sheet as long as my arm. While one can see the statistics regarding the number of people in jail for drug possession and lament the idiocy of some poor guy getting shoved in the back of a squad car for a dime bag in his pocket, this scenario is so rare, it’s almost laughable.

The majority of people in prison for possession have extensive histories of distribution, racketeering and many include violence related to their drug use and sale. While a prisoner’s conviction may read “possession with intent to distribute,” what is not included on that sheet is the four hundred times he’s been before a judge and a jury since he was seventeen, the convictions of domestic abuse, child endangerment, assault and even attempted murder he’s received in the past and either pled away or was “matrixed” out of the justice system. The society I would like to envision where everyone gets to do what they want behind closed doors is, for all intents and purposes, a reality. If Pat Tibetts had never gone to the general store to purchase more spray paint, he would never have caused the store clerk to phone the police. If Tibetts didn’t have a history of violent crime while under the influence of “Rust-Oleum,” the police probably wouldn’t have arrested him, most likely opting to set him in the drunk tank until morning. If the people incarcerated for possession every year didn’t have files as thick as Chinese phone books, the vast majority of them would never find themselves behind bars.



My opinion holds fast, however, if only slightly adjusted. The audacity of my government to tell me I can’t grow a plant in my backyard or cook a crystal in my kitchen for the purposes of my own private enjoyment in my own home is infuriating. If the “War on Drugs” were ended today and the black market that spawned these criminals here and abroad dismantled, the crime rate in this country would plummet. Philip Morris would start manufacturing marijuana cigarettes and suddenly the shady guy in the Lincoln over on MLK Blvd would be out of business.

The lesson here is that if you huff spray paint you’re an idiot, but you probably won’t live long enough to be a real nuisance to anyone except the management of the local hardware store. Whatever your vice is, you should be able to enjoy it freely without the molestation of the government, provided you don’t endanger anyone else. If Luke were to attack someone on the street under the influence of several pints of “Moo-llenium Crunch,” the charged peace keepers of the city of New Orleans have every right to arrest him and give him several good doses with the taser and the bean bag shotgun. Luke, however, always enjoys his ice cream quietly on the couch, with only Lindsey to stalk when that mad sugar rush / ice cream headache hits and he turns thirsty for blood.

He’s got that look in his eyes, Lindsey, run! Grab Mojo and run!!!