Welcome to class. You came just in time. It’s recess and I’m found, as usual, talking shit in my corner of the playground. I sit toward the top of the bleachers because I am uncomfortable sitting on the ground but too lazy to stand for the 45 minutes. I sit in my imaginary glass tower, looking over my empire of nothingness and looking down on all the beautiful and happy people of whom I am so jealous. They are playing active, healthy games. Some are leading, some are following, but they are all participating and are all wrapped up in winning or losing in some physical competition. The women often compete on a bit more of a social level, but they are playing games as well and while it might not appear that physically active, it’s certainly physical and I’m an avid spectator.
Those that fall into “none of the above” scatter into cliques that they won’t call cliques. Even the bookworms posture themselves to attract as much attention as one holding a book can muster. I’m in the shit-talker clique, which I started, and at the moment I am leading. I didn’t start it on purpose, nor am I deliberately leading it. It started by someone talking shit about me, so I competed and won. I am not out of the circle of competition no matter how pacifist I think I am. Now I’m the king of the shit-talking hill. Some gig….what a great fucking noble, esteeming gig. I should be playing football and getting laid. See how life happens? This is how a child that could’ve grown up to be something useful becomes a critic or an artist (don’t fool yourselves artists, they’re one and the same).
Have you seen Pineapple Express? Stephen Sigl should review it first and I leave it to him to tell you how it really is, but I’ll tell you this….it’s a lot more entertaining if you’re either a) violent-minded or b) a pot dealer. So I guess I have to say I recommend it to highly violent pot dealers.
Pot dealing….what has become of the pot dealer of yesteryear? Are they all working at Wal-mart now? Perhaps more appropriately working the garden center at Home Depot? Remember when you used to ask a friend to ask a friend for a connection? I suppose I’m dating myself. Now it’s all about the “dispensaries”. They used to use “pharmacy” more often, but I think the cat’s so long out of the bag that “dispensary” really is a more appropriate term. How Indy righteous is it to be the proud owner of a weed pharmacy? Talk about putting your neck out, though. It’s discouraging that so many have been shut down by the uber-trump card of the DEA despite CA law, but it’s encouraging that for every one that’s shut down 10 or more open up in replacement. That’s American spirit!
Here’s a deep stoner thought….Full, national legalization and international marketing could really impact the recession we’re going through. Wouldn’t it be nice if it was weed, not war, that got us out of the recession, hopefully before we are entirely owned by China? I’m not saying this one thing would turn it all around, but it’d certainly help. Drugs are big business. Look at the alcohol trade. Budweiser just got bought out by Europeans….fucking Budweiser. “Wazzz-uhhhppp?!”, indeed. Insert irony.
The owners of these dill weed dispensaries are some happy fucking campers when they’re not worried about the DEA or other potential highjackers, as well they should be. They own the Rite Aids of marijuana, complete with soda fountain and candy aisle…and they own it independently. Rite on! It’s fucking brilliant for both the consumer and the owner/operator. But on the other side of the business (there is ALWAYS a pasty, seedy, seamy little underbelly in any business), there is the house doctor.
What kind of shitty legitimate doctor do you have to be that your job is approving 95% fake prescriptions at some weed den with your own personal signature? I mean, there’s a certain “fight the power” idealism there, but you’re a doctor, not a bartender. You’re supposed to be honest and helpful. Instead, you write legal prescriptions under false pretenses when you could be doling out AIDS meds or putting casts on broken baby limbs. Surely any real doctor with real moral ethics would at least say, “Hey, you might do better by not being high all the time and some of your anxious conditions are probably more caused by intoxication than solved by intoxication.”
By the way, the documentary film Super-High Me also gets at least one stoner thumb up. There’s not much plot or surprise, but it is thought-provoking and fairly funny. I feel for Doug Benson, as he has one of those faces that just looks high all the time, even when sober as a church mouse….so why not go for it? By the way of the previous way, how sober could a church mouse be? Between the incense, the mold in the scraps they eat, and the occasional nip of communion wine, I bet they’re as fucked up as your average Venice drum circle participant.
I’m losing track now, I’m supposed to be talking shit. God, I’d really like to start talking shit about drum circlers, but I have to get back to the weed-script doctor….one shit-talking subject at a time. But I do just have to say, since this is a bit of an advice column (is it still?)…Patchouli (pardon if it’s misspelled) does NOT replace bathing. Why don’t you just take a bath? I don’t care if you’re borderline homeless…the ocean is RIGHT THERE. The shower stalls at the beach restroom stations are RIGHT THERE. Nobody’s going to steal your used hemp trousers while you’re cleaning up…they stink. You’re not poor, you’re just crazy. Do us both a favor and take your clothes with you for a good rinse and sun-dried refresher. I guarantee people will like you more for it and then maybe you can squeeze that 5 spot out of them and go get some of those cigarettes that are so much more important to you than shelter. Excuse my dirgressions, I’m high.
What kind of doctor are you to take a job as a professional liar, Dr. Weed-Script? You’re just exploiting the loophole in the current system until the game’s over and it’s finally legalized, once and for all. You must know your days are numbered, but you do it anyway. You must be a really shitty doctor. Where did you fail in the noble career of doctor-ing that this is what you’ve become? Don’t tell me you’re only doing this because of the recession or fear of malpractice suits. You’re not. You probably botched some tit job so bad that you fell out of the game. Or maybe you were already doling out illegal scripts at a family practice office, perhaps to yourself, so you figured this was less risky. Why aren’t you curing disesases and really helping people in need? There’s a known shortage of quality healthcare in America, even for those willing to pay…and you’re doing this. Liar, leech, fear monger. The irony isn’t lost on me (being who I am) to be forced to say this, but get a real fucking job. You already have the degree!
Moving on…one more deep stoner thought before I go. Where do you suppose all this “legal” dope is coming from? Do you think there’s really some big legal farming source that it’s all coming from with some kind of FDA stamp? Nope…it’s quite often from the same (largely illegal, at least as far as the DEA is concerned) sources your old corner dealer got it from. Look up the ladder and it’s the usual suspects…Illegal farms complete with illegal-gun toting security workers willing to commit illegal murders to protect their stash. And they still lace their weaker shit for the dispensary just like they lace their shit for Joe Dealer. “Oh, THIS strain won’t make you sleepy like THAT strain,” says the pharmacy technician. Yeah, that’s because it’s what we used to call “Boat” and is laced with PCP or some kind of speed. That’s where a lot of the legal trouble starts between the legal dispensary and the DEA. Sure, you have a legal business, but where did you get your inventory and how safe is it? Yoink! Thanks, we’ll take all that inventory and as much info as possible about your sources. See you next month! Maybe.
Tags: Indy U.S.A
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