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In its finite wisdom, the US Supreme Court upheld the federal government's ban on medical marijuana, screwing all 10 states that legalized it and leaving a lot of folks in those 10 states with superfluous glaucoma diagnoses.
Now first off, let me clarify: I don't smoke pot. I don't. Makes me paranoid. No, I'm serious. I am the author of the paranoid trilogy. "What is it? Who are they? Why me?" I get the munchies, go in a restaurant, the waitress says "hi" and I go, "Yes, I am. I'm sorry. Don't tell my Aunt Mary."
But you know what, I don't drink Wild Turkey any more and yet harbor no desire for that vile liquid to be made illegal either.
Justice John Paul Stevens said plaintiffs suffering chronic pain should turn to "the democratic process" for comfort. He addressed this opinion to the two plaintiffs who suffer respectively from a brain tumor and a degenerative spinal disease. I'm a thinking the 85-year-old liberal Justice needs to bone up on his bedside manner a bit. "Take two democratic processes and call me in the morning." Wonder if this guy has consulted for any HMOs lately? Going to have to revise the new edition of the Physician's Desk Reference by inserting "Activist Judges" next to "Cottonmouth" under possible side effects.
Besides, how can they cite an interstate commerce jurisdiction over homegrown, which, according to Justice Clarence Thomas, "has never been bought or sold, that has never crossed state lines, and that has had no demonstrable effect on the national market for marijuana?" That's right, I'm quoting Clarence Thomas, which means tomorrow all the residents of hell might want to break out the sleds and earmuffs. Who knows? Maybe it was a stem of Maui Wowie and not a pubic hair on that Coke can.
That roar from the red states you hear is the orchestrated shout-out that conservatives normally toss whenever we godless heathens have been defeated. And one of the ironies can be found in the accompanying sound of millions of brewskies being popped in celebration. What is wrong with these people? Don't they realize that marijuana grows in the ground? They don't call it "weed" for nothing you know. Think of all the different complicated operations you need to perform in order to make liquor. It's not like you can walk into your backyard and pluck a pina colada off the cocktail tree. Pot -- you pick it, dry it and smoke it. Hope you're not saying God screwed up here are you? It's pot. It's not heroin. It's not acid. It's not even Marlboro Lights. For crum's sake, you can bake it into brownies. Brownies! What's more American than that?
And another thing, why do politicians always insist on lumping all drugs together? Even a fourth grader can tell you that crack is to pot like an uzi is to a banana. Crack: kills. Pot: giggles. Say you do run into a crazed pothead: what's the worst thing that's going to happen to you? Okay, you might get fleas, but that's about it. So there's Twinkie cream on your shirt, wipe it off. Can't get the song "Stairway to Heaven" out of your head? Deal with it. Potheads don't mug, they hug. The same can not be said about the Supreme Court.
Political humorist Will Durst restricts his illicit drug activity to mixing Pop Rocks with his Anchor Steam.