TONNER'S 'TRUTH' A SORE POINT FOR SOME READERS

Mark Tonner - Out of The Blue

Lately, the ratio between insulting and supportive mail has taken a
contrary turn. Last week's article, on poetry I'd seen on skid-row walls,
extended the trend.

Deb Harper wrote electronically to question my comment that police are
encouraged to examine the root of problems.

Harper asks "on which planet" this was encouraged, insisting that such
soul-searching should be left to psychiatrists, support groups and friends.

Alan Randell took time to protest, saying my insight was merely part of a
good-cop bad-cop routine.

I was, of course, dubbed a bad cop and "parliament's willing whore" for
enforcing unjust and ineffective laws. As a drug "war criminal" my
comeuppance was inevitable, once the feds came to their senses and put me
and my kind on trial.

Drug laws, according to Randell, were enacted to repress Oriental culture,
protect white manufacturers and grant privileges to the medical profession.

The state was said to have no right to ban any drug and my "rinky-dink
little management-sanctioned column" to have no purpose other than to
persuade the public that all laws are good.

I was portrayed as a smirking fiend, bent on throwing innocent, poor and
non-whites into drug-infested prisons.

Randell sends me regular e-mail, outlining the latest in decriminalization
thought, much of it interesting and none of it (until now) abusive.

The only reply I'd ever sent was a plea for peaceful disagreement, along
with a request to keep the e-mail messages flowing and a promise to read
them with an open mind.

One of the few civil comments came in the form of a poem, written by Lisa
Hoolselma, for a terminally ill friend. She felt its message applied
equally to helpless addicts.

"My child's cry of torment falls upon deaf ears, but rings throughout the
heavens, your pain seen through My tears. Although you do not see Me, My
spirit comes from above.

"To hold you in my tender arms, and fill you with my love. Fear not of
being alone My child, I whisper in our ear. For I have taken you under
wing. The Comforter is hear. Please open up your heart to Me, and you will
clearly see. I have far greater things for you. Life eternally"

Nice touch. I ran into green-haired David Malmo-Levine outside a Vancouver
hemp shop this week.

Having attacked this column in print some months ago, he recognized me and
the marijuana activist asked: Why do you hate us so much?"

I replied: Don't assume I hate you - I actually care more than you know."

David launched into a tirade so frenzied that I realized that rational
exchange was impossible.

He followed me to my car and continued his rant even though I'd powdered up
the window. Doubtless the man's lips are still moving.

It IS possible to feel for addicts, yet oppose legalization of narcotics.
It seems, however, impossible to speak such opinion without facing a
barrage of political power words.

I've heard enough cries of "hurtful," "hateful," "mean-spirited" and
"offensive" to last a lifetime. Is it mean-spirited or offensive to hope
that, somewhere in that lifetime, the truth will be back in style?

Checked-by: Richard Lake