You are too old to go out and trick or treat, say Papa Wracks.  Now that you are in college why don’t you man the fort and hand out candy instead. 

That is a good idea, says Wracks.  I can read my textbooks, watch TV, maintain the special effects and hand out candy all at the same time. 

The kids start to come around dusk and then the flow peters out around nine o’clock, says Papa Wracks.  Your mother buys a lot of candy to give the kids so help yourself while you wait.

The special effects at Wracks house this year include pumpkins, lights and a boiling cauldron with Fog.  A plug-in device when set in water bubbles and makes fog that slowly oozes out the cauldron.  The luminous light inside attached to the device flickers with different colors and gives the bubbling cauldron an eerie and magical look. The carved pumpkins sit outside on the doorstep with candles lit inside.  The flames flicker diabolically when the wind wafts past the grinning mouths and mischievous eyes cut into the orange jack o Lanterns. On the window sill inside sits an electric pumpkin of plastic that emanates different colors with time out of a toothy mouth and slant-cut eyes.  Orange lights blink hanging from the rain gutters outside near the entrance and as night begins the entrance to the Wracks house becomes an aperture to the spooky and occult that waits inside.  Tonight the breeze blows minimally and the candles glow and wane with an ominous look.   The large harvest moon looms luminously high in the night sky and the immense glow gives the earth a semi-lighted appearance, light enough so that an observer can discern moving clouds seething in the darkness above.   Already the trick-or-treaters start to move in the neighbor hood.  Families from less opulent neighborhoods an hour away drive in and bring their children to trick or treat here because of safety issues in a crime infested neighborhood.  The smell of the ocean seems distant but arrives succinctly as the clouds move scurrilously across the night sky.  The stars twinkle and loom distantly behind the clouds projecting a three dimensional theatre in a sky illuminated by a huge yellow moon set in October on Halloween in the twentieth century.

The door chime rings.  A wrack opens the door.  Outside a little princess with her proud father and mother smile as the child shouts out, Trick or Treat.  Wracks hold the large bowl in front of her and she peruses the candy and chooses a handful of her favorite confections.  Mother Wracks buys expensive candy with coupons and the result means Milky Way bars, three musketeer bars, snickers, and butter fingers and more.  The pretty little princes says thank you and the family moves on and the door closes.  Next the bell rings again and this time a group of teenagers dressed as indigents appear at the front door.  Two girls in rags with dark make up and two gentlemen in bowler hats, cut gloves and linen shirts shout, Trick or Treat and Wracks brings the bowl and lets the hungry kids grab a handful each.  Their eyes gleam with delight at the candies and they turn and run away to the next house.  About fifteen minutes later the bell rings again and this time a bunch of hoodlums presents at the front door. All have masks on like raccoons and have obscured their faces with rouge, giving a rough and haggard look.   They wear old clothes and sport hats of different character.  For candy bags they all carry potato sacks with draw strings as petty thieves do when they enter a house and liberate away personal goods with some resale value on the black market.  Each criminal has a can of shaving cream on their belt to enforce the possibility of retaliation for a lack of commensurate trade.  The wrack holds out the bowl and they each greedily grab a handful of candy bars.  They then turn and quickly evaporate into the night.  Approximately every ten minutes a group of trick or teeters walk up the steps to the front door.  The candy bowl looks low so Wracks opens another bag of candy bars and pour them into the mix.  The night moves on, the door bell rings and Halloween celebrator fills their door with costumes and frivolity.  Mainly  young children trick or treat with their parents as chaperons and the costumes range from royal figures to puppies and tiger costumes to devils and monsters, depending on the age of the children.  Teen agers appear sporadically in rushes to obtain the most candy they can hold in their market bags and savor the next day.  A wrack sits in Grandfather’s old chair, watches Halloween sitcoms, glances at his textbooks and slowly adds to the pile of candy wrappers stolen from the main bowl. 

Around nine o’clock the frequency of guests starts to diminish.  Revelers start knocking at the rate of one every fifteen minutes.  After nine o’clock, Wracks hears the bell ring repeatedly and fists knock on the large oak door that frames the entrance to the Wracks house.  A wrack opens the door, swings it back and beholds a motley assortment of celebrators that appear in front of him.   These tweeters stand out due to the difference in their costumes and to the degree of elaboration in the theme of Halloween.  The first crew is dressed like a skeleton, a specter of death.  This tall skeleton steps forward and holds out a large black plastic trash bag.  A wrack presents the bowl and death scoops a large handful of candy into the sack.   The second reveler dresses like the devil.  A red skin-tight leotard costume with a tail behind, a black goatee and accompanying mustache, with two prominent curved horns on his head, steps forward with a large black purse.  Wracks holds out the bowl and the diabolical figure take a few select candy bars. Next, a pretty tall woman with bracelets, jewelry, and a black low-cut evening town steps forward.  She has white makeup on and a large French handbag which she holds out open.  The wrack takes two handfuls of candy and drops them inside the purse.  She smiles and two large vampire fangs spring out of her mouth and she laughs cunningly and then retreats.  Finally, a small ghost holding a small pumpkin steps forward.  The ghost wears a white sheet with holes cut for eyes and a thick manila rope holding the sheet around his or her waist.  The ghost has a brown paper bag with handles, like that obtained from liquor store, and then sets the pumpkin down on the ground and pulls a small J frame smith and Wesson revolver in 38 special from the bag.  The replica looks amazingly like a real police man undercover firearm issued by the LAPD.  Trick or treat the ghost whispers as he holds the toy gun up to Wracks head.   The wrack says, treats, and pours half the bowl into the brown liquor bag.  The ghost drops the gun back into the bag, picks up his pumpkin and says, Happy Halloween.  The gang turns away.  The wrack closes the large wooden door.  Only one or two revelers showed up for candy later that night.  At approximately ten thirty Wracks opens the door, steps outside and extinguishes the candles in the pumpkins and unplugs the fog maker in the cauldron.  The night cools off; the moon diminishes in size, and sets in the Northeast.  The wind whispers slowly and the wispy clouds linger somewhat and Halloween ends at the Wrack’s house.  Wracks steps inside grabs another piece of candy, slams the bar in his mouth and chews.  He then walks to the brown bathroom, brushes his teeth, and moves to the second bedroom that he shares with the Fonz.  The Fonz is not home and lives in a VW camper van on campus somewhere near the Beta House. A wrack takes off his shoes, removes his pants, and slips inside the covers on the bed.  The setting moon indirectly cast light through the shades into the bedroom and Wracks falls deeply into a slumber as is his habit of living.  Wracks will be on the 7 thirty RTD tomorrow on his way to school and he survives another Halloween in Tranquil Hills. 

Mom and Dad, I am going out with the boys tonight on Halloween.  There is supposed to be a rumble downtown like last year.  The boys fight against the Cops 10-31 in the Hills and radical tonight.

The police are going to arrest you again and then you will spend the night in jail without any candy, says Mom. 

Why don’t you dress up and torment the neighbors like you did last year?  Ride your mini-bike on everyone’s lawn and burn in ruts, says Papa Wracks.  Or heave water balloons at delivery trucks like you and Nate did last year. 

How did you get in here Cool, asks Wracks?   The doors are locked.  

Your dog let me flip the latch through his doggy door.   We are good friends, smiles Kool. Can I smoke inside?

Cool, do your parents know you smoke cigarettes, asks Papa Wracks. 

It is part of my religion to smoke cigarettes, says Kool. We are Serbian orthodox.

Neither your father or mother smoke cigarettes, says Papa Wracks

They do other things, says Kool, other things.  I forgot my matches, can I use your lighter.

Go ahead, says Papa Wracks and he walks over to his chair, sits down and light up a cigarette also.

Where is Koest, asks Wracks.

He is going to meet us at the bottom of his hill and then we are going to assault the city. Let’s go.

Tonight the night is warm and breezy.  The Santa Anna winds whip up the brown leaves and dust in an Indian summer before the winter sets in.  The moon and the stars glimmer across the black sky and the warmth feels like freedom before the storm inundates forever.  The street lights showcase the hills of tranquil hills and they undulate up and down as the road turns in a serpentine fashion into town. At the bottom of Casa de Azul, Koest waits with his back pack and gang costume.  In tranquil hills, the typical gangster costume exemplifies as cut off blue jeans, adidas sneakers, a tee shirt knotted at the arms and a baseball cap.  In the hood, like in tranquil hills the most easily obtained weapons work the best.   A short knife and baby baseball back when used effectively can then be tossed into the nearest trashcan or into the ocean.  However, the idle rich of Tranquil Hills acquire weapons much more costly, lethal and effective. The landed gentry prefer suppressed rim fire rifles with a scope to exert control and the upper hand over the masses. The key to not getting shot is to not venture to secluded areas and to always keep moving.  Running up Tranquil Hills High school hill and entering the town bordered by the funfair market and bicycle shop. 

On to Milton’s parking lot, says Kool.  Have your shaving cream and rotten eggs ready. 

I have my tear gas if they get uppity, says Wracks, Walbe sold it to me. 

In Milty, s parking lot, the juveniles have accumulated.  From the depths of the crowd an occasional rotten egg splats on the pavement or catches an unsuspecting participant in the face.  Koest pulls a rotten egg out of his knapsack, heaves it and it catches an adult on the side of the face.   The larger man turns into a saturnine figure and runs through the crowd trying to find out who threw the egg.  A Halloween festival churns on at tranquil parks tennis courts and the ruckus at Milty’s draw. The kids draw lines and rotten fruit from the back of the supermarket begins to sail through the air and hit unsuspecting people above the waist.  Rogues run out through the lines and squirt shaving cream from Cranks or Gillette foamy in a stream that reaches ten feet long.  Just as things start to escalate and get fun, three Police cars with riot officers in helmets and shields with long batons roar into the parking lot and form a line between the two opposing participants in the battle of tranquil hills 10/31.  The police get out of their cars and clash their batons against their shields.  An Officer with a megaphone leans out of the center car and states.  “Everyone has fifteen minutes to disperse or we will arrest offenders and take them downtown.”   With that a rotten eggs, his helmeted offer straight in the face and a huge rotten tomato hits the megaphone and hangs off its end.  The police start to charge the crowd

Let’s bail, says Kool, they are getting rough.

I nailed them, says Koest, I nailed them good. 

Here they come, says Wracks, run for your life.

The three exit quicker than they arrived and rest at the cul-de-sac at the bottom of way of Peace Street.  Kool pulls out a smoke and lights up.  Koest pulls out a smoke and lights up too.  A wrack is not addicted to nicotine yet and does have any.  He finds five pieces of gum from his knapsack, takes off the wrappers, slams the wad into his mouth and starts chewing. 

Let’s take the back way home; says Kool, I want to check out Kneemo. 

Not many street lights line those streets, says Koest, it will be rough going.

Lets stop at some houses and get some candy, says wracks, I am hungry.

Down and around the High school bordering the football field the road turns in a snake-like fashion and escalates up a hill steeply to the enclave that borders the high school framed on all four sides by streets that angle steeply downward then at the bottom turn up sharply again.   As the four enter the colony, a whizzing sound appears in the air and lemons begin to rain upon the three.

Run says Koest, we have been ambushed

The lemons come from everywhere and each one of the three gets hit with a hard lemon. 

A gang of young players appear out from the shadows with apple bags on their sides filled with lemons. 

Peepers, who has red hair is the first to speak

Any aggression and we will pelt you with hard lemons. says the red-haired teenager.

We give up, says Kool, where is Kneemo and Mondo?

They are at a Halloween party and we are holding their turf for them, says peepers

Can I have a couple lemons, asks Wracks.

Sure, we have a truckload of them, help yourself, says Peepers

A wrack grabs four lemons and puts them in his backpack for ammunition.  Happy Halloween the two groups say to each other and the three make their departure down the hill and up the hill again.  At blue Houses Street, Koste says goodbye and starts walking home up the hill.  At the next Hill, Kool states he is taking the round way home so he can visit a friend before going home.  Wracks walks along alone to home at about eleven o’clock on Halloween.  Most law abiding citizens sleep soundly and the porch lights shut down and the hills become dark, illuminated by the moon and shattered stars scintillating slowly.  The street looks dark; the way seems long and the moon light consoles Wracks who walks rapidly so he cannot be targeted by the elite.  Trotting by the convenience market on the street without lights Wracks moves as fast as he can without running.  Turn right on Bacon way, to the crossroads and then the grey gate on the south side of the house and enter through the back door. Wracks father sits in the chair smoking a cigarette, watching TV and the candy bowl still broods full.  A wrack grabs a handful and heads to his room. 

How was your Halloween, asks Papa Wracks

The police broke it up before it could happen, says Wracks

Crowd and riot scenarios can get vicious, says Papa Wracks, vicious.

Wracks falls asleep before consciousness can overtake him and Halloween is now history and memory. The moonlight shines through the bedroom window and the stars kiss young wracks goodnight. 

Lets go trick or treating tonight Kool, Wracks drawls, It s Halloween

Yeah, I have Cranks shaving cream and a carton of rotten eggs, promises Kool.

Wallbe sold me some tear gas, says Wracks, I can’t wait to try it.  We need some pretty young girls to terrorize on alls Hallow eve.

We can live on candy, says Wracks and Nate can come along.

See you at dark, screams kool, I have cherry bombs. 

Kool runs away screaming “Cherry bombs”, and he disappears up Mellowman street. 

Wracks, I don’t want the police to call me from jail like the day you and Timey were hunting deer down in the Canyon with Bows and Arrows, says Papa Wracks. 

I promise I won’t do anything radical except have a good time, says Wracks

Be home before curfew or they will run you in, says Papa Wracks.

Tonight, Cool, Wracks and Nate will ascend Bacon way and try to draw out the opposition.  Bacon way winds uphill, the incline increasing until Bacon way becomes Disenchanted Drive and Way of the Saint Inez.  Almost all the homes on Bacon way celebrate Halloween.   Some carve spooky pumpkins and set them out front with candles blowing eerily in the night breeze.  Others display lights and banners or play scary sounds through intercoms and hidden speakers.   Others just leave a huge bowl of candy out front under a light and next to a lighted jack o lantern because they are somewhere attending a Halloween party.   Kool , Wracks and Nate walk up to houses and level their shaving cream at the door of the celebrants.    When the door opens they yell “trick or treat,” level their weapons and pull their bandito masks over their faces.   The usual reply becomes a bowl of candy and the three scoop handfuls of the prizes and transfer the goods to their backpacks.   A little child dressed like an Indian walks by and Kool throws a lit cherry bomb inside his full bag of candy.   The bomb explodes with a loud wham and candy flies like shrapnel everywhere, and the little kid sits down and starts to cry.  The child’s parent starts to chase Kool but Kool outdistances the adult and hides in a bush. 

What is his name demands the distraught adult with a crying child dressed like an Indian.

His name is Barney and he lives on Mellowman’s says Nate.   Five houses up.  

You will all pay for what just happened, promises the adult.   

About half an hour later, Wracks finds Kool talking to one of the Neighborhood girls who is dressed like a Cat with a long black tail and tight leotards and a cat mask. They both smoke cigarettes and turn to look over wracks and Nate who are now nearing the top of the hill.  

Hello, I am Wracks, Happy Halloween.

The pretty little cat bats her eyelashes at him and then blinks.  

Kool, why did you blow up the kid’s bag of candy, asks Wracks

The devil made me do it says Kool.    Besides, I do not like his Dad.   

He says he is going to call the Police, says Wracks.

They cannot prove a thing, says Cool, not a thing. 

Let’s head over on Disenchanted, command Wracks. 

The three cross the street from upper Bacon and start on Disenchanted Drive.   The first house on the hill has lights on and looks open except that the owner has a huge dish of candy with a sign of “Eat at your own risk.”  The three youngsters dressed as hoodlums take handfuls of candy from the bowl and then Kool takes the bowl and empties the entire contents into his backpack.  

Yeah, says Kool.   Happy Halloween.

The house across the street situates on an alcove and lush foliage shroud the entirety of the house. Only a small entrance niche and a long living room window show the main extent of the house.  The three gangsters knock on the front door where a small iron pumpkin with a candle within flickers in an odious and ominous way.   The door slowly opens and a woman with curly hair in an evening gown greets them.  She holds a small dish with candy in front of the three and says, “Take one only.”  Wracks takes one, Nate takes two, and Kool scoops a handful off the tray.  The curly-haired woman smiles and withdraws.  Behind her sitting in the shadows is a man with a goatee and dark black beard, dressed in a suit with a black hat and black boots, almost like he was to attend a party, on a large chair that looks almost like a throne.  The shadows shroud the man’s features but his hands are long, almost feminine, with nails shaped like claws.   The door closes and the three walk off.

Nate says, that man in the chair looks just like the devil.  I can’t believe it.  What a radical costume.  I bet he wins first prize at a party.

A wrack says that man looked really evil.   His hair was black, he had claws and he dresses in a business suit on Halloween.  He must be really rich to afford a makeup artist like that.  I was ready to run in case he lunged at us and tried to grab our throats. 

Cool’s eyes turn up in his head and he screams out, “twisted,”   twisted on Halloween.   He then masticates a tootsie roll up into a wad in his mouth and spits the soft food on Nate.   Nate in disgust wipes off the sticky mess with a paper towel and glares at Cool.   “Don’t you ever make a fool of me again?”

Up a way on Disenchanted live the Pickle family and the Van horror.   The pickles live like active sociopaths and ride motorcycles out in the desert with Wracks brother.  The vans Horrors have motocross bikes too and the youngest van horror daughter has a beautiful face, nice figure and fine brown hair almost like angel vellum.  However, the van Horror beautiful woman was the subject of a supernatural horror film and no one dates her.   Wracks cannot figure out why? She looks unbelievably attractive.  Maybe if he had an income he would be able to date her although no one else does.  She looks at him and waves on this Halloween and Dike Pickle heaves a spoiled tomato and beans Wracks square on the chest.  With that initial sighting round, a hail of tomatoes, lemons and rotten eggs rain upon the three from behind the gate at the front of the house.

Retreat says Wraks, we are outnumbered.  The three turn about face and run down disenchanted Drive and then flip off their victorious adversaries from a safe distance.  In the distance Wracks sees three people with a huge slingshot muster a large water balloon.  The loader pulls back on the elastic cords holding the sling to the shot and then let’s fly.  A water balloon arcs towards the three from about one hundred yards away. 

Take Cover yells Nate.  They have artillery.  A large water balloon filled with house paint impacts and explodes ten feet away.   The three turn about face and run for their lives.  They have lost the battle of disenchanted drive and have been driven away.  Back down on Bacon way the three hunts for another gang upon which to take their revenge.   The only adversaries to be found are three pretty young girls dressed as nymphs in skin tight leotards with makeup and wigs.  Cool proceeds to inundate each of them with shaving cream and then toss firecrackers at them. A wrack sprays one of the girls who jumps away giggling.   The loud explosions of the firecrackers drive the pretty young girls away running.  Within ten minutes an adult in blue jeans runs at the three. Cool sees him first and leaps away into the bushes.  The man is Nate’s next store neighbor and he applies a headlock on Wracks and leads him away. 

Why are you attacking my daughter girlfriends he asks Wracks.

Because it is Halloween and everyone has to play pranks. Says Wracks

Where your shaving is cream, asks the man.

I must have dropped it when you put a headlock on me, explains Wracks. 

I am going to call the police and complain, says the man. Now be on your way

Go ahead says Wracks, I haven’t done anything illegal. 

Down the street, the two other cronies wait for Wracks. What happened, they asked.  An adult attacked me then let me go, says wracks.  They were looking for your Cool, but they got me instead.  Kool smiles and shoves another piece of candy in his mouth.  On Wracks watch he sees that the time is about ten thirty P.M. Cool says, I have to be home for curfew.  So do I, says Nate.  The three then shake hands and split up.  Nate walks back up Bacon way to his house.  Kool runs up Mellowman’s and disappears into his driveway and Wracks enters his house from the front.  His mother lets him in the front door and Wracks spies a snickers candy bar treat, grabs the candy, tears open the wrapper and throws it into his mouth. 

Happy Halloween, says Wracks and he exits to his bedroom where his brother lies asleep already, wrapped up like a mummy and snoring.  Wracks takes off his shoes, his pants and his shirt and slides into the small bunk bed on the wall opposite the Fonz.  Sleep rapidly overtakes him.

How was your Halloween, asks Father Wracks at the breakfast table over a cup of coffee. 

I was ambushed and pelted in an artillery barrage and then the neighbor beat me up.  

Don’t say I never told you so, says Father Wracks.  You should have stayed home and handed out candy.

I should have, could have would have, and then life wouldn’t be the way it is thinks Wracks.

Today strikes as All Souls day, the day of the dead.  This day chronicles as a day the dead walk the earth and checks up on their families.  If on all souls day, a stranger walks up to a person and tells them something unbelievably poignant or entirely strange, then they are an angel. God lets the departed circulate freely amongst the living if they do not meddle or contact anyone.   Once a soul speaks to a mortal man or woman, they must be reincarnated and relive an earthly existence.  If someone who isn’t an acquaintance relays important information to him or her on All Souls day, please listen.  As punishment, they must be reborn. Happy Halloween.

His name was Robert.  He became autistic at the age of four and developed unremitting colitis in high school.  Whether the condition was due to a chronic intestinal tuberculosis infection or due to inherited immunodeficiency syndrome the result is the same. The medical establishment treated his condition with anti-inflammatory drugs and anti-metabolites, the same drugs used for cancer patients and when these did not help, they switched to immunoglobulins which ultimately precipitated his demise.   Balazide, azathioprine and Stelara gave Robert a fulminant cancer of the liver which ultimately killed him.   Antibiotics would have been more practical and would not have induced fatal neoplastic disease. 

Although Robert was 26, he was autistic and the medical establishment convinced him he would be better off dying in a hospice rather than a hospital.   Robert decided he wanted to die at home so the hospice installed a hospital bed and oxygen concentrator to make him more comfortable because his oxygen level in the blood was falling.  The nurses were very kind but insistent.  One blond who dresses in skin tight surgical garb told us to increase the dose of the medications he was being given.  Another nurse who was quite masculine in her assertations said to continue the medications.

The medications were a benzodiazepine anxiolytic and a schedule one narcotic analgesic.   Lorazepam and morphine were instituted at onset and Robert developed a huge rash over the entirety of his body.  Upon consultation, a doctor-nurse at the hospice substituted oxycodone and the rash started going away.  Robert at this point refused to eat so his parents would pour ensure provided by the hospice down his throat.   He was incontinent and paralyzed and had to be changed in entirety diaper and bedclothes three times a day.  He would gasp for air as if paralyzed and I think the medication was doped with succinyl-choline.   Succiny-choline is a paralytic agent like curare that anesthesiologists prefer to decrease muscle tone at surgery.  Given chronically,  Succiny-choline slowly paralyzes the breathing center in the mid-brain and the patient stops breathing.  Succinyl-choline is like acetyl-choline the neurotransmitter except instead of a two carbon acetate molecule on the choline it has a four carbon succinate molecule.  The result is than non-specific esterase enzymes  that hydrolyze acetyl-choline at the synapse cannot function, the  cell continues to depolarize and not snap back into repolarization.  On a human level this means the body senses it needs oxygen but the respiratory drive that provides the force for inspiration is paralyzed.  So it was for Robert who went blind and carried a flashlight in his hand because he could not see and he eventually suffocated to death.   Once admitted to hospice care, a patient can only leave as a corpse.  My wife watched this as he died and I sat with the corpse for three hours until the coroner picked up the dead body.   Prefer to die in a hospital.

This is the kind of treatment the 80% get with Medicare.   The other 20% get transplants and slowly evaporate at fancy assisted care facilities.  Serial killer inmates are euthanized more humanly than poor indigent patients of the general population.  These heinous criminals receive Nembutal, a barbital sedative to stop them breathing within seconds.  Robert gasped and writhed for a week.  For the most part, allopathic medicine does nothing but treat the symptoms and deliver to patients medicines that are more effective carcinogens than they are treatment medicines. Robert was tortured to death because he was sick and poor.   Like Upton Sinclair and the ones before him something needs to be done about medical care for the rest of us.  All the ballyhoo  of social medicine and the enormous cost of one-third of the national budget, that the politician’s diatribe is wasted on a medical system where the only medicines that work are antibiotics and treatments are often worse than the disease they are meant to treat.  Trauma surgery is only effective when you pour in fluids and sew up the bleeders before the patient dies. 

It is time to ask God for salvation.   Why does he let genetic defects  and fatal illnesses propagate in the general population when the result is disappointment, failure, pain and horror and a ghastly death.  Por favor pide el dios para piedad para los seres humanos.  

Screenings and blood draws and prophylactic medicine are the 21^st century version of a three-ring circus.  They do nothing but waste the time of the patient and generate money for the medical profession.   Human beings worship money.   Society is better served by generating clean water and unpreserved food for the fast-paced inhabitants of a capitalistic society.   Giving human beings a clean healthy life is far better than all the fantastic medicine in the world that exists.  Dios tiene piedad.  Fentanyl and Gin is a better way to go and quicker and painless.