It is the end of July 2026. I have been in excruciating pain since about midnight last night. Or, I might say, I have been in acute pain since about late evening of late July 1950. That’s right. Late July of 1950. My pain, always in the abdomen, has been running riot since about the beginning of the Korean War.
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The pain has been serious to the point that I have to bend over while sitting on the toilet. Somehow, the pressure against my spine cuts off the impulses of pain through my body.
We are just guinea pigs to see how much we can take in the way of pain. Just lab rats.
When I was a younger man, the pain was throttled by the choke point of my backbone. This worked well and I was able to attend glorious Parkside Elementary School. But the pain knew enough not to do a “work around” and, again, allow me to read and study and write. This, in turn, allowed me to go to Hellish Montgomery Hills Junior High and then to beautiful Montgomery Blair High School and then to Columbia University and then to Yale Law School.
I was able to be Valedictorian of the Class of 1970 at Yale Law and then to be a successful lawyer even against super high-end trial lawyers like Bruce Montgomery of Arnold & Porter.
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And all of this time, I got along by virtue of excellent physicians who prescribed for me meds that allowed me to function.
Then, I came to New York and then Hollywood. My intestines were always in a riot, but my meds, usually “Paregoric,” kept me alive and well.
But about five years ago, the government stopped allowing me to function by refusing to allow me to live with paregoric.
So, now, this poor exhausted old man staggers through the day in pain. And why? I cannot find evidence of us humans dying from paregoric. We are just guinea pigs to see how much we can take in the way of pain. Just lab rats.
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And why? Why, why, why?
Please bolsheviks at FDA/DEA/NIH, please allow us to live.
PLEASE!!!!
Respectfully yours, Ben Stein.
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