Jefferson Beauregard Sessions, good people do, indeed, smoke pot
The amount of money and of legal energy being given to prosecute hundreds of thousands of Americans who are caught with a few ounces of marijuana in their jeans simply makes no sense – the kindest way to put it. A sterner way to put it is that it is an outrage, an imposition on basic civil liberties and on the reasonable expenditure of social energy.
William F. Buckley Jr.
When that nasty little garden gnome, Sessions, announced with a self-righteous smirk that good people don’t smoke pot, I didn’t quite know what to do – laugh or punch a wall. Are you fucking kidding me?
I have insomnia. Without the strain of marijuana known as indica, which affects body rather than mind, I do not sleep. People with insomnia react with somber nods and little sighs of sympathy. They know what it is to jolt awake every twenty minutes. Or sit in the dark trying desperately to get their bodies to loosen up or their restless legs to stop jerking and running in place. Or just sitting the dark sobbing because they are so tired but still wide awake.
When I visited Missouri in September, I did not take my sleepy meds (as I call the edibles that have saved me) because only a complete fucking idiot brings pot to Missouri. After all, my natal state really did pass a law that states that any woman who ever had an abortion or used birth control can be fired or not hired, evicted or not rented to. For serious. They did that. So no, not with my granddaughter in tow. The potential nightmare scenarios of putting sleep over safety stretched on ad nauseum.
(There’s pot there. Of course there is. Pot being illegal stops nobody.)
I was there for six days and in that entire time, I slept perhaps 12-14 hours. Total. I kept my granddaughter up with my exhausted weeping – I thought I was being quieter than that. I was trying to be.
When we landed, my middle daughter took one look at me and said “Mom, you are not going home. You aren’t safe to be on the road. You’re staying with me.” So we stopped at one of the myriad legal pot stores here in Washington State where they sell both recreational and medical marijuana, picked up my indica edibles and off I went to sleep in her teardrop trailer/guest bedroom (a tiny pod of paradise, trust me). I don’t remember a whole lot after I closed the door to it.
I realized, after I had awoken, that I’d had clinical exhaustion – had I been a movie star with anything resembling real money, I might have checked myself into a hospital to be pampered back to health. Fortunately, I had my daughter, granddaughter and daughter’s ever-so-marvelous partner who made me feel welcome and loved – and safe to completely shut off all consciousness.
But back to the original topic – Mr. Jefferson Beauregard Sessions (emphasis is important because you have to pronounce that name with a southern accent for full effect) asserts that good people don’t smoke pot. He most likely ruminated on that little nugget of disinformation over some alcoholic drink. Or, if he’s a teetotaler, he has clearly expressed no condemnations of the imbibing of alcohol. Nope. He reserves his ignorance for pot.
Mr. Sessions (if you think I’m calling that little pointy eared rat “dear,” you will be waiting a long damn time), good people smoke pot. In fact, were you to sit in the parking lot of my two favorite pot stores, you would notice just how many very nice cars there are. Then you might observe that the average age of people buying is probably around 40, and that’s averaging in the young ones of 21 (and they check our ID very carefully) to men and women easily in their 80s – most of them well dressed, many looking like professionals.
These are good people, if surface appearance is anything to go by.
So are the young people who run this business – and its business is brisk. This young company is very well run. Its staff is courteous and kind. The building is spotlessly clean and quite charming. And they pay taxes, unlike that gelatinous orange sack of ooze to whom you have sworn your unholy fealty.
And no, marijuana is not a gateway drug unless it’s in the hands of drug dealers selling illegally, who will happily make harder drugs available to you. All that is sold in pot stores is pot. You will have to go find an actual scumbag if you want real poisons.
Marijuana does not lead to violence. Surely, you must be joking about this. Marijuana mellows people out to the point that they are disinterested in violence, unlike alcohol – far too many of us have been at the mercy of a mean drunk (but go ahead and feel superior about being a drinker, hypocrite). Marijuana only leads to violence because of the cartels.
Yeah, the cartels that our ridiculous, failed “war on drugs” brought into being. The cartels which have left bloody bodies strewn all over Central and South America. If you have studied history (which I am coming to doubt), you might recall that Prohibition created the Mafia. Same thing and no surprise about the cartels. Make something with high demand illegal, and systems will grow to provide it and it will be criminals who run them.
In the meantime, hemp – of which marijuana is one variety – is illegal (follow this for more details on hemp’s legal status). Yup, this natural plant which could help save the earth – paper, food, concrete, healing oils for kids with seizure disorders, clothing – the list keeps growing – has been made illegal because yutzes like you have made the conscious decision to overlook every single shred of evidence that doesn’t fit into your paradigm.
Well, fine, then don’t smoke pot. Or eat it. Or whatever, although if you get cancer, you’ll regret that – pot quells nausea and enables appetite. But to imbibe of the herb – or not to – should be the same sort of adult decision people make regarding alcohol and cigarettes every day – substances proven to be far, far more deleterious than pot could ever be.
You would be much better served growing a conscience.