Congratulations Canada! We finally legalized Marijuana (Peter Tosh would be so proud), and we can now proceed with Project Buzzkill.
This topic needs to be addressed properly once and for all. And by someone who is neither running for public office, nor a complete deadhead, or some hysterical fear-mongering reactionary who believes it’s step one of a three-step journey that finds you strung out and toothless, prostituting yourself in back-alleys for a single hit of Crystal Meth. Dammit, it looks like it’s going to have to be me again.
For ages, The Ganja has been so disproportionately ‘non-grata’ versus alcohol, caffeine, tobacco, and other government-approved substances because the self-righteous have a great talent for perpetuating their own ignorant lore.
My intent is not to glorify the benefits of the Chronic (though there are many), nor to defend against a long history of obstinate hypocrisy. Rational people already know that the Wacky Tabacky is no worse than alcohol (Or about a hundred drug store products you wouldn’t think twice about consuming), but it is categorically less damaging in both the long and short-term. And yet, there are seemingly normal humans whose notions about the Sticky Icky cannot be swayed.
Debates about the benefits and dangers of the Delightful Dank are already underway, so let’s just begin with some ground rules when engaging in the heated arguments that will inevitably ensue:
Be realistic: In 1936, the cult-classic satire now known as ‘Reefer Madness’ was produced non-ironically as a cautionary tale about the perils and pitfalls of the Burning Bush. Among them was the preposterous notion that a simple joint could lead to committing heinous crimes like hit & run, rape and murder. Wow! What kind of weed were THEY smoking? Oh, I know. None! Because only someone who has never tried it could ever buy that horse shit. I challenge you to convince someone who’s high to commit murder. At best, they’ll make a mental note to do it first thing the following morning. And we all know how well those baked self-reminders work. I once witnessed a guy with a sleep-mask draft an out-loud “Note to self” saying, “Remember when you wake up to NOT think you’ve gone blind.”. Didn’t work. He freaked, I pulled it off, and to this day he believes I “cured” him. Just saying.
Be nice… to normal, open-minded people who just don’t groove on Grass. These may be people who never tried it, or had a bad trip, or are allergic, or used to partake until it just no longer made sense for them. We are not in high school. There is no peer pressure. I happen to be one of those that developed an allergy to the Happy Herb such that if it touches my skin, I immediately break out in hives. Oh, I can still smoke it, I just can’t ROLL it anymore. All of my friends have been super supportive.
Leave God out of it: The worst debaters in the world always rely on biblical misquotes. Well, guess what, folks? I have read the old testament more than once. Not saying I understand it all, but then I don’t completely understand Game of Thrones either and it doesn’t stop me from following it. It also does not mean I make life choices based on the actions of Khaleesi or the Baratheons. Incidentally, the bible does not mention marijuana specifically but does repeatedly mention “spices” that translate more appropriately to mean “herbs”. And there are various references to the people of “Kush”. Coincidence? You decide.
Don’t act superior: Hey, no one appreciates the proud swagger of an involuntary virgin more than me, but you should probably know that the heroic story of how you resisted the ‘evil charms’ of the Magic Dragon really doesn’t come off as impressively as you think. Maybe you reckon it makes you sound principled. Like you courageously fought off hoards of gorgeous women who were just begging you to get high and make love to them? You really just sound like someone who still believes that if you’re naughty, Santa won’t bring you the self-flagellation kit you wanted for Kwanza. In truth, the minute you turn around, virtually everyone begins doing an impression of you that involves bobbing their head from side-to-side like a vaudeville rag-doll puppet, and using a voice that can only be achieved by pinching your nose. Because you claiming victory for avoiding something you clearly fear is really just pathetic.
Be a Rasta: As a journalist, I spent my fair share of time in Jamaica (doing research). There, I was embraced by the Rastafarian people who named me “AyanFayah” which is hard to translate. It doesn’t mean “Hero” exactly. Maybe “white boy with big mouth”. I don’t know. The point is that they will speak candidly and extoll the virtues of the Bobo Bush. They will tell you how the Jolly Green can cure all ails but do not pretend that it is the sole reason they engage. No need to tell people we’ve contracted a mild case of Glaucoma just for an excuse to huff the Hot Stick. Either do it or don’t, but in the words of Bob Marley, “Get up. Stand up. Stand up for your rights”.
Leave the kids out: We can all agree that youngsters should not be introduced to La Dona Juanita before the age of 18. That said, they are likely still going to, as you probably did. But if you’re under the impression that they’ll think you’re cool for showing them the ropes… Bad idea! Not just because it is illegal, slightly immoral, and probably uncomfortable, but if there’s one thing every moderate pot smoker knows, it’s that the stoned version of you probably looks anything but cool. Hey, maybe you’re a pro who really runs the “Roach motel” and keeps it all together, but the more realistic version ends with you babbling incoherently as your upper lip sticks to your top gums in an embarrassing beaver impression. Bottom line: Your kids should not see you high until at least their mid-40s when it’s much cuter to see Grandpa, in his velvet track suit, trying to catch imaginary flies with his ninja hands.
Bucket List it: If you’ve been curious but never partook of the Bouncy Buddha simply because it was illegal, perhaps now is the time for you to find someone you trust to guide you safely through your first experience in a controlled manner. FYI, I am not your guy. My sense of humour is far too twisted and I will ruin your experience by speaking very slowly and swaying just enough to make you wonder if it’s me, or you, or the Earth. No, I am referring to a mature Cheeba chaperone who will tell you that it’s okay to relax and let go. And that it’s perfectly acceptable to put peanut butter and junior mints on a Big Mac, or make Rice Krispie treats with tomato sauce and cheese, or… well you get the picture.
Ultimately folks, it’s like any other personal life choice that has its pros and cons. It requires the exercising of judgement and common sense. Because whether it’s Sinsemilla, Maui Wowie, Acapulco Gold, El Choco Loco, The Pakalolo, or whatever you crazy kids are calling it these days, just remember: It’s not Marijuana that gets people into trouble. It’s people that get people into trouble. Now, go have some deep-fried Twinkies.
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