Post: #1

I thought this was a good lesson on how putative Alphas can fuck up. Follows the Philip Seymour Hoffman death, guess the Afghans are trying to kill us with heroin.

Telegraph: Ex Navy Seals die of overdoses on "Captain Phillips" ship

These guys would seem to have it locked: travel, adventure and probably decent pay. I doubt it was very boring, but there are worse things than riding the famous Maersk Alabama across the sunny Indian Ocean, even if it was boring.

Somehow these guys took the first step on the road that led to them being dead with a needle in their arms.

Post: #2

Yeah, I have no sympathy for dumbasses who inject themselves with dangerous substances merely out of thrill-seeking. I can understand if they were severely stressed or something, but it's still not an excuse.

Post: #3

I still call cover up or something.

I always say..don't join those high level units. SEALs she SF for some reason don't get to do notable stuff and then just retire.

They always seem to end up dead in some freak accident...like they can't just be released.
just like the dudes that did the bin Laden hit. look how many of them are still around

Post: #4

I would smoke that good opioum but never shoot it.

Post: #5

(02-21-2014 09:24 AM)Sourcecode Wrote:  I still call cover up or something.

I always say..don't join those high level units. SEALs she SF for some reason don't get to do notable stuff and then just retire.

They always seem to end up dead in some freak accident...like they can't just be released.
just like the dudes that did the bin Laden hit. look how many of them are still around

I thought all those guys were still alive?

Post: #6

That ship has helluva history.

AFTER the Captain Phillips story (which the real story is quite conflicting with the movie and the crew sued the ship company for $50mil), there were 2 more hijacking attempts but were thwarted by armed security firing shots in the air.

Apparently the company wised up and hired armed security to travel with. Who would have imagined that??

Now this.

Methinks the ship is cursed.

Post: #7

(02-21-2014 09:38 AM)MidniteSpecial Wrote:  I would smoke that good opioum but never shoot it.

This, I've smoked opium, but never shot heroin. Opium is fucking great man, just hard to come by here. I've always wanted to grow a few Papaver somniferum and harvest my own opium resin. That shit tastes great when you smoke it and is one of the most relaxing highs I've ever had. Very clean, better than morphine.

Post: #8

(02-21-2014 03:24 PM)thedude3737 Wrote:  

(02-21-2014 09:38 AM)MidniteSpecial Wrote:  I would smoke that good opioum but never shoot it.

This, I've smoked opium, but never shot heroin. Opium is fucking great man, just hard to come by here. I've always wanted to grow a few Papaver somniferum and harvest my own opium resin. That shit tastes great when you smoke it and is one of the most relaxing highs I've ever had. Very clean, better than morphine.

It is not so well known nowadays, but opium smoking was once highly prevalent in the US, particularly in New York and San Francisco where it was made popular by Chinese immigrants.

It is described in a beautiful short piece by Stephen Crane from 1896 called "Opium's Varied Dreams". Here is an excerpt to give you a taste, but you will enjoy reading the whole thing:

Quote: When prepared for smoking purposes, opium is a heavy liquid much like molasses. Ordinarily it is sold in hollow li-shi nuts or in little round tins resembling the old percussion cap boxes. The pipe is a curious affair, particularly notable for the way in which it does not resemble the drawings of it that appear in print. The stem is of thick bamboo, the mouthpiece usually of ivory. The bowl crops out suddenly about four inches from the end of the stem. It is a heavy affair of clay or stone. The cavity is a mere hole, of the diameter of a lead pencil, drilled through the centre. The yen-nock is a sort of sharpened darning needle. With it the cook takes the opium from the box. He twirls it dexterously with his thumb and forefinger until enough of the gummy substance adheres to the sharp point. Then he holds it over the tiny flame of the lamp which burns only peanut oil or sweet oil. The pill now exactly resembles boiling molasses. The clever fingers of the cook twirl it above the flame. Lying on his side comfortably, he takes the pipe in his left hand and transfers the cooked pill from the yen-nock to the bowl of the pipe, where he again moulds it with the yen-nock until it is a little button-like thing with a hole in the centre fitting squarely over the hole in the bowl. Dropping the yen-nock, the cook now uses two hands for the pipe. He extends the mouthpiece toward the one whose turn it is to smoke, and as the smoker leans forward in readiness, the cook draws the bowl toward the flame until the heat sets the pill to boiling. Whereupon the smoker takes a long, deep draw at the pipe, the pill sputters and fries, and a moment later the smoker sinks back tranquilly. An odor, heavy, aromatic, agreeable, and yet disagreeable, hangs in the air and makes its way with peculiar powers of penetration. The group about the layout talk in low voices, and watch the cook deftly moulding another pill. The little flame casts a strong yellow light on their faces as they huddle about the layout. As the pipe passes and passes around the circle, the voices drop to a mere indolent cooing, and the eyes that so lazily watch the cook at his work, glisten and glisten from the influence of the drug until they resemble flashing bits of silver.

There is a similarity in coloring and composition in a group of men about a midnight camp fire in a forest and a group of smokers about the layout tray with its tiny light. Everything, of course, is on a smaller scale with the smoking. The flame is only an inch and a half, perhaps, in height, and the smokers huddle closely in order that every person may smoke undisturbed. But there is something in the abandon of the poses, the wealth of light on the faces, and the strong mystery of shadow at the backs of the people that bring the two scenes into some kind of artistic resemblance. And just as the lazy eyes about a camp fire fasten themselves dreamfully upon the blaze of logs, so do the lazy eyes about an opium layout fasten themselves upon the little flame.