In '92 I moved to a neighborhood (Arthur Ave AKA Belmont) that had its share of those addicted to crack, this being the tail end of the scourge.
Hanging out in the park drinking beer, I met and became friends with the local drinkers as well as the imbibers of the aforementioned and other such toxic substances.
It may seem easy to be dismissive or make light of them, but what I saw was people suffering. Suffering from their addiction, suffering from their lives stalled, suffering from the effect on their families and friends, suffering from isolation, suffering from upbringings the details of which none of us would like to hear.
Some died, some went to jail, some I have no idea what happened to them, some recovered, and even after that, some died a few years after getting a semblance of their lives back. Two of those just died within the last five years, one months ago, in fact.
Now I ain't saying break out the violins and give Lindell a listen, but regardless of what one thinks of what he believes, he is a person who went through his own hell and managed to come out on the other side of it in a place where he is far better off.
His message should be the issue, not the past he had suffered through - and survived..