“Whatever gets you through the night…is all right!
J. Lennon
One person’s restful night is another’s addictive vice, just as one person’s slippery slope is another’s slip-and-slide. A gateway to addictions, a stepping stone to ruin and destitution, is now available to all with limited interference. How ironic that it took the allure of an untapped tax base to generate an outpouring of compassion to those seeking relief. There has to be a more humane way to keep the recreational users and addicts, marginalized and ostracized, trapped on the lowest rungs of the socioeconomic ladder than to promote and tax the very thing that holds them there.
I never think to ask the convenience store clerk for medical advice. When it’s time to replenish my hidden stash of Twizzler’s and Peach Snapple, this question never comes up, “Which CBD product do you recommend for my insomnia?… Great, I’ll take your value pack and another $50 in Powerball tickets.” Maybe it’s because I don’t like the way it rolls off the tongue. To be fair, the phone number for my neurologist wouldn’t be the first I would look for if I were in dire need of an infusion of Twix bars to get me through the night.
What’s in your wallet? Is there an MMJ license hiding behind your Sam’s Club Membership card? With such a large number of people choosing to get stoned as a way to manage a debilitating condition, odds are I might know someone who does. Having never walked in their flip flops, maybe there’s a question they have answered that I should ask myself. “Is this something for me?”
There must be some logic that I’m missing, that taking something that is known to destroy brain cells to relieve my discomfort that is caused by a disease that is killing off brain cells will somehow benefit me. I can assure you that it isn’t my intent to belittle or malign someone else’s ailments. Who am I to judge, and who appointed me arbiter?
Terminal diseases, end of life, or palliative care, I get it. If it’s legal, why not? If it’s not, why isn’t it? Athlete’s foot, pattern baldness, or feelings of sadness after a bad hair cut; for me, that’s where the logic breaks down a little. None-the-less it is an option and a viable one. Whether it’s for relief from chronic pain or a chance to relive parts of the ’80s and 90’s that are fuzzy, it’s a hair that each individual must split.
Following in the footsteps of Cheech & Chong is not just icing on the cake, it can be the whole pan of brownies. Beware, we are now leaving the kiddie pool and venturing into deep waters. Many that started down the slippery slope are no longer with us, having turned to more powerful cocktails when the brownies could no longer satisfy their needs or reduce their suffering.
If you don’t think that it can happen to you, guess again. If you do find yourself stuck on one of those lower rungs, don’t expect anyone running for office to help you up or give you a hand. That swim lane is crowded now that Bloomberg is all in. Besides, most are in fly-over country, pandering to an unfamiliar crowd, while the wanna-be is touting their accomplishents, measuring Big Gulps and taking down names; presumably, names written on big checks.
So what’s hanging in your garage?
Thanks for reading, licking, and sharing. That would be liking.
Good point Ivy, a slippery slope can be just a sheet of plastic, a garden hose, and a few sprinkler heads away from becoming a fantastic slip and slide.
Al and his faithful, but chocoholic side-kick, Ivy the Wonder Pup.
Of course, we can ask the boy to translate this into emoji. A reader is a reader, sort of.