Okay, so you were expecting a column about love and weed this month, or perhaps, a list of ways to spice up your sex life, using cannabis. Well, I have some bad news for you...for February’s Green Room Diaries, I’m going to attempt to do something that people in Oregon hate partaking in: seeing things from the other side. Has legalization been a good thing? Do cancer patients really have easier access to treatment? Is sitting inside all day long really "recreation" or is that all a...smokescreen?
I’m really sorry about that last pun.
Anyhow, here are few reasons why—if, forced to come up with some—I think pot could benefit from going back to the black market.
Forty bucks a bag. That’s what an eighth was when I went to middle school—the same year that Doggystyle came out and well before the days of six-dollar cigarette packs. The same bag, at the same quality, is five fucking dollars at the dispensary. How the hell are the moms and pops supposed to make money? Aside from the nugs, the processors (aka "trimmers") are now making fifty dollars a pound to clip weed, which can work out to about twenty-five dollars a day for first-timers and non-experts. This is stupid, but it’s not illogical—this is simply what happens when you let corporations take over any industry. We’re all libertarians at heart, so we have to keep in mind that over-regulating everything related to cannabis has forced the little guys out and brought in some pretty big players to reap our harvests. If you’ve seen Murder Mountain, you know what I’m talking about (R.I.P. Humboldt County).
"Marijuana doesn’t impact your ability to drive." Sure, but when it’s illegal, we drive much, much safer. As it stands, I could take blunt rips up and down the interstate, and unless I’m red-eyed and listening to the Grateful Dead upon being pulled over, the arresting officer is going to have a next-to-impossible time pinning a D.U.I.I. on me—especially with my medical card and insane metabolism. However, where it’s illegal (or, if I’m in one of those don’t-care-what-the-big-city-does small towns, such as the ironically named Independence, OR), I vacuum and Ozium the car up before even thinking about getting on the road. Idaho? Utah? If I have even a seed in my pocket, I’m operating my car like a driving instructor at a Christian school. But, once I hit Colorado? Freeway dabs, my dude.
Remember when we bought our drugs from gangbangers and bikers? Do you recall sitting in the parking lot of some shady-ass apartment complex (with one of those "nice" names, like Crestwood Terrace or Briarwood Manor), waiting on pot? That’s what we wanted to fix with legalization—but, never did we imagine that you could walk into a dispensary and be told to watch your mouth, take off your shoes and pet the pug. Cannabis dispensaries that have attempted to "normalize" cannabis (and, I hate that word...it’s pot) come across like pretentious art galleries and expensive coffee shops. And, much like the art and coffee subcultures of yesteryear, cannabis is becoming watered-down and ready for the mainstream. With this, "harmful stereotypes" are being removed from the scene, and while blacklight Bob Marley posters aren’t exactly high art, we’re not gonna see any more Jack Herers or Timothy Learys, as long as Karen’s Cruelty-Free Cannabis Cookbook is selling for $59.99 plus tax. Weed culture is the new punk rock—slowly dying at the hands of mainstream latecomers.
Why do we have a heroin crisis in America? Because cool dads everywhere started smoking the reefer. Okay, maybe it has to do with over-prescription of painkillers and the subsequent addictions that arise after being on them for years, but I still feel like blaming Gen X for something. Teens rebel. And, if mom owns Lake Oswego Holistic Remedy Solutions Center For Green Love And Progress Dispensary Collective, daughter is probably going to skip the green stuff and go with, say, white drugs. Parents, the best way to ensure that your child prefers cannabis over heroin, is to stick to boxed wine and cigars. Be as anti-pot as possible, so that your kid smokes it, instead of crack. But, alas, there are already multiple cannabis cooking shows on daytime television. So, Karen, it’s probably time to check Becky’s drawer for needles.
