MuhammadJesusGaySex

SIR! YOUR COMMENT OFFENDS ME! I sear MY steaks in an air fryer on broil 400 degrees. 12 mins flip halfway through. THAT is the only way to sear a steak.

I went to it, and that seems right. It’s an interesting website.

As an older millennial this is the most amazing description of this gum that I wish I would have thought of.

Interesting. That makes sense, but I never thought of it like that. I only have experience with testicles.

I imagine they are close in pain which is not fun, but also not as bad as you’d think.

You know, I thought about that last message for a long time, and either you are fairly young, or still very idealistic, or lack life experience, or some combination of the above. I don’t mean that as an insult. Merely an observation. I hope you’ll see why I don’t mean that as an insult by the end.

Morals are a funny thing. You see or hear about behaviors and think I’d never do that, or that would never happen to me. When in reality you should probably be telling yourself I hope I never have to do that, or I hope that never happens to me.

Now, I’m not going to admit to anything serious for obvious reasons. But I was a serious heroin addict for over 10 years. I can honestly say I maybe missed 20 days in those over 10 years. On average I did 4 bags at $15 a pop (so $60) a day. All with no job. I never was good at stealing. However believe it or not I’m fairly good at talking.

So, that got me thinking of the more heinous ways I supported my habit. Like, I used to be friends with this girl. She was my sister in law. Hell, she is still my sister in law. I’m still married to my second wife that isn’t my partner I live with and have kids with.

Anyway, we did dope together, and one day she came to me and says I’m pregnant, and I can’t hit my vein please help. So, I did. I injected a pregnant woman with heroin all through the 9 months she was pregnant. He baby was born addicted and I helped facilitate that. Mainly because she helped to support my habit.

Another way I used to support my habit was befriending my dope man. This didn’t pay off often, but it was just another thing that helped me get discounts and the occasional free bag.

It also paid big when they would reup from a new supplier. Because I as a trusted friend would get a call to come test the new dope and tell him if it’s good or not. Normally this went off without a hitch. But I have a fun story for that too.

It was my second wife’s birthday, and we had no money. So she tells me to call H and ask if he’ll give us some bags. I did and he says forget about money I’m going to tell you a place to come to. He gives me directions and tells me to bring my “tools” that meant our needles and I used the concave bottom of a coke can instead of a spoon and a piece of cigarette filter instead of cotton.

Now before I go any further I live in Birmingham, Al. My city is regularly on the top 5 most murders per capita.

We go to the place H told us to go to. It turned out to be a sketchy run down strip mall with no businesses in it. One of the retail spaces had blankets over the windows and I parked in front of that one.

Finally, someone waved us in. We walk in and there were like 8-10 large black men with visible guns.

I only mention race because when you walk into a situation that is tense as fuck and don’t look like everyone else. The tension gets turned up a bit. Not to mention that black drug dealers generally don’t trust white people because they think white people snitch more.

To paint you a picture of the scene we walked into. This “retail space” had a wet bar on the back wall where the register used to go. There were couches lining the walls. In between us and the bar are 2 pool tables. The pool table closest to me had a brand new rectangle shaped kilo brick of heroin on it. Still had the plastic wrap cut off but under it.

H comes over and tells us to have a seat. So, naturally we have a seat. We sat there being silent for what felt like an eternity. The whole while watching people come and go trying to sell stolen goods. There was one guy with big dread locks that was in charge. He was telling everyone what to do.

So, H finally gets some of that dope off the pool table and gives us some. We do it and it’s good. It’s real good and we say so. We go to leave but H said we have to stay for a while, because “white folks bring too much attention”. He said he’ll tell us when we can leave.

This other white couple shows up, and does some dope and start saying it wasn’t good while nodding out on the sofa. Typical junkie behavior.

But then this long haired greasy skinny zombie looking white dude shows up. H gives him some dope and the guy immediately overdoses. Hits the floor and turns blue. My wife starts freaking the fuck out. The other white couple are losing their fucking shit. The large men with guns are getting antsy.

I stand up and yell at my wife and the other couple to shut the fuck up and sit down. H and I grab this man overdosed on the floor. I grab his ankles and H grabbed his shoulders, and we laid him out on the pool table that wasn’t covered in dope. Meanwhile the man in charge yells at one of the armed men. He said “Go to the gas station and get 2 bags of ice. You been walking around here all day like you got rocks in your pants but I need you to hurry. Remember motherfucker I pay youSO FUCKING HURRY!!”

I’ve already decided that if it comes down to it. I will dump this man’s car and body in the woods somewhere if I get to live. The man with the ice returns, and H and I start stuffing ice in the overdose victims pants up his shirt in his god damn underwear. I am silently begging the void for this man to wake up.

While this is going on I’m watching his eyelids. I know from experience that is the first thing to move when people wake up. His color starts to come back. I see those eyelids twitch. I start slapping this man in the face I’m now yelling for this motherfucker to just WAKE THE FUCK UP!

He opened his eyes then starts to close them again. Not on my watch. State slapping him again HARD. I have sweat rolling off my face. My high is blown. The opens his eyes again. I asked him a random question. He tries to answer it but it comes out nonsense.

Doesn’t matter he is alive. The point is though. I was absolutely going to use dumping his body as a bargaining chip for my own life.

If you had told me even 5 years earlier that I would have made that decision. I would have told you that you were full of shit. There could be arguments made for the “I had no choice” defense. My life was possibly on the line.

But the reality is that we ALWAYS have a choice. To paraphrase Bud from Kill Bill, and I’m paraphrasing because the original quote was racist. I don’t dodge guilt, and I don’t get out of paying my comeuppance. I did those things. I’m not proud of what I did, but when your back is against the wall you have to make a decision. I could have not shot my sister in law up while pregnant. Sure, she would have literally cried and begged me, and repeatedly stabbed herself until she just injected it into her skin probably causing an abscess. But that wasn’t the path I chose.

I’m clean now. I’m even off the methadone. I am 100% sober. I don’t even smoke cigarettes anymore.

I hope that you live a long and happy life where you never have to find out what you’d do if push came to shove. Because life is like that Mike Tyson quote. “Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.”

As a bit of redemption though. I got off dope and my best friend from the age of 6 died of an overdose when his son was only 3. His son was going to go into foster care and i became his legal guardian. That young man is now 12 years old. He makes me proud every single day. I love him with all of my heart. I know his dad would be proud too, and I tell him that every chance I get. I also work personally with the homeless in my area using my money.

All humans are capable of great love and terrible cruelty under the right circumstances. I genuinely hope you never have to find out what your made of.

When I was a little kid I asked my grandfather one time what it was like to “fight evil”. His response was something along the lines of “I didn’t fight evil. They were just a bunch of scared kids doing what they were told. Just like me.”

My grandfather fought in Europe, but Japan was still what kicked off WWII. So, I was super nervous about bringing home the woman that would become my first wife for the first time. Her family was from Okinawa.

When we got there he sat down at the kitchen table and talked to her for a long time. I was in and out doing stuff for the dinner, but they looked happy enough. Later that day he caught me outside and gave me a hug. He told me that she was a good woman and I’d be crazy if I didn’t marry her.

I really miss my grandfather. He was mostly a good dude.

Here’s a picture of him during the battle of the bulge. It’s from a book I have, but this picture was originally published in “Yank” magazine. The original clipping sat over his chair in the living room my entire life.

So, for anyone that’s curious, testicles are weird pain wise. They have a lot of pressure sensitive nerves on the surface of the testicles themselves. But if you, for example, were to hypothetically push a needle like object into the center of a testicle. You would feel the pressure of the needle pushing on the testicle, but once it pops through there is very little sensation at all.

Edit: Even though this is true this is NOT medical advice. Do not do this as it could have potentially serious consequences. I feel like I shouldn’t have to say this, but here we are.