We must be high.
Well, of course we are. We’re in Colorado. It comes with the territory. But with all the hubbub over this year’s white-knuckle White House fight between Professor President and the Mormon guy who must have been high when he named his kids, I really haven’t been able to give a whole lot of thought to Colorado’s Amendment 64. That’s where we all vote whether we all get stoned, legally. Sort of.
So, are you going to do it? I mean, if this thing really passes, and there’s every reason to believe that this thing really could pass, and we legalize kush, are you going to march right into the corner pot shop and get yourself a little Maui Wowee or whatever they’re smoking these days? And, would you, you know, do it?
Granted, we have a long ways to go before you have Punky Poo stop off for some milk, a 20-pound bag of Doritos and 10 bucks worth of sens.
Our feeling at the Aurora Sentinel is that if voters go full-steam ahead with legalizing the high life, it’ll be years before anything but hefty decriminalization lights up along the Front Range. Expect a lot of smoke-and-mirror lawsuits.
But I’m already giddy because Colorado has gotten so much cache just from even seriously considering such an anti-prohibition measure.
And now that it’s seriously about to pass this ballot question, do you see yourself, you know, umm, getting high?
Again? You know what I mean. If you’re like me — and I was there, folks, right along with you during the Reign of the Patridge Family — the question would be, are you going to get high — again?
Come-on-come-on-come-on, tell the truth. It was the ’70s. We all did it. Some of us did it way too much, and I know more than few pals who’ve never stopped.
I’ll go first. My name is Dave, and I got high. And I liked it. It was fun to watch the cat chase, oh, anything. For hours. Sometimes days. It was fun to eat Corn Flakes and peanut butter dipped in Log Cabin pancake syrup. But after while, it seems like we got old and so did the pot. About the time I had to start getting up early to go to a real job, I lost interest in anything that made that more difficult than it already was.
But now that it might be legal, well, are you gonna do it again? Just to see what’s it’s like to plunk down your AmEx card and get Zig Zags and something seedless, just because you can?
No way can I do it in front of my kid, even though she’s practically an adult. It’s not like I’m ashamed to have that third beer in front of her once in a while. But, no, it’d have to be all secret when my wife and I are alone and the kid and the neighbors and God forbid my mother wouldn’t know. I understand that kind of defeats the purpose of making pot all legal and upstanding and all.
It’s time for us all to change, probably. Now, I’m all for ending marijuana prohibition. It’s because it’s foolish and damaging on a whole lot of levels. It’s about as effective at curtailing sales and partakers as is having a woman will herself to shut down a pregnancy. I’m just not ready to have my neighbors watch me roll around the front yard in hysterical laughter from watching starlings do the watusi in the bird bath. It could happen. You know what I mean.
And just how are the cops going to handle scores of high people all over my neighborhood, a place where people will try anything, even raw pork fat? I mean, if you get pulled over for driving 2 mph along the boulevard, what are they going to do? Check for women in smart gray wigs blaring a little Sugar Magnolia? Soccer moms behind the wheels of their beige Honda Odysseys with an almost-empty quart of Haagen-Dazs between their legs? Guys in Penney’s suits sitting through endless cycles at intersections “oohing” at the green and then the red lights?
Details, details. Clearly, this legal marijuana thing is not a perfect plan. But then, what is? I have to admit that the temptation, the nostalgia, the curiosity and the Colorado cool factor would be too hard to resist. I will do it — providing I can stay up that late.
Reach editor Dave Perry at 303-750-7555 or email@example.com