He chose to load his syringe rather than pick his kids up from school. He chose to call his dealer rather than reach out to a sober person. Just like thousands of other junkies all over the USA but he gets a fanfare… they get a pauper’s grave and the shame of the addict heaped upon them.Īddicts are selfish, self obsessed monsters. The snake oil sales men who promise relief from active addiction by cosseting addicts in expensive rehabs, re packaging the 12 steps of AA with no chance of long-term sobriety.Ĭriminal sober people with no interest in helping the desperate addict, just screwing them for the big bucks year after year for short-term relief.Īnyway, he’s dead. They should have gone after the directors of the ‘for profit’ treatment center he attended last year. The police arrested the guys who allegedly sold Hoffman the heroin. He needed to be on his own to conduct his junky life. Especially when you are a household name.
It’s hard to load a syringe, find a vein and discreetly nod off in a room full of people. You know, junkies who are taking drugs on the lam tend to isolate. There were long essays by addiction ‘experts’ describing how addicts like Hoffman had no choice, that he was predestined to die with a needle in his arm, that his death symbolized something more in American culture that just the death of a ‘lonely’ junky. The press was awash with sentimental descriptions of Hoffman, endless references to his ‘genius’ ‘talent’ and the ‘tragic waste of life’. Many were less than discreet and sang like canaries. Sober people with many years of sobriety rolled their eyes as crocodile tears drenched the disingenuous faces of people claiming intimate friendship with the deceased film star.Īt the Perry Street morning AA meeting the press stood in packs, enduring the frigid February winds waiting for people who might have known PSH. Finding spurious reasons to hitch their wagon to his hearse. The rooms of AA were full of weeping newcomers grieving his death.