The Past.

Fear is the mother of violence. Fear seperates by class and race, usually with good reason.

Music was all I ever wanted, drugs everything I hated. Cocaine cowboys destroyed the Florida I loved. A Florida of boats, ships and old planes lumbering around for the hell of it. Turned everything into a drug deal. I hated coke, coke users and coke dealers. And they were everywhere.

I left.

I wanted no part of any of it. I stopped talking to people that had been close friends because of it. Anything to stay away from it.

It replaced most of what I valued. I remember being in California the first time I saw Miami Vice and was thinking how toned down from reality it was, when the people in the room started laughing at it for being so wild. That's when you keep your mouth shut. No one would believe you anyway.

I hate the coke heads who provided the demand most. You destroyed nightlife, art, music, clubs...everything. Then you had your yuppie dreams that ran over life how it was meant to be. Blowing coke up your nose, going to church and voting republicain like your frat buddies did too. And all these years later you are so respectable.

Guess its yet another reason I want the borders to be more secure. Remember how bad it all got after Castro dumped all those criminals on us? No....? Is it any surprise I carry so much anger towards illegals who have nearly killed me a couple of times from behind the wheel?

My anger and indignation knows few bounds. If only there was a way to make those bastards who destroyed the good part of America pay for it in their own blood. Somebody should replinish the vaults of blood, sweat and tears that it took to create the place the first time.

There are few of that kind of people left. I recently meet one, but even he is getting old. I just barely remember what they look like. I'm not, I have just been trying to survive.

Bastards.