Our drug mania reminds me of a job at an auto dealership I held while in graduate school. At 4:30 on a Friday afternoon, an irate woman came into the shop. Her car’s “service engine” light was flashing, even though her car had already been repaired for that same problem several times. At 4:30 on a Friday afternoon, who wants to work on a balky problem and deal with a furious customer? Everyone was quiet, except for one mechanic who said, “I’ll take care of it.” He drove the car back into the bay, got in behind the dashboard, removed the bulb from the signal light and threw it away. Then he
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