Michael A. Nettleton
You may see me tonight
With an illegal smile
It don’t cost very much
But it lasts a long
while
Won’t you please tell
the man
I didn’t kill anyone
I’m just tryin’ to have
me some fun.
Illegal Smile
John Prine
The last time I smoked marijuana was the mid-eighties sometime. I didn’t give it up out of any sense of moral indignation or fear of it being a gateway to something harder. Instead, I decided I was tired of sitting in front of my computer feverishly inspired by the thoughts pinballing through my brain, only to find, later on, that what I’d written resembled a cross between medieval Bratislavian and monkey drool.
Of course, pot is legal now, so all I’d have to do is duck into the parking lot of my nearest, highly respectable retail establishment, plunk down my debit card for a bag of weed or package of chocolate-covered wacky tobacky, and pick up my habit where I left off. Drive down any street in greater Vancouver, Washington and you’ll see the beckoning signs. MAIN STREET MARIJUANA. THE HERBERY. HIGH END MARKETPLACE. GREENHEAD CANNABIS. I’m sure new stores will proliferate in the future. SPLIFF WORLD. MAUI WOWIE MART. BOGART R’ JOINTS. STONE ME CITY. And so on.
Rabid anti-pot types will point out several problems with today’s state of affairs, including a direct link between toking and Satan, but here's the problem with legalization from my point of view. They’ve taken some of the fun out of smoking pot by removing one key element: paranoia.
Getting high in the old days was a vibrant mix of THC, unhealthy snacks, vinyl mindless guitar noodling, and fear. The idea that uniformed men in full battle gear chanting “hut-hut-hut” might break down your door at any minute was part of the adrenaline rush that accompanied passing a tightly-rolled joint around the room. Who can forget the group giggling fit when someone heard an unfamiliar clatter outside and rushed to flush a fully ounce of primo “stuff” down the toilet? Who can remember the familiar note played out when you heard Cheech and Chong’s “Dave’s not here” routine on one of their comedy records?
And now? Marijuana is just another item on users’ shopping lists. “Green onions, pasta sauce, laundry detergent, and a six-ounce bag of THC infused gummy bears. Oh, and Oreos and a gigundo bag of cheezy-snacks of course.
Am I arguing that marijuana use is harmless and healthy? Of course not. Every time I observe some kaleidoscope-eyed driver cross three lanes of traffic to careen onto a freeway exit ramp, I fear for the bedlam the high and drunken may cause. As someone who’s worked in the schools (my wife was a substitute teacher for many years) I worry about the impact marijuana can have on young people. It can make learning difficult, destroy incentive, and cause a budding writer to believe typewritten garble is profound prose. But I also believe that turning a personal vice (however unhealthy) into a criminal offense is profoundly wrong-headed.
What’s the bottom line? Unless the religious right has their way and forces everyone at gunpoint to live pure and God-fearing lives, marijuana stores are here to stay. The best we can hope for is to avoid hysteria and have honest and factual conversations about the harm drugs and alcohol can cause.
` But, I profess a certain level of nostalgia for the “high old days.” Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I heard someone rattling at my door. Time to flush a bag of oregano down the john just to be safe.
