I’m very sad to admit I have gone to Jeff Berwick’s conference in Acapulco Mexico in 2016.
After hard drugs were advertised from the stage, I was naive enough to try it.
I regret it dearly, and the price of my mistake might be the destruction of my life and everything I love.
If I’m going down, I want to go down with full knowledge of my errors and my eyes wide open, and I want to warn others not to follow my trail.

Written March 2016.

The beautiful monster started I think 18. Feb. As Jeff Berwick and co entered Paradise (a bar in Acapulco), the first thought that came to mind was that “these are hardened criminals”. Later I realized that it’s the drugs that gave them that look and feel. Heavy sedation, heavy drugs. The look of a mind that is totally asleep, a mind that doesn’t trust itself to cross the street, much less to properly interact with human beings. Eyes are open but there’s nobody in there.

I’m all for the free market, but after having one trip on LSD I am convinced drugs are extremely destructive of human lives and the values that makes life on earth possible. I thought LSD was just another variant of something like tobacco, alcohol or weed. Boy was I ever wrong. LSD is a different dimension of drugs, it messed me up permanently. The drugs made me feel good about being bad. It’s a monster that will consume my soul if I ever meet it again. My only chance of having a life where I don’t sink into the mental fog, is by being sober. I cannot touch a single beer, not a single smoke, not one weed, for as long as I live.
No human can take these drugs and function 100% mentally, they are so strong.
I am a human.
The mental smog comes gradually. It starts very gently, and it can wait for years and decades. It’s building the habits, one after the other. First one beer in the weekend for a few months. Then two. Then one beer on Wednesday as well. Then a cigarette on special occasions. And so it goes. If I do that, then one night at a party there’s a guy that offers me a sheet of LSD for free. “For free? WOW!” Being drunk after having my usual beers, my judgement is impaired. I’m half-aware, but I don’t have the reasoning faculty to resist, because those parts of my brain is fogged out by the alcohol. So I’ll take it, it’s just this once. I’ll have another trip. Then the damage to my soul will be so massive that it’s beyond repair. I might be able to get sober again, and pull together a functional life, but I will never be able to reach the height I could have conquered if I was sober.
I will have betrayed the best within me.
Already, after just one trip, I’m noticing substantial damage to who I am. I don’t trust myself as much as I did just a few days ago. I’m more worried when crossing the streets. I’m worried that I sound stupid when I talk. I’m worried that other people are thinking that I’m not sober.
I didn’t think about these things just a few days ago. I was confident that I’m a good and able person, and I can deal with reality. That confidence has been damaged.
Don’t for a moment believe the nonsense that you can live a good life using drugs. Sure, you can live _a_ life on drugs, but it will never be your best. You will know every waking moment that you’re not the giant you could have been, so you lull your senses instead and look away from the mirror. You can write a newsletter for some time, but the fog in your brain is making the information more and more trivial and eventually it’s just drivel. You can hold a trivial job for some time and make a little money, but it won’t amount to much.
I am sad to see that this is what is happening to Jeff Berwick. Jeff Berwick does not trust himself. Then why do you trust him?
Jeff Berwick is probably an addict to heroin. He’s hardly a human anymore, but a function. The function of getting the next artificial high. The mental connections that add 2 and 2 together to make 4 are misfiring, and the result ends up being 3 or 16, depending on random factors. How long can you keep being successful financially if your math tells you 2 and 2 makes a random number? Not long. How long can you remain happy when your actions are disconnected from what reality requires?

Jeff was at the conference at the first night and the first day. Perhaps he was drugged out the rest of the time, though the official explanation was that he got sick. Why have a heroin high in public when you can feel just as good laying in bed all day? The natural high that your body gives you is dependent on your thinking, your actions and their success. The artificial high from drugs comes without conditions. Effortless love. Thus, a bed works just as well as challenging yourself and trying new things. There was lot of people who got sick at Grand Hotel Acapulco, and my guess is that so did probably Jeff too, though I bet you quite a bit that he was high most of the time.

What’s wrong with being high?
And everything.

It should not be illegal to destroy yourself, you have the right to drill a hole in the property of your head and stuff it with your favorite drug. Your body is yours and yours alone.
But don’t for a moment think that there’s much freedom in drugs. It’s slavery, and should be recognized for what it is, the strongest bondage there is. As a libertarian, I want freedom from all types of slavery. I’ve just discovered the most ruthless dictator there is; the ruler of your soul.

You can’t be without a ruler if drugs are your king and you are the slave.

Jeff Berwick is slowly being eroded away. Like a ship is retaining momentum even after the engine stops, so also the body of Jeff Berwick is continuing to operate by habit. But much of the mind is gone, and especially the lucid apex of the neocortex that is sparkling with humor, brilliance and happiness. As the years go by, we shall see more and more a body on autopilot, and the destination is destruction. Not total destruction perhaps, but destruction of the best within him. Left will only be the good, and perhaps over time also that will be eroded away.

Permanent damage
Drugs changed who I am as a person, permanently. For the rest of my life I have to live with what I have become. It might sound romantic; but the last few days have been a night-mare, just real. I realize these things are so strong that no human brain can function while using these things. I might be one of those who were destroyed in narco pulco. If I default on my responsibility to take action, and if I go down the path of self-destruction and drug use, then let me at least sound the warning before I’m too far gone into the fog, so that other an-caps can live and carry on the message, and not be part of the black hole that is Jeff and drugs. I love life, I do not want for a moment to surrender to drugs, but it might be too late for me, or it might not, we shall see. There is no life in drugs, only a slow destruction of everything I am and everything I love. The first death is the death of the trust in my mind. They call it “losing ego” / “losing yourself” on websites describing LSD. That’s exactly what happens.
You loose yourself, your soul, your trust in your mind. And from now on, you’re a slave. It’s the worst nightmare I have experienced, because it’s real, and I know it. It’s death within.

They call this a bad trip. It’s not a bad trip, it’s my soul and brain fighting with everything it has for my survival, using whatever tools it can construct in the play between the brain-cells, even if it’s making it sound like the LSD is a monster that is trying to consume me. Another dose would silence this voice, and with it my soul would sustain permanent disintegration, the armor of the mind shot to smithereens, and I’d be another zombie, living for nothing but the next high of the drug.

Life on earth requires action. Life on earth is finding happiness in swimming, watching the sun rise, drinking well-tasting clean water, growing vegetables, saying hi to friends and fucking a girlfriend I love. Drugs give none of these, just complete inaction and a fantastic feeling.

Damage: balance
My perception of balance is changed. Sometimes when I change direction fast, it’s taking longer time for my system to catch up with the changes. Longer reaction times is not a positive thing. Some movements lead to a light dizziness, I would guess because the calculations the brain is performing is not correct anymore.
Do you see how these chemicals are destroying me? By just tuning the calculations a little out of order very many places, the total adjustment is a huge mistrust in my abilities. I might have to practice these moves for a long time until the new calculations can be easily predicted by my brain. Maybe, just maybe, then I’ll function at a reasonable percentage again. 100% function? Probably never.

Damage: music
I’ve loved music all my life. Now there are at least chunks of the music that I have difficulty listening to, because the memories from the LSD trip is so strong that it drags me toward wanting it again.
The best things with life is destroyed first.

Damage: less confidence
When I walk the streets, I’m jumpy and afraid. I’ve never been jumpy before, I’ve been confident that I’m observing everything of importance. The jumpiness comes from the fear that there is important information my eyes have gazed over that I have not paid attention to. Thus, I now react very strongly to unexpected sounds. The other day my girlfriend called me while I was reading on my phone. I almost dropped the phone, I was so scared. I’ve never experienced this fear before. Sure, I could induce another round of fog that will plaster over the fear so I don’t feel it. But then I’ll further destroy my nervous system.

Damage: sleeping pattern
After days being off any and all drugs, I’ve noticed a dramatically changed sleeping pattern. I used to sleep 8 hours per night, now I sleep 5. It changed instantly by the use of LSD. Perhaps this will return to normal in the course of the next weeks and months, we’ll see. For now, I’m sleeping less well and much shorter.

LSD. A hard-core brain-rape. I suggest coming to narco pulco and try it, and bring that shotgun as well, it might come in handy to blow the last fragments of your brains out. I’m sure it feels fantastic for the 15 milliseconds it takes for the deer-slug to penetrate the skull.
All this damage was accumulated over 24 hours in one single trip (the trip didn’t last the advertised 12 hours for me, but 24 ish). I had no alcohol or any other drugs during this period.
Imagine what one year of this will do to the nervous system and the self-esteem.

I hope I still have a chance of escaping slavery. My soul will never be the same, but I might be able to still have a good life. Until just a few days ago, I thought governments were the big threat to my happiness, but now I see it’s any form of the drooling monster of apathy, whether it’s in governments or in libertarians or, the biggest of all threats, the one in myself.
There’s a monster inside of me. A drooling beast almost without a brain that wants one thing at any cost; to feel the high, no matter the cost. It’s the monster that Ayn Rand is describing in The Fountainhead, the abomination Steve Mallory and Howard Roark is discussing. It’s Ellsworth Tui’s playmate.
The users of drugs fool themselves and their customers by suggesting it’s therapeutic and makes their lives better. I was fooled by this marketing line as well. I love therapy, it has done wonders for me. But drugs are not therapy, it’s slow suicide that makes me feel good. It’s corruption of who I am and my ability to control my actions, with the illusion of happiness as the reward. I will tell you a much better way to do therapy than drugs, because I’ve done them both; read some books on therapy (or perhaps there are some good therapists you can visit, but I’ve not done that). Instead of doing drugs for 12 hours, read for 12 hours. In my experience, this is excellent therapy, and it doesn’t consume my soul, it strengthens it and make me better skilled at the task of living.
Instead of a person who loves to live, to work, to have sex and and to think, an addict becomes a function, a single purpose, a single vector. The purpose of getting the next high. Costs be damned.
Got to rip off a friend? “You are my friend. I will pay you back, I swear. Just give me another month.”
Got to lie, steal, cheat? “I rather not… but… nobody else will notice…”
The mental fog makes sure all decisions only have one purpose; the next high. Whatever it takes to get the next high, that’s all there is to live for. Everything else matters less and less.
Of course it doesn’t start like this. It starts with a high only once per year, at narco pulco. But after a few years, once per year is not enough. And the snowball has started rolling.

I strongly advice any human who love their lives to stay far away from Jeff Berwick and his crowd. Stay away from narco pulco.
They are on the path of destruction of the best within themselves and others, and they will bring a lot of good people with them.
Sure, it might take years before the damage is clearly visible to the naked eye, but make no mistake about it, these people are heading for the mental fog, and they are celebrating their destruction.

Trace Mayer
A few years ago a strong, intelligent advocate for bitcoin and a lucid mind. He is now a mere body that is flying high. I never saw him sober at the conference. He made a lot of money on bitcoin and gave in to the coma of drugs. Sure, he might still give a 20 minute speech here and there. A couple of years from now he’ll give a 1 minute introduction here and there. Later he might muster the last few remnants of courage go to a few conferences and a few people will say “Trace? Is this you?”. Then there will be nothing left but the function of getting high and a soggy face with eyes dead as stones. No happiness, no laughter, no love, just a body with an automated habit of getting high. The source of his wealth which was his brains and independent judgement, and who made it possible for Trace to make his money, will eventually be gone. His money will be spent up kiting the skies until there’s no wealth left, and at that point there’s no Trace left either. A sad ending on such a beautiful story.

Adam Kokesh
I respected this guy for quite a while, an ex-marine who started thinking, and thus a rare breed. When, after some druggy fog talk, he was introducing his girlfriend he was talking of (I’m paraphrasing, maybe there’s a video that gets the exact words) “have shown me the strongest love I’ve ever felt”. That’s the language druggies use about heroin. Heroin is true love in chemical form, consuming the soul and never leaving you alone. It’s rumored to be a love so strong that it’s 100 000 times stronger than regular love. Having spent a lot of time with drug addicts, I can see the signs of drowsiness that comes from these things. You can see it in their eyes, the gaze is slowed by the chemicals, they are not alert and observing, but sluggish, slow and the fire is gone. The sparks of the frontal lobes is gone, and the average is very strongly present.
Adam has a strong body, a good mind and good health; the products of the reasoning and awareness he used to initiate some time ago, so this tank will take many years to be rusted out. While his brain is very slowly being torn apart, we might hear a lot of drivel about spirituality and “connectedness”, the lingo of the haze of drugs. I would love to see the tank clearing up and get to mental work again in the amazing state of intoxicating control that is soberness. The state where you’re the captain of your soul and your destiny.

Hard and diligent work is what it takes for the world to become more free. Adam is a very smart guy, and he could make a great difference. He already has made a positive difference with his book and a lot of his work, but he could be a giant. I think he might be one of the few, perhaps the only one, of these people strong enough to one day recover. Probably soon after his girlfriend eventually takes an overdose. He’s a machine with heavy armor. I hope he doesn’t give up all of his soul without a fight.
For the moment the an-cap tank is a druggie on his way to mental sleep. It will take time before he is destroyed. But master heroin is patient, and is like a corrosive gas, and it never ever leave Adam alone. It’s always there asking Adam if now would be a good time to feel a bit better. “Not yet” Adam can answer. In another 3 seconds the master is back:
“How about now, do you want to feel good now?”
“I SAID NOT YET!” yells Adam. “I’m working on this article. Maybe afterwards.”
“You don’t feel too good, do you?” says the patient master with soft and gentle voice.
“I know that, but I’m here to comfort you, to make you feel better. Don’t you want that?”
“You know I cannot do that. We’re partners. You and I will always be together. Aren’t you happy about that?”
“You’re consuming me”
“Nah, it’s not like I’m going to kill you, I’m just going to make you feel better, I promise. Remember all the good times we’ve had together.”
“Maybe… maybe I can finish the article tomorrow. But this is the last time this week… OK?”
“OK with me. Last time this week. By the way, the week starts on Sunday in many places, not Monday…”.
Master Heroin will take his time, rusting away just a small fragment of the soul each high. And there’s still a lot of soul in Adam, so the master will have to work for a long time before the tank is rusted to pieces. But master heroin has a lot of time on his hands. In fact, he’s got until the tank is dead.

Adams girlfriend was talking about taking mushrooms on stage. Advocating rather hard drugs on stage is telling you where these people are going at different speeds; down. To be successful in the world you need awareness, reason, lucidity, clear thinking, good judgement and a good relationship to facts and to other people. That’s how you make money, how you have intelligent discussions, how you operate heavy or light machinery, how you write software or write articles, how you LIVE.
Drugs gives you none of these, it just gives the illusion of happiness and internal strength. And when you don’t have the high, then you feel almost helpless, because you stand naked in front of reality without any protection.

This is the new real you now, this incompetent blabber-talker who cannot make good decisions. A mind that is not functioning properly, that cannot make calculations, that cannot tell right from wrong. And now you get scared and uncomfortable. So it’s probably better to induce another dose of “self-confidence” to feel better.
Adams girlfriend also mentioned that she could “taste sounds”.
FYI, that’s a bug, not a feature. When the senses are so messed up in the brain that they are starting to blur, how do you expect to make precise judgement? Answer; you can’t. From now on the judgement is getting more and more blurry, and neither sensory inputs to the brain or the command outputs from the brain can be trusted. At this stage the fear in sober conditions should be so complete and overwhelming that soberness is seen as the enemy. Constant high seems the only acceptable condition. But in reality it is only soberness that have any chance of saving this life. Permanent soberness and massive therapy might return a lust for life, though much is gone forever.
Was the confidence I saw in this woman’s eyes the reflection of a hard working mind, diligently and systematically constructing itself to become strong and able to deal with reality? Or was it the confidence that master heroin gives his slaves for what seems like almost free; the small price of just a slice of your soul? And what difference does it make one way or the other?
We shall revisit the story in 20 years, and perhaps sooner. That is, if the drugs have not consumed my brain as well by then, which is a very real possibility.

Other speakers were so in the mist that I didn’t even bother listening to them. At the time it didn’t occur to me that they were just dope-heads, I though that they were just unintelligent. I guess the two are correlated.

Still other speakers were sober and clear. How gratifying I found it to find brilliant people at the conference that were sober and intelligent. I hope they, as me, will never be back.

To Jeffrey Tucker: if you support freedom, intelligence, that people read books and become smarter, please don’t come for the 2017 conference. You are very important in the libertarian circles, and the last thing we need is for you to sprinkle your holy water into the maelstrom that narco pulco is becoming. Dragging in more people to their doom will not benefit you or the cause of liberty. Your future self might severely regret coming. I severely regret the past me coming.

To Andreas Antonopolis: Fantastic of you not to come because of Jeff. I would love to see you be public about this. We don’t need to turn libertarians and bitcoiners into drugged zombies.

To all libertarians who have not yet done any hard drugs and are thinking of coming to narco pulco: DON’T. There is nothing but destruction of the best within you, dressed in beautiful beaches, nice hotels, nice speeches and fantastic highs. Sure, it will be the most happy suicide you can imagine. It will be so comfortable that having sex will wane in comparison. Having a normal life will seem boring, and work will be a seen as a necessary evil. Actually, having a life will seem boring. Nothing will matter but the high.
But do you want to suffer the rest of your life, for a few speeches that you can get for next to free on the internet? Consider the cost, not in terms of money, but in terms of who you are and who you might become; a zombie that “lives” for nothing but a false feeling.

It’s not that you might lose an arm or a leg, but the most vital organ you have; your brain.

Need proof?
Have a look at the words from Jeff:
(Jeff saying he needed a drink to have the conversation)

To those who call themselves libertarians and have decided to come back; best of luck. You will need all the luck you can get to avoid the consequences of your actions. Enjoy your “libertarian” ideas, chained to the master that will never, ever let you go until the day you die. I respect your right to destroy the best within yourself, but I am very sorry that you do so. And when you go down, it’s not the governments of the world that killed the best within you. It was you who gave it up too cheaply, for a slight feeling lasting some hours.

I guess making the world better will be left to the libertarians who stay awake and sober, write books, software and anything else to rid the world of the drooling monster of apathy.

I thought the most dangerous ruler was the governments until i met the drugs. I realize governments are external and small threat and can be literally physically walked around.
The much stronger ruler is apathy, in whatever form it comes. That ruler controls your soul and will never leave you alone.

As I leave narco pulco, the tears are steaming down my eyes. I beg my future self to stay sober for as long as I live. I might have one more shot at having a life of consciousness and awareness. My soul is not completely destroyed, there is a remnant of reason within me. There is still a lust for living. What I did was stupid, but I still want to live.

[With a face soaked in tears, I pray] Please, please, please, my soul and future self, use the strength that is still left and guide me to soberness and achievement. Take me not into the night of drugs, but keep me in the day of awareness, alert me to the consequences of my actions, and work hard at designing the habits that will keep me far away from the fog, dilusions and self-deception. Then I can still have a life and enjoy the simple and beautiful things; kissing my girlfriend, watching the waves on the oceans, reading books and making love to my work. I need a lucid mind to be able to do this.
Reality, please give me one more chance. I still want to live, and I see now that the only way to live is with honesty and integrity, and not for a moment dull my senses.
I will leave the judgement of whether my actions are sufficient to live to you, reality, my all and everything.
For mine is the power to build or destroy myself, in body as well as in soul.
For as long as I live.