I purposely ignored the news last week because the constant election coverage was as annoying as my uncle’s impersonation of Larry the Cable Guy.
Consequently, I was shocked when my pothead neighbor gleefully informed me that marijuana was legalized in two states. What was even more shocking is that Vermont wasn’t one of the states. I have been there quite a few times and have witnessed a number of “Vermonters” who enjoyed their herb way more than maple syrup.
Nonetheless, Washington and Colorado have scored major brownie points with major brownie eaters.
As my day progressed, I couldn’t help but wonder what life will be like for the people in Washington and Colorado. I cannot imagine a life where a walk with your Labradoodle at the park might also entail waving to old men playing checkers while smoking their bongs.
I can’t fathom standing behind a mother and her three kids at the local gas station purchasing cherry slurpees for the kids and a big fatty for her — weird, huh? The word “dude” could replace the word “sir” and tie-dye T-shirts may re-emerge as a fashion staple for everyone.
Okay, maybe I am being a little stereotypical, but I am certain a statue of Jerry Garcia will be in at least one town square for the birds to perch on.
As you can probably tell by now, I am not a marijuana user. I dabbled here and there with it in my past, but now the only thing I prefer to roll are my blue jeans and a rare Benjamin Franklin that makes a brief appearance in my wallet. However, I understand the appeal and its followers’ demand for it to be legalized.
I think it is ridiculous that people receive prison time for smoking something that grows from our earth’s soil. There are more damaging effects from the intake of alcohol than weed. I would rather spend an evening with someone who is high and demanding Taco Bell than with a sloppy, nasty drunk who is demanding a toilet.
With that said, I am not thrilled with the decisions in Colorado and Washington. Not because I feel that marijuana is evil and using it should be considered a criminal act, but because I believe it should be a private one. Back when I was dabbling with the drug, it was in my own home or other secluded settings with close friends. I have never considered smoking it in a public setting, let alone allowing for the possibility of children or my elders having to endure my usage.
I may not like the decision our friends in the West have made, but I respect it with hopes they do the same: respect the people around them that may not share their love of the drug. I am sure many states will follow their lead by allowing their residents to come out of their smoke-filled closets. My hope is that the majority of them still consider it to be something that is done in a discrete area, like in a garage while sitting on a torn up couch with Led Zeppelin playing from a record player — you know, how nature intended it.